A World Away (A New Adult Romance Novel) (11 page)

We finished our tour of the museum, then went and grabbed a snack in the little food court above the entrance in the underground mall we came through. Philippe and I sat at a table, watching the people go by.

“Can I ask why you decided to go overseas?” Philippe asked. “I’m curious as to what made you think a semester overseas would be nice.”

I was tempted to lie. After all, I was so used to lying to people about my past, but there was something about Philippe. Something in his tone of voice, something in the way those deep brown eyes looked at me, something made me tell him the truth.

“I actually broke up with my boyfriend in September, well, he broke up with me, and I couldn’t get over him. I decided that I needed a change, I saw a flyer advertising a semester abroad, and the rest was history.”

Philippe nodded slowly, understandingly. “Yes, I can understand that. They are not always nice, the affairs of the heart, especially when they go badly.”

“The funny thing is, before I came to France I swear that I wouldn’t get involved with any man, I swear that I was swearing off boys for good, and yet I met Jacques only a few weeks after I arrived, and now you.”

I saw Philippe
stiffen at the mention of Jacques. “I don’t know if you’re still seeing him Sophie, but please, I’m begging you to heed my warnings. Please stay away from that man. He’s not a good man, and you deserve so much better than him.”

“But he has been nothing but a gentleman to me Philippe. I wish you would tell me why you say these things. Why is it that you’re so desperate for me to stay away from him?”

“I’m sorry Sophie, there are some things I just can’t say. But I’m serious. I absolutely mean it. Please stay away from that man, he’s bad news.”

We got up soon after and left in silence. I didn’t know what to think. When we got back to the university, Philippe hugged me close, but this time there was no spark in me. I hugged him back, smelling his scent as I breathed deeply into his jacket, but my body didn’t react. I was still thinking about what Philippe had said about Jacques. Was he right? But Jacques was such a
gentleman, whatever Philippe had heard about him had to be wrong. Still, as I went to sleep that night I felt pretty uneasy, despite the fact that date had gone better than any that I’d ever been on before in my life.

Two days later
, out of the blue, I received an email from Jacques. The subject line was ‘photos’, and when I opened it up there were at least three dozen photos attached to the email. I opened them one by one, and the more I saw them, the more my mouth dropped open.

“Oh my God
,” I whispered to myself. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I recognized the poses, I probably wouldn’t even have believed it was me. The woman in these photos was absolutely beautiful. It was unbelievably difficult to believe that it actually was me, that I could look like that.

I was instantly in love. Half of them were in black and white, showing a
side me that I didn’t even know existed. I looked sensual, I looked sexy, I looked gorgeous, I looked like one of those women in magazines, I actually looked like a model.

How could Philippe possibly think someone like that was bad news? Jacques was famous,
a leader in his field. He had acted like a perfect gentleman when I was alone with him at the studio, and even when he kissed me he apologized profusely. I wondered what Philippe possibly saw in him that worried him. They had no reason for knowing each other: one was a medical student, the other a photographer. It was strange, and I decided Philippe must not
really
know Jacques like I did.

I went through the photos, over and over, each time be
ing more surprised than the last. It was obvious that Jacques was an incredible photographer; I couldn’t have fathomed looking like this. It was just unbelievable to me. There was no other word to use, that described it completely. I immediately downloaded the photos onto a thumb drive and got ready to go out to the photography store down the street to order some prints. I wanted to see what these photos look like when they were physically in my hand.

Before I did so however, I decided to give Jacques a call. After all, I had to thank him for doing this for me. I couldn’t believe it.
I looked like a freaking model. I was so excited, I could see my handshaking as I picked up my phone and pressed the number to call him.

“
Allo?” Jacques answered on the second ring.

“Oh my God I just got the photos and I just had to say thank you straight away.” I could hear him la
ugh on the other end the line.

“
Fantastique,
I am glad you like them. I do have to say, they turned out pretty nicely.”

“Absolutely they did! You’re amazing, I had no idea that I could look like that.”

“But Sophie, you do look like that, the camera only takes a perfect image of what it sees.”

“No, your photographs are magic.
Absolutely magical. I couldn’t be happier, I’m taking some of the photos down to get printed now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind, of course not.
I got some prints myself, although I send away to a lab do them so it will take about a week before I get them back, so feel free to go get some yourself ahead of time.”

“I can’t wait to show them to people Jacques, you’re absolutely amazing.”

