“I’m sorry.”
I teared up again. “How could he forget so much about me in only ten months?”
He didn’t answer.
“I used to wonder why he didn’t try to take us with him. He says it was because my mother threatened to fight him, but I wish he’d at least tried.”
“My father didn’t fight for me either. I told you they argued, but they were ugly fights. Lots of yelling and throwing things. One day they had a huge fight and my mother kicked him out. I didn’t see him for five years.”
“Oh, Mathieu. I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “He finally came back, and we started having Tuesday night dinners. We still do, and now we’re friends.”
“Friends? Not a father?”
“Non.”
“And you don’t get along with your stepfather?”
“No. He’s good to my mother, but he’ll be glad when I go to university in a year.”
My heart hurt to hear him say that. I hardly knew Eva at all, but I knew she’d never so callously dismiss me. “Where do you want to go to university?”
“London, I think. I want to study international banking.”
“Like Eva. Which is why you need the internship.”
We sidestepped a father who was bending over a stroller, adjusting his baby’s straps. Mathieu’s hand tightened around mine so we didn’t break contact, sending flutters through my stomach.
Get it together, Sophie. Nothing could come from this. We were friends. Friends who held hands. “Your mother is a piano instructor at a conservatory and your dad is a taxi driver. What does your stepfather do?”
“He’s also an instructor at the conservatoire. He teaches violin.”
“Does Etienne play?”
“Not anymore.” He grinned. “They stopped giving me a hard time about quitting piano when he quit the cello. What does your mother do?”
“She’s a nurse at a local hospital.”
“Does she play piano?”
I laughed. “No. Just my grandmother.”
“Is your grandmother excited you want to study piano at university?”
I smiled up at him. “Oui.”
“You should audition for my mother’s conservatoire.”
“What?”
“It’s a university, but they have a lycée program.”
“What’s a lycée?”
“It’s a three-year school, like your high school. Next year I’ll be in terminal, which is similar to your senior year. You would be in the première, or your junior year.”
“The university conservatory has a high school? And they study music?” It was tantalizing to think of having my piano lessons during school.
“Oui, the program is only a couple of years old. They take a limited number of students, and it’s very competitive to enter, but you would have a chance.”
I blushed. “You don’t know that.”
“I’ve heard my mother’s students play. I know.” He gave me a smug look. “And I played for eight years myself.”
“I want to hear you play.”
He shook his head playfully. “No.”
I leaned into his arm. “Come on.”
“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll play for you if you agree to audition for the Conservatoire de Seine.”
“What?” I took a step away from him, but he held on to my hand. “Your mother teaches at Conservatoire de Seine?” I’d heard of that school. It was on my dream list. Or more accurately, my daydream list.
“Yes, and you should audition.”
“I can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, I’d have to live in Paris to go there.”
“So?”
I shook my head. “Let’s move past the living here part—it’s July, Mathieu. When do classes start?”
“The beginning of September.”
“Haven’t they picked their students already?”
“Oui, but sometimes they have dropouts. The school replaces them.”
“I can’t audition. It’s crazy.”
“Why? Because you’ve never considered it before? You would get a two-year advance on conservatoire.”
“But it’s in French. I’m not sure asking for a croissant will help me in school.”
He chuckled, clearly undaunted by my protests. “They teach the lessons in French and English.”
I couldn’t believe I was considering it, but it was exciting to pretend I was brave and could take risks. But this was my dream. Only a couple of years early. “It’s crazy.”
“You already said that.”
“And besides, it’s too late to audition.”
“Lucky for you, I know the director of the program.” He winked. “I eat dinner with her almost every night.”
“Your mother’s the director?” Could I really do this? The very thought filled me with anxiety, but I couldn’t deny it was appealing. To actually go to school and not only learn from the best, but be surrounded by people who made music their life. It was like a dream come true. “I’ll consider it.”
His face radiated happiness. “Good.”
I couldn’t let myself stop and consider that going to school in Paris would mean I could continue to see him after August.
We stopped for ice cream and ate it on the rest of our walk. We’d just finished by the time we reached the Champs de Mars, the lawn to the south of the Eiffel Tower. A crowd of rowdy teens had begun to gather even though it wasn’t dark yet, and they were jostling for a place to see the Eiffel Tower’s light display.
“Do you want to go up?” Mathieu asked.
I clutched my bag to my side. “I’m not sure I have enough money to buy a ticket.”
His eyebrows rose. “That’s not what I asked.”
Did I? My gaze followed the metal structure up into the now pink sky. The thought of going up to the viewing platforms scared me, but I was determined to try. Especially since it was the one thing I wanted to do here. Getting to go up with Mathieu was a bonus. I smiled. “Yeah, I do.”
He seemed pleased with my answer. “Then let’s go get in line for tickets for the lift.”
