Alone in Paris: A Standalone Young Adult Romance

by Ashley Earley

  A bright smile stretches across his face, and for a moment, I think he might hug me. My heart swells at the thought. But he doesn’t; he takes my hand instead. He leaps to his feet, pulling me up with him. “Let’s go to bed. It’s way too early to be up.”

  “How did you know I’d sneak out?” I ask as we creep through the front door.

  “I know you,” he says, simply with a smug smile.

  We tiptoe to the second floor. He doesn’t head to his room, though. He follows me into his sister’s bedroom instead. I turn to him with a raised brow when he follows me inside without a moment of hesitation. He smirks. “I have to keep an eye on you. You might try to sneak out again.”

  He falls onto the bed, making himself comfortable as I unnecessarily make myself busy with folding the clothes I’d discarded on the floor. I drop my messenger bag beside the dresser and climb into bed when I run out of excuses not to.

  We stay perfectly still on opposite ends of the bed, not moving an inch toward each other. We don’t speak. We just lie there. Until I finally can’t take it anymore.

  I roll until I’m against him, fitting perfectly beside him. He’s lying on his back with his arms crossed behind his head as I get comfortable next to him. When I stop moving, he moves one of his arms so that it’s draped around me. As I listen to the strong beating of his heart, my thoughts run wild.

  He gives me a sense of peace—a sense of relief—when I’m with him. He listens to me and comforts me and reassures me. I don’t want to think about leaving him; about the possibility of never seeing him again. But…I had to wonder if things would be better for him if I weren’t in the picture. An emotionally unstable girlfriend is the last thing he needs.

  And by girlfriend I mean a girl that’s a friend…I’m his friend. A friend that kisses him…Yeah.

  I shut my eyes tightly, hoping for sleep so that I can stop thinking. I settle against him, taking in his warmth. His breathing is even; he’s asleep. I look up at him. He looks tranquil as he sleeps. His facial features are relaxed, making him look a few years younger. I want to brush away the strands of hair that hang in his eyes but decide that it looks cute and leave it.

  I rest my cheek against his chest, closing my eyes with the hope of sleep.

  How could I have thought about leaving this world when he’s in it?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I Know Them

  Something is sliding under my cheek—moving away. I sigh heavily, burying my face against the light that’s pouring in the room. The moving stops for a moment, only to start again. I groan, opening my eyes when my head falls off the soft object I’m resting on.

  “Oh, crap, sorry.”

  I smile, sitting up and wiping the sleep from my eyes. “It’s okay.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you; I just wanted to get something to eat.” On cue, his stomach growls. He grins sheepishly, making me laugh.

  “Okay,”—I sit up and climb out of bed to follow him downstairs—“let’s go get some breakfast.”

  He leads me downstairs by the hand. His stomach growls a few times on the way, making us both laugh. I hesitate at the door when I see his parents sitting at the kitchen table. Nathan looks back at me questioningly before tugging me all the way inside.

  I stay out of the way as he pulls a few cereal boxes, two bowls and two spoons from the drawers and cabinets. He sets them out on the table before beckoning me to come sit. The room is unbelievably quiet as I take a seat beside Nathan. My whole body is tense as I pour myself a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.

  When the silence is broken, it isn’t a relief. “The police called this morning,” Nathan’s father announces, “They got in contact with a couple of your relatives—they want to see you.”

  I drop my spoon, flinching from the loud sound it makes when it hits the bowl. Silence follows the loud clang. I don’t know what to say. No one else at the table seems to know either.

  Relatives? What relatives? No one had come looking for me after the accident. I wasn’t even aware that I had relatives. “Wha—Who?” I manage to choke out.

  “The police said that your relatives would be down at the station by noon.”

  I twist in my chair to glance at the clock. I have less than two hours. My heart drops in my chest, before jumping back up to its rightful place and picking up speed at just the thought of someone being out there looking for me. A hand touches my knee under the table. Recognizing the touch, I relax a little. I’m still on-edge, but I feel a little better knowing that he’s next to me.

  An hour later, I’m beginning to have mixed feelings about the whole thing. I keep jumping back and forth, questioning if this is even real—if the two people that show up at the police station will really turn out to be related to me. This whole thing could be a lie. These people that claim to be related to me might not be related to me at all.

  But what if they really are? It’s what I want, right? It’s what I’ve wished for since I left the hospital—for someone to find me so that I won’t be alone.

  I’m sitting outside on one of the lounge chairs by the pool. I had jumped up the second I finished my cereal, desperately needing fresh air to shake the despair that was weighing on my heart. My thoughts are wild and fast—thinking one thought before quickly moving onto the next—like a roller coaster.

  I think of my parents; about how they died and wonder if the whole incident was my father’s doing.

  I think about the last year I’ve spent alone, wandering and wondering and wishing.

  I think about the last few weeks; about Nathan and the state I was in before he walked into my life. Well, more like bulldozed his way into my life. He saved me. He rescued me from myself.

