A/N: Hey guys! Guess what JUST came out. That's right, the spoilers. None of which I can use because Jane has already relocated to Paris in my story. *Sad Face* I'm really sorry about last chapter…feel like I let you guys down because it was a realllllly terrible chapter, I was so distracted. I hope this one makes up for it. Xo-OppasAnjell (Now to reviews)

Darkness-Princess-Kit—Thank you for having such positive feedback on the last chapter! And yeah, it does seem she was waiting all along…guess we will have to see.

HellooKitty2010—Seems I'm the queen of suspense then xD All I know about the season finale is that Jane gets offered a huge promotion (which is where I came up with her going to Paris) and there's a huge chance she almost gets found out. Also there is going to be some sort (I think) of showdown between Zoe and Jane (which is where I got the idea for the theatre scene) and I know Jane redesigns the Cinderella dress because I saw a pic of Zoe in it and it looked wicked cool. I think they'll leave us hanging with the whole Billy/Jane relationship like they did before Billy got sent to juvie. I really hope there's a season 2…otherwise I'll protest and the director won't get a wink of sleep till she agrees to continue JBD (:

Guest—Awe you're totally welcome! I try to update quickly because I hate when fanfics I'm reading don't update for months on end…I tend to lose interest and don't want to do that to my readers

Guest2—thank you!

I see Jane and my breath is taken away. She's beautiful, and beautiful doesn't even begin to describe how perfect she is. She looks so happy, in her element. Salt stings my eyes, I turn away. Why was I here? I had hurt her, and she was happy now. I couldn't ruin her life, again. I walk out, nowhere to go but home.

Billy's P.O.V.

I had been wandering around Paris for a couple hours, not really knowing where to go. I look at my cell…eleven pm. I didn't have any money for a place to stay; I had been planning on crashing with Jane. That was out of the question now.

Places are starting to shut down, giving off the eerie feeling of being completely alone in the world. I yawn. Shoot, need a coffee.

I walk for another hour or so before I finally find an open, yet deserted, café. I slam my bag down on the concrete and throw myself into the cold, metal seat belonging to the outdoor table.

I look inside through the window of the Parisian café, the lighting is soft and the setting is warm and antique…giving the feeling one gets when looking back on a pleasant memory. That explains why I'm sitting outside, in the cold, brisk night. I always favoured reality, no matter how much it sucked. I wouldn't be pulled into the trap of the past, it looked harmless but the pain of old mistakes was unbearable.

A jovial waiter comes outside, "Bonsoir, monsieur! Puis-je vous apporter quelque chose à manger ou à boire?"

I stare at him blankly and he quickly switches to English.

"Good evening, sir! May I get you something to eat or drink?" His voice is heavily accented and his mustache twitches ever so slightly. I can't help but chuckle; this whole thing is so clique.

"I'll take a coffee."

"Cream or sugar, sir?"

"Black please."

He bows a few centimeters and runs inside, his black shoes squeaking. I watch him through the window as he prepares the coffee. Inside is so warm and inviting, but I deserve to be in the cold.

"Here you are monsieur!" He announces as he gracefully places the hot cup of coffee down on the metal table.

"Merci," I mutter into the porcelain cup as I take a sip. It's bitter, just like life. I expect the waiter to leave, but he doesn't.

"Something is troubling you, monsieur," he states softly.

I glare at him, annoyed, but I can't stay mad for long. His expression is soft; open. He isn't trying to judge me…he's trying to help. I hesitantly nod, "Yeah, but we all have our issues."

"I beg my pardon, monsieur, but yours are much deeper; am I wrong?" he gently pries.

I drop my face into my hands, "I screwed up majorly. I betrayed my best friend, denied my true feelings, and—" I look up at him, "I saw her today, sir. She looked beautiful."

He smiles sadly at me, "Did you speak with her, monsieur?"

I hang my head shamefully, "No, I was too scared."

He shakes his head slightly and his mustache twitches, "Monsieur, her heart is just as broken as yours, you must speak with her."

"I lost my chance!" I cry out.

He smiles at me, as if I was a little boy who just spoke of utter nonsense, "There is always a second chance for those who have their hearts in the right place, monsieur. Enjoy your coffee." And with that he vanished into the warmth of the café.

Jane's P.O.V.

I finally finished my photo shoot at nine. I rushed home, not stopping to make conversation with any of my neighbors. I slam my front door shut and wince at the sound; inducing my headache. I grip my forehead, "Blasted headache, bloody ghosts, Billy's never going to find me…" I rant as I search high and low for the Tylenol. I find the bottle and shake it, it's empty. Figures. I pour myself a few (ok a lot) glasses of wine and pass out on the couch.

I groan as I come to, it feels like I got hit repeatedly in the head with a sledge hammer. So maybe the wine wasn't a good idea. I look at the clock, it's one am. I grumble, "That's just great I have to work tomorrow and now have a hangover. Gotta get some coffee…sober up…" I keep mumbling to myself as I try to find the coffee grounds. How am I out of everything? I sigh exasperatedly, shrug on my coat, and head out to the only café I know of that will still be open.