Alone in Paris: A Standalone Young Adult Romance

by Ashley Earley

  One of his hands falls away to come up and touch my cheek. I’m aware of every touch—every feeling. I don’t want any of it to end.

  A car horn blares from the parking lot, making me jump. I glance toward the source of the sound, spotting a cab parked close to the bridge. My heart falls when I see my grandparents waving from the backseat. Their smiling faces make me want to run. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave.

  Nathan is here. My parents died here. I’ve changed and lived here. I’ve lost and found myself here.

  The back of Nathan’s fingers brush against my skin as he turns my head to face him. “Don’t,” he says. I open my mouth—though I have no clue what I’m going to say—but he speaks before I can. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  I close my mouth, unable to deny it. He knows I want to run, but he isn’t going to let me—just like he’s done since he met me. He’s keeping me here because that’s what he does; he makes me face the things I don’t want to face. He makes me face my fears.

  “I called them before I left this morning.” My heart falls at this. I don’t want to face this fear—this fear of losing him.

  His other arm falls away from my waist, coming up between us. He unfolds his fingers, revealing what he’s been hiding in his grasp this whole time. A lock rests in the palm of his hand. It’s bright red and in the shape of a heart.

  A lump forms in my throat, making it impossible to swallow or speak. He speaks, filling the silence as I stare at the heart-shaped lock in his hand. “I’m here, and I’m in love with you,” he tells me, sending a flurry of buzzing electricity and butterflies through me. He presses his forehead against mine. I look up at him, staring straight into the gray-blue eyes that always make me melt. He closes them for a long moment. I miss looking at them during the time he keeps them closed. “I’m always here. I’ll always be here for you.” He opens his eyes as he says the next sentence; his eyes telling me that he means it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Tears spill from my eyes—each drop full of happiness and sadness. I wordlessly wrap my arms around him, burying my face against his chest. He immediately grips me to him. “I love you too,” I tell him. A great weight is lifted from my shoulders then—a weight I hadn’t known I’d been carrying. He buries his face in my hair, letting out a shaky, almost relieved, breath.

  We break apart after a few minutes though it felt like seconds. He holds the heart lock out to me. I smile, allowing my fingers to linger against his hand as I take it.

  I open the lock when I decide where I want it. I lock it in place before handing the key to Nathan. He’s smiling too. I watch him, knowing that this will be the last few minutes we’ll spend together before I have to get into the cab. His eyes are bright with happiness. However, there is a hint of sadness in them too. He throws the key as far as he can. We watch it as it flies across the river until it lands in the water.

  I continue to stand there, staring at the place where the key disappeared. I don’t know what to say. My heart feels like it’s about to shatter into a million pieces. I only have one thing to say, and it’s to tell him that I don’t want to leave.

  I turn to him, but like always, he beats me to the punch and speaks first. “Go,” he tells me, his voice quiet. “This is what you’ve wanted; not to be alone. You’ve got family. You can go home. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

  I fight back tears. My heart is torn. But, regardless, I’ve already made my decision. Whether I am here or there, my heart will always be in two places. It will always be torn, no matter where I am. I throw my arms around him, pulling him tight against me. My arms tighten around his neck as he wraps his arms around me once again. “I was never alone when I was with you.” I pull back, knowing that it’s now or never. “Thank you.”

  There was more meaning behind those last two words than he’ll ever know. I wasn’t just thanking him for not letting me be alone. I was thanking him for being my friend; for not listening to me when I told him to “go away,” for helping me; for stopping me from ending everything that was my life, even if I thought it was insignificant. I was thanking him for sticking with me; for loving me.

  I spin on my heels and run for the cab, not daring to look back. I was too afraid of what I would see. I was too afraid I would change my mind. This is the right decision—for the both of us.

  Tears cloud my vision, but I somehow make it to the cab without tripping. I blindly find the handle and slide into the cab next to my grandmother. The cab starts to pull away from the curb, and I want to shout for the driver to stop. I press my lips together, trying to blink away the tears so I can catch a glimpse of Nathan one last time.

  He’s still standing in the same spot, watching me go. He’s too far away to know, but I wonder if he’s crying too. I keep my eyes on him until we turn a corner, and then he’s gone. My heart clenches in my chest, and I seem to lose the ability to breathe.

  He’s gone. This is it…I’m leaving. My grandmother wraps her arm around me to comfort me, but she can’t fix my broken heart.

  Nothing can.

  I lean back in my seat as the tears continue to spill from my eyes.

  TWO YEARS LATER

  Nathan,

  By the time you read this, I will be on a plane coming to Paris—coming back to the place where it all happened. Where my parents died. And, also, where I met you.

  It has been two years since we last saw each other. It has also been three since my parents’ death. Three years, and I’m still no closer to finding out whether or not my father drove off that damn bridge on purpose, or if it was an accident. It has just recently dawned on me that it really doesn’t matter. The truth can’t bring them back, and the truth won’t help me sleep better at night.