“Thank you Sophie, you are too kind. If you liked
les photos,
I had an idea for another shoot, if you would be interested in coming back down to the studio one day.”

Unlike the last time, I didn’t even need to think about my reply.

“Yes, of course I would love that,” I replied. “I could never say no to being photographed by such an amazing photographer such as yourself.”

“Excellent,
is there any time in particular which suits you? I was thinking about perhaps sometime next week doing the next shoot.”

I scanned my brain,
trying to quickly go through my schedule. I told Jacques which days were my days off, and when I had classes that ended in the early afternoon, in case he wanted to do an afternoon shoot.

“Perfect, thank you Sophie.
I will look at my schedule and I will let you know in advance when you should come back down to my studio.”

I agreed
, thanked Jacques again and we hung up, and I did a little dance around my studio apartment. I let out a small squeal, I was so excited. I grabbed my purse, my coat, and the thumb drive with the precious photos on them, and headed out the door.

As I waited for the photos to develop, the lab assistant telling me it would take 20 minutes, I texted Noelle and Claire. I was giddy with excitement, and I wanted to share it with my girlfriends. I had told them about the shoot of course, but I had kept their expectations low. After all, I didn’t know what to expect. I knew Jacques was an incredible photographer, I had seen his work before, but there’s a difference between seeing someone working with professional models, and what you expect to get when they work with someone like me. I had no idea that I was going to end up pretty much looking exactly like the models I saw in magazines.

We organized to meet at the nearby mall in an hour, and when my photos were finally ready I thumbed through them quickly. They were even more beautiful in person. I was so happy, I almost wanted to cry. To think that I had been so nervous, to think that I didn’t want to do it at all to start with, it was crazy to remember that I had been scared. Obviously nothing had gone wrong, and now I had the most beautiful photos of myself to celebrate with.

When I got to the mall I saw Claire sitting on a bench, and I ran over to her.

“Hey, thanks for coming! I just needed to show you a Noelle the photos that Jacques took of me as soon as I could. I’m so excited, I just couldn’t wait.”

“Definitely, they’re not even photos of me and I’m so excited I couldn’t wait either. Should we wait for Noelle to show up or look at them now?”

I didn’t get a chance to answer before Noelle plopped down on the seat next to me, obviously having just arrived.

“Hey!” I greeted her, telling her basically the same thing I just told Claire as I dug the photos out of my bag. My best friends here in France leaned over my shoulder and gasped as they saw the photos.

“Oh my God, those are the most amazing photos of you ever Sophie,” Claire exclaimed, breathless.

“Yeah.
Wow, I can’t believe that’s really you,” Noelle said, staring. “Not that I mean you’re normally not this beautiful, I just mean these photos look so incredible, it’s like you’re coming straight out from a magazine as opposed to the girl sitting beside me in the mall.”

“I know exactly what you mean
Noelle, I had the exact same thought. Honestly, if I didn’t recognize the poses and the fact that it really was me, I probably wouldn’t have believed that they were photos of me.”

“You’re so lucky to have gotten him to take photos of you like that. Those are beautiful. I hope you treasure them for the rest of your life
,” Claire said, stealing the pile of photos from me once we’d gone through them once and slowly thumbing through them.

“Absolutely I will.
It’s not every day that somebody like me gets have famous photographer photograph them. I don’t think I’m ever going to get photos of me that look this beautiful ever.”

We gushed over the photos for a while before deciding to grab some milkshakes and walk around for a while.
Neither one of my friends could believe how good the photos had turned out, and I was glad that I had some friends to share this with.

My day only got better when we finally separated and Philippe texted me that night while I was eating dinner, asking me whether or not I’d like to go to the Louvre tomorrow, to finish off what we’d started.

I bit my bottom lip as I thought about Philippe. My body was reacting to the thought of his once more. The thought of us together, in the Louvre, discovering art, the most sensual of topics together, the memory of us making out on the balcony, the fantasy of us together in bed, having him bring me to new levels of pleasure I could have never even imagined made me feel incredible, and I closed my eyes as I ran my hands along my body thinking about him.

Something about Philippe made me want him. There was a spark, and electricity between us that I felt every second that we were together and it made me feel like I would never be whole unless I acted on it, unless I pressed his body against mine and we became one.

I fell asleep that night dreaming about our date tomorrow, dreaming about how perfect it was going to be. Little did I know how wrong I was.

