Sleeping With Paris (20 page)

“Yeah?”

“Were you really sick for the past three weeks?”

Shit.

“Yeah, why?”

“I know I told you I wasn’t going to get in the middle of things with you and my mother, but after you and I worked everything out last time and had our lesson, I had a really great time. Even though I
was
offended by the way you described her, I thought about it, and I can see now how she could seem kind of mean to someone who doesn’t know her like I do.”

Kind of mean
?

 I cringed on the inside as Marc continued.

 “I think you’re an excellent English teacher, so I thought that if I told my mom about working with you, she might be a little nicer and actually help you get your teaching position. After all, I know she is very picky about who she recommends.”

“So how did it go when you told her you knew me?”

Marc stirred a sugar cube into his espresso and for the first time in our conversation, avoided my gaze.

“Not so good,” he finally answered.

I buried my head in my hands. This was the last thing I needed right now.

“She said you have not been attending your classes this month, and so I told her you were ill. She did not believe me though, so that is why I asked you.”

I considered telling Marc the truth because I just didn’t have the energy to lie anymore, but what if he told his mom? I’d be more screwed than I already was. And, in a sense, I
did
have an illness of sorts—an emotional one. And that was exactly the kind that Madame Rousseau would never understand.

“I haven’t been to class because I’ve been really sick,” I snapped.

Marc’s expression darkened. “I see. Then I am sorry if I put you in a worse position. I tried my best to tell her to give you a second chance, but she was still very angry.”

I immediately felt bad for snapping at Marc. Here he was going up against his monster of a mother to help me out after I’d completely trashed her during our first lesson. What guy would do that?

I softened my voice. “No, Marc,
I’m
sorry. I’m sorry for saying all of those horrible things last time. I can’t even believe you still want to work with me. And I’m sorry for disappearing these past few weeks. I’m going to be more available to work with you from now on, and I’ll try to do better in school so hopefully your mom will form a better opinion of me on her own. It’s not your job to fix it for me, but I really appreciate you trying, after everything.”

Exasperated, I let out a long sigh. My life was in shambles. I stared out the window at the Parisians all bundled up in their long coats and scarves. I wondered what it would be like to jump into another person’s skin, to be someone else for the day. My mom always used to tell me that I would never trade my problems for someone else’s, but I wasn’t so sure anymore.

I wasn’t sure if I could get through any of this. My parents’ divorce. Losing Jeff to another woman. Facing them at the wedding in the spring. Finishing my semester in Paris. Even having this lesson with Marc. It was all too much.

“Are you okay?” Marc asked.

Something about the concern in his eyes made me just spit it out. “My parents are getting a divorce.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. Did you just hear?”

“Yeah, I talked to my mom about an hour ago. She’s leaving my dad and moving to Florida for a little while, and my dad is moving in with his girlfriend.” I shook my head in disgust. “It’s just so weird, you know?”

“Yes, I know. My parents are also divorced.”

I thought of Madame Rousseau and instantly understood. How could anyone have stayed married to
her
?

“They got divorced two years ago. It was really difficult,” he continued. “I completely understand how you feel.”

A wave of sadness swept over me as I realized that this was real. That I was never going to have holidays or even simple weekends at home with both of my parents in the same room. A knot caught in my throat as I stared down at the table in silence. Marc reached over and gently placed his hand on my shoulder.

“I know it is difficult, but you have to let them live their lives and you have to live your life here in Paris. They will be okay, and you must take care of yourself.”

I glanced up and managed a smile. Marc was so sweet. How could he be so nice to me after I’d started off our relationship by being so offensive?

“Let’s go into the city and have a drink,” he said as he squeezed my shoulder. “You need to forget about all of this mess and have fun.” I noticed then that Marc must’ve been working on perfecting his “th” sound during our three-week break.

“Really, you’re not busy tonight?” I asked him.

“No, I was going to study, but I can do that tomorrow. It’s a yes?”

A drink, or maybe ten, sounded wonderful right about now. “That sounds great, let’s go.”

