Page 25 of In the Net
Now that I’m looking at him, the weird thing is that Sebastian’s glower isn’t pointed at me, but at Clement.
His arms are folded over his chest, his brows furrowed, his face taut with a look of distaste, and all his ire seems to be beaming through his eyes and pointing right at the Frenchman to my right.
“Harper?” The way Clement says my name in his sexy French accent makes it easy to pull my attention away from the mopey hockey player I hope to avoid for the next week.
“Sorry, yes?” I reply, turning to him and trying to seem engaged.
“I was asking, what in Paris are you most excited to see?”
“That’s so hard to answer,” I say with an excited groan. “It’s impossible to just pick one specific thing. Really, what I’m looking forward to the most is just walking around, getting lost in the streets I’ve spent so much time reading about and seeing in movies. I’m so excited to see the Montmartre neighborhood. And walking up the Champs-Élysées. Even if it is super touristy, I don’t care,” I say with a laugh. “Just everywhere, you know?”
Clement and I keep talking. I’m mostly able to keep my eyes from straying in Sebastian’s direction. The couple times I fail, hestill has that sour expression on his face, and strangely, it still seems to be directed more at Clement than at me.
When our flight boards, I end up sitting about a half dozen rows further back than Clement.
“Have a good flight,” he tells me as he shoves his small carry-on into the bin above his seat. “Maybe if you’re not too tired from the jetlag, I can take you out to that bar in Le Marais I was showing you the night after we get to Paris?”
Excitement dances through my chest. I can’t remember the last time a guy’s made my lips pull into a smile the way they are right now.
“That sounds great.” I’m reluctant to walk away, but I can feel the impatience of the people in line behind me, so I wish Clement a good flight as well and keep moving back.
When I take my seat, I look down the aisle to find Clement’s tuft of dirty blonde hair above his headrest. But when I see what’s beside it, my shoulders tighten.
Sebastian’s taking his seat right next to Clement.
An unsettled feeling swirls through my stomach, hardening and weighing it down. Having Sebastian of all people sitting next to the cute French guy I just hit it off with feels like having the plate of food I’m about to eat for dinner sitting next to an open pile of trash.
I try not to think about it, focusing on looking through what movies and shows are available on the in-flight entertainment system. But next time I peek in their direction, I see Sebastian’s and Clement’s heads turned toward each other, like they’re talking.
My jaw ticks. I just want Sebastian out of my business and me out of his for the duration of this trip, and he’s already screwing that up.
I put on a movie after we take off. I’m trying not to worry about Sebastian sitting next to Clement, but I can’t keep myself from looking in their direction down the aisle.
When I do, I notice their heads quickly turn toward me from over their seats. I make brief eye contact with Clement before they both turn around. Judging by the tops of their heads, they’re talking to each other again.
Glancing back at me, then talking to each other.
My chest tenses. Are they talking about me? What the hell is Sebastian saying to him?
Ugh! Now I’m going to be wound up and anxious all flight, wondering what they’re talking about. As if a seven-hour plane ride in economy class wasn’t bad enough, now I’m not even going to be able to relax.
The seven hours pass torturously slow. I don’t get any sleep even though it’s an overnight flight, and I can’t pay attention to any of the movies I try to watch.
I wish I could say I at least manage to stop anxiously looking toward Sebastian and Clement.
I mean, I guess Icouldsay that, but I’d be lying.
They were talking for a while, but then they seemed to settle into watching whatever was playing on the screens in front of them. Which gave me some relief. But when the plane lands, they once again start chatting and glancing back at me, and I notice an odd look in Clement’s eyes.
Being a couple rows in front of me, they deplane before I do. When I step out into the terminal, I look around to see if Clement is waiting for me. Which you’d think he would be, considering the last time we spoke he essentially asked me on a date tonight.
I scowl as I spot Sebastian several paces in front of me, walking toward customs. Hemusthave said something aboutme to Clement. And considering this is Sebastian we’re talking about, there’s no way it was flattering.
After passing customs, I find Clement standing by the luggage carousel. As I approach him, his head turns in my direction, but he immediately pulls it away when we make eye contact.
My lips purse. My self-respect should probably tell me to give Clement up as a lost cause—clearly his attitude toward me has done a one-eighty since we said goodbye when he took his seat on the flight—but I decide to press forward just in case I’m misinterpreting things.
“Have a good flight?” I ask him, trying to act the same as I was before we crossed the Atlantic Ocean.
