French kiss (8 page)
Authors: Aimee Friedman
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Juvenile Fiction, #Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), #Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction, #Love Stories, #Friendship, #Love & Romance, #Social Issues, #Teenage girls, #Family & Relationships, #France, #Teenagers, #Paris (France), #Man-Woman Relationships, #Social Issues - Dating & Sex, #Interpersonal Relations, #Dating & Sex, #Dating (Social Customs), #Love, #Americans, #Vacations, #Spring break, #Jacobson; Holly (Fictitious character), #St. Laurent; Alexa (Fictitious character)
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Alexa reached for her
amant,
aching to slide her arms around him, but, from behind her, there suddenly came raucous laughter. "What the hell
is
this?" someone guffawed, and Alexa and Diego both turned around.
A guy and girl, each weighed down by monstrous backpacks, were cracking up in front of the wax figures of Gustave Eiffel (the architect who'd designed the tower) and Thomas Edison. Alexa had always found those wax models random, but they weren't cause for such commotion. Alexa raised a disdainful eyebrow as the girl who was petite, with long brown hair and a lip ring -- clapped her hands to her cheeks and shrieked, "They're aliiive!" while the guy -- backwards white baseball cap, tan shell necklace -- laughed even harder.
Alexa shook her head and turned her attention back to Diego, but, to her astonishment, her boyfriend was watching the couple with a wide smile.
"What's up?" Diego called to the rowdy strangers. He raised his arm to wave to them as if they were long-lost siblings.
"Waddup," White Hat Boy called back, lifting his chin by way of greeting while the girl continued to convulse with giggles.
"You know them?" Alexa whispered, instinctively reaching up to jerk Diego's arm down.
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Diego ignored her. "Hey, where are you guys from?" he shouted over the wind, indirectly answering Alexa's question.
Ugh,
Alexa thought furiously. If Diego
didn't
know these people, why was he chatting them up? He could easily befriend these types back in New Jersey.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Alexa noticed another couple cuddled together in front of the wire barrier, murmuring in what she guessed was Japanese. They were observing Diego's conversation with White Hat Boy closely, clearly intrigued by the antics of crazy Americans.
"Florida," the guy replied, adjusting his backwards cap on his small head. "Orlando."
"Proud home of Disney World," the girl chimed in drily, curling her lip, and Alexa thought that, under different circumstances, she might almost like her.
"No shit I'm from Miami!" Diego laughed, his eyes dancing, as if this were the happiest coincidence of his life. The couple started laughing, too, loudly commenting on how dope South Beach was.
"I guess it really
is
a small world after all," Alexa muttered, eager to put an end to Diego's insta-love affair with the Disney World Duo. She tugged on her boyfriend's arm again, hoping he'd get the hint: She was cold, hungry, and absolutely ready to head back down.
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But, apparently, Diego and his new best friends had other plans.
"Have you guys seen this freakiness?" Lip Ring Girl was asking, gesturing to the wax models, while her partner in crime dug around in his mammoth backpack. "I don't get the French at all."
"Nuts," Diego agreed, and then pointed to the view beyond the wire barrier. "But
that
is something else, huh? It's too bad it's not completely open." Diego made a pouty face, as if, Alexa thought, the people of France had personally betrayed him by not making the Eiffel Tower open-air.
"You know you can stick your face outside, right?" White Hat Boy exclaimed, still wrestling with his backpack. He finally pulled out what looked like a train schedule. "I'm serious, it's so cool you should try it."
"Really?" Diego replied, grinning, and Alexa's stomach sank; she could just see Diego and Mr. All-American bonding over silly Eiffel Tower stunts all night. But, fortunately, the next thing White Hat Boy said was that he and his girlfriend had to make a late train to Amsterdam -- "Dude, we can't wait to blow Paris" so they needed to take off.
After Diego had bid a hearty farewell to his newfound buddies -- Alexa was surprised they all didn't
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exchange e-mail addresses -- he promptly turned around and walked back up to the wire barrier.
