Preaching to the Choir

by Kitty Parker

  "And it helps us to find you ridiculously cute French outfits to show off in front of Kurt," Jane added.

  "I thought you said that we weren't buying anything?" I pointed out.

  She grinned evilly. "I lied."

  With that, she all but dragged me over to the escalator, Eden strolling along beside us. I pouted at her, indicting her for not helping me escape from Jane's clutches. She merely smiled at me.

  We reached the second floor, where the women's clothing was located. Sighing, I absentmindedly browsed through some skirts. It's not as though I didn't like shopping. I simply wasn't in the mood for it at the moment. I couldn't help but wonder where a certain someone was, and my mind kept insisting that going off in search of him would be a fabulous idea.

  Something soft was suddenly shoved into my hands. I blinked, confused, and looked down at the piece of blue fabric I was now holding.

  "Well," began Jane impatiently. "Go try it on!"

  Still somewhat zoned out, I headed off toward a large door in the wall behind the lingerie section that appeared to be a fitting room. I wasn't really looking where I was going, of course, but I was nonetheless surprised when my left foot caught against something metal and ceased to move forward with me, causing me to fall flat on my face with a loud "Oomph!"

  My ears were greeted with the sound of laughter that was all too familiar. Clambering to my knees, I turned to the source in disbelief.

  Upon realizing who he was laughing at, Kurt Matthews immediately sobered.

  I stared at him, my heart fluttering a bit. "Kurt? What are you doing here?"

  He had been holding something in his hands, but he quickly shoved it behind his back. "Uh…shopping?"

  "In the ladies' lingerie section?" I inquired, getting to my feet and raising an eyebrow.

  My question was met with the classic deer-in-the-headlights look.

  Setting my dress on a nearby table, I walked over to him. "What's that behind your back?"

  He started to turn pink, and I melted a bit at his absolute adorableness. "Nothing!"

  "C'mon, let me see," I persisted, attempting to be playful.

  He shook his head vehemently.

  "Fine. I'll just have to get it myself, then." So saying, I began to tickle him mercilessly, enjoying the feel of his body beneath my fingertips and knowing that he would eventually give in.

  "No!" he exclaimed, moving his hands from their hiding place and attempting to bat me away.

  I took the moment to seize the object dangling from his right wrist and crow in triumph. Then I took a good look at it. When I figured out what it was, I practically died laughing.

  There, in my hands, was a hot pink thong.

  I doubled over, practically suffocating from lack of oxygen, tears of mirth starting to leak out of the corners of my eyes. Attempting to calm down, I took a couple of deep breaths in and turned my gaze back to Kurt.

  His face was about the same color as the piece of lingerie he'd picked out.

  I grinned at him. "Why Kurt, you have such fabulous taste in undergarments."

  "It was a dare!" he claimed, turning from pink to red.

  "Uh-huh," I replied. "Sure, it was."

  "No, really!" he insisted. "I'm supposed to buy a thong, give it to a random French woman, and say 'Voulez vous coucher avec moi?'"

  Ah, the only full phrase of French known by all American teenagers. "It's alright, Kurt," I chuckled. "I believe you. It's just really fun messing with you sometimes." I gave him a little wink, commending myself on my wonderful flirtation tactics.

  His panicked face relaxed into an adorable embarrassed smile.

  My heart skipped a beat or two.

  "Do you, er, do you want to help me find a…victim?" he asked.

  I grinned. "I'd love to. In fact, I have the perfect woman."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Care to show me who?"

  I nodded, and he took my hand in his, sending a tingling sensation up my arm. Still grinning, I led him in the general direction of the escalator and the cosmetics section. That snooty saleslady was sure in for a surprise.

  * * *

  "I don't care what those stupid scientists say. Pluto is a planet!"

  Kurt rolled his eyes at me good-naturedly as we walked down a hallway in the Louvre. We'd somehow gotten separated from the group of people we'd been with, but neither of us particularly cared. "Lotte Leisch, you are way too stubborn for your own good."

  I gave him a playful shove.

  "Hey!" he yelped indignantly, nudging me with his elbow in retribution once he'd regained his balance.