Marc paid for his coffee, and we headed down the chilly, student-filled boulevard Jourdan toward the RER station.

“Charlotte!”

I turned around to find Luc walking right behind us and smiling his huge grin. But when Luc met eyes with Marc, his smile faded.

“Hey, Luc. Haven’t seen you around in a while.” I wondered if he could detect the sarcasm in my voice.

“I know, I am sorry. I have been out of town for the month. I had to see family and take care of some things. I knocked on your door yesterday, but you did not answer.”

 So, that’s why I hadn’t seen him around—if he was even telling the truth. I thought he was just avoiding me after the run-in with Frédéric. Not that I would’ve wanted to see him anyway in my pathetic state.

Luc glanced over at Marc and then back at me, until I realized that I should probably introduce them. “Luc, this is Marc, my English student. And Marc, this is my friend Luc. He lives in my building.”

The tension in Luc’s face faded, and he reached out to shake Marc’s hand.

“You are walking to the RER?” Luc asked us.

“Yeah, where are you headed?”

“I am going to take a drink with Benoît. Do you want to join me?” he aimed the question at me and didn’t seem to be including Marc in the invitation.

“Well, Marc and I were in the middle of our lesson and were going to go grab a drink in the city while we continued, so . . . I’m not really sure,” I replied, looking to Marc to see if he would be opposed to the idea.

“Oh,” Luc said as his shoulders hunched just the slightest bit. “The two of you can come, that is no problem. And we will speak English for the whole night. No?”

Not sure what to do, a “yes” popped out of my mouth, and the three of us were off. We piled onto the RER together, which thankfully was becoming more pleasant to ride as the weather cooled down. Luc and Marc made awkward small talk, which made me feel even more uncomfortable, so I pulled out my phone and sent Lexi and Fiona a desperate text message:

On way to Rhubarb with Luc, Marc and Benoît. Awkward! Please come!

As Marc, Luc and I climbed the stairs at the Luxembourg stop, we emerged to a moonlit Latin Quarter where groups of friends, every age, strolled down the narrow sidewalks, skimming over the fallen leaves in their euro sneakers and walking with an extra skip in their step as the night air chilled around them.

As I wrapped my thin red jacket tighter around my waist, I noticed all of the hardcore Parisians sitting outdoors at the cafés, not fazed in the slightest by the sudden drop in temperature. And each time we passed by a group of hormonally-charged French guys, bopping around in their skin-tight jeans and white Reebok high-tops, they didn’t toss any of their immature remarks my way.

I would have to bring Marc and Luc into the city with me more often.

The girls showed up at Rhubarb, a hole-in-the-wall bar in the 5
^th
arrondissement, no more than ten minutes after Luc, Marc and I had arrived to meet Benoît. Lexi strutted in and planted a big one on Benoît right in front of everyone. I had thought that Lexi wasn’t all that into him since she hooked up with tons of other guys every time we went out, but she attached herself to him the minute she got there. Fiona made a more modest entrance and, after greeting all of the guys, came over to chat with me.

“I’m so glad you invited me out. Is everything okay? I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks, and I haven’t seen you in class.”

“I’m really sorry. I’ve just been having a hard time lately.” I filled Fiona in on the wedding, my new-found drinking habit and my parents’ divorce.

“I’m so sorry you’re going through all of that. Next time, you can call me though. You don’t have to hide in your room, you know.”

“I’m sorry. That was really shitty of me.”

 “It’s okay. I do understand—I didn’t leave my flat for practically six months after Andrew left me. At least call me next time so I know you’re alive, okay?”

“I promise I will.”

“Speaking of Andrew, he called me today and tried to stir things up again, so I needed to get out and get my mind off of him.”

Underneath the dim lights of the bar, I noticed then that Fiona’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy like she’d been crying.

“Does he want to get back together?”

“No . . . yes . . . I don’t know. He’s still with that other girl, but he told me he misses me.” She shook her head and dropped her eyes to the floor. “I’m so confused.”

