by Caragh Bell
‘What film do you want to go and see?’
They crossed the road.
Samantha shrugged. ‘I really don’t care. I just need to switch off completely. You choose.’
Craig stopped outside a sports shop. ‘Look, there’s a sale on their rugby jerseys. Can I just look?’
She sighed. ‘I suppose. I’ll wait out here though.’
Sport, she thought. So utterly pointless. He had a million of those tops already.
‘Hurry, Craig. I don’t want to miss the cinema.’
He made a face and sauntered inside.
Samantha’s thoughts drifted to Lydia. Strange that she was studying so much. She sure as hell hadn’t seen evidence of it. She was out all the time meeting friends from her class and going to the cinema. More often than not she arrived home around two a.m.
She rubbed her hands together in an effort to keep warm.
She’d just have to keep an eye on her. Maybe she was missing Dominic. Now that Craig was around all the time, she could be feeling lonely. It had always been just the two of them. Maybe a girlie night out was called for. To reconnect.
Oh, come on Craig, she thought in annoyance. She wanted to get popcorn and relax.
‘Remember I said we should go to a hotel?’
Lydia snuggled closer for warmth. ‘Yeah, that sounds great. No interruptions.’
‘How about tomorrow? Craig is going down south with Sam again so we can totally sneak off.’
They were seated under their tree by the river. The grass was white with frost and the wind was blowing icy cold.
‘Tomorrow? Really? I don’t know. I mean, it’s so out of the blue.’
He kissed her red nose. ‘Live a little. I’ll pick you up at three. Pack an overnight bag.’
‘Where will we go?’
‘It’s a surprise. I’ll organise it. You just pack some itsy bitsy underwear.’
She shivered in excitement. ‘It all sounds very exciting. Make sure you don’t book somewhere too close. I don’t want anyone to see us like that Mary from Pilates.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. No one will see us.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, we’ll be perfectly safe.’ He grinned and his eyes twinkled.
Intrigued, she sat up. ‘Dish it. Where are we going?’
‘Not telling.’ He shook his head, his blond hair gleaming in the winter sun.
‘Luca!’ She punched him playfully on the arm.
‘I said, I’m not telling.’ He jumped to his feet and pulled her up. ‘Just bring your passport.
‘Passport?’
Lydia paced the sitting room waiting for Luca. He was late. It was gone three and she was going crazy with anticipation.
She willed the phone to ring.
Nothing.
Looking out the window for the hundredth time, she checked her appearance in the hall mirror.
Oh come on, for God’s sake!
Her phone started to ring.
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m outside. Are you ready?’
‘Coming.’
She bounded down the stairs, dragging her tiny suitcase behind her. There was a taxi waiting outside. Luca was sitting in the back seat, with a broad smile on his face.
‘Hey, you,’ he murmured as she sat in beside him. ‘Can I kiss you hello or is it too public?’
She planted a huge kiss on his lips. ‘So, where are we going?’
‘I told you, I’m not telling. You just have to wait.’
The taxi sped along the road to the airport.
When they arrived at the Departures hall, Lydia thought that she’d burst with excitement.
‘I checked us in already,’ Luca informed her, as they mounted the escalator.
Lydia clutched her passport in her hand. When they got to the top, she had a flash of when they were about to go skiing weeks before.
She felt something punch her in the stomach. Dominic had been there; they had been so in love.
She tried not to think about it. It definitely sullied her mood.
Again she reflected on how callous she had become. It was like her brain switched off when she was Luca; she didn’t relate it to her real life at all. Dominic being thousands of miles away made things so much easier. She could bury her head in the sand.
‘Let’s go through,’ he said, walking towards the security.
Lydia hugged herself in delight. He would have to disclose the destination now. It would be on the boarding card.
They queued for five minutes and finally they reached the baggage control.
‘Here.’ He handed her a piece of paper.
