Sleeping with Paris

by Juliette Sobanet

  “Something like that,” she said, her eyes darting toward the dance floor.

  “He did break up with her, right?” Lexi asked before taking a huge gulp of her martini.

  “Oh yeah, they’re not together anymore. It just didn’t happen in that order. We kind of . . . um . . . slept together first. Then he broke up with her.”

  “That a girl!” Lexi laughed as she clinked her glass with Fiona’s.

  Fiona relaxed back into the booth. “Yeah, I know it wasn’t necessarily the right thing to do, and I know I promised I wouldn’t do it, but you know how it goes. A few days after I talked to you Charlotte, Andrew invited me over to his place. He cooked me this really fancy dinner, one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was back in his bed.”

  “How was it?” I asked, a little jealous that she had been having sex for the past month when I'd been lying alone in my room with visions of male strippers dancing in my head.

  An intense expression splashed over Fiona's face as she took another sip of her drink. “It was so good . . . the best it’s ever been actually.”

  “Good for you honey, you totally deserve it. So then what? Did he break up with that girl right after you slept together?” Lexi asked.

  “Yup, he called her the next morning and broke it off for good.”

  “Well . . . congratulations!” I said, faking my enthusiasm.

  “Thanks. It’s brilliant that we’re back together, but it was really hard to leave him. I mean, we spent a whole month together, and now we have to be apart for four more months.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll be here with us in Paris, so it won’t be that bad,” I assured her.

  “I know, I didn’t mean that I’m not happy to be back here with you guys, but I’m going to miss him, and . . .”

  “And the sex,” Lexi finished for her.

  “Yeah, that too,” Fiona giggled.

  I'd had enough relationship talk. Fiona was back with Andrew, and that jerk would probably just hurt her again. There was nothing I could do about that though.

  “Want some more drinks?” I asked the girls.

  “Yeah, another martini—this is really good,” Fiona said, already looking tipsy.

  “I’ll get the next round. Be right back.” As I squeezed past a group of college-aged girls, their tall, thin legs protruding from their skimpy dresses and their perfectly manicured feet wrapped in fancy stilettos, I heard a guy call my name. I turned around to find Marc grinning at me.

  “Marc, oh my gosh! I can’t believe you’re here.”

  He placed his hand on my waist as he leaned in and kissed my cheeks. “Are you going to get a drink?”

  “Yeah, I’m just getting a few drinks for Fiona and Lexi. They’re sitting over there,” I said as I pointed over to our booth.

  I noticed Marc’s gaze resting on Fiona and immediately felt bad for him. He was such a great guy. Why did she have to go and get back with her sleazy ex?

  “What are you having? Let me,” he offered.

  “That’s so nice, but really, you don’t have to.” But please do, I thought. Paying for a round of martinis was going to be expensive. And I wasn't exactly swimming in cash after forking over that cover charge.

  “No, I insist. What are you drinking?”

  “Martinis.”

  Marc grabbed my hand and led me to the bar. He was being really touchy-feely, which surprised me until he stumbled on the way to the bar, and I realized he was drunk. I let out a quiet giggle as he stumbled once more, then paid for our martinis. What would Madame Rousseau think?

  “Look who I found at the bar?” I said to Lexi and Fiona as Marc handed them their drinks.

  Fiona’s cheeks blushed as she met eyes with Marc. Uh oh. I knew she still liked him.

  “Marc!” Lexi yelped as she stood up to kiss his cheeks. “Here, have a seat.” She scooted over to make room for Marc in the booth, then leaned toward him, exposing her cleavage.

  “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she chirped.

  What was Lexi talking about? She’d only met him briefly at the bar that one night when she’d been all over Benoît, and she knew that Marc was interested in Fiona.

  Marc gave her a goofy, drunk smile. “I think I have only met you one time? Is that right?”

  Lexi leaned closer to Marc, actually resting her right breast on his arm. “Mmhmm, but we should hang out more.”

