Alone in Paris: A Standalone Young Adult Romance

by Ashley Earley

The list went on and on.

  Yet he’s still here, spending time with me. I still can’t understand why—how he can put up with me.

  “I just thought it would be something fun for us to do,” he explains, his tone apologetic. He takes a hesitant step forward. I have a feeling he wants to put his arms around me, but he doesn’t.

  “I know. It’s just—I haven’t been able to handle heights since we drove off that bridge, or water really.” Part of me wants to go up there—for him—but I’m not sure if I can. My body is tense. My thoughts are unsure. My hands are shaky with uncertainty.

  “You don’t think you can do it?” he asks, breaking me from my thoughts. “Even if I was beside you the whole time?”

  I shift, uncomfortable. My thoughts are in battle with my mouth. I want to tell him yes—the words are on the tip of my tongue—but my mind isn’t letting me say the words. Instead, I manage to say, “I don’t know, Nathan.”

  I want to go up there—for him. Because he wants to help me conquer my fear to become stronger but…I wasn’t sure I could.

  He squeezes my hand in a reassuring way. “It’s really beautiful up there. I’d hate for you to miss out on the view.” I don’t want to disappoint him. I really don’t, but I’m not sure if I can go up there without having a breakdown. “I’ll be next to you the whole time,” he adds.

  He takes a step back, toward the tower. He’s holding my hand, so I’m forced to take a step with him. Neither of us say anything. He takes another step, still silent. I want to argue, but I can’t. He’s staring at me with those gray-blue eyes of his, and they hold all kinds of unspoken promises. I can’t deny his eyes. I can’t deny him. I can’t say no.

  And, before I know it, we’re heading up the Eiffel Tower.

  I try to focus on my breathing as we go up in the elevator. Nathan stays glued to my side, his shoulder against mine as he holds my hand on the way up. His presence is a comfort, but I’m still stiff as a board. I’m feeling claustrophobic and acrophobic. I want to go back down to solid ground.

  When the elevator dings, Nathan squeezes my hand lightly before pulling me behind him as he walks off to follow the rest of the crowd. I hadn’t even noticed the proximity of the people in the elevator between Nathan’s closeness and my fear of heights. Once we’re off the elevator, and everyone passes us, Nathan wraps his arm around my waist to pull me closer to his side. He leads me out to the balcony where a massive chained fence towers in front of us.

  The wind jerks and whips my hair around crazily. I suck in a breath, jerking to a stop. Nathan’s arm tightens in response, and he looks down at me. I’m tense. Breathing is becoming a task that I have to think about and enforce.

  “I won’t let you go,” he whispers, his lips right at my ear. He takes a step forward, forcing me to take another step closer to the railing. I let out a quiet gasp. He wraps both of his arms around me tightly, protectively. I feel lightheaded, but I can’t tell if it’s because of his hold on me, or because he’s guiding me closer to the edge.

  I’m stiff all over. The wind is making a mess out of my hair. Nathan is glued to my side. He takes another step forward, forcing me to do the same. There’s a giant fence keeping me from falling. I’m okay, I try to assure myself. My heart continues to pound in my chest, regardless of what I tell myself.

  My hands are balled into fists at my sides. Nathan reaches down with his free hand and pulls my arm away from my side, taking my fist in his hand. The arm that he has wrapped around my waist falls away as he reaches for the other hand that I have plastered to my side. He chuckles a little, his laughter carrying with the wind. The sound makes me relax a little—but only a little.

  And then I look out at the view and my heart drops.

  That little bit of relaxation I felt is gone.

  I grip Nathan’s sleeve. He wraps his arm back around my waist. “It’s okay. We don’t have to get any closer. Just look.”

  I do. I take in the view. Stone buildings as far as the eyes could see, and luscious green landscapes. Birds fly by, paying the crowd no attention. I can see it all, and it is beautiful.

  “Look,” Nathan says, pointing at something off in the distance. “You can see your apartment from here.” I follow his finger until my eyes land on the run-down apartment building across the way. My heart sinks. It’s a long way down.

