“I’ll be extra careful not to blab about monsters around you, then.”
“How is it that we just talked for two hours and I still don’t know anything about you?” I complained as we left the restaurant.
“What do you mean?” Vincent responded, starting up the scooter. “I told you a ton about us.”
“About you as a group, lots, but you as a person, nothing,” I shouted over the noise of the engine. “You didn’t let me ask you any questions. Puts me at a disadvantage.”
“Get on,” he said, laughing. I climbed up behind him and wrapped my arms around him, feeling close to bliss.
We crossed the river and began driving toward our part of town. With the wind whipping my hair wildly about below the edge of the helmet, and the warm body of my . . . potential boyfriend pressed up against me, I wished he would keep driving till we hit the Atlantic Ocean, more than four hours away. But when the Louvre Museum edged into view on the other side of the Seine, Vincent slowed down and pulled over to the riverside. He turned off the bike and locked it to a post before taking my hand and leading me toward the river.
“Okay, ask me something,” he said.
“Where are you taking me?”
Vincent laughed. “You get one question, and you’re going to use it on that? Okay, Kate. Because you’ve been so patient, I will answer.” We stepped up onto the Pont des Arts—a wooden footbridge leading across the river—and began walking across.
The city was lit up like a Christmas tree, and its bridges illuminated with spotlights that made them appear majestic and otherworldly. The Eiffel Tower twinkled in the distance, and the reflection of the moon shone on the surface of the water swirling below us.
We reached the center of the bridge. Vincent led me gently to the side rail and, standing behind me, wrapped me in his arms and pulled me close to him. I closed my eyes and inhaled, filling my lungs with the river’s distinct marine smell, which I had, over the years, come to equate with a state of tranquillity. My heart slowed, and then as Vincent’s muscles flexed around my shoulders, accelerated.
We stood there, looking out at the City of Light together for a few euphoric moments before he leaned his head down and whispered, “The answer to your question of where I was taking you would be . . . to the most beautiful place in Paris. With the most beautiful girl I have been lucky enough to set eyes on, and who I desperately hope will agree to meet me again. As soon as possible.”
I looked up over my shoulder and registered his sincere expression. He turned me slowly to face him. He gazed at me for a full minute with his big dark eyes, as if trying to memorize every inch of my face.
Then he raised his hand to brush a lock of hair back from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear as he lifted my lips to his.
Our skin barely touched. He was hesitant, as if he knew what he wanted but was afraid of scaring me away. Our lips brushed, and I felt like a chord had been struck inside me, and my body was humming with a pure musical note. I slowly lifted my arms to drape them around his neck, afraid that a sudden move might break the spell. But as his lips met mine once more, the magic escalated and the note grew into a sweeping crescendo that blocked out every other sound.
Paris disappeared. The rippling of waves beneath us, the hum of the cars passing on either side of the river, the whisperings of the couples passing us hand in hand . . . they all disappeared, and Vincent and I were the only people left on earth.
Chapter Eighteen
SOMETHING RUSTLED AT THE FOOT OF MY BED. I forced one eye open, and through the haze of an interrupted dream, I saw my sister perched on the edge of my mattress. She looked way too overexcited for this time of the morning. Or was it still night? Raising one eyebrow, she commanded, “Tell me all!” and then, ripping back the covers that I threw over my head, attempted to sound severe. “If you don’t, I won’t allow you to see him again.”
Moaning, I wiped my eyes blearily and propped myself up on my elbows. “What time is it?” I yawned, noticing that Georgia was fully dressed.
“You’ve got exactly fifteen minutes to get ready for school. I let you sleep in.”
I looked over at my clock and saw that she was right. Panicking, I threw off my blankets and began leaping around the room, grabbing a bra and panties out of a drawer and digging through a stack of clean clothes sitting folded on a chair. “I thought that after getting in so late, you might need the extra sleep,” she cooed.
“Thanks a lot, Georgia,” I groaned, slipping a clean red T-shirt over my head and rummaging through my closet for a pair of jeans. And then, having a sudden flashback to the previous night, I sank into a sitting position on the bed. “Oh my God,” I said as I felt my lips forming a reveal-all dreamy smile.
“What happened? Did he kiss you?”