Her irritation mounting, Alexa watched as her boyfriend, acting on the instructions of White Hat Boy, poked his face through one of the diamond-shaped openings.
"Bonjour,
Paris!" Diego shouted, his atrocious accent echoing through the night sky. The Japanese couple stared at him unabashedly, and the smattering of other people up there -- a sleepy guard, and a few chatty Italian twelve-year-old girls in cashmere capelets -- all glanced Diego's way as well, clearly wondering where this lunatic had come from.
Alexa went rigid with shock.
Forget throwing
him
off,
she decided. Now
she
was the one who wanted to jump. Plunging onto the Champ de Mars, her filmy golden skirt flying over her head, would put an appropriately dramatic end to her humiliation.
"Stop ... embarrassing ... me," Alexa said through gritted teeth, marching over to Diego and yanking on his arm. "Everybody's looking."
Diego pulled his head back inside. Alexa expected him to apologize, but instead he angrily set his jaw. "Alexa, give it a rest," he snapped. "Why are you always so hung up on what other people think?"
Alexa recoiled, pressing a palm to her bare collarbone. What was Diego babbling about? "That's
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not true --" she began, ready to point out that
anyone
would have been mortified by his display of dorkiness.
"Oh, please," Diego cut in. "From the minute we've arrived in Paris, you've been totally paranoid that everything I do might make you look like a fool -- or God forbid -- a
foreigner!"
He crossed his arms over his chest, staring her down. "You're a snob, Alexa -- I don't know why I didn't see that before."
Alexa narrowed her eyes at Diego. How dare he?
Nobody
reamed out Alexa St. Laurent and got away with it. She opened her mouth to tell Diego just that, but then stopped herself. The top of the Eiffel Tower was
so
not the place to have this kind of argument. "This can wait until later, sweetie," Alexa hissed, glancing over her shoulder to see if the Japanese couple were listening in on their lovers' spat. Why did her boyfriend have to make such a
scene?
"There you go again," Diego pointed out smugly, apparently pleased to be catching Alexa red-handed.
That did it. Infuriated, Alexa spun around to face him, fists on hips.
"I'm only paranoid," she spat, not bothering to lower her voice this time, "because you, Diego, have been acting like -- a jackass." Her boyfriend's dark eyes widened, but Alexa forged ahead, her frustrations spilling out in a torrent. "You've been completely
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loud and obnoxious -- like with those American backpackers -- "
"It was nice to talk to someone from back home," Diego mumbled defensively, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Well, you haven't been making an effort to talk to anyone from
here"
Alexa retorted, remembering an incident from that morning. "Hey, just a news flash for you? Spanish isn't French! You can't say
por favor
to the ticket guy in the Métro and expect him to understand you!"
"Sucks for him," Diego muttered, frowning down at his shoes. "You know I don't speak French. And I don't
want
to."
Typical.
Alexa rolled her eyes. "Plus, there's
that.
Your whole immature schoolboy act."
"Schoolboy?" Diego repeated, looking miffed. "In case you've forgotten, Alexa, I took important time off from
college
for
you --
for this trip." He shot her an accusatory glare.
"So what are you implying?" Alexa challenged, taking a step closer to him. "That college is more important to you than ...
us?"
Slowly, Alexa sized up her boyfriend his conservative suit and neat tie, his shiny hair and shinier shoes, his clean-shaven face, now twisted in an angry and unattractive -- grimace.... In that instant, Alexa realized that, for all his fiery passion,
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Diego Mendieta was, well, boring. She'd found him exciting and even dangerous when they'd first met in South Beach, but now, a year later, here in Paris, Alexa saw how ordinary her boyfriend truly was.
Diego sighed, glancing away from Alexa and back toward the sparkling lights of the city. "Alexa, you're still in high school. You don't know what it's like --"
Bad move, Diego.
"Don't you belittle me," Alexa shot back, her hot temper now sizzling. She saw the Italian girls gawking at them, but Alexa no longer cared.