Philippe and I met at the Louvre this time, since it was both our days off. We decided to make a morning of it,
and I felt that familiar tingle down my spine as I saw him approach, as I’d gotten there first.
I really need to start being the one who shows up later for things, this makes me seem desperate
I thought to myself as he came up to me and kissed me on the cheek again.

“Hello, Sophie. I’m glad you’ve decided to explore the museum with me again. It certainly is more fun with company, especially company as sexy as
yourself.”

“Well, I don’t even need to go into the museum to see
art when it’s standing right here in front of me,” I replied, my eyes twinkling. If Philippe wanted to flirt with me, I sure as hell could flirt right back at him. Who knew, this was our day off. Maybe after the museum we would go back to his place, or mine, and then… well, the instant I started thinking about it I felt my panties moistening, my breath catching in my throat, my pulse racing. I hoped Philippe didn’t notice. More than that, I hoped he felt the same way.

“Shall we begin, my lady?”
Philippe asked, leading me towards the entrance to the museum. We walked together in silence as we headed towards the French Paintings section. Philippe wanted to show me some of the best works of his homeland.

We were led through paintings so incredible, so realistic, I was amazed. Philippe explained to me that the heyday of French painting was after the Renaissance, in the classical period, and then impressionism.

“Most of the best impressionist works in Paris are at the Musée d’Orsay, not here, but the best Classical works of this country are in these rooms” Philippe told me.

When we arrived at the painting by Jean Louis Da
vid, The Consecration of Emperor Napoleon and the Coronation of Empress Josephine, I was amazed. The name of the painting was a mouthful, but it was nothing compared to the actual artwork. I had seen the painting before, of course, printed in some of the books I’d read about Art History, but that was nothing compared to seeing it in real life.

I had expected the painting to be maybe two feet high by three feet wide.
Instead, the painting absolutely
filled
the room. It was at least twenty feet high, and thirty feet wide. The painting was basically life size, with Napoleon in the center standing around six feet tall as he held high the crown he was about to place on the head of his wife, Josephine.

“That’s incredible
,” I whispered to Philippe as we gazed at the painting.

“It is. The coronation took place in Notre Dame, so if you have been inside of the Cathedral, you have seen the spot where this very moment took place.”

“It’s funny to think that such an incredible event, such a monumentally important part of history happened in a building through which it is easy to walk through, and that we can see where Napoleon stood as he crowned his queen.”

“Yes, precisely.
Napoleon in fact crowned himself as well, although the Pope was in attendance to make him emperor. I love this painting, when it was finished Napoleon exclaimed that one walks into the picture, that it is not a painting, and I agree with that sentiment completely. It is so realistic, it is one of my favourite examples of Classical French painting.”

We stayed for a while, absorbing the enormous impact of the painting together while sitting on one of the soft black benches offered throughout the Louvre.
I rested my head on Philippe’s shoulder, and it felt right. It felt perfect, like I belonged here with him. I was so comfortable with Philippe, so happy, I had never felt like this about another man before, ever.

Eventually we got up and continued making our way through the museum.
We saw amazing paintings such as Liberty Leading the People, one of the iconic photos of France, The Raft of the Medusa, The Rape of the Sabine Women, and other paintings that I had quite honestly thought I would go my entire life without seeing in person.

“Shall we go find somewhere to have
a late lunch?” Philippe asked eventually, when we had exhausted our eyes and our brains looking at all the photos.

“I’d like that, Philippe,” I told him, gazing into those deep brown eyes that just made me want to melt.

“Perfect, I know a great little cafe near here, run by a friend of our family.”

“That sounds excellent.
”

Ten minutes later we were seated inside the coziest little cafe, so typically French in style, looking over the menu.
My French was good enough now that I didn’t have to ask for Philippe’s help with the menu, and I happily ordered a braised chicken and leek dish that, when it arrived, tasted like heaven.

Over the meal Philippe and I discussed our shared love of art, commenting on the scenes which we had seen together that morning.

“It’s incredible, the skill that goes into the paintings from eras past. I must say, I’m not really into the modern style of art.”

“I agree with you. Modern art seems way too focused on sending a message without the underlying skill being represented. The old works are way better.”

“How did you get into art, anyway?” I asked when our meal was finished and we went back into the street. “Was it really just going to museums with your family as a kid? Or was there more to it than that?”

“
Well, that was part of it of course. In fact, that was a major part. But also, it was in part thanks to my sister, Stephanie. She had always been the artistic one in the family, and it was because of her that I discovered the beauty of art. I had like the antiquities in the museum, but she showed me that paintings could be just as interesting. As I told you, my favorite pieces are the historical ones, more so than the paintings, but I appreciate all art.”

