What Happens in Paris Page 4

  The slender girl behind the desk had been replaced by a round, robust-looking man who handed me my key with a huge grin.

  “Do you have a phone to make international calls?” I asked before I headed upstairs.

  He nodded. “Jah, but you need a calling card.”

  Jah? His accent so didn’t sound French, but I shrugged. “I don’t have one yet.”

  “There’s the Internets upstairs, if you want to instead.”

  I had a hard time understanding him. “Do you mean there are computers?”

  “Jah, upstairs computers.”

  I thanked him, but before I could head upstairs in search of the mysterious computers, I turned around again. “Can I ask where you’re from?”

  He grinned proudly. “From Estonia. Paris is beauty, no?”

  I smiled at him. “Yes. Paris really is beauty.”

  Even after just a day, I could see why so many people from other places ended up in Paris; there was something lazy and intoxicating about the city, and everything was charming and beautiful. Well, I thought sourly as I climbed the stairs, everything but Hunter.

  On the fourth floor, the stairs ran out and I discovered a sitting area with two old, clunky desktop computers. There was a young guy with ear buds in sitting at one of them, but the other one was free. I got on and sent a couple of quick e-mails to Mom and Shauna, but before I had time to do more than that, a girl with long dark hair tapped me gently on the shoulder.

  “Fifteen-minute limit. Can I have a go?”

  I hadn’t seen anything about a limit, but I was too tired to argue. She settled in happily as I went back downstairs to my room. Even though the sun was still up, I collapsed on my bed near the window and fell fast asleep without bothering to change out of my clothes. In just one day, I’d fallen completely in love with Paris, and I couldn’t wait to see what the city would bring tomorrow.

  Chapter Nine

  After fighting for a turn in the crowded hostel bathroom, I donned my cute polka-dot dress, trying not to grimace at the memory of my airport embarrassment, grabbed my bag, and headed back into the streets. The bakery across from the hostel had a line out the door, so I decided I’d grab something to eat later. I was ready to see the city. I wandered back toward the river and Notre Dame, absorbing the sights as I went. When I passed the café where Hunter and I had talked, I felt my smile slip for just a minute. I sped up, irrationally afraid that I might see him again, and I resolved then and there to stop wasting precious brain space thinking about the jerk.

  When I finally reached the river, the sight of the cathedral rising up in front of me cheered me immediately. I parked myself on a bench in front of the church and pulled out my guidebook to plan my day. After thumbing through the art section, I was on the verge of being overwhelmed; Paris had way more museums than I’d realized! Flipping through the book again, I shut my eyes and stabbed my finger on a page blindly.

  When I looked at the guidebook, I made a face. I’d landed on Musée de l’erotisme, which was so not what I had in mind when I said I wanted to visit the museums. It took two more tries, but finally I landed on Musée d’Orsay, the Impressionist museum. After skimming the description, I opened the book to the large foldout map. If I walked along the river, away from the cathedral, I should eventually hit the museum. It didn’t look too far, so I started off.

  The river was beautiful in the early morning light, and as I walked, street vendors sprang up out of nowhere. My stomach growled and I remembered I’d skipped breakfast, but none of the stalls seemed to be selling food. The tables and stands were crowded with every kind of souvenir imaginable, but there was nothing edible in sight.

  I got distracted by a table covered in clunky costume jewelry, and I bought a set of bracelets for Shauna and a cameo choker for Susie. There wasn’t anything that called out to me, though, so I paid for the souvenirs and continued up the river.

  Even though the museum hadn’t looked that far away on the map, city blocks in Paris were huge, and I was out of breath by the time the old train station came into view. I panted for a minute, staring at the beautiful old building. God, was anything in Paris ugly? Happily, I stumbled across the courtyard and paid my admission to the museum. My stomach growled again, but I told myself I’d eat as soon as I spent some time with the art.

