If you haven't read my last blog post, "The Things You Will Regret", I recommend reading that first or directly after :)
"Yep. I'm pretty sure that's Norweigan."
He pulls up to the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding a shuttle bus dropping off a group of students. I thank him and climb out, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. The automatic doors welcome me to the luxurious JFK airport. I'm immediately sucked into a different world where foreign languages swirl and mix around me, carried by people of all ethnicities. I confidently stroll over to the screen labeled "Departures" and scan the list for CDG. It says it's still on time, but I'm a little late and only have 45 minutes to get to the gate.
I'm scrambling for my passport by the time I reach security. I get a few weird looks from TSA people and have to get a full body search because I'm a minor traveling alone. I check my watch the second I get through and am surprised to see that I still have 20 minutes before boarding. That's gotta be some new record for JFK security.
I keep my backpack close to my body the whole way. It has all of my most precious belongings and my clothes for the next week or so. This trip was kind of last minute, so I only packed two t-shirts, a sweater, a pair of shorts, and some underwear. I'm wearing my favorite jeans and the shirt he sent me for my birthday a few years ago. It's white and sweat-stained, but it's also the softest thing I own and I absolutely love it. The words "see u soon" are screen printed in black with a little smiley face under the font. He has a matching one and sometimes we plan to wear it on the same day even though he lives on the other side of the world.
I reach the gate and find a seat by the window. I'm surrounded by old men and grad students, but I guess that's what you get when you fly to Paris in the middle of a Wednesday. I have three missed calls from him and a text from my mom. I let her know I'm at the gate and then listen to his voicemails.
Hey Lucy! If I did the math right you are probably on your way to the airport. I guess maybe I should've called you earlier but I slept really late. I'm really excited to see you tonight. Like I've been thinking about it a lot. I woke up this morning and couldn't believe today is actually the day. I'll talk to you later. BEEP.
Hey. It's me again. I realize I just called you but I miss you and wanted to hear your voice but I guess I missed you again. You're probably in the airport. Sorry I keep annoying you. I'm seriously counting down the hours now. Ok. I'll go. BEEP.
I forgot to tell you to call me when you land so I can send a car or come pick you up or something. It's ok if it's kinda late, there's no way I'm sleeping tonight anyway. He laughs. And if you can, text me when you're about to take off so I know you got there safely and everything. Oh, this is random, but I think Alessandra is gonna stay just for the first day or two. Have you ever talked to her? I feel like you guys could be really good friends. I'll make sure she gets out of our hair by the end of the week though. She didn't realize you were coming to visit. Ok, I should probably go. I promise I won't keep calling. Alright, I'll see you later Lu. BEEP
How sweet. I smile to myself before texting him back to let him know that I made it through security and we're about to begin boarding. He responds instantly with a ton of smiley faces and hearts. Absolutely adorable. I throw my phone into my backpack and stand up to get in the Group 3 line. My ticket is tucked in my passport, the edges soft and fraying from my anxious, sweaty hands. My ticket gets scanned and my passport gets checked yet again, and I walk down the long jet bridge until I reach the actual plane and find my seat in the very back. I only have my backpack, so I get settled in my seat and hug my bag on my lap.
As the few remaining passengers board, I check my phone compulsively, constantly refreshing my Instagram aimlessly. I text him one more time as the door is shut and the flight attendants begin their safety presentation. I can't believe I'm going to see him in less than 10 hours. We approach the runway and I turn my phone to airplane mode, smiling at that thought.
The flight is uneventful. I fall asleep to one of my older playlists and when I wake up we're less than an hour to landing. The butterflies don't hit me until I walk off the plane and get on the shuttle that takes us to the airport. I haven't turned my phone back on yet. My anxiety only increases as I stand in the Customs line. I constantly have to keep wiping my hands on my pants and the sweat beads up on my passport. Once I get through customs, I relax a little. It's easier traveling without luggage, as I can go straight through and wait for a ride.
I find a seat at a Starbucks and turn on my phone for the first time. It's almost midnight. I text him. He texts back instantly and tells me that he's already here. My heart skips a beat.
Me: Where???
Him: uh terminal a I think?
I glance around. It looks like I'm in terminal B. I can't read any of the signs, but terminal A must be close.
