I stared at the man who was doing the yelling, not understanding a word of what he was saying. Noelle was helping me struggle to my feet, and I put my hands up to apologize.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, je suis day-zo-lay” I tried to tell him in French, but the man continued to yell at me, gesticulating wildly as a crowd around us began to form.
I didn’t know what to do, and looked at Noelle, who looked just as terrified as I was. She begged the man to stop, I understood “arretez”, asking the man to stop yelling at us, but it didn’t seem to me that anything was helping.
All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a large man stepped out next to Noelle and I. He was tall, with broad shoulders. He was at least 15 years older than me, with the slightest tinge of gray in his brown hair, but his muscular body still made him very intimidating. Noelle and I clutched each other but we quickly realized that this man was defending us. He yelled at the vendor, and while I don’t know what was said I quickly understood the gist of it, and the vendor grabbed his things and left.
The man turned to Noelle and I.
“I hope you ladies did not get too much of a fright,” he told us in somewhat accented English. I shook my head.
“No, thank you. We are fine thanks to you. Thank you. How can we ever repay you?”
“Well, for one thing you can let me have the pleasure of buying a beautiful American woman a cup of coffee.”
Noelle began to giggle and a blush crept up her face. As for myself, I didn’t really know what to do. This stranger, this man that I didn’t know at all had just invited me out for coffee. This was the opposite of what I wanted to do in France. I didn’t want to get to know any guys, I just wanted to enjoy this time and not have to worry about my feelings for boys. Still, Noelle was nudging me along, and a part of me felt that I really should go with the man. After all, he had just rescued us from the screaming mad man whose display table I had run into. The least I could do was have a cup of coffee with him. What was the harm in that?
“I promise I won’t take too much of your time young lady, if you would be so kind as to join me,” the man said again. I nodded.
“All right, let’s go have coffee then,” I replied, promising Noelle that I would call her as soon as we were done. She giggled and nodded and then ran off, leaving me with this stranger by myself. I had to admit, when I got a closer look at him, he actually was pretty hot for an older guy. I had never dated anybody much older than myself of course, and had never even considered it, but this man made me ponder the wisdom of my life choices. The tinge of gray in his brown hair gave him an air of sophistication, but wrinkles had not yet hit the face with high cheekbones and a smile that would make the Mona Lisa jealous.
“Je m’appelles Jacques” the man told me as he led me slowly towards a small Café across the bridge from Notre Dame, my ankle still hurting. I could tell from every step that I was getting better though, and I quickly realized I just needed to walk off the pain, it wasn’t going to be anything important.
“Et moi Sophie” I replied, always happy to practice my French.
“But you speak français very well” Jacques replied, much to my pleasure. “You are Americaine, are you not?”
“I am, yes. From San Francisco.”
“Ah, California. Yes, it is a beautiful area you come from.”
“Have you been?”
“A few times yes. It was quite a long time ago, I have not been back in years. But alas, the beaches are beautiful in which to photograph.”
“You are a photographer?” I asked, finding that despite my initial reservations, Jacques was actually quite easy to talk to.
“Yes, I shoot fashion. I find clothing to be beautiful, and I shoot whatever I can find. La beauté, it interests me much.”
I quickly found that I was fascinated by this man, even the way he inserted multiple French words into our conversation, it felt so exactly like everything I thought the French people would be. We arrived at a cafe along the Seine, and Jacques took my coat and placed it behind my chair for me. He was incredibly charming. The perfect image of a gentleman, as we waited for the waitress to come by we continued our conversation.
“So how long have you been in Paris for?” he asked.
“Only a few weeks so far. I’m only here for a semester, I’ll be leaving in the summer.”
“Well, Paris is a beautiful city for you to discover. It is your first time outside of Californie, is it not?”
“It is, yes. Is it that obvious?”
“No, not very much. I simply had a guess. But do not mind the man that yelled at you, do not let him ruin your enjoyment of this beautiful city.”
“Oh absolutely not. Thank you again for coming in rescuing us from him. I don’t know what he was yelling, and my foot was in quite a bit of pain.”
“Does it still hurt?”
I shook my head. “No, walking along the path has made it feel a lot better. I think I just needed to walk it off.”
“Ah good. So you do not need to see a doctor?”
“No, I don’t think so but thank you. My ankle will be fine.”
I had never expected that I was going to enjoy myself this much with Jacques the photographer. He told me stories of when he traveled the world, photographing various celebrities for magazines, the strange places in which he held a fashion shoot, including in far northern Norway where he and his model were both knee deep in the frigid waters of the Arctic Ocean to get perfect images inside a fjord. He had traveled the world, all paid on a company dime, and made quite a name for himself by all accounts. I listened with interest, but he always brought the conversation back around to me. He wanted to know all about me, all about America, and I told him everything that I could.
Noelle finally texted me to see if I was still okay, and that was when I realized how long I had spent in the coffee shop with Jacques. I started as I realized the time, and mentioned that I had to go.
“Thank you for the coffee,” I smiled as I got up, grabbing my coat.
“It was absolutely my pleasure,” Jacques replied, smiling as he watched me get up. “Enjoy your semester in the city.”