  I’ve decided that the only way I can come close to getting the closure I need is to visit the place where they died—one last time—to say my goodbyes.

  And then, of course, there’s you; another reason to visit Paris. I want to see you. I have things I want to say, though I hope I don’t have to say goodbye to you too.

  I will be visiting all the spots that I both hate and love. The places that brought me both sadness and joy. Find me. You know me well enough to guess where I’ll be.

  With all my love,

  Taylor Catherin Clay

  I sent that letter days ago. I picture him reading it now with his dark brown hair hanging over his gray-blue eyes. Every cell in my body misses him. I’ve missed him every minute of every day since I left him on the Lock Bridge two years ago.

  But I’m going to see him today.

  The thought excited me so much that every time I thought about it, numbing shivers surged through me. I fiddled with everything I could get my hands on during the whole flight. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I didn’t annoy the man who sat next to me.

  When the plane finally lands, the people in front of me don’t move fast enough to get off. I’m impatient, itching to shove them all out of my way to get to the exit. The man who had to endure sitting next to me for the duration of the flight looked concerned that I would. If I weren’t in a rush, I would have laughed at the way he watched me.

  Once I’m finally off the plane, I speed-walk until I’m out of the airport. I catch a cab, giving him the address of my apartment complex. He tells me that there’s no such address, so—with disappointment—I instruct him to take me to the coffee shop that’s a few blocks down from my old home.

  I stare out the window as he drives, sad that my apartment building has been torn down. I’ve known that it was going to be torn down for a long time now, yet I’m still disappointed.

  The cab driver drops me off in front of the coffee shop where Nathan and I spent many days talking, sketching and eating. I decide to step inside for just a moment to visit our table in the far corner of the shop. The shop hasn’t changed; the smell is even the same.

  I allow myself a few moments to take it all in as I sit at our table. I can almost hear him laugh.
I can almost see his smile; taste the chocolate chip cookies he always bought me; feel the brush of his leg against mine under the table. These memories are so vibrant; it’s almost like he’s sitting across from me now. With a sigh, I get up and walk out to start heading down the street toward my apartment complex.

  I’ve walked down this street a thousand times, but it’s different this time. I’m different. I don’t dodge and avoid people with quick steps. I just walk, not caring if I get bumped into. I’m in no rush. I don’t have to tell myself to stay calm as I brush past people that get too close. I’m just walking, like any normal person would, giving it as much thought as any other person.

  I pass right by my apartment without realizing it until I come to the antique shop that used to be right beside it. I pause, looking back at the building beside it. All signs of the building that once sat there are gone. Now, in its place is a bookstore.

  Standing in front of the building, I’m disappointed that my apartment is gone forever, but a bookstore is in its place, so that kind of softens the blow. But I can’t help but wonder what had become of the stuff I left behind.

  Tears start to well in my eyes before I’m even halfway across the bridge. I can’t take my eyes off the place where we had swerved off the bridge—my parents and I. There is a sidewalk on either side of the bridge, making it easy to visit the place where it all happened. I stand in the exact spot as the traffic zooms by. No one pays attention to the crying girl standing on the side of the road. Not even the people that pass me on the sidewalk.

  I look all around, reliving the tragedy. I can see the car swerving, going over the side of the bridge, before slowly sinking to the bottom of the river. I can feel my father’s touch as he helps me out of the car. I can hear my mother’s panicked cries. I can hear my own screams echoing in my ears. I can feel the water rising around me.

  Breathe, Taylor.

  Whenever I think about it, I still have to remind myself to breathe—to remind myself that I’m not drowning. I have to remind myself that I’m still alive; that I survived. I have to remind myself that it happened, but that it isn’t happening. The accident was in the past, and I’m living in the present.

  I still have to remind myself all of this.

  I brush away the tears, taking in strong breaths as I clench and unclench my hands. I’ve visited my parents’ graves multiple times since I’ve moved in with my grandparents, but this is different. This is where it happened. This is having more of an effect on me because this is where they died. This is where I spoke to them last. This is where I lost them.

  I came back to Paris to visit this place because I feel closer to them here than I do when I visit their graves in America.

  As I told Nathan in the letter I sent him before coming here, I don’t know if all this was an accident, or if my father drove off the bridge on purpose. I don’t want to know. I want to keep it a mystery. It won’t help me sleep better at night. The truth—whatever it may be—would just reopen the wound I’ve tried to keep bandaged up.

  I look down at the water, picturing myself coming up gasping and crying as I try to catch my breath and comprehend what just happened.

  I’m here. I’m okay.

  I overlap my arms on top of the railing and bend my head into them. I watch my tears fall into the river.

  After visiting my small, hidden park with the twinkling lights, I go to another bridge.

  The tears are gone and replaced with butterflies that flutter in the pit of my stomach as I walk along the railing of The Lock Bridge, searching for a specific lock. It’s been two years, but I’d be able to recognize it. I sketched it countless times from memory after I left. I only saw it once, but I had every detail committed to memory.