Me: I'll come find you. I'm at a Starbucks rn
I stand up and get a headrush. I'm so nervous. I haven't seen him in almost a year. We talk all the time, but it's just not the same. I head towards the terminal next to me and just hope it's terminal A. I fidget with the hem of my shirt the whole time. I'm about to throw up.
But then I see him. Standing alone, head tilted down to look at his phone kind of awkwardly. A smile spreads across my face. I'm about to call out to him, but he looks up first and we lock eyes. His reaction is the exact same and he runs towards me with a massive grin and shining eyes. I run to meet his open arms, my backpack slamming into my lower back with every stride. Our bodies collide and I'm immediately surrounded by his embrace. Neither of us says anything, but I think he can feel how much I'm shaking. I bury my smile in his shoulder.
We stand like that for so long my calves start to ache from standing on my tip toes. I pull away first, letting my fingers linger on his forearm.
"Hi," I say, breaking the silence.
"Hey."
"How are you?"
"So good now that you're here."
"I missed you," we both say at the same time. He laughs. I smile even bigger.
I stand looking up at his dark chocolate eyes for what feels like an eternity.
"Can I help you with anything? Is this all your luggage?" he asks, gesturing at my backpack.
I nod. "I was hoping maybe you could have clothes I could borrow."
"Of course."
"Can we go though? I'm kinda tired." We walk shoulder to shoulder towards the exit and out into the chilly fall night. Taxis are swarming and French swirls all around me. It feels like a dream. Maybe I'm just jetlagged and delirious.
He flicks on his phone and texts someone quickly. A moment later his driver pulls up in a sleek Porche that basically sits on the ground. It's a four-door and he opens the back seat passenger side for me. He climbs in the opposite side and we take off.
My reality seems to hit me all at once. The weight of today, all my emotions and my exhaustion, comes crashing down on my brain. I'm really here. Paris for a whole week with my best friend. I'm hoping I can extend that timeline though. The car is dark and silent. It's oddly calming. I can feel his presence next to me. Our hands are inches apart and his heat radiates onto me. As we approach the city, the landscape begins to light up. We drive past restaurants and cafes and people walking by the river. I absorb everything with wide eyes.
He leans over to his driver and tells him something in French. A moment later we pull over in front of a brasserie called Les Deux Magots. The driver hops out and opens the door for me and I nod in thanks. We both shuffle over to the sidewalk outside of the lowly lit seating area of the restaurant.
"Are you hungry? They have the best duck here."
"Um kind of. I kind of want a coffee or a tea or something hot."
"Oh wow, you have to try the hot chocolate then. Parisian hot chocolate is no joke," he chuckles. I follow him inside and we find a seat at what could be considered the bar. I'm immediately self-conscious about how underdressed I am. Everyone around me is dressed in suits and blouses, head to toe in expensive jewelry and topped off with a slick hair cut and shiny leather shoes. We definitely stick out, both in jeans and tee shirts with our Nikes and my backpack. The restaurant itself is gorgeous. Eggwhite pillars rise from the black and white tiled floors and gold leafing stretches across the walls, disappearing under the intricate crown molding. The ceiling is decorated with white imprints done by various French artists and each massive tile is different. The entire place is buzzing with an uncanny energy that can only be radiated in Paris.
A bartender comes up and speaks to us in French. I look at him frantically, and he calmly places our order or something. As soon as he leaves I turn to my friend.
"This place is amazing. I can't believe it's so busy so late."
"Yeah. They have some of the best food I've ever tasted in Paris, and that's definitely saying something." His accent peaks through some of his words and I can't help but bite my lip to keep from smiling.
I pause before responding. "I'm really glad I'm here."
"I'm really glad you're here too." I blush and look down at my lap. He needs to stop looking at me with that longing gaze of admiration or else I may start to fall in love.
Our drinks and appetizers come. We both got a hot chocolate and a cheese and meat platter to split. Everything is absolutely fabulous and an hour later, after everyone has left, we're still sitting and talking and laughing and having an amazing time. I look up from my empty mug after taking the last swig of my hot chocolate and our eyes catch. My heart speeds up. When he looks at me it feels like he can see right into my heart. I feel so exposed, naked almost.
Without breaking his stare I announce, "Maybe we should head home."