  "Pluto will always be a planet to me," I sniffed haughtily. "Besides, if it weren't, it would completely mess up the acronym sentence thing that they teach kids to help them remember what order everything goes in."

  "My-very-excellent-mother-just-served-us-nine-pizzas?" Kurt supplied.

  "See? You can't just end with nine," I insisted.

  He shrugged. "You could change it to 'My-very-excellent-mother-just-served-us-nutella.' Everyone likes nutella."

  "True enough," I conceded, grinning at the thought of the delicious, chocolaty hazelnut spread. "That stuff is pretty much orgasmic."

  Oh my God, I thought. Did I seriously just use a word that has 'orgasm' in it in front of Kurt? Scheiße!

  I snuck a peek at my companion. His face had taken on the color of a flamingo's feathers, and he was gazing at the marble floor with apparent interest as we walked along. Almost as if he could feel my vision upon him, he turned to look at me.

  Our eyes locked. He grinned nervously.

  It suddenly occurred to me that having a happily-ever-after-type kiss in a museum filled with romantic statues and paintings would be an absolutely fantastic idea. The notion hit me like a ton of bricks…

  "Oof!"

  …a ton of bricks that were awfully similar to those in the wall I had just walked into.

  As I regained my balance and dazedly shook my head, I listened for the laughter that I was sure would be coming from Kurt's direction.

  It didn't come. When I turned to look at him, I saw nothing but concern etched across his features.

  "Are you alright?" he inquired, gently taking my chin in his hand and moving it to see the side of my face that had hit the wall directly. His eyes widened a bit. "You're bleeding."

  I automatically lifted a hand to my cheek, feeling the blood from a small scrape across it. "Oh."

  Kurt watched me silently for a moment, the emotions swirling about in his hazel eyes unreadable as always. Then, slowly, he began to lean in toward me. I closed my eyes, waiting and praying for the kiss that I so ardently desired.

  It came, but not where I wanted it. Kurt gently placed his lips upon my cheek, tenderly kissing my small wound. The contact sent a deliciously exciting shiver up my spine. I wanted so badly to turn my head and make our lips collide, but I simply didn't have the guts. Pathetic, eh?

  He suddenly pulled away, face once again turning a brilliant pink, and bit his lip, looking at a spot somewhere to my left. "I, um, I kissed it to, uh, make it feel better."

  Sort of disappointed, I looked down at my flip-flops. "Oh… right."

  "So, er, hopefully it, um…worked."

  There was a highly prolonged and awkward silence.

  "So, um," he finally ventured. "Shall we continue?"

  "Er, yeah," I answered. "There are some things I'd like to see."

  We continued our walk down the corridor, pausing in front of a large placard on the wall that displayed a map of the museum.

  "Do you have any idea where we are?" asked Kurt.

  I furrowed my brow, trying to discern the direction we'd come from. "They really should put one of those 'you are here' dots on this thing. I think we're in this hallway, though." I pointed to a small line going along the ground floor of the Sully Wing of the Louvre. "I'm pretty sure that we just passed that room."

  "Alright," Kurt replied. "Let's go in here, then." He pointed to section twelve
of the wing we were in, then turned to head off in the correct direction, motioning for me to follow him.

  When we reached our destination, I had to pause at the archway to stare in awe at the priceless work of art before me. I began to get goosebumps at the mere thought of being in the same room as the most famous and beautiful Roman statue of them all.

  "It's the Venus de Milo," I whispered. "Oh, good Lord, it's beautiful!"

  Kurt didn't reply.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. "Well? Say something!"

  "It's...er, nice?"

  I stared at him incredulously. "It's nice?"

  "Hey, don't get me wrong," he hastily defended himself. "It's a great sculpture. But as a woman, she's…you know, stone. The real thing is what's beautiful. Why would I be fascinated by a statue when I have the real thing right in front of me?"

  I suddenly felt as though the butterflies in my stomach had started throwing a wild house party. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

  Upon realizing that he had just inadvertently called me beautiful to my face, Kurt blushed heavily and began to babble. "You know, not that I don't like art and all. I love art! Yep, I love art. In fact, I love art so much that I'm going to go look at some more of it right now." So saying, he high-tailed it out of the room.