  I look down at my slashed wrists. The cuts are still angry and red, but healing. I slip into the memory, seeing the pool of blood that had soaked the bathroom floor. I hear Nathan’s voice calling my name as he tries to shake me into consciousness. “Taylor! Taylor, look at me. Taylor!”

  Then, I wasn’t imagining his voice.

  He is actually calling my name. I turn to see him making his way to me. His eyes are curious and vibrant with wonder and worry. “Are you okay?”

  I nod as he takes a seat beside me. He takes my hand and squeezes it lightly in his own. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Everything.” I sigh, leaning my head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

  “You’re going to be okay,” he tells me. “Whether these people really are your relatives or not, you’re going to be okay.”

  So, he’s thought of the possibility of relative impostures. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “When?”

  “After. I don’t know what I’m going to do if they do, or don’t turn out to be my real relatives.”

  “You can stay with us until you turn eighteen.”

  I shake my head. “No, that’s months away. Your dad is ready to get rid of me.”

  “I don’t care what my dad wants. You need help—”

  “I’ve done fine on my own so far,” I interrupt.

  “Taylor, you’ve gone days without eating before, and you were living in a building that was close to collapsing.” I pull away from him as irritation starts to boil in my veins. His touch would calm me, and I don’t want that. I want to be angry.

  He reaches for me, but seems to think better of it and lets his hand fall with a heavy sigh. “I just want to help you; there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I don’t want you to look after me. You’ve already helped me more than you’ll ever know and now—” I cut off, unable to finish my thoughts aloud. Now there’s a real chance I might never see you again. If the people I’m about to meet at the station really are my relatives, they’ll take me somewhere, across the sea—where I’ll be hundreds of thousands of miles away from him. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that far away from him.

  Nathan rests his forehead against mine, starin
g deep into my eyes. The intensity of his crystal blue eyes sends shivers through my body. “We should go; we don’t want to be late.”

  My hands violently shake the whole ride to the police station. Even when Nathan takes my hand, the shaking doesn’t stop. I’m not nervous about being in a car, this time. As a matter of fact, I’m not oven thinking about the fact that I’m in a car. All I can think about was how I’m about to meet people that have been looking for me.

  When Nathan pulls up to the police station, I suck in a breath that I can’t seem to let out. He comes around to my side of the car, opening the door and waiting for me. I stay frozen in my seat. I can’t move—this can change everything, and I can’t move. He says my name, momentarily pulling my attention away from my anxiety.

  Breathe, I tell myself as I follow Nathan up to the door. His hand is on the small of my back, whether to guide me or keep me from running; I’m not sure.

  Neither of us say a word as he leads me right up to the front desk. My body is buzzing with anxiety. I can’t keep my hands from shaking—they tremble at my sides. Nathan says something to the man that is behind the desk, but I’m too busy scanning the station to hear him. There aren’t many people to examine. I just assume that my relatives aren’t in handcuffs and move on until my eyes land on an elderly couple that is sitting in the back of the station.

  The older man’s eyes meet mine and stay locked on me with a look of clear surprise and amazement. He touches the arm of the woman sitting beside him, causing my heart to drop. She follows his gaze until her eyes land on me too. Her lips stumble over words that I don’t hear, her eyes not wavering from mine. A cop peeks out of the room they’re sitting in. Now I have three pairs of eyes on me.

  Nathan’s voice is suddenly in my ear. “Taylor?”

  “It’s them,” I mutter. He asks who before following my eyes until his own eyes land on the couple. “I know them.”

  The woman gets to her feet, causing the cop jump up too. He comes around his desk to follow her. I stand stiff as she comes toward me. My heart is beating so hard and loud; it echoes in my ears. I want to run. My body is anxious with the need to run for the door. I don’t want to do this. Not right now. I can’t face this just yet. I’m not ready.

  I start to back up a few steps, but Nathan grabs my hand before I can get far. The woman reaches us at the same time. My breathing cuts off, and the urge to run is stronger than before. Nathan has a firm grip on my hand, keeping me in place.

  “Are—are you Taylor Clay?” the elderly woman asks.

  My legs go weak. I almost collapse.

  It’s too much.

  I snatch my hand out of Nathan’s and storm for the door. I need fresh air. It’s impossible to think straight. He calls after me, but I don’t stop or look back.

  I burst through the door of the police station. The air whips around me, lifting my hair around me and sending it flying in spirals. I gasp, taking in the summer air.

  The door bursts open behind me. I jump, hugging myself as I turn to face him. Nathan just stares at me for a long minute, silently. “It’s okay,” he tells me as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. He looks so confident; so sure of himself—just like the day I met him.

  I wish I could have the same confidence he does. If I did, I wouldn’t be standing out here, hiding.

  “I don’t know if I’m okay,” I tell him. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  He glides his hand up and down my arms, bending so that his lips are low at my ear. “I know you can. You’re strong. You can do this.”

  “I just—I just walked out.”

  “Then walk back in,” he tells me, “I know you can do this.”

  “I—I don’t know if I—” One of his hands fall from my arm to come up and touch my face, making me swallow the rest of my sentence. The look in his eyes makes my skin tingle and causes my stomach fill with butterflies. I find myself nodding, and he leads me back inside the station.

