A/N: What was I going to say again?

Fang: That Iggy should really use a deodorant?

Iggy: That Fang is the biggest emotionless, speech-less emo jerk in the whole wide world?

Me: Shit! WHAT WAS IT?

Day 19: July 20, 2010

Fang POV

Why did I say that? WHY?

Now I'm gonna be stuck with Max for three days in Paris.

But in the bright side, we get to act in our normal attitudes since Lissa wouldn't be there stalking me. For the first time in two months, I felt free.

Free to do anything!

"Fang! Let's go to the Lourve and make funny faces while you take a picture with me and Mona Lisa!"

Or not.

Well, since today is our last day at Paris, we might as well enjoy every last bit of it.

During Day 1, all Max could talk about was the plane trip.

How everything was so expensive she sweared all her part-time job money was not enough to pay even her plane seat.

Wow. ..

OK, I now present you my Day 1 in Paris report.

Day 1

"I forgot. How are we going to get to the hotel?" Max asked me when we landed at the airport.

"A rental car."

"Are you serious? Where did you get a rental car?" Max extended the handle of her suit case.

I shrugged. "I didn't. My parents did."

"Still! Wait. What hotel are we staying at?"

"Who knows. . ."

Max slapped my arm. "You should've known! God. Why didn't you ask your parents?"

"Because I didn't know I'll be using those tickets!"

Max just shook her head and sighed. "You're really stupid. . . When's the rental car gonna be here?"

"Max," Max looked up. "We have to go to the rental car place."

"Oh. Right. How far is it?"

"Right around the corner."

Max punched the air. "Yes! C'mon, let's go!"

And so, Max dragged me to the rental car place and when I said my name to the sleepy, do-nothing employee behind the desk, he suddenly perked up and his French accent became deeper than ever.

I have to refer to Max for a translation. I asked her why she knows how to speak French. Max stroke as someone who learned how to speak Spanish, and not French.

She was like, "My mom's Hispanic. She taught me how to speak Spanish since I was a kid. Besides, French is a pretty interesting language."

"He says we can take any car we want. Your parents already paid for it."

Of course they did. "So, what do you wanna use?"

Max's eyes widened. "Me? I'm gonna pick what car we're going to use? This is awesome!" She turned to the employee and started speaking French.

Even though I have no idea what they were talking about, just looking at Max's lips form French words turned me on. No, really.

She turned around, holding the car keys.

"What car did you pick?"

Max's eyes were all sparkly. "You'll see outside."

"A black Porsche coupe?"

"Awesome, isn't it?" Max was jiggling the car keys in excitement. She took something from her back pocket. "Oh, the employee said you should take this."

She handed me a white envelope. "What is it?"

"How should I know? It's yours, not mine. Can I open the car now?"

"Yeah, yeah." I glanced the envelope, before placing it in my jacket pocket. I went to the back of the car and placed our suit cases.

I saw Max standing outside the passenger door. "I'm gonna drive this thing!" She opened the door the exact time I did. "Oh. I forgot. I'm on the wrong seat."

"Even if you're on the right seat, you don't have a license." I strapped on my seatbelt and took out the envelope.

"What's inside?" I ripped the envelope open; a driver's license fell. I picked it up. "A license? You have a driver's license? Since when did you get it?"

I repeated Max's reply a while ago. "How should I know? This is my first time in France."

"What? That's ridi- Oh. Your parents."

I nodded. I held out my hand at Max. Max hesitated to give me the keys, but she did dramatically. I started the car and off we go to the hotel.

Three minutes later, we arrived at the hotel.

"Let me guess. Your parents." Max said as soon as we got off the car. I handed the keys to the valet. I have to punch him lightly on the shoulder because he was gawking at the car.

"Yeah."

"Do you think it's a four-star hotel?"

I shrugged. "Probably."

I pulled my suit case and Max was following behind me. I went to the Frenchwoman to check in.

I forgot I don't know how to speak or even understand French. I pulled Max from behind me.

"Bonjour!" said the Frenchwoman a little too happily. I glanced nervously at Max. Max just patted my shoulder.

"Comment puis-je vous aider, monsieur et madame?"

"Can you check us in?" Max asked in the same French accent. God, her accent is turning me on.

The French lady smiled at Max and asked something to Max. Max turned to me, her eyebrows lifted.

"What?"

"I forgot you can't understand French. She asks your name."

"You say it."

"It's not my name! She's asking you!"

I sighed and answered the lady. "Nicholas Montgomery."

Like the rental car guy, she was startled. Her accent also became deeper. She handed me the room key and winked. What was that for?

"Bon séjour, monsieur beau!"

Max chuckled beside me. "What did she say?"

"She called you handsome, upid-stay." Max's right arm wrapped around me.

OK. . .

Max fainted when she saw the room. Well, not exactly. She almost did.

I assumed our room was going to have two separate beds. Not one queen-sized bed.

Really, Mom? Really?

Max was getting jittery just looking at it.

I decided to tease her.

"I'm getting the bed. You take the floor." I nudged her with my elbow.

She flinched. "ARE YOU EFFIN' KIDDING ME? HERE I THOUGHT OUR ROOM WAS GOING TO HAVE TWO SEPARATE BEDS! WHAT WERE YOUR PARENTS THINKING?" Max practically yelled at my ear.

