by Cathy Hapka
As he spoke, Nicole watched his face. Now that she was getting to know him a little better, it was easier to tell when he was joking around and when he was being more serious. But this time she wasn’t completely sure.
“A toilet?” she repeated uncertainly.
Luc nodded. “A urinal, to be more specific,” he said. “It is a well-known piece by Duchamp.”
“Hmm.” Toilets on display in a museum? Nicole wondered what public-toilet-phobic Annie would think about something like that.
Just then a pretty young waitress passed by their table. “S’il vous plaît,” Luc called to her, then said a few more lines to her in French. Nicole was fairly sure the first part had something to do with getting more coffee. But the rest sounded suspiciously like a compliment on the girl’s striking green eyes and long legs.
“What was that all about?” she inquired when the waitress moved on, remembering his comments at the café the other day. “Do you know her, too?”
“Non.” He waggled his eyebrows mischievously. “But I would like to.” He grinned. “Jealous?”
“Don’t be silly.” Nicole glanced down into her coffee cup, willing herself not to blush. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed the way Luc flirted with just about every female he encountered. It seemed to be his way of being friendly. Was that all he was doing with her, or was there something more to it? And why did she care what some random French guy thought of her anyway?
But he wasn’t just a random French guy anymore. That was the problem. He had started to become a real person to her—an individual with his own set of pluses and minuses, just like all the people back home.
Sort of like Paris itself, she mused thoughtfully, stirring a little more sugar into her coffee and glancing out at the busy plaza. She still didn’t really want to be there, but at least now she could see the good points about it—stuff like this weirdly cool fountain, and all the great shopping, and yummy crêpes on every corner, and people like Annike and Marie and Renaud and yes, even Luc.
“Well, you don’t need to be jealous, ma chérie,” Luc said, breaking into her thoughts. “You know you are always beauty number one to me.”
She blinked at him. Despite her earlier thoughts, she realized she couldn’t quite tell if he was joking or not this time, either.
What if he wasn’t? The little flutter in her stomach at the thought made her gulp nervously. This wasn’t supposed to be happening—she definitely wasn’t supposed to be having warm fuzzy feelings about Luc. What about Nate?
The thought made her feel guilty. She was probably just taking out her anger about the anniversary thing in some weird way by noticing Luc. Totally immature.
“Hey, it’s getting late,” she blurted out, pushing away her coffee cup and glancing at her watch. “I should probably get home before the Smiths think I ran away or something.”
“All right, then.” Luc smiled at her. “You can find your own way home, n’est-ce pas?”
“Sure.” Nicole smiled. “I’m an old pro at the métro these days. No problem at all.”
“Good. Then I will stay here, and perhaps make a new friend.” Luc inclined his head in the direction of the pretty waitress, who was serving a nearby table.
“Um, sure.” Nicole realized she was blushing slightly, though she wasn’t quite sure why. “See you later.”
“À bientôt.”
Nicole hurried away from the table. She liked Luc—he was a cool, smart, fun guy. A good friend. So why did hanging out with him always leave her feeling flustered and weirded out?
She was still fretting over her fun but confusing afternoon with Luc as she entered the apartment a little while later. Mr. Smith was sitting on the sofa reading a book to the two older kids.
“Hi, Nicole,” he greeted her. “You missed a call a little while ago. I didn’t catch it myself—was in the middle of giving the babies a bath. But I left it for you on the machine. Sounded like a young man.”
Her heart jumped. “Really?” she said. “Thanks!”
She raced to the answering machine in the kitchen. where the message light was blinking rapidly. She pressed
the button and Nate’s familiar voice poured out of the tiny speakers, sounding distant and tinny.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said. “It’s me—surprise! And this time you’re the one who’s not home! So we’re even, right?” He laughed. “Listen, I’m calling because I just had a great idea. I found out we have a day off school in a couple of weeks for a teachers’ service day or something. So how about if I make a long weekend of it and come to see you? We can talk about it on the phone this weekend and...”
At that, Nicole let out an involuntary shriek that made her miss the next part of the message. It also brought Brandon and Marissa running into the kitchen.
“What happened?” Brandon demanded eagerly. “Did you chop off your finger with a knife?”
“No.” Nicole grinned at him. “No, nothing like that.”
Soon Mr. Smith called the kids back into the other room and Nicole played back the message again, savoring the sound of Nate’s voice. Two weeks! In just two weeks, Nate would be there with her!
Suddenly all lingering thoughts of Luc washed away in a flood of certainty. How could she even have worried that she might be starting to think of Luc as more than a friend? After hearing Nate’s voice again, the very thought was completely ridiculous. The thing with Luc was just a silly, harmless flirtation. She and Nate were meant to be together forever.
“Now this is what I call a house,” Nicole joked, spinning on her heel to take in the full view of the enormous, sumptuous classical palace surrounding her on three sides.
