We were traveling along a cobblestone road beside the river when Evangeline screamed a violent curse, stepping on a shattered wine glass in front of the old, romantic apartment we had come to meet one of her oldest friends- and a past lover, I'd managed to squeeze out of her. Apparently his art was passionate- but fueled by a "dark, shadowy underside" of him she felt was too complicated to understand. Her wild mess of curls falling across her downcast face as she stared at her foot, she cursed over and over, more and more foully, I might add as well. "Leo!!" She screamed in French. "Get your good-for-nothing ass out here and apologize you—" she proceeded to use some more colorful language I hadn't even heard before.

As I stood there in shock, watching the white hem of her dress slowly soak in a deep crimson, I felt a sudden detachment from my body, as if I were floating above myself.

I was vaguely aware of a man with us, and the flash of a pair of truly gorgeous brilliant green eyes, but I just couldn't focus. "Oh," I heard him say- in English I might add-, "Eva- we've got a faint one here."

Her only response was a flurry of truly awful words that had I not been so out of it- would have made me blush quite badly.

I felt my eyes slowly focusing again- and when they finally recognized a shape again- it was the awful, shredded bloody underside of her glass sliced foot. Without the least bit of grace, I felt the air whoosh out of me, accompanied by an unattractive, "OOF" sound, before my head was filled with a crash of onyx waves as the blackness slammed over my eyes.

When I resurfaced, I was in the arms of the most beautiful boys I had ever seen. His dark, sun-streaked curls hung around his gem-green eyes, his prominent jaw and chiseled features making up a face worthy of an angel. I stared, blinking several times.

"Hey," He breathed, "You ok?"

I continued to blink, wishing with all my heart that somehow he could turn out to be real- not some hopeful dream…

He didn't disappear. You can imagine my joy. I tried to smile, but I felt so shaky I could hardly manage it. "Hello. I'm…a little off my balance, I'm afraid." I laughed, though the sound had a slight trace of nervousness.

He slowly helped me to my feet. "I've been waiting for you to wake up for ten minutes now."

My memory returned in a flash. "Evangeline!" I recalled, alarmed.

"She's fine." He said soothingly. "The glass didn't go in- just cut open an ugly shallow gash."

"It was enough to make me faint." I said, feeling humiliated so thoroughly that I could hardly stand looking him in the eye.

We had straightened up then, but he still had his hands securely fixed on my waist. His green eyes searched my face and something registered within those emerald depths.

I stared at him, my uptight upbringing suddenly making me aware of the inappropriate way he was looking at me- and that the necessity for his arms to be wrapped around me was no longer existent. Who did he think he was, exactly? "Well, I'm fine now, so if you'd like to remove your hands from my waist." I said icily, moving past him.

An amused look crossed over his irresistible face, the corners of his mouth turning up in a telltale of an almost smile. "And you want to be a free-spirited artist?" He asked me, grinning as he moved to stand in front of me again.

Despite my small thrill at the pure sweetness of that simple smile, I ignored him, pushing past him again. "Yes, I do. However 'free spirited' does not apply to how I let men treat me. I have respect." I insisted, pushing a glossy lock of my inky black hair behind my ear as I observed his small kitchen, painted a messy deep red, the single, enormous window overlooking the river and a faint glimpse of the Eiffel Tower.

"A little defensive, perhaps?" I heard him say, but at that point I was entirely fixated with the view. So much so that I didn't really notice when he came up behind me, looking over my shoulder.

"You like the view?" He wondered quietly after I gazed on for a few minutes.

"It's beautiful," I turned around, and found myself quite closer than I expected. "Paris, is beautiful."

He nodded. "That it is. Filled with so much love…" He shook his head, "And so much tragedy."

"Oh?" I said, hoping that when I sidestepped him it didn't appear to be a strained movement. He didn't seem to notice, still wrapped up in his thoughts. "Is that what inspires you to paint?"

He looked at me again, emerald eyes filled with an unpredicted level of intensity. "The tragedy?"

"Yes. The sorrows of life."

He hesitated, before nodding slowly. "Yes, I suppose that's very accurate."

At that moment, Evangeline stomped around the corner; hand on her hips, white bandage on her foot- to my relief. She looked wilder and more beautiful than ever, and I suddenly remembered that this mysterious stranger and her had once been lovers. For some reason, this made me feel a hot, sticky uncomfort.

"You know, you're a bloody bastard for leaving that bottle out there like that." She snapped. Her fierce expression left me scared for him.

"It was very irresponsible, you're right," He smiled, coming forward to take both of her hands. "But I'm glad you came, bandaged or not." He kissed both her cheeks. I glanced at my feet, wondering why I felt so eager to leave all of the sudden.

"Eh," She waved him off. "I did not come here to see you. I came, because you have talent." She eyed him critically. "Unless you've lost it? Would not be surprised at all."

"Oh, Eva, thorny as ever." He sighed. "No, I still paint with the same capability. I'd love to show her."

She smiled at him angelically. "Oh well then, you're partially forgiven."

He gave her an exasperated stare before taking my hand easily; leading me around a corner- and up the steepest, least reliable wood staircase I'd ever seen.

My bravery was rewarded, however, when I reached the top. The attic of a sort, the worn wood room held the distinct scent of candles and oil paints- and for some reason, I thought it was the best smell in the world. There were two windows on either side of the otherwise dark room, and each had gorgeous scenery below. But that wasn't the most spectacular part – by far. Canvass after canvass covered the walls, each unique, some splattered with a furious array of colors- others precise- paintings of women, of a single tree, of the ocean, of Paris- simple patterns, complex, angry splashes of red against the white. It was all so insanely different than each other- and yet, all had the same sort of feel to them.

"You like it?" I heard him say after what I'm sure was at least twenty minutes of my staring, open-mouthed.

I swallowed, turning to face him. "Spectacular," I managed to breathe. "It's wonderful."

His white flash of teeth was followed by a little, mocking bow, "Glad you like it, oh lady of Britain."

"Lady of Britain?" I scoffed. "That has to be the very last thing I'd like to be called."

"Gemma then?" He smirked. "A little too 'informal' for you, isn't it though?"

I shrugged. "Well, you're clearly a talented artist I could learn from. I suppose that it'd be fine if you called me Gemma- for now." I added warningly.

He rolled his eyes, "Well thanks ever so much. I suppose I just wasn't worth the courtesy of being able to call you by your name until you realized I could be potentially gifted."

I shrugged. "Well, now we are acquainted."

"Now that you've realized I'm a genius, only, though." He insisted, smiling easily now.

I was irritated with his tone. "I don't need to explain myself to you."

"Oh don't you? Then why are you trying so hard?" His smile had disappeared, although the amused gleam in his eye was still there to annoy me to no end. "Are you trying to impress me ever so much?"

"You are a bit too obviously aware that you're talented, Mr. Leo- and might I say you don't mind bragging. For your ego- your art is not all that good you know." I lied. "I've seen better. Don't puff yourself up." And with that, I went downstairs, thoroughly annoyed.

Evangeline was sitting in a chair, dozing out to the sound of piano drifting from outside when I grabbed her hand. "Let's go, cousin, shall we?" I said, smiling tightly.

"Oh, irritating you already, Gemma?" She rolled her eyes. "Well I must say auvoir to him first."

"Oh of course," I said sarcastically, plopping down in the chair next to hers. "I thought you hated him."

"It's all an act," She smiled, "We both pretend to hate eachother a lot- its what we're used to. We're really very close friends."

I sighed. "Well I think he's totally AWFUL."

"Yes, he is." She agreed full heartedly. "Now if you'll let me say goodbye we'll be on our way immediately.