Page 11 of Blue Eyes & Paris Vibes

“I’m a… consultant,” he says, somewhat reluctantly. “You know how it is. High-demand clients with last minute issues.”

“Last-minute issues? Could you even resolve it from afar?”

“We managed to resolve it, yes.” He shoots me a smile. “And now I can finally enjoy my vacation and relax a while.”

“Hmm.” I nod and drink the few sips left of my coffee while he’s taking a bite off his croissant. The conversation dies, but to my surprise, the silence is not awkward. At least not for the few minutes I’m staying before I have to leave anyways.

“Well, Reed. It’s been nice meeting you officially,” I finally tell him as I stand up. “I have somewhere to be, but I’m sure I’ll see you around. Enjoy your very regular hotel room.” I wink, unable to help myself teasing him about the whole debacle.

“Hey, you said no judgment!”

“That wasn’t judgment, that was payback.” I grin and wave as I gather my dishes and walk off.

Me: *image*

Me: Success!

Max: Good old Mona. Congratulations on getting there before the crowd.

Me: Thank you. I’m just smart like that.

Max doesn’t need to know that after I entered the Louvre, I power-walked through long corridors, sprinted up several staircases trying to not make it look like I was running, and then needed to take several minutes to catch my breath when I arrived at the right level. My thighs burn, my lungs are on fire, but I was the fifth person in line for the Mona Lisa so it absolutely paid off, because there is no way my battered feet could have managed standing in that line for an hour just to snap a picture I could also find online.

Once I was first in line, I quickly snapped a few pictures and selfies, then, like the wind, I was out of there again to enjoy the rest of the museum.

I mean, yes, she’s kind of iconic, but then again, is looking at the Mona Lisa really worth standing in a crowded room for hours, just so you can get an unobstructed view of the painting from several meters away? There’s so much else I could do, like exploring the other paintings, sculptures, antiques and whatever else this giant of a museum displays.

So, I walk back to the beginning of the corridor that holds the Italian paintings, determined to get culturally enriched.

The first painting that catches my eye is called “Triumph of Titus and Vespasian” by Giulio Romano. I’ve never heard of the guy, but a quick Google search tells me that he was a pupil of Raphael and that name absolutely rings a bell.

It shows two important-looking men riding in a decorated chariot pulled by horses, surrounded by people and an angel flying behind them to drop crowns on their heads.

Maybe I should have gotten the audio tour after all. I sigh. That’s what I get for not wanting to get in line. It’s not too late to get one, but the thought of walking down all those stairs and grabbing a guide, then walking them up again just to have a bit of background to the paintings I’m looking at already makes me grimace. My feet are still killing me a bit from the escalated walk along the Seine yesterday and I’m trying to get into their good graces again.

And who really needs an audio guide if I have my phone ready to look up all the information I want?

I gasp as someone crashes into me, throwing me off balance for a second and making me take a step back. That can’t be a coincidence. It’s too much like yesterday to be a random accident. I catch myself, straighten up, and glare at the culprit.

“You!” I hiss when I notice Reed head in front of his mouth and silently laughing beside me. “Watch where the fuck you’re going,” I say mockingly and playfully punch his arm, making him laugh even harder.

“Sorry, I couldn’t restrain myself,” he says with a chuckle once he’s calmed down. “You’re really cute when you’re annoyed.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s okay to annoy me.” I roll my eyes, heart beating into my throat. But I swallow the nervousness quickly. “You know what happened last time,” I continue with a grin. “Karma is on my side.”

“It certainly is.” He grins.

“Did you follow me? What are you doing here?”

“Coincidence,” he shrugs and I look at him wide-eyed, not sure if I believe it. “Seriously. I bought my ticket last week, you need to see the receipt?”

“No, that’s alright,” I mumble, still skeptical.

“If I’d known the Louvre is what had you in a rush I would have offered to share a taxi. Anyways, what are we looking at?”

“Well,Iam looking at that one.” I point at the painting in front of me. “Not that I know who Titus or Vespasian are, but I like how dynamic it is.”

“Titus was a Roman emperor and Vespasian was his father,” he explains. “Here they return to Rome after their victory over the Jewish revolt and the capture of Jerusalem.”

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