Page 67 of With You

He pulls a notebook from his pocket and scribbles something down before passing it to me.

“Get this train, it will take you directly to Paris.”

I clasp my hands together, raising them above my head as if I’m praying to this man who has become my saviour.

“Thank you.”

“Do you have money?”

“I don’t have anything on me.” I pat around my pockets, turning them out to see if anything has magically appeared.

The conductor lets out a heavy sigh, pulls out a different pad of paper, and starts writing. He hands it over to me, and I see it’s a ticket, my destination written in.

“You can show this to a conductor if they ask. You’ll have to go back and pay when you arrive in Paris.”

“Yes, of course.” I nod frantically, wondering if angels exist and if this man is one.

“Next stop is in ten minutes,” he says before he starts walking away, but I call him back. I get his details, making sure I’ll be able to heavily repay him for this once I’m back home in Paris.

When we reach the next stop, I race off this train and to the next one, making it just in time. I breathe heavily as I collapse in an empty seat. For the next seven hours, I think only about Amelie.

The journey back to the university feels longer than ever, but it’s the final hurdle. Paris comes alive at night, and as much as I love this city, I can’t stand the traffic right now. I managed to get my phone charged just enough at the station to call my driver and ask him to pick me up. A wall of notifications flooded through once it turned back on, but all I cared about was Amelie’s messages.

Amelie

Where are you?

Everyone else is here already

River?

I can’t believe you’d do this to me

I should have known you were going to disappoint me in the end.

I switched my phone off just so I wouldn’t torture myself by rereading them over and over again. Her last words hurt more than she could ever imagine. Did she really think that the whole time? Was I always going to disappoint her in some way? Insecurity flares up, and I try to push it down, but maybe she’s right.

I don’t know why I thought doing this with her would be a good idea. I didn’t even like dancing when she asked me, but I couldn’t say no to her when she looked so sad that day. Amelie is the most stubborn and proud person I’ve ever met—it’s part of why I love her so much now—so I know it took her a lot to ask me initially.

But now I’ve missed the most important rehearsal, almost missed the showcase, and potentially ruined everything for her. It’s hard to believe she’ll give me a second chance but I have to try anyway.

I barely let the car stop before I fling the door open and start running. Most people are in their rooms by now getting ready for bed, and if I was looking for anyone else I’d head straight for the dorms. Instead, I head toward the arts building, straight for the studios.

The hallway is dark, the only light creeping out from under one of the doors and the small window on it. It has to be her. The faint sound of music carries through the walls, a piece from Giselle, and I know it’s Amelie.

I peer in through the window, expecting to see her dancing but she’s sat on the floor instead, pointe shoes in hand as she slams them against the ground. I’ve seen her break in her shoes before, but there’s a lot more force this time. She’s probably imagining the shoes are me, and I can’t blame her for that.

I push open the door, and her head snaps toward me as I enter the room. Her eyes widen for just a second that I barely catch it before her face transforms into a scowl. She picks up a pair of scissors and points them at me as she stands.

“Ma chérie, put the scissors down,” I say, my hands held out in front of me as I slowly step closer to her.

“Don’t call me that. And don’t tell me what to do.”

“Let me explain.”

“No. There’s no excuse you can give me that will be good enough.”

“I didn’t want to go,” I tell her anyway. This may be my only chance to talk to her. “My father said we should meet for dinner, and the next thing I know I’m on a flight to Madrid.”