One Paris Summer (Blink) (16 page)

His grin spread. “You like living in Charleston?”

“Yeah. It’s a beautiful city. I like that it all looks so old. And my best friend lives there. Jenna.” I glanced at him. “Is Thomas your closest friend?”

His smile faded. “Yeah.”

His reaction was odd, but he was sullen enough I didn’t want to press for more.

“So what do you do for fun in Charleston?”

I laughed. “We don’t go to museums.”

He laughed too. “We don’t either. Although I am not complaining.”

The look he gave me suggested I might be part of the reason he wasn’t complaining, but his behavior the day before seemed to contradict that. Maybe I was imagining things. “So what do you do?” he repeated.

“Jenna has a swimming pool, so we hang out there a lot. I was supposed to babysit for my neighbor’s kids this summer, but I had to give it up to come here. Eric had to give up his job at the golf course too.”

He looked at me in wonder. “You have jobs?”

“Most teenagers do. It’s how we pay for our cars and gas and for things like going to the movies and out to dinner. You don’t have a job?”

“It’s not allowed. There aren’t enough jobs, so they can’t give them to teenagers. And we can’t drive until we’re eighteen, either, not that most people in Paris have cars.”

He asked more questions about my life in Charleston, and before I knew it, we were standing in front of my dad’s apartment building.

He paused and looked at me. “Do you want to play tomorrow?”

I stared up into his deep blue eyes. “Why are you doing this? It’s a huge inconvenience for you, and Camille will be pissed if she finds out. Why are you risking it?”

His chest rose as he took a deep breath. “Because it makes you happy.” Then he walked away.

What did
that
mean?

I spent the rest of the day obsessing over it. Why would Mathieu care about me being happy? Could he feel the same way about me that I felt about him? Shoot,
I
didn’t even understand how I felt about him.

Only one person could help me sort this out.

I sent Jenna a message asking if she had time to talk to me after Camille left for her dentist appointment at two fifteen. I didn’t dare risk discussing it while she was home. It was enough of a risk that Dane or Eric might hear me.

She messaged me back close to two—eight a.m. her time—saying she could talk for about ten minutes at two thirty.

That would have to do.

“Spill it!” Jenna said as soon I answered the video-call. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed. Her laptop must have been propped up on her pillow, because it was level with her chest and not her waist. “Is this about Dane? Did he finally come to his senses?”

“No. Someone else.”

“Mathew?”

“Not Mathew. Matt–yue.”

She giggled. “Is it a name or a sneeze?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s French,” I said, as if that explained everything.

She nodded. “So you like him?”

“Yes. No.” I shook my head. “I don’t know. He has a piano and he’s been letting me play it. Jen—it’s a Steinway!”

“So he’s started off by giving you expensive gifts. Check.”

I laughed. “He didn’t give it to me. He’s just letting me play it.”

“Same thing. So he likes you.” An excited gleam filled her eyes.

“I don’t know. That’s the confusing part. He shows up outside my apartment building and walks me the six blocks to his place. Then he walks me home after I finish. Both mornings he’s
even gotten me breakfast from the
pâtisserie
across the street—cappuccino and a pastry—but once we’re in his apartment, he walks away and leaves me alone.”

She gave me a reprimanding look. “Have you ever seen yourself when you’re practicing? You have a distinct
leave me alone
vibe.” I started to say something, but she just laughed. “Don’t even deny it. I’ve seen it a million times. Sounds like he’s smart. So he’s cute, smart, and he gives you things.” A huge grin spread across her face. “He likes you.”

“Don’t get too excited,” I grumbled. “We talk all the way back to my apartment building, but he practically ignores me whenever we’re in a group with my stepsister. And he doesn’t want me to tell her I’m going to his apartment.”

“Oh.” She looked taken aback. “So he’s asking you to lie.”

My stomach began to churn. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees, and began to rub a section of her comforter between her thumb and index finger. “So maybe . . .” I could practically see the wheels spinning in her head. She obviously wasn’t ready to give up on Mathieu yet. “You said Camille’s friends haven’t been nice. Maybe he’s testing the waters. He’s seeing if there’s some spark or chemistry between you two before he risks getting into trouble with Camille.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Camille seems to have lifted her Sophie ban. Their friend Thomas was really nice to me when I got freaked out in the catacombs. Then he hung out with me at the museum and park yesterday. He even bought me a
crêpe
when he found out I hadn’t had one from a street vendor yet.”

“You better be working out,” she teased. “With all these boys buying you pastries, you’re gonna put on five pounds. So tell me about Thomas.”

My face began to burn. “He’s cute.”

“And he’s obviously nice if he bought you a
crêpe
.”

“And he’s fun.” I told her about posing for the silly photos at Musée Rodin. “And Mathieu joined in, but only after Thomas convinced him.”

“And how did Her Majesty react to that?”

I released an exaggerated sigh. “She hardly noticed. She was too busy holding Dane’s hand and then mimicking the statue of two lovers in a passionate embrace.”

Her eyes flew open, and she screamed, “
What?
” I heard a mumble off-screen, and then Jenna grimaced and called over the laptop screen, “Sorry, Mom!” She immediately returned her attention back to me. “You’re just now getting to this part? Spill!”

It was time to dash her illusions. “Dane’s a total jerk, Jenna. Like monumental. Even Eric seems fed up with him.”

“What happened? Tell me everything.”

I told her about how Dane had teamed up with my stepsister to torment me.

She shook her head, and her eyes glazed over. “I don’t believe it. I mean . . . I knew he had his moments, but let’s be honest, most teenage guys do.”

“I know.”

“Well, it’s obvious Thomas likes you.”

“You think so?” I kind of hoped so, which was so many ways of wrong. Especially when I preferred Mathieu.

