by James Birk
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Amy was already waiting for me when I exited the metro so I apologised for being late.
‘That’s ok,’ she smiled, ‘I used to live here, so I probably know my way around better than you.’
‘Yeah, I did get a bit lost,’ I admitted, ‘plus I am moving quite slowly at the moment.’
She laughed, ‘So you did it then?’
‘In my own way,’ I said, ‘I was more tortoise than hare, but I got there in the end.’
‘What was your time?’ she asked.
‘Well the clock said five hours and twenty minutes,’ I answered sheepishly, ‘but I might have been a bit faster actually, because I didn’t get over the start line straight away. My proper time will be on the website, but I haven’t had time to check.’
‘Well I’m impressed,’ she said, ‘but I always knew you would do it.’
‘I didn’t know I would do it, but thank you for your faith.’ I said, and then because I couldn’t resist I asked, ‘how did your friend do?’
‘Oh, Olivier? I think he did it in about three and a half hours,’ she saw my crestfallen expression, ‘oh but your time was very good too! Don’t forget he’s been running for a long time and this was your first marathon.’
‘And my last’ I grimaced rubbing my lower back, ‘so what did you want to do this evening?’
‘I imagine you’re quite tired,’ she said, ‘so we probably shouldn’t do anything too strenuous.’
Was there an innuendo there? I wondered, but I didn’t think so.
‘How about the cinema?’ she suggested.
‘The only trouble with that is that I don’t speak French.’ I pointed out.
‘Oh that’s not a problem,’ she laughed, ‘they don’t dub all the American films into French, sometimes they just have French subtitles, so you’d be ok.’
‘In that case the cinema sounds perfect,’ I said.
Neither of us had a film in mind, and aside from a few French films that looked pretty good on the posters, but that I obviously wouldn’t understand, there didn’t seem to be a great deal on. In the end we opted for an animated children’s film about a family of anthropomorphic squirrels. It was surprisingly good.
After the film we walked from the Champs Elysées to Place des Invalides heading for a bar that Amy knew from her year abroad. It was actually ten fairly painful minutes for me on my tired legs, but it was a pleasant evening, and it made for a more relaxed conversation than had we taken the metro, which would have been a bit senseless as it was only one stop away.
The bar was a typically French affair, reminding me of pictures my old Tricolor GCSE text book. I went to the bar to order, but Amy grabbed my hand and directed me to a seat.
‘There’s a waiter service,’ she advised me, ‘if we order at the bar, we have to drink at the bar, and I think you need a sit down.’
I acquiesced gladly, silently thrilled by the touch of her hand.
The bar was empty but it still took a good seven minutes before the proprietor came to take our order. He seemed disappointed that we weren’t eating, but took our order for two soft drinks grudgingly and walked off.
The street we were on was called rue St Dominique, and it had a brilliant view of the Eiffel tower. Amy said she loved it there because it was the street she had lived on during her year abroad.
‘It was brilliant,’ she enthused, ‘I was based at ULIP, that’s the University of London Institute in Paris, which looks out over the Esplanade des Invalides, so I didn’t have to travel very far at all!’
‘So you spent a year living in one of the most famous cities in the world, and you spent all your time in one place?’ I teased.
‘Well, pretty much yes,’ she laughed, ‘I mean I did all the touristy things with my friends when they came to visit, but mostly I was here, yes.’
‘It’s pretty nice round here,’ I acknowledged, ‘and I’ve never really left Cardiff, so what do I know?’
She squeezed my hand again, ‘You have now.’
‘Well yes, for three days,’ I pondered, ‘I’m not sure that counts really.’
‘It’s a start.’ she laughed as our drinks arrived.
We stayed in the bar for hours chatting, reminiscing, laughing, and occasionally ordering overpriced lemonades to keep the owner happy. Eventually we were the only two people left.
‘We’d better, go,’ said Amy looking at her watch, ‘you don’t want to miss the last metro.’
‘No I suppose not,’ I agreed, thinking that I didn’t mind one bit if it meant I could spend a few more minutes in her company.
‘Well, you’ve still got a bit of time, so don’t worry,’ she smiled sweetly, ‘would you mind walking me back to my hotel.’
‘Well it does hurt to walk…’ I started to joke, but her expression changed to concern.
‘Oh, well then of course I’ll make my own way back, how selfish of me,’ she apologised.
I grinned at her in what I hoped was a reassuring fashion.
‘Of course I can walk you to your hotel,’ I said, ‘I can’t have you wandering the streets of Paris on your own.’
‘Well it’s only the down the road and it’s usually pretty safe around here…’
‘I would love to walk you back to your hotel,’ I said, truthfully.
She wasn’t wrong; her hotel was literally a three minute walk up Rue St Dominique.
‘Well thank you for a lovely evening,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ I replied, ‘I’ve had a really nice time.’
We stood there awkwardly for a few moments.
‘Well I suppose I’d better be going,’ I said breaking the silence.
‘Ok,’ she seemed sad, ‘well it’s been lovely seeing you again.’
‘You too,’ I agreed and turned to leave.
I had barely started to walk away when a voice in my head started screaming at me.
‘What are you doing you idiot?’
The truth was I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never asked a girl out whilst being sober before. I didn’t know how to do it. But I did really like her.
I spun around just as she was about to walk into the hotel.
‘Amy,’ I shouted, ‘wait a second!’
She turned and looked at me, a little startled.
‘Look I’m really sorry Amy, I’m being a bit of an idiot,’ I gasped, ‘it’s just that I really like you, as in you know, I fancy you and I…’
There was a pregnant pause as I trailed off. She walked up to me slowly and looked directly at me, melting my heart with her soft green eyes.
‘I like you too,’ she said.
There was another slightly awkward pause, and I felt the onus was on me to do something, so I leaned forward and kissed her.
Thankfully she kissed me back.
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Thank you for reading my novel.
You can connect with me online at https://www.jamesbirk.blogspot.co.uk