Mrs. Smith smiled. “It’s really something, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Nicole hadn’t been particularly excited when the Smiths had suggested a weekend day trip to Versailles, the world-famous palace of seventeenth-century King Louis XIV. She had originally intended to spend her Sunday thinking about Nate. But his visit was still almost two weeks away, and she figured this trip was probably as good a way as any to distract herself so she didn’t go crazy with anticipation in the meantime. Besides, it would give her something new and interesting to say in her Artist’s Eye class on Monday when Dr. Morley asked about everybody’s weekend.
“I suppose you don’t have too many places like the château in America, eh?”
Nicole glanced at Luc, who was grinning mischievously at her. He had come along on the trip and was currently standing with a Smith child hanging off of each arm. Even though she still felt a little strange about her feelings the other day, Nicole was glad he was there. They hadn’t had much of a chance to hang out or even talk in the past couple of days, and she sort of missed him. But just as a friend, of course.
They weren’t having much luck talking here, either, though, as Luc was kept busy chasing after the rambunctious Smith kids. Nicole trailed along behind them, taking in the scenery as they entered the château and wandered from one sumptuously appointed room to another. It was a nice day and the place was crowded, with long lines everywhere. Nicole was pretty sure she’d heard more American voices within the first hour than she had since arriving in France.
And no wonder, she thought as she stared at an opulent tapestry. I’m not surprised people come from all over the world to check out this place!
Nicole was amazed by most of what she saw, from the richly decorated royal apartments to the gold-and-white royal chapel to the spectacular Hall of Mirrors. At first she kept mental notes, planning to write it all down in her journal later. But there was so much to see that after a while it was almost mind-numbing—so many paintings, so many gilded sculptures, so many velvet curtains and crystal chandeliers and columns and balustrades and vaulted ceilings, until she couldn’t take in any more.
She was almost relieved when Mr. and Mrs. Smith suggested heading outside for a while. Soon they were all strolling through the extensive gardens surrounding the palace, admiring the sculptures, reflec
ting pools, and well-tended shrubbery.
As they stopped to admire a particularly magnificent fountain, Nicole was getting more than a little impatient with the kids. When Marissa accidentally stomped on her foot, she decided it was time to get away from them, if only temporarily.
“Excuse me,” she told Mr. and Mrs. Smith. “I’m going to try to find a bathroom. Be right back.”
Whew! How does Luc do it? she wondered as she hurried off in search of the nearest restroom, which she really did need to use. He has so much patience with those two, even when they’re acting like total brats. And all I want to do is get away from them. Of course it will be a different story when Nate and I have kids of our own....
She emerged from the restroom a few minutes later still enjoying a rosy fantasy about watching Nate cradle their future baby. When she arrived back at the spot where she’d last seen the Smiths, she found Luc alone, waiting for her.
“Where’d everybody go?” she asked him, glancing around.
“The children wanted ice cream.” Luc stood up and smiled at her. “So I said I’d wait for you, and we would rejoin them later. For now, it is just us.” He winked playfully.
“Oh well, I suppose I can put up with you for a little while, then,” Nicole joked. But secretly she was pleased that he’d managed to arrange a little alone time for the two of them.
Just as friends, she reminded herself. But it would be nice to see some of the sights without the rug rats getting in the way.
The two of them wandered down the neatly tended garden path, weaving their way around tourists posing for pictures or ogling the elaborate topiaries and gurgling fountains. “So,” Luc said casually after a moment. “Mrs. Smith tells me that your boyfriend, he is coming for a visit soon.”
Nicole shot him a quick look, but his expression was neutral. “That’s right,” she said. “Nate is arriving a week from next Friday. I can’t wait to see him!”
“Hmm.”
Luc walked on for a moment or two in silence. Nicole’s mind started drifting along in a pleasant fantasy of herself and Nate strolling together through a pretty garden like the one she was in now.
Then Luc spoke again. “I wonder if anything will seem different between you? After this time apart, I mean.”
Snapping back to reality, Nicole shot him a sharp glance. “What do you mean?” she said. “We haven’t been apart that long. It’s no big deal.”
“I’m certain you are right.” Luc shrugged and smiled. “It’s just that, some of the things I have heard you mention about him...Well, it is merely idle curiosity, that is all. As you say, ce n’est pas grand-chose. And it is none of my business.”
Nicole glared at him. “You got that right.”
She couldn’t believe he was using stuff she’d said about Nate to cast doubts on their relationship. Had she been a little too friendly to him lately? Was he starting to get ideas?
“You don’t have to worry about me and Nate,” she added firmly. “We may be apart right now, but a few months doesn’t really matter when you have your whole lives in front of you.”
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I am sorry to bring it up. I meant nothing by it. Truce?”
Nicole shrugged. “Whatever,” she muttered, still feeling irritated.
But Luc seemed ready to let the whole thing drop. “If we have time before we leave here today, perhaps we will visit the Hamlet.” He waved one hand around to indicate some unknown place beyond the gardens. “It is a sort of make-believe village that Marie Antoinette had specially built for her on the grounds here at Versailles. There are several thatched cottages, barns, even a dairy where she kept cows. She used to visit and pretend to be living a simple, rustic life. I suppose it was her way of enjoying a type of life she would never choose for herself on a permanent basis. It is an interesting idea, eh?”