I thanked him and waved as I left, heading back into the cold snowy day, back to the church where was going to meet Noelle. Despite the cold outside, my body was warmer than ever. I didn’t understand it, why did I have such a reaction to a guy like that? I mean, it wasn’t as though I was desperate for him, but I definitely felt a warmth, a desire that I hadn’t felt in quite a while. Maybe this was just my body not used to not having Mike around.
When we got back to the church Noelle wanted to know everything that had happened. I told her all about the conversation we had in the coffee shop, and she was ecstatic.
“Are you going to see him again?” she asked.
“No, are you crazy?”
“But why not? He’s pretty good-looking, and he’s very nice. He saved us from that man after all.”
“I don’t know. He’s not my type. I’m not really looking for a boyfriend right now.”
“You should always be looking for a boyfriend,” Noelle scolded, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of Clara.
When I got home that night I got undressed and had a hot shower. Was Noelle right? Should I have asked him for his phone number, or to see him again? A part of me didn’t want to, the part of me that had sworn off men and decided that I was coming to Paris without any sort of intention to form relationships with any man, but another part of me did want to see Jacques again.
Oh well, it’s too late now anyway, he’s gone somewhere in Paris and in the city this size there’s basically no way you’re ever going to run to him again I thought as I crawled into bed.
I had to admit, I was pretty giddy with excitement, even hours later. Jacques made me feel like a Princess, he was so charming and it actually felt good to be so doted on by someone like that. I fell asleep, starting to regret the fact that I knew I was never going to see him again.
Chapte
r Five
A week passed, and despite my best efforts I just couldn’t get Jacques out of my head. I knew I was never going to see him again, it was just a fun thing to do one afternoon. Was I really so desperate for a boyfriend that one guy asking me out for a single coffee was driving me this crazy? It couldn’t be, especially not when I’d sworn off men for this whole trip. I refused to believe it.
I had to admit though, when Claire and Noelle teased me about him for the next few days, I enjoyed feeling like the center of attention for a few minutes. After all, it happened to me so rarely, I figured I might as well enjoy it while it lasted. I got to play the part of the popular girl who had guys falling for her for the first time in my life. I mean, how often does it happen that a stranger wants to buy you a single coffee, after rescuing you from a crazy French person screaming at you? That’s the sort of thing that happens in movies, not real life, and yet it had happened to me.
The weekend after the initial encounter, I was walking through the grounds of the University. There was a garden at the back of one of the main buildings which I enjoyed walking through on my way back to my apartment. Even though it was still the middle of winter, there were a number of shrubs and grasses and trees which still made it extremely pleasant to walk through. A soft layer of snow covered the plants, and as I looked up at the sky and saw the foreboding gray clouds, I was pretty sure that layer was going to get a little bit heavier tonight.
Still, it wasn’t incredibly cold out, not compared to other days (although compared to the weather in San Francisco in the winter it was always freezing, but I got used to it quickly). I strolled slowly through the garden, enjoying the view of the people as they went about their daily lives. Suddenly, I stopped. I did a double take. In a corner, by an imitation Greek statue (or maybe it was real, you can never know for sure in Paris), was a gorgeous woman in a black lace dress. A veil covered half her face, her lips were painted ruby red and her stilettos were at least 4 inches high. She was absolutely beautiful as she posed by the statue, but it wasn’t her that I was looking at.
Three feet in front of her, with his back to me, stood Jacques. He had one camera hanging off his body, and another to his eye. He snapped away, occasionally giving directions to the model in French, then telling her things like ‘bravo!’ and ‘superbe!’ and ‘oui, c’est ça!”
I paused, wondering whether or not I should say anything. It was definitely Jacques, there was no denying that. I stood there for a couple of minutes, all the while wondering if I should leave or not. Was it weird, me just standing there watching? Should I go? Should I stay and talk to him? Suddenly, the shoot seemed to finish. Jacques turned around and spotted me, then waved.
It was too late to leave now, I couldn’t just pretend that I hadn’t seen him anymore. I waved back, and waited to see what he would do. A minute later he came over to see me.
“Sophie, bonjour!” he exclaimed, and I couldn’t help but smile. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I actually found Jacques really charming. It was weird, since he was almost old enough to be my dad, but there was just something about him. Something about him was intoxicating, attracting, it drew me towards him. I just couldn’t help myself.
“Bonjour, Jacques” I replied with a smile “What are you doing here?”
He motioned the model. “I’m doing the spread for a magazine here today. I did not expect to see you here. What are you doing here?”
“Well, this is the University which I go to, so I’m going home.”
“Ah, what are the odds of that? It must be fate, only fate would bring me back to you like this.”
I giggled at his dramatics.
“Sophie, I’m not the type that normally does this, but seeing as fate has put us in each other’s path once more, would you do me the honor going to dinner with me? We need not call it a date, why do we not simply go to dinner his friends?”
There was something in the way he said it, something in the way he made me feel so comfortable and yet made parts of me tingle when he spoke that made me agree immediately. I couldn’t believe that I’d done it. What had happened to the Sophie that planned on staying away from men? First she went to have coffee with this man, and now she was letting him take her out to dinner.
