Page 4 of Keep Paris

He’s so focused on me. I don’t know where to look or put my hands. I keep reciting the most boring facts ever and wiggling my fingers.

I mentally glue down my hand in case he wants to hold it. I can’t imagine he would. His jacket has athletic patches and he’s big and strong and gorgeous. His dark brown hair is cut short but not crew cut short. And his eyes, well, I’m beside myself looking at them. I didn’t know eyes could be like a blue-grey almost cadet blue. I’ll bet his skin is soft. I’m so awkward and weird. There’s no way he’s into me. He’s sitting here because all our friends paired off and it’s a wingman situation.

We’re staring straight ahead. Every part of me wants to scream to break the tension. I wish he’d say something. We’re watching everyone drink and Tony pretending to joust to win Makenzie’s hand.

Tony points to us. “Dan, can you run up and get more beer? I did not plan on the princesses… and our newly knighted Sir Lizzie consuming most of it.” I smile. Then Makenzie smacks him on the ass and he fake growls at her with a claw-like motion. She grins.

“Goodie Makenzie and I have business to attend to.” He spins her in a flourish.

“You wish, King Arthur.” He doesn’t hesitate to pull her into his embrace.

“I do, fair maiden, I really do wish. I wish we were alone, and you could pull my sword from the stone, but for now, I shall woo you.”

She winks at him. “Good luck with that. Crank the music, people, we’re dancing.”

I’m mentally freaking out because he’s leaving the room. I’ll be here by myself, hoping he comes back. This is totally Tony saving Danny from having to talk to me.

He extends his hand. “Wanna come with me?”

YES. I totally do. I’d kinda follow him anywhere. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does. It’s like my insides are a pinball machine with balls bouncing everywhere. He’s got this smirk that makes certain parts of me glow.

“To get beer,” he says with a leading voice. I forgot to answer.

“Oh. I’m an idiot. Yes.” He’s going to uninvite me now.

“Nah, you’re cute.” My face gets atomic red as I slip my hand in his. He’s soft but has calluses that don’t feel like they’re from hard labor or writing. Must be from his sport. My hand is secure in his as he leads me to the elevator. I think this is what swooning feels like and I may need a fainting couch. I slyly put a finger to my pulse because my heart rate is going nuts. I want to make sure I’m not having a heart attack. My blood is crackling and my belly is going to explode with nervous knots.

The tension bubbles up and explodes out of me. “Did you know there’s a mummy named Belphegor who haunts the Louvre?”

He laughs and turns towards me. “What did you say?”

His eyes are, like, so intense I’m freaking out inside. OMFG his finger just brushed the back of my hand. My whole body is numb. I totally forgot he asked me a question.

“What?”

“What did you say about the Louvre?”

I look down because I can’t keep staring at him. He’s burning my retinas with his hotness. Through the curtain of my hair, I see a finger coming towards my chin. He places it under there and lifts my face to his.

“Don’t hide. Look at me, Lizzie.”

I’ve somehow slipped through a wormhole into a place where Lizzie is sexy and not competitive or awkwardly repelling cute boys. Oh my God.

I mumble my random fact again, “Did you know there’s a mum—” I don’t even get the sentence out and his lips are on mine. They’re so soft, like fresh marshmallow Peeps—when they first come out of the package, before the air starts to harden them. His mouth is “fresh Peeps soft.” He finishes the kiss and looks at me.

“Is that ok?”

I blurt out, “You kissing me is the most ok thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.” He smiles and his teeth are movie star perfect. Of course, they are. And here I am with my goofy arms hanging like sausages. My father says they’re too gangly for my body. I push that thought away and focus on him.

“Then we should probably keep doing it.” His lips curl and so do my toes.

“How long are you in Paris?” I ask.

“Eleven weeks and four days more. You?”

My entire body lights up. He’s not leaving for an eternity. “Eleven weeks and six days. But we should keep kissing for eleven weeks and four days. And I’ll take those last two days off.”

“The ones when I’m not here?” He chuckles a bit. I think I might be successfully flirting. And I’m pretty good at it. And oddly, this gorgeous guy thinks I’m funny.