Nicole stared at him, puzzled by the sudden change of topic. “Sounds a little weird to me,” she muttered.
They walked on silently for a moment. Then, without warning, Luc suddenly stopped in front of a classical sculpture. “Ah...” he said under his breath, a knowing smile twitching around the corners of his mouth.
“What’s with you?” Nicole asked, still feeling slightly irritated about his earlier comments. “You look like the cat who swallowed the canary.”
“Eh?” Luc glanced at her, perplexed. “Cat I know of course, but what is the meaning of the word canary?”
“It’s just an expression.” She shrugged. “Never mind. You just look kind of strange, that’s all I meant.”
He nodded. “This place—it holds special memories to me.” He waved one hand at the sculpture. “You see, it was here, before this very statue, where I shared my very first kiss with a girl, back when I was a mere boy.”
“Really?” Nicole smiled, a little touched in spite of herself. “That’s sweet. My first kiss wasn’t anyplace this nice—it was in seventh grade, and this guy Mark got me in spin the bottle....” She trailed off, realizing her first-kiss memory seemed kind of lame, especially in this incredible place. “But anyway, that one didn’t mean anything. The first kiss that really mattered was my first one with Nate.”
“But does not every kiss matter?” Luc turned and gazed down at her, seeming genuinely interested in her answer. “It is always a moment of sharing something special—romance, friendship, fun, curiosity....”
Nicole shrugged. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, suddenly way too aware of how close he was standing... and also of how few people were in this particular nook of the gardens. “I guess I believe it’s possible to separate the physical from the emotional.”
That was something Zara liked to say, and Nicole smiled, pleased with herself for coming up with it. But Luc still looked serious.
“I see,” he said. “Perhaps you would be willing to test that theory.”
Before she realized what was happening, he cupped her chin in his hand, leaned down, and kissed her softly on the lips. For a moment she was too startled to react. Then he ran the fingers of his free hand up her arm and her whole body seemed to melt.
“No!” she blurted, pulling away, her heart pounding. What was she doing? “I—I can’t do this!” she sputtered.
“C’était plus fort que moi,” he murmured, reaching out to touch her arm gently. “I could not stop myself.”
She brushed away his hand and hurried off, soon losing herself in the garden.
As soon as she was sure he wasn’t trying to follow her, she flopped down on a park bench, breathless and flustered. “What a jerk,” she muttered. What gave him the right to just kiss her like that? He knew she had a boyfriend—they’d just finished talking about him!
And what about you? a little voice inside her head queried. What gave you the right to kiss him back?
Nicole was still feeling guilty and confused when she and the Smiths arrived back at the apartment a few hours later. She’d managed to avoid being alone with Luc for the rest of the trip—now all she had to worry about was avoiding him for the rest of her stay in Paris.
Glancing up as Mr. Smith pulled the car over to the curb in front of their building, Nicole realized with a funny little jolt that she was happy to be back. It was a little alarming how she was starting to think of the place as home.
Maybe it would be best if I got out of here, she thought as she followed the Smiths up the steps. Quit the program, went back home, and picked up midsemester there. After all, at this point Mom and Dad can’t say I didn’t give it the old college try.
At the very thought of the word college, she shuddered, knowing she wasn’t quite ready to face that conversation with her parents. But perhaps that wasn’t the only reason she didn’t want to go home early. Perhaps, on some level, she maybe, sort of didn’t want to leave Paris just yet. She was almost starting to like it here.
How weird was that?
At least Nate will be here soon, she told herself. Seeing him will definitely help put me back on track.
Inspired by the thought, she flipped open her laptop, logged on, and pulled up a blank e-mail.
She sat back, took a deep breath, and read over what she’d written. It sounded a little rant-y and disjointed, but she shrugged and decided that didn’t matter. Nate would understand. Leaning forward, she quickly clicked send.
“Nicole? Nicole! Are you there?”
Nicole blinked, slowly becoming aware that Annike was waving a hand in front of her face and peering at her with a slightly aggravated expression. They were in the middle of a cooking lab for their culinary-arts class—all around them, other students were mixing, stirring, taste-testing, chatting, and generally having a good time—but somehow Nicole couldn’t get all gung-ho about making a gâteau au chocolat, which as far as she could tell, despite the fancy French name, was just a plain old chocolate cake. She was too busy just trying to get through the time remaining until Nate’s visit.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Were you saying something?”
Annike rolled her eyes and muttered some words in Swedish. “Only six times now,” she added, “I asked you to hand me the bowl with the egg whites and sugar in it.”
“Sorry,” Nicole said again, grabbing the glass bowl near her elbow and handing it over. “Guess I’m a little distracted these days.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
Nicole watched as Annike poured the butter she had just melted into the bowl, then added flour. She tried not to let her mind slip back to the topic of Nate’s visit, but it wasn’t easy. There were only three days to go now, and the closer it got, the harder it was for her to think of anything else.
“Um...so did you and Petra have fun at the play last night?” she asked as Annike stirred the batter. Annike had gotten the three of them tickets to a new comedy playing at a local theater the evening before, but Nicole had backed out of the plans a couple of days earlier.