  The big, open museum was intoxicating. Light flooded the galleries, and crisp white walls made the perfect, unobtrusive background to the artwork. Delicate brushstrokes brought the paintings to life, and I started walking slowly through the first gallery. My eyes drank in the Van Goghs and Monets greedily, but the image that made me pause wasn’t a painting. A full-size sculpture of a woman caught my eye, and I stared at the smooth marble, taking in the details. She was holding a cloth over her head as if she were lifting a veil, and the same fabric wrapped around her body, protecting her. It was so well carved; I thought that if I reached out and touched the stone, it would feel like thick, coarse cloth. The woman’s wrapping had started to come undone, and her breasts were exposed. Usually, nudes don’t have any effect on me; I’d done so many figure-study classes over the years that I was used to viewing the human form with a detached, artistic eye, but something about the woman’s bare breasts made me feel voyeuristic. I couldn’t look away, but at the same time, I felt strangely uncomfortable.

  The longer I stared at the statue, the stranger I started to feel. The lights in the gallery seemed too bright, and I had the weird sense of tunnel vision as black spots began to dance across my eyes. I blinked rapidly, but my vision didn’t return to normal. The topless statue had just started to glow when I heard a wobbly voice, like an underwater radio, close to my ear. I couldn’t make out the words, but as I turned toward the sound, my knees buckled. Everything went black.

  When I came to, I was lying on the cold stone floor, staring up at a bright white light overhead. For a minute, I wondered if I was in the hospital, but then I caught a glimpse of the beautiful sculpture out of the corner of my eye. She appeared to be looking down at me, and from this angle, she looked annoyed. I shook my head and started to sit up, and suddenly there were warm hands behind my head.

  I craned my neck, trying to see who was behind me, but before I could turn around, a familiar voice commanded, “Don’t move so fast.”

  I sat up quickly, ignoring the way the blood rushed into my head. I glared at Hunter. “What are you doing here?”

  “You had a pretty dramatic fall there, princess. You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head.”

  I rubbed the back of my head reflexively, but it felt fine. I blinked up at the statue, and then looked at Hunter. “What happened?”

  “The artwork took your breath away.” He grinned at me, but I just stared back, confused. “I think you fainted.”

  “I don’t faint,” I scoffed, but even as I said it, I realized that I’d blacked out. How Victorian!

  “Whatever you call it, you gave a pretty fair imitation of passing out. I’m glad I caught you before you hit the ground.”

  I looked around, confused. I was still sitting on the floor, and I suddenly realized my legs were splayed wide. Oh God, I was in a dress. I pulled my knees together and tried to stand up. “You caught me?”

  Hunter reached a hand out to steady my elbow as I got to my feet. “Yeah. Sort of. You didn’t hit the floor, at least.”

  Oh my God. I shuddered, wondering how melodramatic the whole thing had looked to passersby. I glanced around the museum, but there weren’t very many people in the gallery with us. Still, I didn’t want to draw any more attention, so even though I could still see black spots in my field of vision, I straightened up and tried to walk away.

  Hunter’s hand was on my arm, and he pulled me to a gentle stop. “What happened?”

  Suddenly annoyed that he, of all people, had been the one to see me fall, I snapped, “What’s it to you?”

  “Chill, princess. I just saved you from a concussion. You don’t have to get bitchy with me.”

&nbs
p; My head hurt, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Okay. Fine. Sorry and thank you. But seriously, why do you care?” I opened my eyes and studied his face, trying to figure him out.

  He shrugged, and he finally took his hand off my elbow. For a minute, I missed its warmth. “I was the first responder, I guess.” He cracked a smile. “I care because I saved you. I’d have done the same for anybody.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Saying what?”

  “That you saved me. You didn’t rescue me from a burning building or anything. You just kept my head from hitting the floor.”

  “It’s a pretty hard floor.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I realized I was fighting a smile. “That doesn’t make you some kind of hero.” I took a step away from him, and the room swayed.