‘Paris? As you serious? Paris?’ Lydia started to squeal. ‘Oh my God, my favourite city. I can’t believe it!’
He laughed. ‘I’m glad you’re happy. Now, come on.’
They landed in Charles de Gaulle airport at around seven local time.
‘Look out for signs for the train,’ instructed Luca as they walked out of arrivals. ‘We can go to Gare du Nord and take the subway from there.’
‘Do you know your way around Paris?’ asked Lydia, curiously.
‘Sure, my family comes from here. My grandmother brought me here a lot.’
They found the platform easily enough and soon were whizzing through the suburbs of the city. It was dark outside and the lights sparkled as they hurtled along.
‘So, where are we staying?’ enquired Lydia.
‘Near the Sorbonne. I found a little hotel there. It’s should be nice.’
She leaned over and kissed him softly and lingeringly on the mouth.
‘I love it. I’m so happy. Thank you.’
The hotel was a charming three-star, deep in the Latin Quarter.
Luca checked in in fluent French, asking for a bottle of champagne to be sent up immediately.
Lydia stared at him with her mouth open. ‘I knew you could speak French but not that you spoke it like a native!’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘So, you think I’m some dumb blond Yankee, huh?’
‘No, no, you know I don’t!’ But, to an extent, she supposed she did.
Their room was adorable. It boasted an ancient old brass bed with a mountain of pillows and an embroidered quilt. There was also a tiny balcony that looked out on the street below.
Lydia hugged herself in delight. ‘I’m so excited. What will we do tonight?’
Luca dropped his bag on the floor. ‘I can think of one thing we gotta do. And fast. Take off your clothes.’
She pulled down her top to reveal a red lacy bra. ‘Come and do it yourself.’
They ate in a small brasserie near the Seine. Luca ordered a tomato salad and Lydia chose twelve snails.
‘That’s so frickin’ gross,’ said Luca in distaste as she forked up her starter.
‘Not at all. I love these. I wish we could get them at home.’
They shared a main course of Chateaubriand and béarnaise sauce.
Lydia groaned in pleasure. ‘This is so yummy. I mean, the sauce is so good. I’m in heaven.’
Luca sipped his red wine and observed her methodically scooping up her food.
‘I love the way you eat. It’s so cool to see a girl who doesn’t diet all the time.’
She nodded, her mouth full.
He continued. ‘The girls back home are so obsessed about their bodies. They’re so boring.’
She swallowed. ‘Are you saying I’m a pig?’
‘I guess.’
‘Gee, thanks.’ She made a face.
‘A sexy pig.’ He kissed her forehead.
‘That’s better.’ But with a pang she remembered Dom doing and saying much the same.
After dinner, they went for a walk by the river. Lydia shivered so Luca put his arm around her. She snuggled into his embrace, feeling content and happy. It felt amazing to be free. There was no one around watching them, no one to remind her of her duplicity. In this city they could be just Luca and Lydia, two lovers together for a
weekend in the most romantic city in the world.
‘So, where are your family based?’ she asked.
‘Neuilly-Sur-Seine. I have an aunt and cousins there. I haven’t seen them in years, which suits me. They’re very French.’
She smiled. ‘By that you mean?’
‘Arrogant. Like my dad.’
‘Oh.’
‘So what do you want to do tomorrow? Besides screwing our brains out.’
Lydia nudged him playfully in the arm. ‘Jeez, who said romance was dead. Screwing?’
Luca took her face in his hands and kissed her gently on her nose and cheeks before settling on her lips.
‘Okay, making love, how does that sound?’ His eyes burned into hers.
Lydia didn’t know what to say. She inhaled deeply and stared back. A taxi hooted as it drove past and they both jumped. The moment passed.
Lydia linked his arm with hers and they resumed walking.
‘Tomorrow? Let’s go to Pigalle. I always visit Montmartre when I come here. I have to ride the carousel.’
Luca nodded. ‘You got it.’