  Nathan takes a step closer to the fence but doesn’t make me move an inch closer as he leans over to look at the ground. My hand tightens on his sleeve as if I could keep him from tumbling through the fence. He backs up, smiling at me. His eyes are sweet and gentle, un-judging. I want to smile back, but I just really want to get back down to solid ground. Nathan chuckles as if he can read my thoughts and says, “All right, let’s get you back to the ground.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  When You Wake Up

  Nathan doesn’t let go of my waist, not even when we’re back—safe and sound—on the ground. I’ve released the sleeve of his shirt, holding his hand now instead. The way he’s holding me to him is making excited butterflies swarm in my stomach. I’m awake—jittery. It feels like I drank a gallon of coffee. I can’t make the feeling go away.

  “See?” he says, squeezing my side lightly. I almost jump out of my skin. I’m very ticklish on my side. “You went up the Eiffel Tower and survived.”

  “Barely.”

  He squeezes my side again. Unable to help it, I jump and move away from him, biting my lip to keep from laughing. He looks at me quizzically, opening his mouth to ask me what’s wrong, but stops short. Realization crosses his face, and his eyes turn mischievous. “You’re ticklish.”

  I’m shaking my head, not wanting him to come any closer, in fear that he’ll attack me. I want to laugh, but instead, I ask, “Aren’t you?”

  A large smirk creeps its way across his face. All I can think is, Oh no, as I watch him. He’s taking slow steps forward as if he were creeping up on a skittish animal. “Nope. Not at all.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  He doesn’t say anything. We both stand with our eyes locked on each other. I know what’s coming next, but I can’t stop him.

  He comes at me, capturing me in his arms before falling to the ground. I land on top of him, but he quickly shifts so that we’re side-by-side. I find myself breathing heavily as I stare into his piercing, mesmerizing eyes. My breathing nearly stops at the thought of kissing him, right here, right now.

  He’s right beside me, so close. All I’d have to do is lean in…

  He ruins the moment by pinning me to the ground. (Okay, well, he only half-ruins the moment.) I am unable to break the gaze. His eyes seem to smirk as he towers above me.

  He officially ruins the moment when he starts tickling me. I laugh hysterically, squirming underneath him. I push at him to try to get away, but my attempts do nothing.

  When he finally stops, I shove him away. He lands on his back beside me, chuckling. I sit up, shoving his shoulder as my laughter begins to die down. He smiles up at me, his eyes glowing with amusement. I reach over and grab his side, but he doesn’t react to my touch. I shift to face him, reaching my hand out again. This time, I slowly trail my fingers down his chest. He shudders under my touch though he doesn’t laugh.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Not ticklish, huh?”

  He smiles, reaching up and twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. “Not as ticklish as you.”

  “No, but you’re still ticklish.” I can’t help but think about how cute it is—that he’s ticklish. The way his chest had trembled under my fingers sends a few of my own shivers through me.

  “Okay, maybe just a little,” he admits, meeting my eyes. I feel his eyes see right through me—that they see every fractured piece of me. The thought absolutely terrifies me. He releases my hair, letting it unfurl from his finger. “How are you?”

  I know what he’s asking though I don’t know how to answer. My eyes break away from his. How am I? I don’t know how I feel. I can feel ok
ay one minute, and horrible the next. Anything can drag me back to the depths of my mind. But I’m not sure how I feel about spilling my own blood. I’m not sure I can do it again. I’ve thought about it a lot since I cut my wrists, but the thoughts and memories that had been haunting me at the time, haven’t returned with the same agonizing force.

  “I—I’m not sure. The feelings come and go.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a few long moments, just reaches out to brush my hair back from my face. My eyes travel back to his as he says, “As long as you have some good days. I’m here if you ever need to talk, okay? Whenever you need me.”

  I nod, my cheek brushing against his hand with the movement. A few long and silent minutes pass as we lie together. I wonder what he’s thinking about, but don’t ask, worried that he’s thinking about the same thing I am; about the blood I spilled on the bathroom floor.