“So, Thomas . . .” she said, her eyes twinkling. “What do you think about him?”

I grinned. “I’m impressed you got the pronunciation right so quickly.
Two-ma
. They pronounce names so differently here.”

“I only know what you tell me. And besides, if French is like Spanish, I suspect it’s spelled the same way Thomas is.”

That blew my mind. How was I ever going to figure out how to say anything here?

I settled back on the pillows on my bed and put my laptop on my stomach. “I wish you were here.”

“Only three more weeks.”

“As a token of how much I love you, I haven’t started shopping yet.”

“What?”

“I’m waiting to go with you.”

She tilted her head and gave me a sweet smile. “Aw . . . but that still doesn’t distract me from asking about Thomas.”

I laughed and sat up straighter. “He’s really nice. And funny.”

“I think we’ve established that.”

“I like him . . . but . . .”

A sad look filled her eyes. “But you like Mathieu more.”

“I don’t know . . . maybe.”

“Oh, Soph, have you noticed that over the last year you always pick the guys who aren’t available?”

My breath caught in my chest. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” she said softly, “that you crush on guys who are with another girl or ones who don’t even know you exist. Maybe it’s like that with Mathieu. It’s safer that way. Nothing to risk, which seems to be your M.O.”

Part of me wanted to argue with her, but I couldn’t help wondering if she had a point.

“I can make a list of examples if you’d like. Austin Carmichael had a girlfriend. Trevor Honeywell is a football player only interested in cheerleaders. Even Dane . . .”

I groaned and then laughed. “Stop. I get it.”

“All I’m saying is maybe you should give the guys who
do
want to get to know you a chance.”

“Okay. I’ll give it some thought.” I grinned. “Now hurry up and get here. Then you can see it all for yourself.”

She released an exaggerated groan. “Speaking of which, I’m babysitting the terror twins again today, which means I’ve gotta go.” She grinned. “The things I do so I can go to Paris . . .”

“Thanks, Jenna.”

“Anytime. That’s what besties are for.”

“
THAT
’
S NOT FAIR
!” Camille shouted in English later that night, jumping out of her chair at the dining room table, which surprised me. The English part, not the jumping out of the chair part. She was just as fond of jumping out of chairs as she was of slamming doors. She and Eva had been waging an argument in French, so obviously she wanted to inform the rest of us that her life had been ruined. Which meant it had something to do with me.

Eva gave her daughter a not-so-patient look. “It’s my final decision.”

Camille shot me a sneer. “She probably doesn’t have anything to wear.”

I set down my fork. “I have no idea what you two are talking about, but leave me out of it.”

My father gave me a pained look. “Camille wants to go to a club with her friends tonight.”

Eva started to speak in French, then switched to English. “You know the evenings are family time, Camille.”

“We’ve had almost two weeks of family time. You can’t force us to like each other.”

I snuck a glance to Eric, relieved to see he was just as confused as I was. “Wait,” I said. “What is she talking about?”

Eva grimaced. “Your father and I thought it would be best if all of us spent our evenings and weekends together while you and Eric are here.” She looked up at Dad, who nodded in agreement.

“We want all of us to become a family,” he said.

All the forced family fun over the previous weekend made sense now, and several other pieces fell into place too. Dad had balked at Mom’s insistence that Eric and I should both be able to bring a friend. He’d known it would interfere.

“
I
will still be here after they leave,” Camille said, pointing across the table at Eric and me. “And I spend all day with them. I just want
one night
.”

“Let her go,” I said, my back stiff. “I don’t want to go.”

Camille’s eyes widened.

“I don’t want to go either,” Eric said. Narrowing his eyes at Dane, he said, “You two go without us.”

Dad studied us for a moment and then turned to Eva. “Let Camille go out with her friends. I’ll spend the evening with Eric and Sophie.”

Eva’s gaze lowered to her plate and she said something in French. Eric’s head jerked up to look at her, but he didn’t say anything.

We cleared the table, and Camille bolted for her room as Eric and I began to load dishes into the dishwasher.

“What did Eva say?” I asked, handing him a plate after I rinsed it.

“I don’t think things are all rainbows and sunshine with Dad and Eva.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

“Eva said a French phrase that means unity is strength.”

“Oh.” While the prospect of them fighting—and possibly splitting up—might have overjoyed me a few weeks ago, I couldn’t deny that I really liked Eva.

No one was more surprised by that than I was.

We made plans to go see an American action film that was playing at a movie theater by the Louvre. We left the apartment and walked for a block in silence on our way to the subway station before Dad asked, “How’s it going with Dane here?”

“Oh . . .” Eric hedged, looking down at his feet. “Pretty good. He likes seeing all the architecture.”

“Is it weird knowing he’s so interested in your stepsister?” Eric shot Dad a surprised look and Dad laughed. “Eva and I aren’t blind. It’s obvious they like each other.”

Eric rubbed the back of his neck. “Not as much as if he were dating Sophie.”

“What?” I asked, walking behind them. “Why would that be weird?”

“Because he’s my friend. There’s no way I could think about him . . .
dating
you without beating the crap out of him.”

My mouth dropped open in shock. I’d never considered the possibility that Eric might care one way or another. But then again, I’d never dated before, so I had nothing to compare it to.

“And how are things going with Camille and her friends?” Dad had asked before, but always in front of Eva and Camille. Polite conversation that required a polite answer. But now it seemed like he really wanted to know.

Eric shot a determined look at me over his shoulder. “Honestly, Dad. Camille hasn’t been very—”

“She’s been amazing,” I interrupted. “An amazing tour guide.”

Dad slowed down to fall in step beside me. “Really? I’ve sensed a hostility between you two.”