He smiles and nods, only looking away to flag our bartender and handing him a large bill.
I pick up my bag and wiggle the zipper open to search for my sweater. While he deals with the bill, I slip the jumper over my head and run my fingers through my hair a few times. The sweater was a last minute decision in my packing efforts. It's a cream color with lots of little holes throughout, perfect for fall but too light for winter. We walk out together.
I shiver violently the moment I step out of the door. All of a sudden a strange feeling rushes over me. It's not deja vu but it has the same effect. My entire body shakes and my brain screams something isn't right! Something bad is about to happen! I stop dead in my tracks, desperately trying to shake the feeling. Looking around, I try to shake my brain back into reality. I'm ok. Everything is fine.
I follow him slowly, my world locked in a temporary sea of molasses. After a few seconds, the lights around me come back into vision and the traffic noise is brought to the forefront of my mind. That was so weird. I write it off as anxiety, but I haven't felt anything like that in years. I'm sure everything is fine.
He takes my hand as we hurry across the street. The sudden contact warms my heart. We walk in silence, but I really don't care. My mind is still racing. I'm probably just tired. I've been up for probably around 24 hours and haven't had nearly enough water or food. I'm in a new place. It's just my anxiety acting up. Everything is fine.
How sweet. I smile to myself before texting him back to let him know that I made it through security and we're about to begin boarding. He responds instantly with a ton of smiley faces and hearts. Absolutely adorable. I throw my phone into my backpack and stand up to get in the Group 3 line. My ticket is tucked in my passport, the edges soft and fraying from my anxious, sweaty hands. My ticket gets scanned and my passport gets checked yet again, and I walk down the long jet bridge until I reach the actual plane and find my seat in the very back. I only have my backpack, so I get settled in my seat and hug my bag on my lap.
As the few remaining passengers board, I check my phone compulsively, constantly refreshing my Instagram aimlessly. I text him one more time as the door is shut and the flight attendants begin their safety presentation. I can't believe I'm going to see him in less than 10 hours. We approach the runway and I turn my phone to airplane mode, smiling at that thought.
The flight is uneventful. I fall asleep to one of my older playlists and when I wake up we're less than an hour to landing. The butterflies don't hit me until I walk off the plane and get on the shuttle that takes us to the airport. I haven't turned my phone back on yet. My anxiety only increases as I stand in the Customs line. I constantly have to keep wiping my hands on my pants and the sweat beads up on my passport. Once I get through customs, I relax a little. It's easier traveling without luggage, as I can go straight through and wait for a ride.
I find a seat at a Starbucks and turn on my phone for the first time. It's almost midnight. I text him. He texts back instantly and tells me that he's already here. My heart skips a beat.
Me: Where???
Him: uh terminal a I think?
I glance around. It looks like I'm in terminal B. I can't read any of the signs, but terminal A must be close.
Me: I'll come find you. I'm at a Starbucks rn
I stand up and get a headrush. I'm so nervous. I haven't seen him in almost a year. We talk all the time, but it's just not the same. I head towards the terminal next to me and just hope it's terminal A. I fidget with the hem of my shirt the whole time. I'm about to throw up.
But then I see him. Standing alone, head tilted down to look at his phone kind of awkwardly. A smile spreads across my face. I'm about to call out to him, but he looks up first and we lock eyes. His reaction is the exact same and he runs towards me with a massive grin and shining eyes. I run to meet his open arms, my backpack slamming into my lower back with every stride. Our bodies collide and I'm immediately surrounded by his embrace. Neither of us says anything, but I think he can feel how much I'm shaking. I bury my smile in his shoulder.
We stand like that for so long my calves start to ache from standing on my tip toes. I pull away first, letting my fingers linger on his forearm.
"Hi," I say, breaking the silence.
"Hey."
"How are you?"
"So good now that you're here."
"I missed you," we both say at the same time. He laughs. I smile even bigger.
I stand looking up at his dark chocolate eyes for what feels like an eternity.
"Can I help you with anything? Is this all your luggage?" he asks, gesturing at my backpack.
I nod. "I was hoping maybe you could have clothes I could borrow."
"Of course."
