Page 41 of Blue Eyes & Paris Vibes

"God, you guys. Where’s the fucking creativity?" she says, narrowing her eyes in mock disappointment. "You could hire a PI."

"Because that wouldn’t be creepy at all," I reply, shaking my head.

"You could… Google herharder." The corner of Zoey’s mouth twitches, betraying her amusement at the suggestion.

I’m almost ashamed to admit how much time I’ve already spent trying to find her online. But there’s nothing. I’ve combed through tagged photos from around the time we were in Paris, searched every angle I could think of. No social profiles that match what she told me. Nothing that even looks like her. And if I just search her first name, it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack, her profile, if she even has one, getting lost in the masses.

“Do you have any picture of you two? Make a post searching for her?”

“Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p.’ “All pictures were on her phone. And please, Adam would probably behead me.”

"Well then…" Zoey says, seemingly deep in thought until suddenly, her face lights up. "You need to make another trip to Paris."

"Paris?" I raise an eyebrow. Is she on too many painkillers? "But she lives in London."

"Yeah, but she met you in Paris," Zoey points out, like she’s just solved a century-old riddle.

"That's… an idea," I say slowly, not quite convinced yet. "I could use another vacation."

"Please," Zoey scoffs. "You're just coming from one."

"Well, and you scared us so much, I could use another one right away," I say, narrowing my eyes at her.

She concedes with a small smile. "Make some use of all that money you’re earning and book a plane ticket already. Or call dibs on the jet. Go there on your ‘one-year anniversary.’" She lifts her hand for air quotes.

"I’m not sure. Do you really think she’s going to be there? If she couldn’t even get around to messaging me?"

"There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?"

I nod, a flicker of hope catching somewhere deep inside me, spreading a quiet warmth in my belly.

"You know what, Zoey?" I get up and make my way over to her bed, bending down to press a quick kiss to the side of her head. "Sometimes, you actually have the best ideas."

She punches me lightly on the arm at the wordsometimes, rolling her eyes in mock offense.

"Just promise me you’ll name your firstborn after me if this works out," she demands with a smug little grin.

I shake my head, laughing under my breath.

God. Suddenly, spring can’t come soon enough.

Abby - 3 Months Later

Itdoesn'tfeelthesame to climb off the train. Last year, I was full of eagerness. I couldn't wait to enjoy my last days of freedom.

But now? Everything feels different. Heavier. Like a weight got added to my shoulders.

The station hasn’t changed, though. It’s still the same shade of grey, just as bleak as I remember. The people are just as rushed, their footsteps echoing, suitcases rattling over the concrete as they hurry off the platform like they can’t get away fast enough.

And then there's me.

I wonder if I've also changed so little over the past year or if this is just nervousness speaking.

I take a deep breath and sling my backpack over one shoulder, tightening my grip on the suitcase handle as I step forward. But I don’t make it far. Halfway to the exit, I slow, then stop, taking a deep breath as I find a calm place out of the way.

I can’t help myself. My eyes dart over the people running past me, still foolishly hoping to spot a familiar face in the chaos. There are families reuniting, lovers folding into each other's arms, a girl running to a couple who are clearly her parents, falling into their arms. There’s laughter and joy and loud greetings.

But no Reed. Of course there wouldn't be.

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