Page 11 of Moonstruck at Midnight
He snorted and lifted the corners of his mouth a little more than before, but I could sense he was still trying to pull in his emotions.
I walked closer to him, and he grabbed my waist, slowly tugging me toward him. “What are you going to do with those photographs?” He paused, biting his lower lip. I placed my hand on his face and smiled with awho knowskind of shrug.
He shook his head with a genuine smile this time and kissed me. He flipped me around, and I was now pinned against the wall—his hands brushing up and down my waist.
A sudden wave of laughter coming from the second floor startled me.
He withdrew from me, meeting my gaze—our lips moist from the exchange.
“Are you nervous about getting caught?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.
“Just a little bit,” I replied, pulling him away from the darkness, back into the foyer’s illuminated area. We could hear people’s voices coming closer.
“I think I should go back. It’s getting late,” I told him as I grabbed my equipment. His features were neutral again. The rage I saw before was gone now.
Thomas reached for my hand and held it. He whispered, “I’ll see you soon.” He kissed my cheek, and I walked backward, holding his hand until the distance broke our grip. We both smiled as I turned away to flee back to my room.
A part of me ached at the possibility of never seeing him again. Not that I wasn’t used to that feeling.
ALMOST A MONTHhad gone by since I met Thomas, and still, not a single word from him. I wished it was the 19th century, so his delay in contacting me would be normal and acceptable behavior. But we have cell phones now, and texting is just as essential as breathing. He had my number and had eagerly asked for it.
I guess I was too green on the matter. Thomas was the first guy I met the first time I went to a bar, and here I was waiting for him to reach out to me. I can hear the laughs.
In a poor attempt to achieve peace of mind, I convinced myself that meeting Thomas was merely a one-night fling type of situation and nothing more.
Caleb and I never spoke a word about what happened that day. We went about our days as if I never saw him kissing Noelle, and he hadn’t seen my interactions with Thomas.
Delicately swept under the rug.
Yes, we were leaving Paris on Easter Sunday, which unfortunately was a trigger for me. Every year, we celebrated Easter with a huge paella that my mother loved to make. The most delicious paella ever. And after she was gone, we kept the tradition alive with the help of the Embassy chefs.
But this year meantno paellaon Easter. We would be flying over the Atlantic most of the day. It was impossible.
I sat outside in the garden and lingered on one of the bench swings. I closed my eyes for a few minutes and soaked up the early morning sun. But the sound of fast steps coming down the stairs made me open my eyes. I stood up as Caleb rushed in my direction.
“Happy Birthday, Red! Get in here!” Caleb held his arms out and gave me a long, warm hug that felt great in the chilly morning. He was wearing a gray hoodie, black running shorts, neon orange running shoes, and his curly earpiece that felt so out of place with his outfit. He was my running buddy.
Going out for a run with Caleb was one of my favorite things to do. But I wished it wasn’t his job to come with me. I wondered if he would do it either way.
“Ready to go, birthday girl?” Caleb bumped his shoulder against my arm, flashing a smile which I echoed back with a nod.
We walked out the front door, and Aaron was standing by the car. He hugged me and wished me a happy birthday too when we approached him. He then sat behind the wheel and pulled out the Mercedes while we walked out through the gate to start our run.
We followed the usual route, but once we were heading back, I detoured into Tuileries again. He ran beside me while I led him to theBassin Octagonal. Caleb informed Aaron about the detour and current location.
It was still early in the morning, but many people, mostly tourists, wandered about the area. We found a couple of free chairs and took a seat. It was our last day in Paris, and I just wanted that to sink in fully.
“How does it feel to not be a teen anymore?” Caleb shot me one of his playful grins. He was trying to get the conversation going.
“You tell me, old man.” I laughed. I covered my face as he sprinkled me with a few drops of water. “Truce!” I lowered my hands. “Ready for New York?”
“Um,” he hesitated with a frown. “I’ve never been to New York before, but yeah, I’m excited.” Only he didn’t seem excited at all.
“You’re not going to chicken out on me, are you?”
“No, of course not,” he replied, looking at the water. “It’s just—something tells me things are going to be different for you in New York.”
“What do you mean?” He was being cryptic and kept looking at me funny.