  “Are you okay?” Hunter sounded concerned, but he didn’t touch me again. “Do you have a medical condition or something?”

  “No. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Other than having to see you again.” The words tumbled out, but I realized as soon as I spoke that I didn’t really mean it. There was actually something sort of fun about running into him again, almost as if it were meant to be. This time, I couldn’t hide the smile that slipped onto my face.

  Hunter grinned. “The feeling is mutual. When’s the last time you ate?”

  Feeling foolish, I realized I hadn’t eaten anything that morning. “Last night for dinner. I, uh, grabbed a sandwich.”

  He rolled his eyes dramatically. “No wonder you fainted. Let’s get some food in you.”

  I wanted to resist just because I hated the idea of telling him he was right, but my stomach let out a loud growl, and Hunter laughed.

  “Come on, princess. Let’s eat.”

  “I can find food on my own, thank you very much.”

  He grabbed my bag, which I hadn’t noticed on the floor, and headed toward the exit. “I’m sure you can, but I feel obligated to make sure you do.”

  After a moment, I trailed behind him. “I don’t know why. You don’t seem like you want anything to do with me.”

  “There’s an old Chinese proverb that says if you save a man’s life, you have to keep watching out for him.”

  I followed him into the warm air outside the museum. “First, you didn’t save my life. Second, we aren’t Chinese. And third,” I offered playfully, “I’m not a man.”

  He stopped and looked down at me. His face was serious, and his words surprised me. “I feel like an ass about the last two times we’ve met. I want to make it up to you. Will you please just let me take you to breakfast?”

  Stunned into silence, I nodded. Hunter reached for my hand, and I let him interlace his fingers through mine. Tingles shot up my arm, and I watched him closely, wondering if he’d felt it, too.

  Hunter glanced down at me and winked. “Come on.” His cocky tone was back. “I know all the best places to eat.”

  Chapter Ten

  Hunter led me to a green metal bench beside the river a few feet away from the museum. “Wait here,” he commanded, letting go of my hand and setting my bag down beside me.

  I tried to think of a snappy comeback, but my brain was still fuzzy with hunger, so I just nodded.

  In what seemed like no time at all, Hunter was back carrying two huge paper cups. He had a baguette tucked under one arm, and after he handed both steaming cups to me, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple. “Breakfast is served!”

  I was starving, but I eyed the dark liquid in the cups nervously, remembering yesterday’s bitter coffee. “What is it?” I sniffed cautiously.

  “The best hot chocolate in Paris!”

  “Oh, yum!” I took a big gulp and immediately burned the roof of my mouth. “Hot!”

  “That’s why they call it hot chocolate.” He took his own cup and handed me the apple with a smile. “Try a bite of that to cool down.”

  I grabbed the apple and chomped into it. Hunter watched me for a minute, and then wordlessly handed me the baguette. I set the hot cocoa down and held the baguette in one hand, the apple in the other. Beyond caring what I looked like, I alternated a few hungry bites between the two. When I felt a little better, I handed the baguette back to Hunter and took a sip of chocolate.

  He ripped off a chunk of bread and chewed quietly for a minute. “So, do you agree with me now about the universe?”

  I thought back to yesterday and laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe I just keep running into you because the universe is trying to piss me off.”

  “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was sort of a prick.”

  “No sort of about it.” I took another sip of chocolate, feeling more and more human by the minute, and secretly thrilled to be sitting there next to Hunter. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

  He didn’t catch me looking as he stretched out his long legs. “I know. There’s no excuse for it, but, well, I’ve had bad experiences with college travelers.”

  “That’s no reason to judge me. You don’t even know me.”

  “Believe me, I’ve had plenty of time to test my theory. You’re the first kid I’ve met who doesn’t seem like a total ass.”

  “Kid?” I raised an eyebrow. “I’m twenty, thank you very much.”

  Hunter shrugged. “I’m twenty-five. Twenty seems pretty young.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You were twenty, once.”