  My heart jumps when I find it. I turn it over to look at it, smiling when I see the date on the back—dated two years ago to the day. Nathan must have added the date sometime after I left because I couldn’t recall it being there before.

  “Hey, Taylor-Tot!” an unforgettable voice calls. My heart stiffens in my chest. I slowly turn to see Nathan making his way toward me with a smile plastered across his face. His eyes, his hair, his smile; nothing about him has changed except his height. He towered over me before, but now, I’m a shrimp compared to him.

  I smile, the tears returning to my eyes, but this time, they’re happy tears—tears of joy. I throw my arms around him when he reaches me, burying my face in his shoulder. I can feel his heart beat between us. It’s pounding quickly, like my own.

  He chuckles, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my hair. I feel one of his hands reach up and start twirling a strand of hair between his fingers. I sigh, feeling grateful and relieved to finally be by his side. “I missed you.”

  He pulls back, touching my cheek and staring into my eyes. He’s grinning from ear-to-ear. “I missed you too, so much.”

  The way he’s looking at me is the same way he looked at me two years ago. And his eyes have the same effect on me. His eyes are bright and caring and sweet, and filled with excitement. It makes the butterflies in my stomach twirl. He reaches up and brushes my hair back. Closing my eyes, I lean into his hand. His touch is still light—comforting. I couldn’t put into words how happy I was to be here.

  “Why don’t we go get a chocolate chip cookie and play twenty questions?” he suggests.

  I smile, pulling his hand from my cheek and giving it a squeeze. “You read my mind.”

  I glance at our lock one more time before Nathan, and I start to make our way to the end of the bridge.

  We hold hands the whole way. He doesn’t even let go of my hand to drive. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel, and I don’t correct him. I’m just as reluctant to let go of his hand. I’m afraid that if I let go, he’ll slip away, and I will wake up from the wonderful dream I’m having. I don’t want to let go and lose him again.

  I don’t want to wake up.

  He releases his hold my hand when we reach the coffee shop, so he can open the door for me. I bite the inside of my cheek, but nothing happens. I don’t wake up. Nathan is still beside me. He’s real; not a fabrication.

  I break away from my thoughts before he can notice my bewilderment, moving to the back of the shop as he walks up to the counter. I watch him from our table as he buys a giant chocolate chip cookie—which he sets in the middle of the table when he joins me.

  “So,” he says, taking a chunk and throwing it in his mouth, “what have you been up to these last two years?”

  I shake my head, smiling. “You make it sound like I’ve only been gone two days.”

  He chuckles, folding his hands out in front of him on the table. “It felt like you were gone much longer than two years.”

  “Yeah, it felt much longer,” I agree. “What have you been up to these last few years?”

  He smiles. “I asked you first.”

  “Well, I finished high school. I took classes online and graduated a few weeks ago. My grandparents actually bought me a ticket to come here as a graduation present.”

  “You homeschooled yourself?” I nod. “Wow, Taylor, that’s great!”

  We were talking as if we haven’t spoken at all since I left.

  We’ve kept in touch, messaging, calling and writing each other every chance we got. We haven’t gone more than a day without speaking these last two years. We knew ever thing that’s been happening in each other’s lives, but it was fun to pretend that we were clueless.

  I smile, swelling with pride. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

  “I started college a few months ago,” he tells me. And it’s just like old times. We sit and talk for hours, laughing and joking and telling each other stories. He tells me about college, recounts a few stories about what him and his friends have gotten into these last few years, and asks me several questions. I take in every word his says, grateful to finally be sitting across from him again. I’ve missed it—this. I’ve missed him.

  I tell him abou
t my grandparents and my life back home. I tell him how I spent the day, and about how I miss my dumpy apartment. He tells me that he has the things I left behind back at his apartment, stuffed in the back of his closet. He tells me he moved out on his own about a year ago. I tell him how proud of him I am.

  And he suddenly asks me to move in.

  I blink, taken aback. “What?”

  He reaches across the table, taking my hand. He plays with my fingers as he says it again. His eyes shoot up to mine, waiting for my answer. I stare at him, waiting for him to laugh. He can’t be serious. “I—” I cut off, having no reply. I don’t know what to say. It’s so sudden; so out of the blue…How can I say yes?

  How can I say no?

  I smile. And he knows my answer.

  Acknowledgements

  A sincere thank you to my amazing beta reader and writing buddy, Nadia Uhlenhancer, for always helping me when I’m stuck and for always being there to encourage me with everything involving and not involving books. She’s the best writing buddy I could ask for!

  And to my parents, who have continued to support me with writing, publishing, and everything else I aspire to do. They’ve been there for me since the beginning of my passion/addiction, for which I am grateful.

  A thanks to my best friends, Erin, Anna, and Ellie Johnson, Naya Petty, and Michelle Hamilton, who supported and helped me during the creation of Alone in Paris. They’re support has been endless since I jumped into publishing.

  And thank you, readers, for your support, without you, this wouldn’t have been possible!