They spent most of the next morning in bed.
Luca popped out for croissants and ordered coffee from Madame Leclerc downstairs.
Lydia ate two croissants: one was smothered in jam, the other in honey. There were crumbs all over the bed when she had finished. Luca sipped his coffee and regarded her in amusement.
‘Will I get more?’
She shook her head furiously. ‘No, I’m okay.’
‘Do you want to go out?’
‘Yeah. Montmartre. The carousel. And I’d like to sit on the steps of Sacré Coeur and look at the view.’
He bent down and licked jam off her chest. ‘You missed a spot.’
Immediately, she wanted him. It was ridiculous; all he had to do was touch her and she was jelly. The sheet fell to the side as he twirled his tongue around her swollen nipple.
‘You taste so sweet,’ he whispered, nipping her with his teeth. ‘I want you so bad.’
She pulled his head upwards and kissed him with a passion she didn’t know she possessed. He matched her and within seconds they were rolling around the bed, touching each other everywhere. It felt so right. She wanted to tell him how she felt. That she felt so connected to him, that he filled her thoughts all the time, that she was falling in love.
‘Luca?’ she breathed heavily.
‘Yeah?’
‘I ...’
‘Yeah?’ He stared at her.
At the last minute she bottled it. ‘Nothing.’ She kissed him. ‘Nothing at all.’
She took a shower straight away in the ancient bath of their ensuite. Afterwards, she opened her vanity bag to take her pill. Rummaging around, she couldn’t find the plastic film of tablets. She was sure she’d put them in the bag. Panicking, she emptied its contents onto the floor. Her shampoo, her toothpaste and her moisturiser stared up at her, but no pills.
Oh no, she thought. I took one yesterday morning. I must have left them in my room. They were prescription only which meant she had none until she got back to Ireland.
Damn, damn, damn. That really put a spanner in the works.
‘Luca?’
‘Yeah?’ He was watching TF1 on the ancient television on the dresser.
‘I forgot my pill at home.’
He swung around. ‘What?’
‘It just means we can’t have unprotected sex. It’s too dangerous.’ She ran her hand through her hair. ‘We’ll have to buy condoms.’
‘I can get rubbers – that’s no big deal.’ He took her in his arms. ‘We’ll go to a drugstore later – is that cool?’
She kissed him gently. ‘Sure.’
They spent the day wandering around Pigalle and Montmartre.
‘Let’s have a glass of wine in Place du Tertre and watch the painters,’ suggested Lydia.
‘Sure.’
They strolled hand in hand down the small winding streets lined with souvenir shops and cafés.
‘Deux verres du vin rouge, s’il vous plaît,’ said Luca as they sat at a small table outside a tiny cafe.
‘Bien sûr, monsieur.’ The waiter smiled as he placed a receipt under the ashtray on the table.
Lydia was afraid to look. Luca picked it up and laughed.
‘Twenty-two bucks for a couple of glasses of wine? You gotta laugh.’
‘What?’ Lydia gasped in horror.
‘So what, we’re here for one day only. Let’s enjoy.’ He took her hand in his.
They stared at each other for a moment.
He really wanted to ask her what she planned to do in the future, but something stopped him. If he pushed her she could bolt back to Dominic. That was not an option. He would just have to be content with what he had. It was good. Why ruin it?
The wine arrived and was placed on two paper coasters.
‘Look at that guy over there, the artist,’ said Lydia, pointing to an old man with a long beard painting a woman. ‘That painting is terrible. It looks nothing like her. You could work here and make a fortune with your talent.’
Luca grinned. ‘I’m sure Papa would just love that. His only son a two-bit artist in bohemian Paris. Hell, Mimi might have something to say too.’
‘I think it’s romantic. I could waitress in a café like Amélie. Remember the film we saw?’
‘Yeah. Will you let me sketch you later?’ He trailed his finger up her arm.