  I couldn't help but giggle a bit. Kurt was so adorable when he was flustered!

  Oh, Kurt…

  My heart did a little flip-flop at the mere thought of him. Head in the figurative clouds, I ambled into the next room, only to find Luke and Jane making out like there was no tomorrow. I did a quick about-face and hurried back the way I'd come, attempting to erase the image from my mind and pretending that it didn't make me feel rather lonely.

  * * *

  "Will you just fucking kiss him already?!"

  "Shut up, Jane," I groaned, burying my face in my pillow.

  "You are missing a lot of great chances, Lotte," Eden gently pointed out.

  "Yeah, I know," I admitted.

  Brigid sighed loudly. "Just put the poor boy out of his misery! It's so obvious that he's completely butt-crazy in love with you, and we all knowthat you like him back. Well, everyone besides Kurt knows, anyway."

  Frustrated, I sat up on the bed and chucked the pillow at my freshman friend. "I KNOW, OKAY?"

  "Then what the fuck are you waiting for?!" demanded Jane, throwing her arms up in the air.

  I didn't have a decent answer for that one, so I tried borrowing one from Jack Sparrow. "Er…the opportune moment?"

  That earned me a smack upside the head, courtesy of Jane. "The opportune moment? Are you shitting me? There is no opportune moment. For God's sake, EVERY moment is an opportune moment for that. There's never a moment where it's not a good idea to give the guy you like a smooch. In your case, it can't happen soon enough! The sexual tension is fucking killing me. It's killing me, Lotte, you hear?"

  "Oh, let her be a romantic, Jane," Eden interrupted. "It's kind of a big deal for her and Kurt to get together. Let her have her perfect movie kiss."

  "She's just being a chicken and procrastinating!" Jane retorted.

  "I can see where she's coming from, though," Brigid commented.

  "HELLO!" I shouted, attempting to remind my friends of my existence. "I'm in the room, too, people! Stop talking about me in the third person! Besides, who says that I have to be the one to take the initiative? Why don't you go bother him about it?"

  Jane rolled her eyes. "Lotte, in the eleven years that you've known Kurt Matthews, has he ever taken the initiative? Has he ever made a legitimate move on you?"

  "Well…" I began.

  "And I'm not counting the time that you got drunk and mauled him!" she interrupted.

  I sighed. "No," I conceded.

  "Then what in the bloody fucking world makes you think that he's going to do it now?"

  I remained silent.

  "Look, Lotte," Eden began, coming to sit next to me on the bed. "Tomorrow is August tenth - Kurt's birthday, right?"

  I nodded.

  "Why don't you tell him then? Wouldn't it be a great birthday present for him to find out that you like him back?"

  "But I don't like him," I whispered. "I love him."

  The room fell silent for a moment as my confession sunk in.

  "Oh, Lotte," Eden cooed, scooping me up in her arms and pulling me into a hug. "That's even better. Love is such a beautiful thing. You should tell him."

  "But what if his feelings aren't that strong?" I protested. "What if it's just a crush and I wind up making a complete fool of myself?"

  "Crushes don't last for eleven years, sweetie," she replied. "It's definitely something stronger than that."

  I snorted. "As if Kurt's actually liked me since I was seven. That was back when I had cooties and all that."

  "Kurt doesn't strike me as the sort of person who ever believed in cooties," Jane commented. "If he had, he wouldn't have bugged you so much, since he'd think that every time he pulled your hair or whatever, he'd be getting contaminated."

  "Besides," Brigid teased. "He likes you now, even though you still have cooties."

  "Your mom has cooties," I retorted.

  Jane grinned. "That's what she said."

  Oh yes, we were just that mature.

  "So," Brigid began after we'd had a few moments of silly laughter. "Are you going to tell him?"

  To be perfectly honest, the very idea of it was making me somewhat queasy. "I don't know…I mean, I know I should and all. I just don't know if I can bring myself to do it. I'd probably get all nervous and tongue-tied."

