Page 78 of Double Fault

After lunch, we head back out onto the streets of Paris. It’s such a captivatingly beautiful city. Noah isn’t as impressed as I am, wandering with his hands in his pockets, glancing at things but clearly not awestruck. He does, however, humor me by purchasing flowers from a street vendor and macarons from a patisserie that is a blatant tourist trap but adorable, nonetheless. I appreciate that he’s letting me indulge in my excitement rather than trying to burst my bubble.

All day, he refuses to let me pay, and each time he pulls out his AmEx, I can’t help but wonder if this is actually a date.

I’m scared to ask.

Noah can be so hard to read, and his moods can change without warning, so with my luck, he’d scoff and tell me he couldn’t believe I’d think such a thing.

“How long do we have?” I ask outside a perfume shop.

He arches a brow, hands shoved deep into the recess of his jacket. “Huh?”

“How long is Fisher with Maddie?”

Eyes glimmering, he shrugs. “As long as he needs to be. Why? Sick of me already?”

I roll my eyes. “I was sick of you before I woke up.”

He barks out a laugh, the sound taking me by surprise.

The surprise quickly morphs into pleasure. I can’t help but revel in the way I garnered such a sound from him. I guess he’s human after all.

“We have time.” He pulls the door to the perfume shop open. “Don’t worry about Fisher.”

I browse bottle after bottle with Noah on my heels. I assumed he’d peruse the section full of masculine scents. Instead, he smells each perfume after I do.

“I like this one,” I finally say after I’ve picked up at least a dozen that have left me uninterested. They didn’t smellbad, they just weren’t for me.

He brings it to his nose and immediately shakes his head. “No.”

“No.” I laugh. “Why not?”

“You already smell good. This is too… it doesn’t suit you.”

My brows knit in confusion. “What do you mean I smell good? I don’t even wear perfume.”

His cheeks go pink beneath his scruff.Adorableis not a word that I’ve ever associated with Noah, but it’s the only term I can find to describe him in this moment.

“I don’t know. You smell warm, like vanilla and something floral.”

“Oh.” I nod and set the bottle down again. “It’s my hair oil.”

“Hair oil?” He blinks at me, head tilted, like I’m speaking a foreign language.

“Yeah.” I hold a curl out to him. “It keeps my hair moisturized. Smell.”

He hovers closer and brings his nose to the lock of hair. “Yeah, that’s definitely it.” Eyes closing, he takes another long whiff, his chest expanding. “I really like it.”

With a soft laugh, I let my hair fall back into place. “I can tell.”

“If you find a perfume that smells exactly like that, then I’ll buy it for you.”

I snort and wave my hand in dismissal. “Pass. It’s not worth the headache of searching.”

He grins triumphantly, like maybe I’ve given him the exact response he wanted.

From the perfume shop, I drag him to the Louvre. I can’t come to Paris and not set eyes on the masterpieces within the museum.

Though he wasn’t eager about wandering around looking at artwork, once he’s paid our admission, Noah slips his hand in mine. And as we walk from room to room, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

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