‘You’ve sketched me already.’ She laughed nervously.
‘Not the way I want to.’ He gave her a hot look.
She made an ‘oh’ sound.
‘I suppose,’ she conceded. ‘Just be flattering.’
‘You got it.’ He kissed her mouth. ‘Always.’
As promised, Luca bought condoms in the pharmacy down the street.
Back in the hotel, he threw the box on the bed.
Lydia looked at them in distaste. ‘I hate these things. They ruin the moment.’
‘Better than the alternative though, huh?’
‘I know, I know.’
‘So, let’s get drawing, baby. Take off your clothes.’
She suddenly felt shy. It seemed different to strip in front of him without being in the throes of passion.
‘Come on, Lydia. What’s the hold-up?’ He was sitting on the armchair by the window, his pen poised.
Tentatively she pulled down her jeans and unbuttoned her top. He watched her intently. Soon she stood in front of him, naked and vulnerable.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said, shaking his head in wonder. ‘Now, lie on the bed on your side and prop up your head with pillows.’
She did as he asked and positioned herself comfortably. He jumped to his feet and rearranged her hair. Lifting up her arm, he laid it along her side, moulding the curve of her hip. Satisfied, he resumed his seat and started to sketch.
‘All I’m missing is a huge diamond around my neck,’ she mocked.
‘Quit distracting me.’
She watched him as he drew. His brow was furrowed in concentration and his hand moved like lightning across the page. She moved her leg to a slightly more comfortable position and he frowned.
‘Try not to move if you can.’
Jeez, he’s so serious, she thought.
Finally, he finished.
What would it be like? It would be his interpretation of her body.
He walked over to her where she lay immobile.
‘Whad’ya think?’
Lydia took a sharp breath. It was stunning. She looked like a goddess, her long hair flowing around her shoulders, her body lithe and voluptuous.
‘Oh Luca, I think you were too kind.’
‘Not even. This is how you look to me.’
She sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘I love it.’
Pulling her closer, he pressed up against her. He was already aroused.
‘Looks like it’s rubber-time!’
She sighed. ‘You see? It ruins the
moment.’
They dined in a little bistro on Île St. Louis.
‘So, why did you major in French?’ he asked.
‘I liked it at school. Plus I love the culture and the sophistication of the French people. It’s a classy language.’
‘I guess I’m unaware of that because I grew up speaking it,’ said Luca.
The waitress refilled their wineglasses. Jazz music played in the background.
‘You have an amazing accent,’ Lydia said approvingly. ‘It’s so natural.’
‘I guess, learning it as a child from Mimi and native speakers.”
‘You’re so lucky,’ she said enviously. ‘It’s the ideal way to learn a language.’
‘Hey, if we have kids we can speak French to them when they’re little, so that they’ll learn too.’
There was a pause. Lydia choked on her onion soup.
‘I’m kidding, Lydia. Relax.’
She tried to smile. She didn’t like thinking about the future; she couldn’t. It made her feel too guilty.
He touched her cheek. ‘I hope you like this place. Mimi brought me here when I was a kid. I wanted to show you a good time.’
Lydia looked around the tiny restaurant. Mahogany beams crossed a low ceiling. The walls were festooned with tiny paintings and photos of famous diners who had frequented it in the past. The food was traditional and very French. The building itself must be hundreds of years old. She listened to the incessant chatter of the couple seated at the table next to them. She watched the chef hand a plate of moules frites to the chic waitress. Sometimes she felt like she could die like this. Immersed in a French movie scene, she felt truly happy.
She often wondered if the gloss would wear off if she moved to France. If she lived in Paris, would it seem as charming? If it were a constant thing, would it lose its allure? Immediately she thought of Luca. It was a parallel situation.
She looked at his earnest face, slightly nervous as he waited for her answer.
‘I love it, Luca.’ She smiled and took his hand. ‘I never thought that you could be so sweet. My first impression of you was so different.’