  “Why don’t we head back now,” he suggests, finally breaking the silence. Relief flows through me. “It’s starting to get dark.”

  I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to be an inch away from Nathan. I want him close. I want to stay here, where we’re alone. Where it’s just us against the world.

  Even though I don’t want to go back, I agree.

  He walks me across the street, holding my hand the whole way. Once we reach the other side of the road, I sneak a peek at him. I find him watching me closely. Our eyes stay locked for several long seconds before he breaks our gaze to lead me down the street. He pulls me into an alleyway that is just before mine.

  He leans me back against the brick wall, though he keeps me at arms-length. He doesn’t say anything as the seconds tick by. He doesn’t lean forward to kiss me either; he just stares into my eyes. Unable to keep the distance between us, I finally lean forward. I kiss his cheek, his jaw, and then finally, his mouth.

  He kisses me back, hesitantly at first, as if my advance surprised him before his lips become urgent. He traps me against the brick wall, tangling his fingers in my hair. I gasp against his lips as the intensity between us continues to build. Whenever you need me.

  My hands start at his waist before gliding up his back. I take in the feel of his curved back and broad shoulders. He is toned, yet lean. He’s smooth under my touch, even through his shirt. I find myself wondering what his back would feel like without his shirt. I’m here.

  The kiss feels different from others we’ve had—more heated. A spark of nervousness ignites inside me as his hands slowly make their way down to my waist. His hands still once he has a firm grip on my hips. He somehow tugs me closer, lightly gasping against my lips as he parts them under his.

  The sparks are now explosions of fireworks. My knees feel weak. I feel lightheaded, yet awake.

  After a few more heated moments of kissing, he pulls away, only to rest his forehead against mine. He smiles, letting out a breath. I press my lips together, still feeling the weight of his lips against mine. Trembles vibrate through my body, spreading to the tips of my fingers and down to my toes. I lock my arms around his neck, smiling back at him.

  “I’m finding it difficult to convince myself that I need to go home so you can get some rest,” he tells me.

  “I don’t need sleep,” I say, but my claim is worthless when I yawn a second later.

  He chuckles, taking my hand. “Right. Let’s get you to bed, sleepyhead.” I yawn again as I follow him back to my apartment building. He opens the door for me, closing it behind us before sweeping me up in his arms.

  I gasp in surprise. “Put me down,” I laugh. He ignores me, heading for the stairs. “No, no, no, no! The stairs won’t be able to take our weight!”

  He sets me down on the first step, but his arms stay around me. I look at him over my shoulder, and a jolt of nerves shoot through me when I realize I want to kiss him again. I want to feel his soft hair between my fingers, to touch his cheek and neck and—

  I get up on the tip of my toes with every intention to kiss him again.

  “NATHAN!” We both jump, pulling away from each other. My heart is hammering against my ribcage. I recognize the voice, but I can’t quite place where I’ve heard it before.

  A figure appears at the top of the stairs. Nathan’s hands immediately fall away from me as he breaths an, “Oh God.”

  “Dad, what are you doing here?” Nathan asks as the person at the top of the stairs stomps down toward us. It fell into place then. The first time I heard it was here when he was talking business with another man. I tense, feeling the strong urge to run.

  “Your mother told me.”

  Told you what?

  “She promised me she wouldn’t say anything.” I look over at Nathan. His voice is quiet, and his face is set in a tense and calculating expression as his father makes his way to us.

  “We need to take her to the authorities.”

  My heart drops and my eyes fly wide with realization. He was talking about me. We need to take her to the authorities. I back up, away from Nathan and his father. Nathan looks over at me, his eyes bright with worry and realization mixed with guilt.

  He told his parents.

  “How could you?” I breathe. “You promised you wouldn’t tell them!” I say, louder this time. He promised! He promised me he wouldn’t tell his parents!

  Nathan is shaking his head as I back away. “I only told my mother when she asked about you; she promised she wouldn’t tell my dad.”

