Chapter Three

Disclaimer- I don't own Animorphs

A/N: This is just a chapter I'm making along as I go so don't go on me too bad. I'm sorry people I can't make this chapter romantic because they have to meet each other. I think they'll meet in this chappy because I can't think of nothing else. I'm sort of in a mediocre mood now, not happy or sad. My cousin has a boyfriend that for some reason, her parents don't like, he's a great kid, kind, and he's not a jerk. Her parents put a restraining order on him a couple weeks ago, and she went for a walk today. My two uncles found her and Chris at the park today and beat the shit out of him. Poor girl, what a birthday present Sorry, you had to listen to my babble, but I had to get it out somehow.

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I awoke from my slumber on the soft comfortable circular bed and I was reluctant to get up. The hotel I was staying at was beautiful. I was on the top floor, which gave me a fabulous view of the city from thirty stories.

I wandered blindly around the room for a few minutes until I found the door to the bathroom. I slipped off my P.J's and headed toward the large marble bathtub planted in the middle of the room.

It filled up amazingly fast with water coming in from all sides as I poured a scented lather into the warm water.

The weather channel was on the TV on the cart positioned in front of the tub. The French Tv station was being translated into English for me. I listened to the voice over explain the warm front coming through the area, rising temperatures all around.

I ventured to the Eiffel tower first and was surprised to find a McDonalds at the top surrounded by balcony that gave a better view than my hotel.

I smiled at the old woman at the counter as I picked up my tray and pivoted on one foot. What I saw almost made me drop my tray.

There, sipping orange juice was the man of my dreams, the man I had spent all of my abnormal adolescents with, the man who made "my cup runneth over".

I was going to kill Rachel, she set this up, she was the only one that knew I would be in Paris and exactly where I was staying.

I motored across the restaurant at top speed and dodged behind a abnormally large plant and threw myself at the table secluded by the plant. When I tried to shove myself into the chair I knocked it over and fell to the floor into view of Jake. A women came rushing over to me.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm fine, just a little clumsy," I said giggling, in a not-like me laugh, as I picked up my red tray sideways, spilling my breakfast everywhere. I placed it over the side of my face, pretending to do whatever the hell with it.

"You spilled your breakfast," the woman sympathized.

"Yes, it's okay," I said. "Just go and let me pick it up."

"No, please, let me help."

"I said I didn't need any help!" I practically yelled. I blushed, the lady looked hurt. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you like that."

Her lip quivered, "I…Was ju —just t-t-trying to-to h-h-help."

I comforted the woman out of Jake's view, and finally let my arm rest, I discarded of my food, and ran out of there, trying to leave it all behind me.

I went back to the motel and changed clothes. I spent the rest of the day, seeing the sights and snapping pictures.

* * *

I went to the beach later that night, with today being a fluke in the weather system and all, wearing khaki flood plants, a white T-shirt, and a flowing, lacy, light blue jacket.

I had driven my car to the parking spaces and left my shoes sit at the concrete bar imbedded in the blacktop, with no intentions to be spending the next morning cleaning the insides of them.

I leaned back on my palms and brought my knees up, making grooves in the sand with my toes.

A high wave came tumbling and twisting up the lightly sloping land, it played around my feet for a few seconds before receding back into the sea, taking a starfish and a sand crab in its tow.

I watched the last few inches of sun lower. I heard a loud bark from behind me. I turned around and saw a broad -shouldered man, bended down to scratch a long-haired golden retriever behind the ears. He reached up a hand the brush his hair out of his eyes.

Yep, I was going to definitely kill Rachel.

There Jake was, parading around barefoot in khakis and a gray sweatshirt (A/N: Sorry, about their outfits, it's what they were wearing when I've fantasized about them on the beach.)

I gathered enough courage to walk over there, he looked up when my, dark bare feet came into his field of vision. I couldn't read his mind, but I had an idea of what he was thinking, and I bet it was close to 'I'm going to kill Rachel.'

Somehow, we got to talking, and walking along the beach. We talked about our lives lately, and some other stuff.

Jake's POV

We got to the pier, it was empty. The wind had picked up and Cassie, if possible walked even closer to me, until we headed up the salt and sand crusted wooden steps. I planned on a nice, walk to the end of the pier, and then lean over the edge, sniff the salt air, and have a nice discussion with Cassie, but, unfortunately, the pier had other plans for me.

About at the midway point, something terrible happened. The was no warning, no creak, no depression in the wood, nothing, but all of a sudden, my foot shot straight through the floor

"Ow!" I shouted. The pain was unbearable, it went all up my right leg. Cassie helped me pull my ankle out of the hole I had made. She asked me where it hurt and felt around.

"Can you move it?" she asked.

I tried, nothing happened, the pain in my ankle had turned dull, but there was still a battle of pain raging in my upper leg.

"It's broken," she said sympathetically as she helped my up and helped me limp to her car. I would have to call my chauffer when I got back to the motel, or else he'd be stranded on the beach all night.