As we waited, Mathieu told me about life at his lycée, which was located in the 5th Arrondissement—the Latin Quarter. He and his friends had been split up after their version of middle school. Although their high schools were public, they had to apply to enter the good lycées. Their small group had been divided between two schools, both close to the Pantheon, and both very elite. I’d already presumed Mathieu was smart, so this information only confirmed it. Mathieu took the Metro to and from school, as did his friends, and I listened in amazement as he described a life so different from my own I had a hard time imagining it.
Since he shared so much, I told him about my life back in Charleston and my small private high school. He marveled that I lived in a house with a yard (which he called a garden) and that I’d gotten my driver’s license the previous spring.
“I can’t believe you can’t drive until you’re eighteen!” I said. “I’d never get anywhere. We don’t have a subway and we don’t take the bus.”
“It’s not like many of us drive anyway. Not many people here own a car. Tell me more about your best friend, Jenna.”
“She’s the best. She’s funny and smart, and she always has my back.”
Confusion flickered over his face, and I realized I’d lost him with an Americanism.
“If someone is mean to me, she always takes my side. She gives me advice.” My face blushed at the thought that I’d sought her advice about him only days ago. “You can meet Jenna in a few weeks. Dane will leave and she’ll take his place.” I was still looking forward to it, but things would change. For one thing, Mathieu and I wouldn’t have any more alone time.
“Are you upset about Dane leaving? Will Eric be sad?”
I heard the hesitation in his voice. “Eric is pretty disgusted with Dane right now.” Then I remembered what I’d said about Dane the day M
athieu had found me on the subway platform. Was he worried? “There was never anything between Dane and me. It was just a crush.” I grimaced. “And it ended the second I got a good look at his personality.”
“Are he and Eric good friends?”
“Dane was one of the first friends he made when we moved to Charleston. We moved a lot when we were kids, so sometimes it was hard to fit in. But Dane isn’t his best friend. Dylan couldn’t come on such short notice. I think Eric has been just as shocked as I have.”
“I’ve had my friends since primary school, and I’ve only lived in two apartments,” Mathieu said. “Our apartment with my father, and then we moved into Jean Luc’s apartment.”
Finally, after waiting about an hour in line for tickets, we made it up to the window. For once I didn’t mind the Parisian queues.
“It’s nearly ten o’clock, and it’ll take at least another hour to get up there. Do you have time?” Mathieu asked as I dug out my money.
I knew I should probably check in with someone, but for once I didn’t care. “Yes. Let’s go up.”
It turned out I had just enough euros to buy my own ticket. Mathieu probably didn’t have a burning desire to do something so touristy, so I felt bad about making him spend his own money on a ticket. “I haven’t been up since I was ten,” he said, touching my arm softly to reassure me, the point of contact sending a jolt through me. “And I want to go with you.”
Our next line was for the elevator to the viewing platforms. We got off at the second stop, but as soon as we stepped onto the metal floor, I was equal parts excited and terrified.
“Just give me a moment,” I said, trying to curtail my embarrassment as I plastered my back against a wall in the middle of the structure.
Mathieu stood next to me with a reassuring smile. “If you can go down into the catacombs, this is nothing. And you did fine there.”
I took a breath and reached for his hand. He’d dropped it after we got ice cream. It was perfectly safe to be up here, and I knew it, but I needed to hold on to him now. His belief in me gave me strength.
Mathieu squeezed my hand tight. “Let’s see Paris.”
I let him lead me out onto the viewing platform, holding his hand in a death grip. The sun had set, and the sky was turning an inky dark blue. Stars were beginning to dot the sky, and the skyline was full of lights. It was magical.
“There is Arc de Triomphe,” Mathieu said, pointing with his free hand. The white arch was off to the left and illuminated with clear, bright lights. “We should go there too. The view is wonderful.”
I looked up at him, trying to figure out if he had suggested we take another excursion together or if it was merely an off-handed remark, but he pulled me to another section. “Grand Palais.” The interior of the massive arched glass ceiling was lit up, making the building glow from the inside out.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, leaning into his arm as I took in the view.
“Oui. Très jolie.”
I shifted my gaze to him, surprised to see him looking at me, his eyes as alight as the building, and it occurred to me that I’d gotten jolie all wrong the other day.
I met his gaze without flinching, amazed that I wasn’t embarrassed or scared. This was exactly where I was supposed to be. With him.
He slowly leaned forward, and his lips gently pressed against mine. I froze—terrified he would change his mind, or worse yet, think I was a bad kisser. But his lips became bolder, and somehow my body knew what to do. My hands were on his shoulders, pulling him closer, and my lips were moving with his.
It was my first kiss. I’d heard so many disaster stories about first kisses, but this was perfect. My stomach fluttered and the rest of my body flushed. But my heart soared. I’d crushed on several guys, but none of them had made me feel like this.
He lifted his head and looked into my eyes, smiling, and in that moment I didn’t think my life could be any more perfect.
CHAPTER Twenty-Two
“WHY DID YOU come to my apartment to see me?” Mathieu asked as we walked hand in hand back to my apartment.
“I was pissed at my father when I left. I had no idea where I was going, just that I had to get away. Then I realized I was close to your place. I almost didn’t stop, but I felt like I really needed to see you.”