  Fiona gave me a what-the-hell look, which I echoed back. Even though Fiona had just told us she was back in bliss with Andrew, Lexi knew that Fiona had liked Marc not so long ago. And, in the Girlfriend Etiquette Handbook, until Lexi had a conversation with Fiona, clearing the way for her to hit on Marc, it wasn’t technically okay.

  And Marc, while he was trying his best to give Fiona some attention, was totally mesmerized by Lexi and her boobs. Who could blame him? She was a total knock-out, and she was throwing herself at him. She was one of those friends who was difficult to go out with because no matter how pretty you were, she was prettier, and all of the guys would inevitably flock to her. The problem was that she knew it and didn’t hesitate to use it to her advantage.

  Fiona gulped down her martini, then inched closer to Marc until he had Fiona draped over one knee and Lexi dry humping the other. As I sipped my drink and watched the competition unfold, I wanted to smack all three of them. Why did everything have to be all about a guy? I knew I was one to talk, but still, why couldn't the four of us spend a nice night out as friends? Why did Lexi have to jump all over every man with a pulse? And if Fiona hadn't gotten back together with Andrew, she could actually be with Marc instead of fighting this immature fight with Lexi.

  Before I had a chance to snap them all out of their ridiculousness, Lexi grabbed Marc’s hand and pulled him up to the dance floor.

  Fiona stayed silent as she watched the two of them grind all over each other.

  “Let's go dance,” I said to Fiona, hoping to snap her out of her jealous trance.

  “I'm not really in the mood,” she said before downing the last of her drink.

  I turned to face her in the booth. “You still like Marc, don't you?”

  She hesitated, her eyes darting from the dying couple back to me. “Okay, fine. I'm a little jealous. Lexi is . . . well, I know this is going to sound awful, but sometimes she's a sodding slut!” Fiona's strong English accent deepened the angrier she became.

  “I mean, why does she have to throw herself all over every guy? I know she's our friend, but you know how she is, Charlotte. Marc won't mean anything to her. She'll just sleep with him and be done with him.”

  I'd originally decided to keep my opinions to myself, but with Fiona's heart so clearly hung up on Marc, I needed to say something. “I knew you still liked Marc. So what are you doing back with Andrew? Do you really think this is a good decision, Fiona?”

  Fiona's emerald eyes flashed underneath the strobe light. “Yes, Charlotte, I do. Just because I'm annoyed with the situation tonight doesn't mean I should break up with Andrew. We have a history together. And I can't just throw that away over Marc, who clearly can't even keep any semblance of self-control when Lexi, The Sex Goddess, casts her spell over him.”

  “But just last year, Andrew was willing to throw your relationship away without a second thought. And honestly, what do you think he's going to be doing while you're in Paris the rest of the year?”

  Fiona's cheeks flushed crimson. “Just because your fiancé and your father are cheaters does not mean that all men cheat.”

  Her tone stung, but the alcohol fueled my fire. Why was Fiona being so naïve? “Didn't you just tell us that Andrew cheated on his girlfriend with you only a few weeks ago? So how is that any different?”

  Fiona avoided my gaze, then huffed out a breath as she reached for her purse. “I'm really not in the mood for this. I'm going home.”

  I grabbed Fiona's arm. “Listen, I'm sorry. I just don't want you to get hurt, that's all.”

  Fiona jerked her arm away. “I ca
n take care of myself just fine. Besides, do you really think you should be . . . “ Fiona trailed off as she bit her lip.

  “What were you going to say?”

  “No, forget it. It's not worth it.”

  “No, really. What were you going to say?”

  Fiona sighed, her eyes suddenly appearing tired. “All I was going to say is that you can't spend your whole life running away from relationships, Charlotte. Hiding from love like it's the plague. If you do, you'll end up alone and desperate.” She nodded toward the dance floor where Lexi was rubbing her butt in Marc’s crotch and reaching around to massage his thighs. “You'll end up like Lexi.”

  Fiona turned and left me alone in the bar, her words ringing loudly in my ears.

  I drank the last of my martini and let the alcohol wash their truth away from my consciousness. I didn't want to hear it.