  Jane let out a frustrated sigh. "Lotte, it's Kurt. It's not like you're talking to the Dalai Lama or something. Will you man-up and just kiss the poor kid already?"

  "Jane," Eden hissed. Turning to me, she placed an understanding hand on my shoulder. "Just think about it, Lotte, okay?"

  I nodded, deciding to go for a walk to clear my mind. "I'm going to go out for a while," I announced.

  Eden seemed to understand my need to be alone perfectly. "Alright, sweetie," she consented.

  "Don't get lost!" warned Brigid as I grabbed my camera.

  "Don't get mugged!" added Jane.

  "Don't get kidnapped!"

  "Don't get raped!"

  "Alright, alright, I get it, already!" I interrupted. "I won't go down any dark allies or do anything stupid, okay?"

  "Where are you going, anyway?" asked Eden.

  I pulled the door to the hallway open, pausing to give my best friend a gentle smile. "Montmartre, I think."

  Returning my grin, she nodded. "Have a good time."

  "I will."

  With that, I left the room, pulling the door shut behind me. I walked down the hallway toward the stairs, pausing to watch (and have a good chuckle at) Bryce chasing Luke in the other direction and attempting to smack him with a roll of wrapping paper. They both gave me a hurried wave as they ran by. Greatly amused, I shook my head at their lunacy and continued on my way, thinking about the dilemma at hand.

  I really did need to tell Kurt, I knew, and what better place to do it than Paris? Still, I couldn't figure out a way to go about confessing my feelings to him without sounding stupid, random, insincere, and/or a host of other negative adjectives. As I entered the stairwell and headed down to the ground floor, I ran through possible scenarios in my mind:

  Scenario One: The Direct Approach, Room Style

  I would simply run to his room, bang on the door until he let me in, leap into his arms, and kiss him for all I was worth. There were a few problems with this idea, though, primarily that his roommates might be around, which could make the situation incredibly awkward. Besides, going to his room and just plain jumping on him could lead to, ahem, more than I bargained for. Not that I didn't want to do that sort of thing with Kurt - oh boy, did I! I just figured that the same day as us getting together would be a tad soon, particularly since Kurt was a virgin. If, God willing, things worked out, I wanted our first time to be special.
<
br />   Realizing that I was mentally drifting toward the dangerous territory of sexual fantasies involving one Kurt Matthews, I shook my head and moved on to the next possible situation as I reached the ground floor of the hotel and headed into the lobby:

  Scenario Two: The Direct Approach, Public Style

  If we all went out somewhere as a group, I would simply transplant the whole leap-into-his-arms thing to wherever we happened to be. This would eliminate the possibility of things getting out of hand in a physical sense. However, the problem of other people being around and making the situation awkward would be multiplied by about a million.

  As I left the hotel, I scrapped that idea and attempted to come up with another.

  Scenario Three: The Confessional Approach

  I would go up to him, wherever we happened to be at the time, and ask him if I could talk to him alone. Once I had him on his own, I would confess my feelings in a full, articulate manner. This would hopefully garner a positive response from him and wind up with us becoming a couple. However, I wasn't sure if I was even capable of being articulate about my feelings around Kurt. I would probably take one look at his beautiful hazel eyes and become completely incoherent, babbling like an idiot.

  Dropping a coin into the hat of a street musician as I climbed down the stairs into the metro, I decided to keep that option on the table, but only as a last resort.

  Scenario Four: The Letter Approach

  I would simply put the confession from scenario three in writing form and shove it under his door. Even if I got tongue-tied when trying to speak, I could always write a draft or two of a letter until I had it right. Also, if Kurt decided to reject me, I wouldn't have to be there to get shut down. This seemed like a fairly good idea to me, but I knew that it was the cowardly way out. I also had a sneaking suspicion that, if I did decide to write a love letter, I would avoid Kurt at all costs afterward, thereby never learning of his reaction to my confession.

  I sighed as I stepped through the sliding doors of the newly-arrived subway car and slumped down in the nearest seat. None of my ideas seemed to suit my purpose.

  * * *