I rubbed my bruised ear. "I was kidding."

"How can you joke? There's only one bed in this freakin' room!" Max flung her hands in the air.

"I'm guessing I'll sleep on the floor tonight."

"Heck yeah, buddy! I'll have to call room service for more pillows and blankets." Max collapsed on the bed.

"This is nice. . . This is a nice time. . ." Max mumbled.

"I'm gonna shower." I unzipped my suit case and took some spare clothes. "Back in five minutes."

"Yeah, yeah. . ." Max's eyes closed and she drifted to a nap.

Five minutes later, I left the bathroom, drying my hair. My gray v-neck shirt slung over my neck.

"WTF?" Max yelled.

I jumped. "What?"

"WILL YOU PLEASE WEAR YOUR SHIRT THE RIGHT WAY IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE?"

I glanced at Max. She was covering her whole face. I shrugged and put on my shirt. "There? Satisfied?"

"As soon as it's covering your whole upper body!"

"It is," I strode in front of her and pulled her hands away from her face. "Look."

Her eyes scanned me up and down. "OK. . ."

I tossed the towel on the spare coffee table. "What's on the agenda?"

Max tapped her chin. "We could go to some tourist sites. I was gonna have you as my tour guide, but since you confessed that it's your first time here at France. . ." Max shrugged. "Oh, well." Max opened her suit case and pulled out her sling bag.

"Where are we going?"

"Tourist sites. Duh, Fang. Bring some money too. We might get hungry on the way."

"But-"

"The lady handed me another envelope. She said your parents gave you three credit cards for your," Max made some air quotation marks. "convenience. Can we go now? Before some of the sites are full of persistent French people?"

I grabbed the envelope she handed me and I also grabbed my camera.

"Yeah."

"Ooh! Can we not go to the Lourve today?"

"Why?" I opened the door for Max; Max got out. I closed the door behind me.

"Because, I want to see ML on the last day. It would be, like, epic." She emphasized the last word.

"Who's ML?"

"Wow, you're so upid-stay. ML? Mona Lisa? DUH."

"Oh," Wow, I'm so stupid. "And what else-"

Max grabbed my arm and practically pulled me to the elevator. "Max, you're-"

"We don't have time to play 20 questions!"

"But, I just-"

"Ssh! I need to see the Arch-thingee-ma-jig!"

"You mean the Arc de Triomphe?"

"Yeah! That thing!"

"Relax! Just-"

"You don't tell a girl to relax! It just makes her even more emotional!"

Noted.

Day 2 was pretty much the same as Day 1.

Except Max went off to buy some souvenirs.

"Will Ella like this shirt?" She showed me a blue shirt saying, "I (insert your desired emotion here) Paris."

"Yeah, she will."

As for me, I just took pictures of the surroundings. And some Max. And the two of us. Max kept picturing the sites and some funny signs and some of me. She kept telling me to smile. Of course, I didn't budge.

Tonight, Max said she wants to go up the Eiffel Tower and see what Paris looks like from above, especially at night.

Three large paper bags later, Max and I dropped the bags to the hotel and went off to the Eiffel Tower.

Max was right. If you're late, people pile up at the entrance.

We waited for an hour before making it to the top.

Once at the top, Max is thrilled.

"Wow. . ." I look down. She's right. Paris is like a galaxy. Since galaxy is bright because they're made up of millions of stars. And they're blinking and sparkling. I glance at Max; she's looking at Paris like it's the most beautiful place in the whole world. Well, I definitely agree at her.

"What do you think, Fang?"

"It's. . . beautiful."

"Yeah. It is beautiful. And that's coming from the girl who never describes a noun beautiful."

I lightly chuckle. Out in the corner of my eye, I see a French couple French-kissing. I shouldn't have seen that.

Max's hand on the railing closes over mine. I tense.

"Fang, I want a picture of me pointing down at Paris." She rummages through her bag. "Where's my camera?"

"In the hotel?"

"Huh?"

"You forgot it. You were too excited."

Max slaps her forehead. "Damn it! Do you have yours?"

I nod. I take it out of my pocket; someone bumped me from behind, causing the camera to fall.

"I'm sorry!" says a girl with and American accent. "I'm really sorry!"

I pick up my camera and try to turn it on. It won't turn on. "It's OK. It's out of battery, anyway."

The girl looks solemn. "Can I make it up to you?" My eyebrows rise. "I'll take a picture of you and your girlfriend." The girl sweetly smiles at me.

Max taps my shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

"My camera died." I show her my camera. Max made a tsk-ing sound. The girl tugs on my sleeve.

"Can I?"

"Can she what?" Max asks me.

"She's gonna take a picture of us."

"Really?"

The girl takes out her Polaroid PoGo Instant Digital Camera and tells me to wrap my arm around Max's waist. Then, she commands Max to rest her head on my shoulder.

"One. . . Two. . . Three. . . Smile!"

And for the first time, I smile.

And from above, Max and I look up.

A shooting star flew across the sky.

You know what they say about shooting stars. You make a wish.

I wish this relationship isn't pretend. . .

A/N: I was going to update on Forbidden today, but I guess that story can wait. It still has four weeks anyway. Unlike this story that has eleven days left. RnR?