A huge dimpled smile grows on George’s face. “I think you may have been standing out in the sun too long,” he chuckles.
And that just makes me laugh harder.
The older woman with the grey bun bustles up and plops a china plate with two croissants on it down in front of me.
“Now y’all just have to tell me what’s so funny,” she drawls in a sweet voice, a smile warming her wrinkles. Her blue eyes are bright with amusement, or maybe they just look that way because of the electric-blue, eye shadow covering her lids. She wipes her hands on her apron. “I just love a good joke. I can always use a new one to share with the customers.”
I stop laughing. I don’t think this is a joke I want her repeating.
George shakes his head. “Sorry, Gran. It wasn’t really a joke.” He winks at me. “Or at least one I want you telling customers.”
My heart stutters. Wow. He’s cute, and protective of my feelings.
She nods. “Understood.” She extends her hand. “Howdy! I’m Rita Regina, but everyone just calls me Gran. I see you’ve already met my grandson.”
I shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“And what’s your name, darlin’?” she asks with a warm smile, still gripping my hand.
I pause. What is my name? I’m not Lottie anymore. Or Aicha. And god knows I don’t want to be Boy. It’s odd that I’m not getting anything off this body at all.
Wait.
“Swan,” I reply. Yes, I think that’s my name. I nod. “Yes, my name is Swan.”
And it appears that I’ve run away from home. Interesting.
Gran tilts her head to the side before nodding and releasing my hand. “Well, nice to meet you, Swan. You’re as pretty as a peach, but I don’t recall seeing you around here before. Do you go to George’s high school? Are you a sophomore, too?”
Well, that answers that. I guess I do look fifteen.
“Gran,” George groans. “Please, not the questions.”
She frowns at George, plucks his cowboy hat off his head, and hands it to him. His cheeks blush pink as he takes it from her and sets it on the windowsill behind him.
Gran turns back to me and chuckles. “Boys. They don’t like me meddling in their business.” Her blue eyes sparkle as she grins. “But I know a good’un when I see her.” She winks, “And you could be a good’un.”
George groans again.
Gran waves him off. “Okay, okay. Message received loud and clear. I’m leaving.” She winks at me again. “You’re in good hands here. A cold drink, a buttery pastry, and a cute boy can go a long way in healing anything.”
“Gran!” George cries.
She just laughs and leans over to hug me tight, making my insides feel warm and cozy. “You stay as long as you need, darlin’,” she whispers in my ear before straightening up and hustling back to the counter.
George runs his hand through his messy waves of brown hair. His dimpled mouth turns up into an apologetic grin. “Sorry. Hope she didn’t scare you.”
I shake my head. “Not at all. In fact, I like her.”
And you. I like you. Especially when your hair is all disheveled like you just woke up, and you’re blushing, and looking at me like that.
I grin. And he grins back. And my stomach feels all gooey and happy.
He gestures to the croissants. “So, I’m dying to eat one of these, but my Gran would never let me hear the end of it if I had one before you. So please tell me you’re one of those girls that eat?”
I laugh and nod. “I am.”
“Then, ladies first.”
I tear off a piece of the warm pastry, and pop it into my mouth. Crisp, buttery flakes melt on my tongue and bliss overcomes me.
“Oh, yum,” I moan. “I can see why they’re the best in Paris!”
I reach down to tear off another piece right just as he does, and when my fingers brush his I feel a zing of electricity flow through me. His eyes widen, and his adorable, dimpled cheeks turn pink. But he leaves his fingers touching mine, sending zings of joy straight to my heart.
“I like you,” I hear myself say out loud, and almost clamp my hand over my mouth at my boldness.
And I like this girl. She ran away to see the world, and says what she thinks. I like her spunk!
I mean, I like my spunk.
A grin melts into his dimples. “I like you, too,” he murmurs. He slowly envelops all my fingers into his big hand and squeezes them tight. His hand is warm and a little sweaty. My heart pitter-patters overtime.