Diego looked at her, steely-eyed. "Come on, Alexa. Admit it. We have different lives back home. I mean, look at your friends. Portia and Maeve -- they're so small-minded and shallow." He shrugged matter-of-factly.
Fresh fury swept over Alexa. Diego
knew
she had recently ditched said shallow friends. How could he lump her with them? "If you think I'm so immature," she snapped over the roaring wind, "then maybe we shouldn't even be together! Maybe you should be dating a
college
girl!"
There was a long moment of silence as she and Diego studied each other, and Alexa wished with all her might that she could take that last remark and rewind it back into her mouth.
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Then the corner of Diego's lips curled up in a cruel smirk. "I've had opportunities, Alexa," he said softly.
"Plenty
of opportunities."
Alexa swallowed as Diego's words cut into her skin, sharp as a blade. She thought of Cynthia, the curvy brunette who lived in Diego's dorm at Princeton and was always wiggling around in low-cut Victoria's Secret slips, knocking on Diego's door to "borrow index cards," and shooting Alexa dirty looks in the bathroom. Diego was
surrounded
by girls in college. Girls who probably all wanted him.
And, though the possibility had never occurred to Alexa before, it hit her then: Had Diego ...
cheated
on her? Maybe, on some weekend when she'd slept over at Portia's mansion instead of Diego's dorm, he'd gone out to a party and stumbled home trashed, only to find one of his sultry hallmates outside his door. Maybe they'd started kissing drunkenly, and....
Impossible,
Alexa decided in the next heartbeat. What college girl could compete with
her?
Alexa might still be in high school, but she gave Diego everything he wanted -- and then some. No boy -- and Alexa had dated an impressive number -- had ever been unfaithful to Alexa St. Laurent. It simply wasn't done.
But Diego had planted a seed of doubt in her head. And that was enough to drive Alexa to the brink.
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"Opportunities?" she repeated, her voice strangely calm. "How interesting. Here's another opportunity for you."
And there, on the top of the Eiffel Tower in full view of the Japanese couple, the Italians girls, and the now wide-awake security guard -- Alexa raised her hand and slapped Diego Mendieta square across his flawless face.
Talk about making a scene.
Steaming, Alexa stalked out of the Eiffel Tower's entrance, her high-heeled mules slapping the pavement. Diego ran up behind her, grabbing her arm. When she twisted around to confront him, she saw the red handprint on his high cheekbone and felt a tiny pang of remorse.
Diego's own eyes were full of regret. "Alexa, look ... maybe I shouldn't have said that," he mumbled. "We need to talk...."
"You know what?" Alexa replied icily. "I think what we need is some serious time apart from each other. Because, as far
as I'm
concerned, I am done with you, Diego."
And she was, Alexa realized as Diego held her gaze. Diego clearly wasn't cut out for Paris -- and he wasn't cut out for
her.
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Wordlessly, the two of them caught the Métro at Trocadéro and rode it back to their hotel, remaining on opposite sides of the car like strangers. Tonight was supposed to be their last in the hotel, but Alexa knew that she couldn't stay another minute. Right there on the train, she decided that when she got back to their room, she'd pack, check out, and call her cousins, whose number she had stashed on a slip of paper in her wallet. Alexa wasn't positive they were back from Avignon yet, but she'd take a chance. Let Diego sit and stew in the soulless Hotel Rive Gauche alone for one more night.
But after they'd walked into their hotel room, Diego immediately took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and retrieved his suitcase from under the bed. Alexa, who'd started pulling huge handfuls of clothes from the armoire, raised a curious eyebrow. Was Mr. Princeton homesick for college -- catching a flight back to New Jersey tonight?
"You're leaving?" she demanded, a Richard Chai satin tube top dangling from one finger.
"What, did you expect me to stay and subject Paris to my rudeness?" Diego asked quietly. "I think I'd be better off elsewhere." Diego paused to refer to his trusty Frommer's guide, which he'd been keeping on the bedside table. "Like Barcelona," he offered curtly,