Our fingers intertwine as we trod on the cobbled pathway under the moonlight. I laugh, holding onto Eric as a bike breezes past us, handle catching a part of my dress.
His arm goes around my waist, pulling me against him. His eyes are sober and serious, "Be careful, I don't want to lose you tonight."
"You won't," I stand on my tiptoes, pecking his lips. He has a toothpick between his teeth which he manages to spit out just in time and save my face from being pricked.
The streets of Paris are tranquil except for a few restless citizens who are either out to have a good time or working late. If I had to guess, I would say that Eric is somewhere between the two. We were supposed to go out for a meal (which we did), but 90% of the time he was on his phone.
I cover the screen of his iPhone as he pulls out the ringing device, "You're kidding, right?"
His eyes meet mine, softening slightly, "It might be important."
"I guarantee you, it's not important."
He declines the call and shoves it in his back pocket, looking guilty and pissed off at the same time.
"Eric," I place a finger on his jawline and make him look at me. His eyes skip down to my bright pink dress. Not my colour. Not my style. Eric's choice. It covers my collarbone and only comes off one shoulder, trailing down to my calves. I wore it because he insisted on it. But that meant I got to pick his outfit as well.
He looks buff in his white shirt, sleeves rolled up at the wrists. His black jacket is draped over his shoulder, being held by one hand. His pants are black too. But he is not wearing a tie, which makes him look more like a country man than a city boy.
"Turn it off. It won't kill you."
He clenches his jaw and looks off into the distance. I smile, the alcohol making me more lenient than ever.
It starts raining and he wraps his jacket around me, leading us to the nearest shelter which so happens to be a red canopy above a closed down café.
I poke one of my feet into the heavy rain, allowing Eric to hold me back so I don't accidentally stumble into the storm. The taste of warm garlic bread and tomato soup comes up as I hiccup, reminding me of the amazing dinner we had an hour ago.
He jerks me back sharply as I find myself falling towards the water. I didn't even have much to drink. So, I am not drunk. I can promise that… I think.
"Mad head," he mutters, pressing me against his chest. For a moment, I close my eyes and listen to the rain. It's heavy and relentless, conjuring claps of thunder miles away, "I can call for a cab- "
"No, it's fine," I say, "We can walk when it passes."
"What if it doesn't pass?"
"Then we'll sleep here tonight."
It is evident that he does not find me amusing. He probably wants to get back to our room and go on his laptop and ring back whoever it was that he declined earlier. I look up at him and see how he rubs his beard with one hand, eyes on the rain.
He makes us sway slightly, after a while finding the will to rest his chin on the top of my head.
"I can't believe we go back to Chicago tomorrow," I mutter against his chest.
"Hmm," is his reply. I roll my eyes, pushing myself away from him, but he brings me in again.
"Kiss me," I order.
"What?" his eyes are distant as he looks down at me. I place a hand on his cheek and smile as he leans in, pressing his lips against mine. His beard brushes past my jawline and tickles my collarbone as he nuzzles his face in my neck.
I smirk, wrapping my arms around him. The rain doesn't stop. It doesn't get worse either. It just carries on watering the dry summer city.
After ten minutes of standing under the canopy, we both start getting impatient, although neither one of us shows it.
A man runs past us, his jacket lifted to cover his head, his shoulders slouched as if it makes a difference. His trousers have changed colour from black to blacker.
I press my nose against Eric's chest, feeling the steady heart beneath his skin. His hands rub my arms when I close my eyes. A clap of thunder makes me jolt. He raises an eyebrow at me.
"Can I call a cab now?"
SHSHSHSHSHSH
When we get back to the apartment, Violet jumps out of her bedroom, the hired baby sitter running after her.
I laugh when she bumps into me. After a second, I realise that her arms are around my waist, "Why are you not asleep?"
With a heavy accent, the French babysitter tries to explain to us how it was impossible to get her into bed. I believe her, empathetically nodding my head. Behind me, Eric narrows his eyes. She looks so panicked as if her whole career has been cancelled. But I know that she is probably anxious because the amount of money Eric offered her for the services can be refused.
He pays her, of course. And she leaves the apartment without another word as if we'll try to get the money back.
Did I look like that once?
"You're back early," Violet murmurs when I tuck her into bed. She tugs at a strand of wet hair on my head, furrowing her eyebrows.
"What are you talking about? It's almost midnight," I reply, straightening up. I realize that I am still wearing Eric's black blazer.
"Everyone knows that a good night means staying out till 6am."
"Well," I smirk, "It started raining."
She refuses to accept my answer and rolls her eyes, "You are so old."
I shut the door behind me when I leave and shrug the black blazer off my shoulders. In our bedroom, Eric is butt naked in front of the wardrobe, picking out dry clothes. My eyes glance down at his ass and the alcohol in my brain makes me giggle.
He glances over his shoulder, a playful smirk on his face, "Take off that dress," he orders, "The colours are leaking onto your skin."
It's true. I notice that a faint pink river is flowing from underneath my shoulder strap. When I lift the dress up, my thighs are a shy red. The material is soggy and thwacks back onto my skin along with an unpleasant sound.
In case you are wondering why we are wet, Eric did not call a cab. I had a bright idea of running all the way back in the rain. He didn't dare to stop me. The rain has managed to sober me up though, and I now realize how bad my decision making is.
We lock the bathroom door and get into the shower. All I see is gold behind the steamed-up glass. It's difficult to make out any details in the interior once you're in a sauna.
I look down at our feet and see the pink of my dress disappear into the drain. Eric's clothes don't lose colour like that. I huff at myself. Prada my ass.
He reaches behind me and grabs a shower gel before squirting it into his hands and washing all the rain and the pink colour off me. I place my hands on his shoulders, trying not to laugh as his fingers trace all the sensitive spots on my body. He sees my smirk and grows one of his own.
Now that we've settled into the story, the fun can really begin. Beware of drama, coming soon.
Review :)