  ***

  Back in my room, I poured myself a huge glass of red wine and cuddled up on my bed, unable to erase Fiona's words from my mind. She was right. I was alone. I was desperate. And even though when I first met Lexi, I'd believed I'd wanted her life of glitz and glamour, hot guys and steamy sex, I was beginning to see the emptiness of that lifestyle. And while Lexi would never admit to it, I knew she felt it. That hole. That void that comes with being alone, with never letting anyone in. I'd heard it in her cries on Christmas morning. Those weren't the cries of a drunk, sobbing girl. Those were the cries of someone who, deep down, was broken and afraid to love.

  I shuddered to think that Fiona had seen that same girl in me tonight. That maybe she'd seen her in me all year long, and she'd just been too sweet to tell me.

  Real friends tell you the truth though, even when it's difficult to hear. And that's what Fiona had done tonight. She'd held the mirror up, and although I didn't want to look, I couldn't help but see the broken-down, fearful face staring back at me.

  As I opened my laptop, I felt a pang of sadness as I thought about Katie back at home. She was a true friend too, and she always had been. Yet, all year I'd been jealous of her relationship with Joe, meanwhile touting on and on about how relationships are doomed and the smartest thing a girl can do is to avoid them altogether.

  Then when I thought about Lexi’s advances on Marc, and her obsession with men and sex in general, I realized I felt bad for her . . . . but I also knew that if I didn't get a grip on my life and on my priorities, I would become her.

  In that moment, I wished I was back in DC so I could just call Katie and take the bus over to her place like I always used to do.

  But I wasn’t home. I was alone in France, sitting with a person I wasn't liking all too much at the moment—myself.

  I pulled up my blog and began typing.

  Rule # 1 – Relationships with men are fleeting, so it is important to surround yourself with true friends who you know you can always count on.

  If I’ve learned anything this past year, it’s that guys will come and go. So while you’re out having a good time, don’t forget to be there for your friends. This means remembering that friendships come first and guys come second. No exceptions.

  At the end of the day, ladies, if you’re down and out, will the new guy you just met out at a bar be the one listening to you vent on the phone about your latest catastrophe?

  No, he most certainly will not.

  It will be your friends—your true friends—who will pick up the pieces and make you feel loved again. And, more importantly, your true friends will be the ones to tell you the truth about yourself, even if you're not willing to hear it.

  After publishing my blog post, I wrote Fiona an email to apologize. I told her that I was genuinely happy for her and Andrew, and that I appreciated her honesty with me. Then, as I switched off the light in my bedroom and curled up underneath my comforter, missing my friends from home and wishing they weren't an ocean away, my phone beeped.

  It was a text message from Lexi. It read:

  The sex with Marc was just so so.

  Which in Lexi language meant that she’d never be talking to Marc again. He was just another notch on her bedpost. And while Lexi was exactly the type of friend I’d needed to get over my broken engagement when I’d first arrived in Paris, I wondered how deep the friendship could really go when her main priority was sleeping around.

  Eighteen

  samedi, le 12 mars

  Until you have all the facts, don’t go judging a French man by his skinny cover.

  As February rolled into March, I noticed the light peering out from under Luc’s door every night. He was back.

  Whenever I heard a door close in the hallway, I jetted up to my peep-hole and peered through to see if he was walking down the hall. I hadn’t had any luck, until one day when I was leaving the showers. I was all wrapped up in my skimpy towel, with another towel wrapped like a turban around my wet hair when I spotted Luc locking his door. Even though I’d been doing a little more than just hoping to run into him (spying—moi?), I considered turning around and running back to the showers. What would I say to him? “Hey, I know I turned you down, but could we still have sex and eat chocolate in bed together?” It seemed perfectly logical to me, but I didn’t know if he’d buy it. And besides, I knew it was more than that. Just the sight of him released a vat of wild butterflies in my stomach.

  Before I had a chance to decide what to do, Luc turned around and spotted me standing at the end of the hall, dripping wet.

  “Charlotte, hey.”

