Page 10 of Keep Paris

“Sluts have more fun, don’t you forget that.” She whips open the door. Danny is standing there, dressed up in a white button-down and jeans. He’s got vibrant flowers. I smile at him and he cocks his eyebrow.

“I see Kris got you ready for our date.”

“Date?” My smile is immediate and huge.

“Yes. We’ve never had one. I thought it was time.” My body bubbles with excitement. He’s right. We’ve done loads of things together. We’ve explored so much of the city, drove to Belgium, and took the Chunnel to England for the day. But a date where he dresses up, picks me up, and it’s just us—I guess we haven’t.

We walk towards the elevators and he nudges me. “That’s bright. You don’t look like you.”

“That’s what I said! Kris said this is clubbing/date me, not regular me.”

“I think regular you is pretty and so far, perfect.” I blush, but he can’t see it under all the tinted moisturizer.

“Stop. You don’t have to say that.”

He squares my shoulders to face him. “I can say you’re pretty if you’re pretty. If I find you the prettiest girl in any room. I’m allowed.” I squirm a little and look down at my feet. He lifts my chin. “And I don’t say anything because I have to. I try to mean everything I say.”

I go up on my toes and kiss him. We take the elevator up, not down, and I’m confused. On the top floor, he pulls me towards a staircase. He flings open the door to the roof and Dave Matthews is playing from his computer. There’s a blanket with candles.

I walk past him and put my hand over my mouth. We’ve spent ten times as much time together as other couples starting out. It’s like we’re on fast forward. My friend Sarah Crocket once told me when you have a boyfriend at camp, it’s much more serious than real life because you’re around each other ALL the time. I never went to camp but imagine this is what it’s like. My heart is so full.

He says, “I’m insane about you. You’re all I think about. I dream up ways to show you how I feel. Like this.” I turn around and his lips curl into the sweetest, greatest smile in the world. “Lizzie, I’m fucking toast.”

I laugh.

“I don’t get it. You’re a breakfast item? Ok. I’m scrambled eggs.”

He shakes his head and says, “Then I’m over easy because I’m over and done with. I’m gone for you. I always thought I’d find someone to care about and want to be around, like, all the time. But I never thought I’d find them at eighteen. I keep waiting to not like something about you. I’m constantly evaluating if I’m delusional. No person can be this fantastic. Every second I want to be closer to you. It’s like every moment I’m around you is better than the last. I like when we’re not talking about anything, but we’re close to each other. I don’t understand how this happens in, like, three and a half weeks, but I know I also don’t care to pick it apart.”

He puts his hands up around his mouth to amplify his voice. I step closer to him as he literally screams from the rooftops. I grab his arm, laughing at him.

“I am fucking crazy for this girl! I can’t get enough of her. Do you hear that, Paris? Lizzie Fox is fucking everything.” He gestures all around as I look at the old buildings around us.

My entire body is warm and cold at the same time. It’s confusing. I like him that much, too, but I’m afraid to admit it. I grab his arm to muffle his man-made megaphone.

I say, “Well, this is shaping up to be a good date.”

He laughs.

He’s breathing heavily after screaming how much he likes me. This is the dream. That they like you as much as you like them. It would be super creepy if I didn’t feel the same way. I put my hand on his heart. And he covers it with his.

DANNY

She’s standing there with her hand on my heart, in her dress that’s sexy as hell and makeup, which is not. “Boy, I really went all-in there, didn’t I?”

I scoop her into my arms where she fits perfectly. My arms were meant to do this and toss a football. I kiss the top of her head and she looks up at me. And like they always do, her eyes bring me back to center. When someone is about to hike me the ball, I let go. I let instinct take over. I don’t overthink or worry about bad choices. In my mind, everything happens the way it’s supposed to happen. Holding Lizzie, tossing a football, and drawing are the only times I’ve experienced something like that.

“Did I scare you?” I ask.

“Nah, I’m used to lunatics telling foreign cities how much they like me. It’s clichéd,” she says.

I tickle her side and she squirms, but I hold her in place as she lets an uproarious laugh explode over the city.

I wink and say, “Sorry, I’m so predictable.”

I kiss her forehead and she goes up on her toes. She gets her face as close to me as she can, and I meet her halfway.

She whispers, “I like you, too. Too much, I’m afraid.”