We sit in silence for a few seconds, grinning crazily at each other, the best croissant in Paris forgotten. I’m admiring his full pink lips and wondering what it would be like to kiss him, when he breaks the spell.
“Swan, can I ask you something?”
I nod. Excitement flares in my belly. Please ask me out!
“Are you, um….” He clears his throat. “Well, I was wondering if you’re dating anyone?”
I shake my head no, not trusting myself to speak.
He inhales a deep breath. “Then would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime?” he asks in a rush of expelled air.
Woohoo! Yes! I want to jump up and down! I want to leap up on the counter and tell everyone that Cute Dimples just asked me out! I want to sing with joy! I want to kiss him!
I love setting my happy emotions free again, but I don’t want to be that crazy girl and scare him off with too much excitement, so I grin and answer calmly. “That would be lovely.”
His denim eyes brighten. “Really? Wow. That’s great. I mean, really.” He pauses and then asks shyly, “Well, are you free tonight?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” Tonight, and tomorrow, and forever. I am finally free.
His smile stretches so wide that I can’t help smiling, too.
“Great! I just got my license. I bet Gran would let me pick you up.” He squeezes my hand and glances at me under his lashes. “If that’s okay with you?”
I giggle. “It’s more than okay.”
“Let me grab my phone and get your address.” He tries to wriggle his phone out of his pocket using only one hand, but he can’t, so instead he pulls our entwined hands up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “Never mind, I’ll get it later.”
I melt into a pile of happy goo.
His brow furrows. “I’m not keeping you from something right now, am I?” he asks, wrapping his other hand around mine.
I shake my head. “Nope. I really don’t have any plans yet. Although, I would like to see the Louvre while I’m here.”
George gives me a goofy grin. “We don’t have a Louvre here.”
I nod. “Well, I know the Louvre’s not here. But it can’t be that far away.” I smile coyly. “Maybe we could go together?”
He swallows, and gives me a funny look. “To the Louvre?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He loosens his grip on my hand. A trickle of sweat dribbles down his face. How weird that he got so nervous when I mentioned the Louvre. Maybe he had a bad experience there? Maybe the Mona Lisa’s smirk bugs him? Or the Sphinx gives him the willies?
“Um, we’d have to get on a plane and fly to the Louvre, Swan,” he says, lifting one of his hands off mine to wipe the sweat from his face.
“We have to fly? Huh. I thought the Louvre was pretty close to the Eiffel Tower. I had no idea Paris was so big.”
He furrows his brow. “Swan, you know the Louvre is in France.”
I nod. “Yep.”
“And we’re in Texas.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
He tilts his head. “We’re in Texas.”
“Texas?”
He nods.
“I’m not in Paris.”
He shrugs. “You are in Paris. But this is Paris, Texas. Not the Paris in France.”
I sigh. “Then I guess I’m not speaking French.”
He shakes his head. “Not to me.”
“And that’s not the real Eiffel Tower?”
/> “Not the one that’s in Paris. This one is a replica.” He frowns. “That heatstroke really did a number on you, didn’t it? Why don’t I get us some more iced tea?” He kisses my knuckles again, and gazes at me with a caring look. “I’ll be right back,” he promises before releasing my hand.
The minute I lose contact with his fingers, he takes his warmth with him. I feel cold. And empty. And sad. Like how this body felt when she left her family in Dallas. No one was even home from work yet when I ran away.
Um. No. Good try, Soul. I know I’ve chosen not to be Lottie anymore, but I refuse to feel whatever pain this girl is dredging up. Not happening.
I shove away the feelings of sadness that start to sweep over this body, and I go back to the joy and giddiness and first-love-crush feeling I feel with George. I think of his dimpled smile. His sweet voice. The way his hand feels in mine. My heart speeds up. My stomach flips. And suddenly I feel like the sun is shining all over me. I love falling in love. It’s happy and wonderful and sweet… until you fall out of love. And he wants to move on with someone new. Like that boy did to Swan. Like Dillon did to Lottie.
