Page 9 of Blue Eyes & Paris Vibes

A small wave of sadness washes over me. I haven’t really dated anyone in a long time. My last… let’s just call them dating adventures, weren’t great. Honestly, the bar I set was already pretty low to the ground, but somehow, the guys I met still managed to dig under it and do the limbo underground. That’s how bad it was.

One of them spent the entire date talking about his ex and how much he missed her. Another tried to convince me the moon landing was fake. Then there was the guy who, ten minutes in, said I’d have to never get a job if we were going to date since he wanted to be the ‘provider,’ yet called me a gold digger when I asked him about his job in an effort to keep the awkward conversation afloat. And let’s not forget the one who proposed after our first date, right before I could gently tell him there wasn’t going to be a second.

What did he do wrong? Nothing too awful… unless you count the fact that his mother was sitting at the table next to ours, keeping an eye on the date like some kind of chaperone.

It was a mess. A full-on disaster.

So I decided to just enjoy life on my own for a while, and I did enjoy it. A lot actually. But now, seeing all these couples has me wondering how to get back into dating without everything blowing up again. Because I want that. The romantic, calm moments, the hanging out with each other, reading a book, just happy to be together.

And I miss sex. I really do.

I’m not really someone who goes to clubs, but maybe I should once I’m back. Because honestly? I’m horny. And all these couples around me are making me lovesick. It’s like being homesick, but instead of missing home, you’re missing love.

I reach Place de la Concorde, a huge, cobble-stoned space with a giant basilisk in its center and a lot of cars driving past. I stop on the sidewalk, looking around confused and unsuccessfully searching for a traffic light or crosswalk. Then again, I’m looking against the setting sun, so I might just be turning blind.

I check my route and decide to turn left, making my way back to the river. I only need to follow it until I reach the Eiffel tower, and from there on, I should be able to find the hotel on my own.

My feet hurt like hell, but I’m determined to finish this walk. My parents didn’t raise a quitter and if Max ever finds out, I won’t ever hear the end of it.

I pass by beautiful bridges with statues that look like they belong inside a museum, party boats that play loud music and river cruises, a lot of beautiful buildings on either side of the river, and a lot of trees.

As much as I try, and as beautiful as Paris is, all I can focus on is the Eiffel tower in the shrinking distance. By the time I reach it, the sun is starting to set. All that’s left is to cross the bridge and walk two blocks, but I give up. I need a break.

And I really want to copy the people here and sit by the Seine shore, letting my feet dangle over the water as I watch the sunset behind the Eiffel tower. So that’s exactly what I do. With a groan, I get down ungracefully, letting my legs swing from the edge to the river, and lean back.

I should have bought some food before sitting down. The couple to my right is unpacking a whole picnic, with a baguette, cheese and even ham. Another couple to my left even has a bottle of wine with them. God, that’s so smart! I wish I’d thought of that.

Well, since love is not in my close vicinity and I can’t exactly stare at the Eiffel tower for the amount of time it’s going to take until I trust my feet again, I take out my phone to answer some messages.

After sending Max a quick voice memo of what happened at the reception, still super giddy about it, I let my parents know that I’ve arrived safely, which they answer with a simple thumbs-up emoji.

When I look up again, the sun has disappeared, darkness falling over the city. I snap a quick picture of the lit Eiffel tower and post it to my stories with cheesy background music—that feels obligatory when in Paris. My head shoots up when I hear a bunch of ‘aaaahh’ and ‘ooooh’ around me and while my first thought isdefinitely notthat people have started fucking in the open, I’m just as awed when I look up.

The Eiffel tower sparkles! How did I not know it did that? I’ve seen a lot of romantic shit today, but this is the icing on the cake.

And I think Max has got me. Someday. Someday I might have to come here with a boyfriend or husband so I can experience the city of love even better firsthand.

Abby

“MayIsithere?”I look up from the crossword puzzle I'd been trying to solve, blinking, confused. It takes me a moment to realize the question was directed at me, my brain still in my morning pre-coffee fog.

I can’t remember the last time I slept as amazingly as last night. First, I took arguably the best bath of my life, the hot water working wonders on my aching feet and muscles. Hell, I was about to fall asleep right there, but as my eyes became harder and harder to open with each blink, I thought switching to the bed would be better than, you know, drowning.

And I’m so glad I did. The bed is so big and I kept my window open slightly, letting the cold night air inside as I huddled under the thick blanket. The mattress made me feel like I was laying on a cloud and I fell asleep within what felt like seconds.

Do I feel fit as a fiddle? Definitely not. My feet still ache like I ran over coals instead of cobblestones, but I feel well enough for my trip to Louvre today. I mean, they have some benches in there, right?

I booked one of the earliest time slots to avoid the crowds and, hopefully, get a good look at the Mona Lisa without having to stand in line forever. That also meant I was one of the first people to show up for breakfast. I had my pick of the tables, so of course I chose one with a nice view and close to the buffet, basically the best seat in the room, all to myself.

Well, at least for a little while.

Now all tables are taken and Mr. Rude is standing on the other side of mine, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. I open my mouth to say something, but before I can even get a word out, he just plops down in the seat across from me.

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have said no,” I say dryly, raising an eyebrow at him. I’m not trying to start a fight, but after what he pulled yesterday, I’m not inclined to go out of my way and be nice to him either.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, sounding genuinely remorseful. I glance up at him, surprised. I didn’t think that word was in his vocabulary.

He looks a little more lively than yesterday. His dark circles have lightened up and that constant snooty frown has smoothened out. Instead of his, in my mind, signature sweater, he’s wearing a simple t-shirt that shows off his annoyingly toned and tanned arms. Funny how seemingly a little sleep is already making him more approachable than yesterday.

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