“Fantastic, I am so happy to hear that. Why do we not meet here tonight, at say seven?”
“That sounds great,” I agreed, secretly happy that he hadn’t asked to come pick me up at my apartment or meet somewhere private. After all, I was still very much the type of person that moved slowly. Even with men like Jacques, who gave the impression that I could tell him anything and that he would understand, and keep my secret safe.
As soon as I got back to my apartment I called Noelle to tell her the good news. Then I called Claire, and both of them had the same reaction.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re actually doing that! That’s amazing!”
They were so excited for me, I couldn’t help but become more and more excited for myself as well. I spent a while getting changed, longer than I ever had before for any first date. Well, except maybe for my first date with Mike. But I forced that thought to the back my head. This was the time for new beginnings, this was a time for dinner with the guy as friends. He had said that we were going as friends, and that took any pressure off of me in terms of this being a romantic dinner.
I had to admit, I was completely torn as to whether or not I wanted romantic feelings to develop. After all, Jacques was charming enough, it was really just a matter of the age difference. No. You swore off men for good, Sophie, I scolded, you’re not allowed to develop romantic feelings for someone.
I went back to where I met him that afternoon in the Park, arriving a few minutes after seven. I had to force myself to stay back, since after all I was usually the goody two shoes who always arrived to all appointments 10 minutes early. But as Clara had taught me, when it came to men, I was supposed to arrive a few minutes late so as not to seem too eager.
Jacques was ready and waiting for me at the statue, holding a small bouquet of flowers. He handed them to me, and I gushed about their beauty.
“Pour vous, mademoiselle,” he announced with a bow and a flourish, and I took the flowers happily.
Normally if somebody offered to go out on a date as friends and brought me flowers I would have been completely creeped out, but with Jacques things were different. They weren’t roses or anything, they looked like a combo of irises and daffodils, but they were absolutely beautiful and I could feel the blush crawling up my face as I thanked him.
“Ah, it is not a problem, I simply believe a beautiful woman should have beautiful flowers.”
He led me down a few streets, telling me about a restaurant that he had been frequenting since he was a child, which served some of the best food in Paris. Soft snow gently drifted down on to us from the sky, and as the Eiffel Tower lit up in the distance, I immediately knew exactly why people saw Paris as being the most romantic city in the world.
This walk was absolutely perfect. We walked in silence, only the sound of our footsteps and noises from surrounding restaurants and other people coming by hitting our ears. I felt like I was in heaven. I had never experienced any feeling like I was feeling right now before in my life. It was one of those moments where if time had frozen and I kept walking like this forever, I would actually have been happy. The soft lights of the city, the cold snow giving everything a layer of white purity was just absolutely perfect.
Eventually we got to the restaurant. Jacques led me through an old style door leading to warm orange light, a welcome sight on a night in which I could see my every breath. As we entered an old fashioned bell rang against the door, and Jacques was immediately greeted by a man, well into his sixties at least, and enormous, who waddled through the restaurant and greeted him, arms open. They flew into fluent French for a minute before Jacques introduced me.
“This is Jean-Charles, he is the owner of this restaurant, and has known me since I was o
nly this high,” he told me, and I shook hands with the man.
“Bonjour, monsieur,” I said, much to the pleasure of the older man, who had obviously been told I was not a French speaker.
“Ah, mais la mademoiselle, she speaks beautiful French,” he gushed. “Please, you must sit. Sit!” he ordered, leading us to a table by the window. We sat at the antique wooden table while a young woman brought us menus. I opened it and made an effort to read the names of the meals, and to my surprise, I understood quite a few of the dishes. My French was definitely improving!
“Do not worry, Sophie, I was thinking of ordering the special for us both, and that way you do not need to worry about the menu.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” I replied. Sure enough, twenty minutes later we were digging into the most succulent, deliciously moist coq au vin I had ever tasted in my life. Jacques even ordered us a bottle of wine, which made me feel so incredibly grown up, seeing as I was still months away from being old enough to do so in an American restaurant. Here I was, drinking wine at a restaurant with a sophisticated older man. Of course, given my family history I normally avoided alcohol, but I thought a little glass of wine on a night like tonight would be fine. After all, given how I’d seen my mother take down entire bottles of vodka in a single day, I wasn’t too worried about one small glass of wine. I just had to make sure one glass was all I drank.
“So, Sophie, tell me about your life.”
“Well, I grew up...” I started, and then I paused. I didn’t really tell people the truth about my past. A few people knew, of course, but they were close friends. They weren’t people I’d met twice in my life. I was just ready to tell my usual lie: I’d grown up in the suburbs, my mom was a teacher and my dad was a salesman for a big company. I had a little sister who was just about to graduate from high school, and a dog named Rusty, a golden retriever. I’d told that story to people who asked so many times that sometimes I started to believe it myself. After all, it was a nicer story than the truth, and it was fun to dream about having had a normal childhood. But there was something about Jacques, the way he looked at me. He looked so earnest, as though I could tell him anything, and I decided to take a chance.
Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty) Page 140