And just like that my joy is tainted with a dash of melancholy. k~1~2
I sigh. I know what I have to do, and it sucks, because I really like George. I’d love to go on a date with him and his cute dimples, and see what it’s like to kiss him, but I know I can’t. I’m happy now, but what happens when he breaks my heart? I just met him, and I already feel sad when he walks ten feet away. I can’t imagine how agonizing it will be when I start to love him and he does something to shatter my heart.
Nope. Getting close to someone means having to feel. And having to feel eventually involves sadness and pain. And I don’t want any of that.
I straighten my shoulders. Besides, I’m not even in France! Which means my soul is still calling the shots. I need to quit flirting with boys and figure this out.
George returns with our glasses and a smile so bright and full of promise that I almost change my mind.
But I can’t.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I ask before he can say anything.
“Other end of the bar,” he tells me, unaware that he’s sending me away forever.
“Thanks.” I start to walk away, but something I can’t control stops me. I find myself turning around, leaning towards him, and placing a soft kiss on his lips.
Heat rushes to my belly, and a whirlwind of emotions flutter throughout my body like a swarm of golden fall leaves flying off their trees. Elation. Love. Tears.
NO!
I pull away. “I’m so sorry,” I stammer.
His sweet lips open to say something but I don’t wait around to hear what it is. I dart across the bakery, and fling myself into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
Why did I do that?
I bang my head against the door, hoping to scare the tears away. Exhale sadness. Inhale happy thoughts. Of a new body. Of a new adventure. Hopefully seeing the real Eiffel Tower.
By the way, Soul, real funny.
I walk over to the mirror, and take a first and last look at this body. My front teeth and my nose are both too big, but my eyes and hair are both a pale, almond brown. I guess George thought I was attractive, but that doesn’t matter because I’m leaving. It’s a bummer to have to run away from happy feelings, but I’m also running from the pain that is bound to come sooner or later. Love just doesn’t exist without feeling all the emotions. It just can’t. And I don’t want to feel bad emotions anymore, so I guess love is not going to be for me.
Did you hear that, Soul? I’m not falling for this again. No love for me. Only happy feelings. And Paris, Texas? That was a dirty trick.
I narrow my eyes.
I get it. You think you’re still in charge and you choose where we go. But not this time. This time I choose. I choose somewhere happy. Somewhere fun. And with cute boys that I don’t want to fall in love with.
Then I close my eyes, and wish myself far, far away.
CHAPTER 26
Time for an adventure
The air warms and cools around me. My lungs contract, but not as tight this time, and my stomach only flips once before it drops.
I blink my eyes open. I did it! I’m not in the bathroom in Texas anymore. And I’m must be getting better at this jumping bodies thing because this time was less upside-down, out-of-control roller coaster, and a little more tilt-a-whirl.
But where I am?
I’m sitting in the front passenger seat of what must be a Jeep because it says so right on the glove compartment. I glance out the windshield. The sky is overcast and gray. Everything in front of me looks like flat, empty pasture where cropped patches of brown and green grass swirl out in an endless pattern until they meet the horizon. There are no buildings or houses as far as I can see. I look out the side windows and don’t see any cars or people either. Weird. It’s like I dropped into a grassy moon.
No matter. If don’t like it here, I’ll just have my soul move along. Wander on to the next body and experience the next thing. I grin. This is so cool. I get to avoid feeling pain, and I’m getting to see new places. Like a cowboy hat on top of the Eiffel Tower! I laugh. That was definitely something I never thought I’d see.
I doubt I’m in hot Texas anymore because this body is wearing black ski pants and a white wool sweater with some type of navy, zigzagged Nordic pattern around the neck. I pull down the visor and check out my new self.
My dark-blond hair is divided into two shoulder-length braids. The color is kind of like Lottie’s hair color when she got highlights. I have pale skin, a perfectly nice nose, and icy blue eyes just like when Lottie wears her contacts. I look a little German. Or maybe Swedish?
