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“Boo-hoo,” she snaps. “Bored people can become dangerous, but I don’t think this guy is simply bored. Maybe that’s how it started, but I believe he’s developed an obsession with you and he’s now grown resentful. He—or she, but let’s call it a he—clearly expected you to respond to his messages in a certain way, and now that you haven’t, he resents you for it.”
“Oh, you believe?” A humorless laugh escapes me. “I thought your dad was on this ‘developing situation?’”
I put the words in air quotes because it’s ridiculous to call it that when there is no situation that can be developing.
Olivia’s cornflower blues bore into mine as she slowly shakes her head. “We’re not going to discuss this while we’re out in public and exposed. If you’ll come back to the hotel with me, I’ll show you the research I’ve done and the profiles I’ve put together for my dad, and then I’ll read your own emails to you since you clearly haven’t been doing it.”
“No can do, Liv. I’m not going back until I’ve got what I came for, which is party supplies. You’re either in or you’re out, but I’m done talking about this.”
She keeps staring at me, exasperation practically radiating from her, but I don’t care. I didn’t invite her out with me, and the only thing she’s doing is holding me up. When I realize that the only way to break this standoff we’ve got going on is to break it, I turn and start marching away from her, mentally going over all the items I need to pick up while I’m out.
The first relevant shop I see is a party supply store, and I head straight toward it, grinning when I walk in and start conversing with the shopkeeper in rudimentary French. Unfortunately, when I can’t remember the words for “a dozen,” “purple,” or “balloons,” Olivia comes to my rescue.
“Il veut une douzaine de ballons violets,” she says, then glances back at me. “What would you have done if I hadn’t insisted on coming with you?”
“I probably would’ve left with two yellow condoms, but at least I would’ve had them an hour ago.”
She sighs. “What else do you need from here?”
I rattle off my list, and she translates it seamlessly, but Olivia’s good at languages. We weren’t in the same year back in high school, but she was fast-tracked to my French class despite her being so much younger.
“Ms. Pratt would’ve been so disappointed in you right now,” she says as if she heard my thoughts about high school. “She tried so hard with you, but you just never caught on.”
“I never caught on because Allison Jenks had a free period when we had French. I was doing something French in those slots. It just wasn’t learning how to speak the language.”
“You were French kissing Allison Jenks? That’s why you only made it to one class a week? Unbelievable.”
I smirk. “Yeah, it actually was pretty fucking unbelievable. I still can’t believe some of the things that girl could do with her tongue.”
Olivia’s entire face scrunches up, and she looks as though she is going to be sick. “I didn’t need to know that. Has there ever been a time in your life when you’ve taken anything except sex seriously?”
“That’s ridiculous. We never had sex at school. We just did other stuff. And yes, I did take that other stuff seriously too.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“You’re jealous.”
Her cheeks flush bright red, but she rolls her eyes. “You wish. Also, you do realize we could’ve ordered all this stuff online, right?”
“Yep. We need to go to a florist next.”
“Lead the way, master,” she says sarcastically, but I’ve spent so much time thinking about the last time she made that joke that my cock jerks right to attention.
I fall silent instead of continuing our banter, but when she again points out as we’re leaving the florist that we could’ve placed an order online, I snap out of it. I’m beyond frustrated—with her, with my dick, with just about fucking everything—and I’m tired of hearing about what I could or should have been doing from everyone I come into contact with.
“Yes, Olivia. I know that we could’ve ordered everything online, but if we had, I’d have been missing out on Paris. Real life happens right here on the streets, not behind a computer screen clicking on pretty pictures. We’re conversing with people, seeing things, literally stopping to smell the roses. Why wouldn’t I want to experience that, or better yet, why don’t you want to?”
As she blinks, hard, I see how taken aback she is, but I also see the moment she realizes that I have a point. We’ve spent so much time together in the last few weeks since we’ve come overseas that I’ve learned to read her quite well. When her eyes soften and her shoulders become less rigid, it’s because she’s getting ready to concede a point.
“Okay, you’re right.” She finally says the words I knew were coming. “I do want to. Of course it’s better being out here than being back at the hotel, clicking on a picture instead of choosing the actual flowers we want or getting to save you from leaving a store with two condoms instead of twelve balloons. But I’m still nervous about being out here and having you with me.”
“Don’t be,” I say, smiling since she’s no longer scowling at me. “We’ll be fine, Liv. Live a little, would you? Forget about this supposed stalker and just focus on where you are. You’re in fucking Paris, helping me plan an anniversary party for two of the best people in the world and one of the few couples who are still as in love as they’ve always been. Do you have any idea how few people can really say they’ve done something like that?”
“It’s estimated that just about ten percent of the world’s population will ever get to travel and see another part of the planet, but that’s only based on average income and the classes that are estimated to be able to afford to travel. In reality, it could be a much smaller percentage that actually spends that money on international travel, so yes. I do know that very few foreigners who have traveled to Paris will have planned an anniversary party, and even less will have planned it for a couple they love as much as I love your parents.”
“You know the most random facts.”
She shrugs. “I like facts, and besides, knowing stuff like that makes me realize just how lucky I was to have been chosen by my parents. Out of all the orphans in the world, they picked me.”