After having the divorce talk with my mom earlier, I was even more convinced that all relationships were doomed to fail. “Don’t fall for it, Fiona. Your life is here now, and he’s still with that other girl. You need to have a few drinks and forget about that bastard.”

Fiona laughed. She always giggled like a little girl whenever I called guys rotten names. “So, who’s Marc?” she asked as she gave him the once over.

“He’s my English student, and you’ll never believe this, but he’s Madame Rousseau’s son!”

Fiona’s eyes widened to the size of quarters. “That old hag at the Sorbonne?”

“Mmhmm.”

She glanced over at Marc then back at me. “It’s not possible. He’s seems so normal, not to mention good looking, and she’s so . . .
dreadful
.”

“I couldn’t believe it either. But you’ll see—he’s nothing like her.” I watched Fiona glue her gaze on Marc as he and the rest of the group walked over to us.  

Luc had ordered everyone a drink, so we all clinked our glasses together and got started. In an attempt to drown our sorrows, Fiona and I downed our first two drinks. I hadn’t eaten dinner, so the alcohol hit me right away. There wasn’t too much space to dance at Rhubarb, but we made room. Before we knew it, our whole group was out on the dance floor busting a move, except Lexi and Benoît who were draped all over each other in the corner of the bar. Luc took my hand to dance with me, so Fiona and Marc ended up dancing together.

“It’s so nice to see you again. I missed you,” Luc said as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“It’s nice to see you again, too. So you’ve been out of town for the whole month?”

“Yes, but it is good to be back,” he said as he brushed his stubble up against my cheek and pulled me closer to him.

I inched my face back and asked, “Is everything okay with your family?” I knew I was breaking one of my own rules by starting a serious talk when I should just enjoy the moment, but I wanted to know what in the heck was going on with this guy and why he had disappeared for a month.

“Euh . . . well, it will be okay,” he said unconvincingly. “But for tonight, I just want to forget about it and enjoy this time with you.” He pulled me in even tighter while his hands roamed down to the small of my back.

I became intoxicated by the smell of his cologne and the feel of his body pressed up against mine. He made me forget all about Jeff and Brooke’s frolics through the daffodil fields, not to mention my dysfunctional family situation. Plus, I hadn’t had any physical contact with a guy since my phone call with Hannah, and it was starting to take a toll on me.

The news of my parents’ divorce was still ringing loudly in my ears though, telling me to sleep with Luc and nothing more. No feelings, no attachment, no falling in love.

So, when we got back to our dorm and Luc invited me into his room, without hesitation, I said yes.

Luc led me over to his bed and pulled me down on top of him. I relaxed into his arms as his hands wandered all over my body. He kissed my neck and shoulders and slowly made his way up to my lips. His scruffy face scraped against my soft cheeks as his lips pressed harder into mine and he rolled over on top of me. Our hips grinded together as Luc moved back and forth over my pulsing body.

Jeff’s face flashed unwelcome through my mind as Luc’s hands slipped underneath my bra. I tried to forget about Jeff, but then I thought of Brooke. Stealing my fiancé. She probably thought she’d won the jackpot with him, just as I’d thought when we’d first met.

As Luc’s hands groped my breasts and his breathing grew heavy, I snapped back to reality. Screw them, I thought. I was here, in bed with this gorgeous, sweet guy who wanted every square inch of me. I didn’t need Jeff. I had Luc.

As rage and passion boiled inside of me, I reached down to unbutton Luc’s pants. He grinned at me as he let me take his pants and shirt off, and then tore all of my clothes off. He reached into his bedside stand for a condom and put it on in record speed. He kissed me again as he pushed himself inside of me and moved forcefully over top of me. He groped my ass, my waist, my breasts, and moaned deeply in my ear as our bodies moved violently in sync. I dug my nails into his back as he rolled me over on top of him and made me cry out in pleasure. Then, no more than a few seconds later, he finished and we collapsed in each other’s arms, barely able to breathe.