I see people in the mirror approaching the back of the Jeep. Maybe I know them! Time to jump right into my new character. The new me for today!
I open the door, and a gust of frigid wind greets me. Whoa! Wherever I am, it’s really cold. And Lottie was from the mountains of Colorado, so she knew cold. I grab the red wool hat poking out of my pocket and tug it over my braids before I jump out of the Jeep.
What I see behind the Jeep takes my breath away. While the land in front is flat and endless like the moon, behind the Jeep is like a fairy-tale, mountain paradise. An imposing range of jagged mountains iced with green moss rise up from ground. A wide waterfall slices through the mountains, diving off the rocky cliffs and spraying mists of glistening rainbows as it crashes into a frothy pool two-hundred feet below. I have never seen anything more beautiful in my life. Part of me wants to sigh with joy, but this body must have seen this before because I feel like I belong here in this wild, rugged scene.
I tear my gaze away from the waterfall and focus on the approaching group. Two girls and two guys. Well, maybe I should say two women and two men because they’re definitely older than high school. Maybe college-aged. Although it’s hard to tell because they’re bundled up in waterproof jackets and pants, and they’re sopping wet.
The girls start sprinting towards me. One is thin and tiny, and leaps like a ballerina. Her curly, black hair is plastered to her cocoa cheeks and sticking out in all directions. The other girl is much taller and more athletic-looking. Her bright, red hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and a long scarf blows out behind her.
“Blimey, I’m freezing!” Curly Hair says in a thick, British accent when they reach me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold,” Red Hair laughs in what sounds like a German accent.
“Or wet!” Curly Hair adds. She grins at me. “But you were right, Gunna, it was brilliant.”
Red Hair nods, opens the back door of the Jeep; and they both jump in.
Gunna. Yes. I know that’s my name.
I turn my attention back to the guys. They’re both tall, and really cute. One guy has neatly cropped, brown hair. The other has shaggy, dark-blond hair cascading down to his shoulders. And they’re both wearing huge, melt-my-knees smiles.
“Aw, don’t tell her that,” Shaggy Hair scoffs. He doesn’t have an accent. “She’ll get a big head over it, and never let you forget it.”
Cropped Hair grins even wider, exposing the tiniest dimple above one of his hazel eyes. “Oh, I doubt she would give anyone a hard time.”
My heart speeds up. I think Gunna likes this boy.
Shaggy Hair winks at me. “That’s just what she wants you to think.”
My heart speeds up, again. Wow! Two gorgeous guys! Oh, darn. Poor me. I almost giggle out loud at my luck.
“Now boys,” I scold with a smile. I don’t have an accent. But my voice is smooth and a little husky. “I would never steer you wrong.”
Cropped Hair folds his hands together and bows. “So true, ‘o wise one.”
Shaggy Hair claps Cropped Hair on the shoulder. “Oh, come on, Nils. Did you really think she was joking when she told you the Seljalandsfoss waterfall has some wicked spray?”
Nils is Cropped Hair.
“Wicked spray?” Nils snorts, pointing to his soaked clothes “I don’t think I would be quite as wet without a little help from Bjorn here.”
Shaggy Hair is Bjorn. And I suddenly know I have really strong feelings for him. Wow. Am I in love with him?
Bjorn raises his hands, palms up, his bright blue eyes crinkling mischievously. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Riiiight,” Nils laughs.
Bjorn waggles his eyebrows at me. “And you, poor Gunna, missed all the fun staying in the Jeep.” He dips his head down and shakes his long hair, spraying water all over me. “Can’t have you missing out,” he laughs.
The water is freezing cold and quickly numbs my face, but I could care less. Bjorn makes this Gunna body so happy. Maybe he’s flirting with me?
I giggle. “Gee thanks, I feel so lucky.”
Nils interrupts our love connection. “And I’ll be so lucky if Bjorn would turn on the heat before we freeze to death.”
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