“But your sister did not become an artist?” I wasn’t quite sure, but I almost saw that fleeting shadow cross over Philippe’s eyes again.

“No. She decided to go into business. She could have become a photographer, but in the end things did not work out.”

I don’t know why
did it. Maybe it was because I was so proud of the photos, but when Philippe mentioned photography, I couldn’t help but show him some of the photos that Jacques had taken of me.

“Here, look at these. I think they’re absolutely incredible.”

“Where did you get these?” Philippe asked, as he thumbed through the photos. The look on his face was dark, not at all what I had expected.

“Um, Jacques took them for me,” I replied, suddenly deciding this might not have been the best idea. I knew I was right almost instantly, as Philippe face darkened and with a single quick motion he grabbed the photos and ripped them into pieces, throwing them to the ground.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shrieked, outraged at the fact that Philippe could do that to those photos that I was so incredibly proud of, that I thought made me look so good.

“How could you? Why the hell would you do that? Why would you let him take photos of you? Shit, don’t you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“What are you, fucking jealous?” I was angry now, we had been having such a nice time, until Philippe ruined it. “You know, you always tell me to stay away from him, but you never tell me why. Maybe you’re just fucking jealous, and that’s just to fucking bed. I don’t belong to you, you can tell me what to do.”

With that, I stormed off, my blood boiling and not in a way that Philippe usually made me do so.

“Sophie, wait!” Philippe exclaimed, but I didn’t turn back. “You have to listen to me!” he begged, but still I kept going. I didn’t have to do anything he wanted me to. Those photos were incredible, and the fact that Philippe was only jealous of them made me so angry. What right did he have to dictate who I could and could not see? Hell, we’d only gone on two dates. He was ridiculously handsome, he made me react the way no man ever did, but holy hell did I hate the fact that he seemed to hate Jacques without even knowing him.

I immediately went back home, my outrage boiling over as I seethed in anger at Philippe’s reaction.
It wasn’t fair, it absolutely wasn’t fair.

My phone rang, and I checked and saw it was Philippe. I pressed the ignore button, the rage building up to me once more just seeing his number pop up on the screen. Angry, with no idea as to what I was going to do, I went to my computer. I sat down and put my phone next me as I browsed the Internet, trying to calm down. It worked pretty well, until about 10 minutes after the first call, Philippe called me again. Once again, I pressed the ignore button and went back to what I was doing.

I browsed some news, checked my social networking sites to see if there is any news from home, and I was about to start playing one of my favorite games on my phone buzzed again. This time I was about to throw it against the wall, when I saw that it was actually Jacques, not Philippe calling.

“Hello?” I answered, hoping my voice sounded normal and not nearly as angry as it sounded.

“Allo, Sophie? It is Jacques here, with some good news. You know how we were going to schedule a second shoot, and take some more photos of you? Would you still be up for that?”

“I would like to do that sometime, yes.”

“Well, I was wondering if you are available tonight. I had an agency who had to reschedule their models, but everything else has been organized. There is clothes, a makeup artist and I have my cameras, if you wanted to come.”

I thought about it for a second. A part of me didn’t want to do it tonight, after all I kind of figured that if I felt angry the photos of make me look angry. Then again, the last time I had gone
Jaques had made such incredible art that a part of me couldn’t resist.

“I would love to, when do you need me to be there?”

“Well, I have the stylist here until
dix-huit heures,
so six o’clock the way you Americans say it. If you arrive around, say, just after five, there should be plenty of time to do your hair and makeup before she needs to leave.”

I looked at the clock. It was just after four, if I wanted to do this I was going to have to get ready pretty quickly.

“That sounds good, I can be there after five.”

“Excellent, Sophie.
I am glad, I will see you soon.”

As I hung up the phone I thought about just how dependable and Jacques was. He was obviously the way better man out of him and Philippe, always being there for me, always offering to do things for me without getting irrationally angry about other men.

I immediately tried to force Philippe out of my head. I couldn’t wait for this photo shoot, the last one had gone so well, and this one even involved having a professional stylist there to do my hair and makeup. I couldn’t wait to see what these photos are going to look like, I was ridiculously excited. I felt like a kid at Christmas, like a little girl being treated like a Princess. That’s really how Jaques treated me, like a Princess. I set about getting ready, since I had to be at his place in a little less than an hour. This was going to be exciting!