“Why?”
I looked up at him. “Because you’re my only friend in Paris.”
He stopped on the sidewalk and kissed me again. This was the fifth time he’d kissed me, and each time was more magical than the last. “I’m happy you stopped.”
“Me too. How do you think Camille will take this?”
We turned the corner to my apartment building, and Mathieu tensed. “Sophie, we can’t tell her about what happened tonight.”
I jerked to a halt, sure I’d heard him wrong. “You’re kidding me.”
He didn’t answer, but the guilt in his eyes was answer enough.
“Are you ashamed to be with me?”
“Ashamed?” he asked, sounding confused.
“I’m a secret you don’t want anyone to know about.”
We stopped next to the apartment entrance, and his hand lifted up to gently cup my cheek. My knees buckled slightly at the contact. “I want the world to know, but not yet. Let me talk to Camille. If she likes Dane, she might not care that I’m seeing you.”
Unfortunately, I wasn’t so optimistic. “And if she’s not okay with it?”
“We’ll figure out what to do if that happens.”
What choice did I have? Tell him no and give him up entirely? It really wasn’t a choice at all. “Okay.”
He kissed me again, his hand still holding the side of my face, tilting my head at an angle as his tongue skimmed my lips. Our previous kisses had been nothing compared to this one. When he lifted his head, the look of wonder on his face took my breath away all over again.
“I’ll talk to Camille,” he murmured, his gaze on my mouth. “I don’t want to hide us.”
“Thank you.”
“Bonsoir, ma Sophie,” he said softly, giving me one last kiss.
But our lovely moment ended abruptly when the front door burst open and harsh light flooded my eyes.
“Get your hands off my sister!” Eric bellowed, reaching for Mathieu.
“Eric!” I got between them, pushing him back.
“Eric, I—” Mathieu started to say, but Eric moved past me and grabbed a handful of his shirt.
“Where did you take her?” my brother snarled. “We’ve been looking for her everywhere!”
“Eric!” I shouted in a panic. “Stop! This isn’t his fault. I found him and he agreed to keep me company.”
“Oh, I saw how he was keeping you company.”
“What we do is none of your business! How did you even know we were out here?”
“I’ve been watching for you from my bedroom window. I saw you walk past and bolted down the stairs to catch him in the act of molesting you. Sure enough, I was right.”
Fury radiated through me. “He wasn’t molesting me, you moron. He was kissing me good night. I’ve seen you do a whole lot worse with your girlfriend back home.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” he snarled. “And you lied to me.”
“How in the world did I lie to you?”
“You told me nothing was going on between you two.”
“And nothing was going on between us until tonight.”
Eric took several breaths, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession as he tried to figure out what to do next.
Mathieu stood behind me, his hands fisted at his sides.
“Mathieu,” I said softly. “Maybe you should go.”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
That set Eric off. “What does that mean?” he asked, stalking toward him.
I pushed my brother back. I’d never seen this side of him before, and while it was nice to know he cared about me, I was scared of what he’d do.
; Mathieu’s voice took on a threatening tone. “I saw what you did to her wrists the other day. I don’t think I should leave her alone with you like this.”
“Her wrists? What are you talking about?”
All the blood rushed from my head, and I froze in panic. What would Eric do if I told him what Dane had done?
I turned around, my eyes pleading with Mathieu. “He didn’t hurt me, Mathieu. I promise. Just go. Camille will find you here.”
That was the cold blanket that got his attention. Anger and worry wavered on his face. “Call me if you need help. I will come straight away.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise. Go!” I shoved his arm, and he reluctantly took a few steps backward. “Go!”
“You better get out of here,” Eric snarled, then called Mathieu a string of curse words that made me blush.
“Eric. Stop!”
His anger turned on me. “What the hell, Sophie? When did you start running off with boys?”
“I didn’t run off with Mathieu. I ran out on Dad after he told me I should stop playing the piano so much while I’m in Paris.”
He shook his head. “What?”
I gave him a quick recap of our conversation, which helped refocus his anger. His curse vocabulary was truly impressive.
“So I left. I couldn’t stay with him one more minute.”
“How’d you end up with Mathieu?” Eric made his name sound like a curse word.
“I just started walking, and before I knew it, I was there. I needed someone to talk to. I didn’t have Jenna, which meant I had no one. Even if you’d been here, I wouldn’t have talked to you about it.”
“Why?”
“Come on,” I heaved out. “You barely tolerate me most of the time. Although I have to say this display of brotherly concern has caught me by surprise.”
“I’m your brother, Sophie. I care about you. You could’ve come to me.”
“No. I couldn’t have. We don’t exactly do bonding conversations. But I like how close we’ve become on this trip, even if it’s for no other reason than that we’re stuck here together.”
“Sophie.” His voice softened in dismay.
“It’s okay. I’m just telling you I really needed a friend to talk to, and Mathieu was happy to listen.”
One Paris Summer (Blink) Page 17