  “Hi, Luc.” I shuffled toward him, making sure my towel didn’t fall down. Not that he hadn’t seen what was underneath it anyway, but still.

  “I always see you coming out of the shower. Are you planning this?”

  I laughed. “No, of course not. I think you’re following me around, waiting to see me in this hot towel.”

  That got a laugh out of him. “Yes, I love that towel wrapped around your hair. It is so sexy.”

  “So, how have you been?” I asked.

  “Good, very busy. I am close to finishing my Master’s degree, you know, . . . and I have a lot of other things going on too, so yes, I have been very busy. And you? You are still enjoying life in Paris?”

  “Yeah, it’s been good, you know. I . . . I’ve been meaning to stop by. I knew you were probably busy though, and . . .” I trailed off, not really knowing where I was going with this, just knowing that I was happy to see him.

  Luc shifted his weight back and forth a few times, then finally looked me in the eye and smiled. “I would like to take you out tomorrow. It is my birthday, so we will go out and have a drink, no?”

  “That sounds perfect. It’s your thirtieth, right?”

  “No, I will only be twenty-two. What are you talking about?” he said as he winked at me. “I will knock on your door at 8 o’clock.”

  “Sounds great, I’ll see you then.”

  I scuttled back to my room and realized that I felt more excited about hanging out with Luc the next night than I had about anything in a long time.

  ***

  Always punctual, Luc knocked on my door just as the clock turned eight. He smiled flirtatiously as he slid his hand around my waist and leaned in to give me bisous. The smell of his cologne and the feel of his warm breath on my skin gave me goose bumps. God, I’d missed him.

  Instead of taking me to the RER station, Luc led me to his car—a blue Renault Twingo, which was just slightly larger than a Smart car. We climbed in, and after winking in my direction, Luc sped off through the city, its night lights twinkling underneath the full moon. He cranked up a French radio station as he whizzed in and out of the winding streets, and whenever he wasn’t shifting, Luc reached his right hand over and placed it gently on my thigh. My heart beat picked up as we passed by the Opéra Garnier, where we’d had our last date. Before I had a chance to think about how badly that date had ended though, Luc rounded the corner and zoomed into a tight parking spot on a busy side street.

  After opening the door for me, Luc took my hand and l
ed me down rue Daunou to a bar called Footsie. A blast of warm air welcomed us into the dimply lit pub as we walked up to the long, wooden bar and squeezed in between two packs of rowdy French guys.

  “Tonight, we are having beer,” Luc told me before ordering us two tall glasses, then leading me over to a booth in the corner of the bar.

  “Happy thirtieth birthday,” I said as I clinked my glass with his. We both took a big, long sip, and to my surprise, the beer actually tasted great going down. I took a second giant sip just to loosen up. I’d been nervous all day, wondering what we would talk about, how this night would unfold. I wasn’t sure why Luc would want to spend his thirtieth birthday with me, but then again, I wasn’t sure why I wanted to spend his thirtieth birthday with him either if I was so anti-relationship. All I knew was that I was happy to be in his company again, and my hormones hadn’t shut off since January. It had been a two month build-up, and something had to give.

  “I can’t believe I am thirty. It goes so fast. One minute you are twenty, you’re young, you’re at the university with no bills to pay, no responsibilities, and then, the next minute you are thirty. Tell me, Charlotte, how does this happen?”

  I laughed. “Oh come on, thirty isn’t that old. I thought men weren’t supposed to care about age.”

  “You are right, it is the women who are supposed to feel sad and depressed when they are thirty, not the men.”

  “That’s right, so cheer up and drink some more of that beer,” I said as I nudged him in the side. “I’m sure I’ll be depressed enough for the both of us when I turn thirty.”

  He grinned at me, then took a huge gulp of beer. “No, you will be even more beautiful when you are thirty than you are now.”

  I felt my cheeks blush all the way up to my ears. How was it that he could always get me with those corny, French man lines?

  Luc downed the last of his beer and headed back up to the bar to get two more. When he sat back down, he wrapped his arm tightly around my shoulders and pressed his thigh up against mine.