  The old woman is still standing in the same place I left her, though now, her husband is beside her. The cop that was with them before stands a few feet away, casually leaning against a desk as he talks to the man sitting there. When I catch his eye, he comes to stand beside the couple.

  “So, I take it you are Taylor Clay?” he says. I nod, making the woman suck in a sharp breath in response. The old man just stares at me in bewilderment. I’m as stiff as a board. I don’t know what to say. I fiddle with my hands, twining and untwining my fingers nervously. Nathan takes one of my hands, squeezing it lightly. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Since You Left

  The cop, whose name is Kevin, leads us to a backroom. He tries to get rid of Nathan so my family and I can have some privacy, but I refuse to let him leave my side. He sits in the corner, whereas the elderly couple sits beside me in front of the cop’s desk. Kevin folds his hands on top of his desk, leaning forward. “Beverly and Tom Clay have been in Paris for about a year, searching for you since you disappeared from the hospital a few days after the accident.”

  It seemed like he was trying to make me feel guilty for disappearing. He didn’t need to try. I already feel guilty on account of how long they’ve been searching for me.

  But where were they those first few days when I was in the hospital? Why hadn’t they been there when I needed someone? “What do you want me to say to that?” I question, trying not to sound snappish.

  “I want you to tell them where you’ve been all this time.”

  I shake my head. “No. You want me to tell you where I’ve been all this time.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, because they can ask me their own questions,” I say, losing the fight on trying not to sound snappish. “So why don’t you let them?”

  He leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed in annoyance. Done with his attitude, I turn in my chair so that I’m facing my grandparents—my heart flutters at the word—preparing for their questions. They gape at me as if the questions they had should be obvious. “We want to know where you’ve been all this time,” my grandfather, Tom, says.

  “In hiding, mostly,” is my reply. “No one came for me; the doctors were talking about foster care. So, I left. I—”

  “You just left?” says my grandmother, Beverly, her tone painted with surprise. “Just like that?”

  I shrug. “I walked out when no one was paying attention.”

  “Where have you been living—with this boy?” Tom asks, referring to Nathan, who hasn’t spoken a word since taking his seat in the corner.

  “No. I’ve only been at his place for two days. I was, uh, here and there before that.”

  “We’ve been searching for you for a year; how did we never see you?” Beverly shakes her head in disbelief. “No one ever reported seeing you.”

  “Paris is a big city,” I tell them to soften the blow.

  “How have you lasted all this time without any money…”

  It wasn’t really a question; it seemed like she was muttering to herself now, amazed that I’ve survived on my own for this long.

  What’s going to happen now? I’m so used to fending for myself—not being around anyone—that it’s hard to imagine someone else doing anything for me. My heart drops in my chest. They wouldn’t try to take me back overseas, would they? I’m unable to stand the thought of being torn away from this place. I look over my shoulder at the boy in the corner. His eyes meet mine; they seem to reflect my own feelings.

  “What’s going to happen now?” I ask, turning my attention back to my grandparents and Kevin.

  “Well, since you can’t legally live on your own as you’ve been doing,” Kevin says, “you’ll have to stay with your grandparents until you turn eighteen.”

  But I don’t know them! How can I live with people I don’t know? I barely have any memories of them! I realize I’m shaking my head, and immediately stop. All eyes are on me, waiting for my reaction. “I—” I break off, unsu
re of what to say. I don’t want to tell them what I’m really thinking—what I really want—because I don’t want to hurt them. But I don’t want to lie to them either.

  A hand is suddenly on my shoulder. I look up to find Nathan standing above me. “Why don’t we take a walk?”

  It turns out The Lock Bridge is only a few blocks from the station. Nathan leads me there, speed-walking a few feet ahead of me with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. I trail behind him, boring holes in the back of his head. I wonder if he can feel my eyes on him.

  The muscles of his back are tense. I can see every line clearly through his T-shirt. He seems troubled—deep in thought. He keeps walking when we reach the bridge, finally stopping when we’re only halfway across. His eyes hold determination, but he is battling with something inside.

  “What are you thinking about?” I finally ask him. Without taking his eyes off me, he leans back and grips the railing behind him. The light breeze in the air blows through his hair, ruffling his dark locks. I can feel my heart rate pick up the longer I stare at him.

  “I was thinking about the first time I saw you,” he answers. “You looked…I couldn’t get you out of my head. I couldn’t forget you and, even though you wanted me to, I couldn’t leave you alone. I had to see you—to know you. I couldn’t get you off my mind, no matter how hard I tried.”

  I press my lips together, unsure of what to say. I’m not sure if I can even speak right now. I don’t have words.

  Luckily, he continues before I have to come up with anything. “You need this, Tay. You need this.” He takes in a steady breath before finishing with, “You have to go.”

  My eyes widen. “I—” I’m shaking my head, scrambling for words—any words. “I don’t know them. I don’t know if I can just go.”

  “But,” he pauses, pushing off the railing and coming toward me, only stopping when the toes of our shoes are touching, “they’re your family. This is what you’ve wanted.”