  “You promised you wouldn’t say anything to anyone, and you lied!”

  “Taylor, please.” He takes a step toward me, but I take another back. I’m itching to bolt for the door. I feel overwhelmed.

  Betrayed.

  Exposed.

  I’m not hidden anymore. Someone else has seen me now.

  “You need help,” Nathan’s father interjects before Nathan, or I can say anything further. I want to scream at him; to continue to tell him what a liar he is; to tell him how I had trusted him and that now, that trust I had in him is gone. I tear my eyes away from Nathan, unable to look at him any longer. “This building is going to collapse soon, and I don’t want you here when it does.”

  I glance at the back door behind me. I want to run for it and gallop down the stairs to get away from this place. I want to get away. I want to run and never look back, but I know it will be impossible for me not to look back. I can’t just walk away, but I have no choice. I can’t let them ruin everything. I can’t let him ruin everything. I can’t go into foster care. I turn to bolt for the door.

  “Grab her!” I hear Nathan’s father yell.

  I make it as far as the door before Nathan’s hands wrap around my torso and yank me back. “No!” I’m screaming. I’m smacking and prying at his hands, desperate to get away; desperate to run as I’ve always done. He holds me tighter against him, whispering things like, “I’m sorry” and “I didn’t mean for this to happen” and “It will be better for you if you’re away from here.”

  I don’t want his apologies. All I want is for him to let me go and explain to me why this is happening—to explain what is happening.

  Why are you doing this? I want to ask. Why did you tell?

  They are going to take me to the police, and who knows where I’ll end up from there. I have no one. No family and my only friend is Nathan—who I can’t even look at right now.

  He turns me away from the door, keeping his arms locked around me. “Promise me you won’t run, and I’ll let you go.”

  “Why would I promise you something after you broke your promise to me?”

  “Hear me out. Don’t run. Please!”

  “Hear you out? Why? You lied to me! You said you wouldn’t tell your parents, and you did!”

  “I didn’t mean to. After you had left I—I started talking to my mom, and she was asking about you—I just started telling her things about you, and before I knew it, I’d told her everything.” He told her everything about me? “Please,” he whispers in my ear again.

  I finally nod, and his arms slowly
slide away. I turn to face him, just as his father appears in the door. I don’t get the chance to ask Nathan any of the questions that are on the tip of my tongue because his father grabs his arm, tightly and tells him to take me out to the car—where we are supposed to wait for him. Nathan yanks his arm out of his father’s grasp, his chest heaving, and his eyes blazing.

  As his father turns away, Nathan takes my hand—carefully—in his own before leading me out of the building. As we walk, the silence between us is the elephant in the room. All the questions I have are still on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t ask any of them—and he doesn’t offer any further explanation from what he’s already told me.

  We climb into the back of a black, expensive-looking car that is parked right in front of the alley. His father shows up a few minutes later, cranking up the car without a word. My hands begin to shake before he even pulls away from the curb. I’ve only gotten in a car with Nathan since the accident.

  Noticing my sudden anxiety, Nathan reaches out and takes my hand in both of his.

  “Are we seriously taking her to the police?” Nathan questions after a few minutes of intense silence.

  “I can’t have this girl’s life on my hands if that building collapses while she’s in it. I signed the papers. I bought it. If she dies in it, it’s on me. And I can’t handle a lawsuit.”

  “What does that have to do with taking her to the authorities?”

  “She’s a runaway. We need to get her back to her family.”

  I flinch. A runaway? I’m here because I have no other choice. I have nowhere else to go. No family to go to—but he doesn’t know that.

  “She doesn’t have any family.” I squeeze Nathan’s hand lightly. So he hadn’t said anything about my parents’ death.

  “She might, and I’m not taking that chance.”

  “We can try to contact her relatives, but there’s nothing more we can do.”

  Nathan’s father pushes away from the officer’s desk with a frustrated grunt. “So what do we do with her?”

  The woman blinks in surprise, but I can see a cloud of anger beginning to form in her eyes.