“Where are we going?” I asked after we walked three silent blocks.
He just grinned. “It’s a surprise.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“I can. You seem fearless.”
I almost laughed. I had never considered myself fearless. I jumped into things with everything I was. It was another part of being a military brat. Every moment counted, and they all had to be perfect. Kind of a problem honestly. Perfectionism was another curse. But fearless? No way.
“Tonight, I feel fearless,” I admitted.
“As you should since you have the run of the city.” Penn dashed across the street and stopped us in front of a restaurant with a green awning. “Wait here a minute, will you?”
“Just here?”
“I’ll be right back.”
I narrowed my eyes in confusion but nodded. I’d decided to come with him, so I would see this through. I just hoped he wasn’t doing some kind of drug deal or something equally nefarious.
Please don’t make me regret this, I silently pleaded.
He appeared a few minutes later with a brown bag tucked under his arm.
“What’s that?”
“That is a surprise. Come on.”
My curiosity was piqued.
We walked another two blocks toward the Seine. The river wound lazily around the curve of the Eiffel Tower down to Notre-Dame and beyond. Dinner cruises sailed by, taking in the twilight-lit sights. The moon was full overhead, casting an eerily beautiful glow across the entire city.
Penn stopped a few blocks from the Eiffel Tower with a stellar view of the monument from across the river. He padded across the cobblestone path in front of the water, found an open space, and sank down. I watched as he set down the brown package and dangled his legs over the edge of the riverside. He expectantly looked back at me, and it was that look that jolted me into motion.
I crossed the crowded path, removed my high heels, and sat next to him. Our hips touched in the scant space. My breathing hitched at the first heated contact. I cleared my throat to cover the misstep. “Well, this is unexpected.”
The shadows accentuated his high cheekbones, drawing a line down to his lips. I couldn’t look away as he said, “What were you expecting?”
“I have no idea, but I like it.”
“I thought you might,” he said confidently. “And you haven’t even seen what’s in the bag.”
He retrieved the brown bag from his other side and began to pull out its contents. First, he passed me a baguette, baked Camembert, and then a bottle of red wine. “Hope you like red,” he said as he removed the cork.
“I do.”
Or at least, I’d learned to appreciate it this summer. My parents weren’t big drinkers. Between my dad’s family’s alcohol and addiction problems and my mom’s belief in all things New Age, my parents stayed pretty straitlaced.
“Though I will have you know, I have had this meal before since I’ve been here.”
“God, I hope so. But if you haven’t had Monsieur Laurent’s food, then you haven’t truly lived.”
He broke off a piece of the bread, dipped it into the gooey cheese that looked like Brie but would be insulted by the comparison, and popped it into his mouth. I followed suit, tasting the intricate flavors on my unrefined palate. It was incredible.
Without glasses for the wine, we just passed the bottle back and forth between us. It was sweet but not too sweet. Fragrant with a hint of cherries. I was pretty sure I’d go my entire life and never have wine that tasted as good as it did tonight.
“So, if you could live another life, what would you choose?” I asked, leaning back on my elbows and aimlessly kicking my feet. “From where I’m sitting, your life seems kind of perfect.”
“Ah, not is all how it seems, I assure you.” His eyes traveled the length of my long, lean legs from hours of swim practice. “I guess I don’t know any other way to live, but I’m open for suggestions.”
“Well, what do you despise about your parents?”
“Twenty questions?” he asked right back.
I chewed on my lip and shrugged slightly. “Just trying to get to know you.”
“Usually, people start with favorite color and what they want to be when they grow up.”
“You make me want to cut right through the small talk,” I admitted baldly.
“I know what you mean.”
“So…very important question: what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“I feel at a divide in that question.”
I laughed. “I thought you said this was an easy question.”
“I didn’t say that. I said that’s what people start with.” He brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from my cheek. “My parents want me to work for the family business. But I think I want to be a professor.” He blew out a harsh breath. “I’m working toward the degree. I shouldn’t have to think that’s what I want.”
“A professor in what?”
“Philosophy.”
My mouth popped open in surprise. “You are an enigma, aren’t you?”
“That is one way to describe getting a rather useless degree.”
“It’s not useless if that’s what you love,” I said with more vehemence than I’d intended.
“Tell that to my parents.”
“I know exactly what it’s like for others to think that your dreams should stay put,” I admitted. “My parents think that an English degree, a career in writing, is pointless. I’m smart. I could become a lawyer or a doctor or something practical in business. If only there were a way to tell them that none of that matters to me.”
But it was nearly impossible to do so. They believed it was worse than impractical, a waste of money. My parents wanted me to rise above the poverty line. An English degree might as well be a kiss of death.
“Tell me about it,” he said, taking another long sip from the bottle of wine. “That secret I told you? This is the main reason. They don’t accept me for who I am and then wonder why I’m always trying to escape.”
I could feel this mutual truth radiating between us. In some way, we were both adrift. A leaf blowing in the wind on no set course, just being pushed around. And I wanted more than that. Even if no one else understood my obsession.
“I get it,” I finally whispered, sitting up and dangling my feet.
Penn set the wine bottle aside and laced our fingers together. Something passed between us then. A current. A mutual understanding. The start of something new. It was inexplicable and incredible.
My body buzzed with excitement, taking in a truth I hadn’t let myself see before. I always blamed the fact that I never really dated on my history. Growing up in a different city every year had put a strain on all my relationships. But the truth of it was, I’d never met anyone who really saw me.
Penn’s hand moved to my cheek. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, causing goose bumps to erupt on my skin. Our eyes locked in the short distance. The nearly empty bottle of wine made my brain fuzzy and my body warm and inviting. I stayed perfectly still, taking in this moment. I wanted to write it to memory. Just wanted to relive the electricity vibrating between us. The tension was palpable.