She’d grown used to standing around kegs in dirty basements, yelling over the music. That new Kanye song sucks, or Yeah, I know pre-med is a ton of studying but if I get in doctors have it made. The conversation was juvenile, just something to get out of the way before they fooled around. She felt different with this guy. More grown-up. Like she’d enjoy hanging out with him even if all they did was talk.
“So what brings you to Paris?”
“My parents’ twentieth anniversary. They decided to take us to Europe.”
“My parents got divorced when I was eight.”
“I thought mine might. There was like five years when they hardly spoke…”
He stared steadily at her with his gray-green eyes.
“Don’t know why I’m telling you this, it’s not something I talk about.”
“Because you’ll never see me again and my parents, they stunk too.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Don’t be sure my parents stunk? I am quite sure, Kira.”
She liked the sound of her name in his mouth. “That we’ll never see each other again.”
He closed his eyes, opened them again. “Now we have.”
Cheesy but good.
* * *
He told her he was twenty-six, studying for a PhD in economics.
“You don’t look like any of the grad students I know.”
“A personal trainer too.”
“Full service for middle-aged Paris ladies?”
“It’s mostly men. And, too bad, some of them think like you.”
“I’ll bet.” She expected him to smile. Instead he frowned.
“My job is to provide motivation for people who want to lose weight, be healthy. Make sure they stretch, do the exercises properly. Why must I deal with being pinched by some husband?”
He looked so serious, so offended, so French, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Poor baby.”
He touched a finger to her lips. “Ferme ta bouche, mademoiselle.” But he was smiling.
* * *
Tony proved he wasn’t completely clueless by giving them almost an hour before he came back. “Kira, we promised we’d be back by twelve thirty. The hotel’s way on the other side of town.”
“Paris isn’t that big.”
“It’s pretty big.”
“Five minutes?”
He walked outside again.
She and Jacques stared comfortably at each other across the table. A smile played over his lips.
“Tomorrow I take you to the best place in the whole city.”
“Your apartment, right?”
He shook his head like she’d disappointed him. “Canal Saint-Martin. It’s a beautiful walk. You’ll see.” He reached across the table, squeezed her hand. A flame of pleasure lit her arm.
“Can’t. I’m sorry.”
“You have zee boyfriend at home?” He put on a ridiculous accent. To hide his disappointment, she thought. “You have zee promise ring. For zee chastity.”
“We’re going to Barcelona.”
“Stay. Take a train on Sunday.”
“If you knew my parents—”
“Then I will come to you. Tomorrow night.”
“That’s silly.” Shut up, shut up, she told herself. Don’t blow it.
“Americans, you have no idea what romance is. Romance, it’s seeing a beautiful girl and knowing that if you have to get on a train to see her again, no problem.”
“We know what romance is. We just don’t have time for it.”
“Exactly. Besides, I love Barcelona. All those Catalan girls.” He winked. Not too many guys could pull off a wink, but he could. “Tomorrow then? Unless you don’t want me to.”
She knew what her mom would say: He seems pretty aggressive, K.
“It’s just a drink. Maybe dancing. Give me your number. I’ll text you in the morning.”
So she did. He stood, leaned across the table. Kissed her once, lightly, and ran his fingers down her cheek. Then he was gone. She watched him walk out with what she knew was a silly dazed smile.
* * *
He didn’t make her suffer. He texted before breakfast. They arranged to meet here, The Mansion, at 11 p.m. She told Tony but swore him to secrecy. She didn’t want her parents to know. Rebecca would insist on hearing everything about Jacques. And she wouldn’t be happy with what Kira told her. Twenty-six is too old, K. Did you tell him you were nineteen? No, she was keeping this date from Mom.
A lie she didn’t have to tell.
Ten fifty-two, her phone said now. Kira ran early, she was Rebecca’s daughter that way. Build in a few extra minutes, you won’t be stressed. A little edge but every edge matters. Another of Mom’s annoyingly accurate life lessons. She should write a book. The Seven Habits of Highly Effective FBI Agents.
Kira took a pull of the Estrella, felt the room blur a little more. She wasn’t a huge drinker. But she liked the temporary softening in her edge, yes. Her mom had drilled the lesson,