  “Yeah, and I was a pretty stupid kid.” He exhaled and took a drink of hot chocolate. For a moment neither of us spoke.

  Finally, Hunter sighed. “Look, I don’t mean to keep pissing you off, but it seems like every time I open my mouth, you want to kill me. I like running into you, and I wasn’t kidding about the universe. I think there’s a reason we keep bumping into each other.”

  His words made my pulse race. “You do?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you?”

  God, he was cute when he let his arrogance drop for a minute. I sipped my hot chocolate, thinking. Maybe he was right. Maybe there was a reason we kept bumping into each other. I glanced at him again, studying his profile. His stubble had darkened a bit since yesterday, and his dark eyes reflected the Parisian clouds. Was there a reason we kept running into each other? I swallowed nervously. “Maybe.”

  He grinned, his arrogance restored. “Then we shouldn’t waste a gift from the universe.”

  I chewed in silence for a minute. “You’re just so rude most of the time. Which is what I don’t get.”

  His dark eyes met mine. “I’m not trying to be rude.”

  “Then what are you trying to be?”

  He paused, searching my eyes, and tension crackled between us. “Nice,” he finally said with a sexy smile. “I’m trying to be nice.”

  I wanted to look away, but my eyes were locked on his. “You’ll have to try harder.”

  He smiled widely and leaned a little bit closer to me.

  Oh my God, was he going to kiss me? Part of me wanted to kick him, but part of me desperately wanted to know what his lips would feel like against mine. I leaned forward slightly, and Hunter’s smile widened.

  “Is this nice enough?” His breath tickled my skin, and I suppressed a giddy shiver.

  Any minute now. Any minute now, our lips would touch. I nodded, not sure if I was answering his question or giving him permission.

  A loud crash made me jump, and still-hot hot chocolate slopped out of my cup and onto my lap. “Oh shoot!” I stood up hurriedly, batting at my legs with my hands. I looked around, annoyed at the disturbance, and another loud crash echoed from the direction of the museum. A rhythmic thumping started, and then the sound of a trumpet. I finally spotted the one-man band who had interrupted what was sure to have been a steamy French kiss, and I glared at the musician angrily.

  Hunter laughed and stood up. “Do you want another hot chocolate?”

  I shook my head. My legs and hands were sticky from the spill. “I need to get cleaned up.” I headed back toward the museum, hoping that the fact that I still had m
y admission stub would get me inside to their bathrooms. Feeling shy, I looked back at Hunter. What would have happened if the musician hadn’t started playing?

  “I’ll be here.” He patted the bench and grinned at me. Suddenly, he didn’t seem like a jerk at all.

  Chapter Eleven

  I washed my hands as fast as I could, worried that Hunter might change his mind and leave, but when I emerged from the museum, he was still sitting on the bench, happily watching the one-man band perform with a medley of instruments. I paused and watched him for a minute (Hunter, not the musician). His arrogant smile had been replaced by a genuine one, and he seemed to actually be enjoying himself. Straightening my shoulders, I walked over to him, and he grinned at me.

  “Ready to go?” He stood up and handed me my bag.

  “Where to?” I hadn’t finished my tour of the museum, and I looked back over my shoulder wistfully.

  Hunter grabbed my hand. “Museums are for rainy days. There’s so much else to see in Paris!”

  Laughing, I let him pull me away from the old train station. “Does it rain here? It seems too perfect to ever have bad weather.”

  He laughed. “Oh, it rains, princess. Most days, it’ll rain at least once.”

  I eyed the fluffy clouds overhead skeptically. “I don’t know about that. And stop calling me princess!”

  He paused and looked back at me. “But I want to treat you like a princess today.”

  My heart almost swooned, but then he gave me a cheesy wink and I realized he was just teasing. “Jerk.” I halfheartedly tried to pull away from him, but he just squeezed my hand and smiled.

  “Maybe. But you love me!” His light tone took any power out of the words, and I laughed.