"Can we go though? I'm kinda tired." We walk shoulder to shoulder towards the exit and out into the chilly fall night. Taxis are swarming and French swirls all around me. It feels like a dream. Maybe I'm just jetlagged and delirious.
He flicks on his phone and texts someone quickly. A moment later his driver pulls up in a sleek Porche that basically sits on the ground. It's a four-door and he opens the back seat passenger side for me. He climbs in the opposite side and we take off.
My reality seems to hit me all at once. The weight of today, all my emotions and my exhaustion, comes crashing down on my brain. I'm really here. Paris for a whole week with my best friend. I'm hoping I can extend that timeline though. The car is dark and silent. It's oddly calming. I can feel his presence next to me. Our hands are inches apart and his heat radiates onto me. As we approach the city, the landscape begins to light up. We drive past restaurants and cafes and people walking by the river. I absorb everything with wide eyes.
He leans over to his driver and tells him something in French. A moment later we pull over in front of a brasserie called Les Deux Magots. The driver hops out and opens the door for me and I nod in thanks. We both shuffle over to the sidewalk outside of the lowly lit seating area of the restaurant.
"Are you hungry? They have the best duck here."
"Um kind of. I kind of want a coffee or a tea or something hot."
"Oh wow, you have to try the hot chocolate then. Parisian hot chocolate is no joke," he chuckles. I follow him inside and we find a seat at what could be considered the bar. I'm immediately self-conscious about how underdressed I am. Everyone around me is dressed in suits and blouses, head to toe in expensive jewelry and topped off with a slick hair cut and shiny leather shoes. We definitely stick out, both in jeans and tee shirts with our Nikes and my backpack. The restaurant itself is gorgeous. Eggwhite pillars rise from the black and white tiled floors and gold leafing stretches across the walls, disappearing under the intricate crown molding. The ceiling is decorated with white imprints done by various French artists and each massive tile is different. The entire place is buzzing with an uncanny energy that can only be radiated in Paris.
A bartender comes up and speaks to us in French. I look at him frantically, and he calmly places our order or something. As soon as he leaves I turn to my friend.
"This place is amazing. I can't believe it's so busy so late."
"Yeah. They have some of the best food I've ever tasted in Paris, and that's definitely saying something." His accent peaks through some of his words and I can't help but bite my lip to keep from smiling.
I pause before responding. "I'm really glad I'm here."
"I'm really glad you're here too." I blush and look down at my lap. He needs to stop looking at me with that longing gaze of admiration or else I may start to fall in love.
Our drinks and appetizers come. We both got a hot chocolate and a cheese and meat platter to split. Everything is absolutely fabulous and an hour later, after everyone has left, we're still sitting and talking and laughing and having an amazing time. I look up from my empty mug after taking the last swig of my hot chocolate and our eyes catch. My heart speeds up. When he looks at me it feels like he can see right into my heart. I feel so exposed, naked almost.
Without breaking his stare I announce, "Maybe we should head home."
He smiles and nods, only looking away to flag our bartender and handing him a large bill.
I pick up my bag and wiggle the zipper open to search for my sweater. While he deals with the bill, I slip the jumper over my head and run my fingers through my hair a few times. The sweater was a last minute decision in my packing efforts. It's a cream color with lots of little holes throughout, perfect for fall but too light for winter. We walk out together.
I shiver violently the moment I step out of the door. All of a sudden a strange feeling rushes over me. It's not deja vu but it has the same effect. My entire body shakes and my brain screams something isn't right! Something bad is about to happen! I stop dead in my tracks, desperately trying to shake the feeling. Looking around, I try to shake my brain back into reality. I'm ok. Everything is fine.
I follow him slowly, my world locked in a temporary sea of molasses. After a few seconds, the lights around me come back into vision and the traffic noise is brought to the forefront of my mind. That was so weird. I write it off as anxiety, but I haven't felt anything like that in years. I'm sure everything is fine.
He takes my hand as we hurry across the street. The sudden contact warms my heart. We walk in silence, but I really don't care. My mind is still racing. I'm probably just tired. I've been up for probably around 24 hours and haven't had nearly enough water or food. I'm in a new place. It's just my anxiety acting up. Everything is fine.
NOW GO READ "THE THINGS YOU WILL REGRET" TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT
I love that you wrote a prequel! Very clever!
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