Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Oh, just get over yourself and agree to be his girlfriend.
Don’t you have a man to entertain?
He’s out getting pastries. ;P
Wow. Their mamas trained them right.
I reply saying that I’ll talk to her later when I know what we’re doing and slide my phone beneath the pillow. It’s surreal to be in the city Day has told me so much about—to see the place where she and Aaron fell in love. Before, it seemed like a whole different world. Somewhere I’d never get to experience for myself.
Only now I am. I’m here, in this city I haven’t really seen any of at all. And just maybe… Maybe that Parisian magic I’ve heard so much about could spread some fucking fairy love dust on me.
Maybe.
I stand and wrap the sheet around me before pushing open the balcony doors and looking out. It’s cold—no colder than Seattle, although it’s freezing in just a sheet—but the view makes the goose bumps flaring up across my exposed skin worth it.
Holy. Beautiful.
I can see across the rooftops. The old-style, almost antique, rooftops. There are flowers sitting on some of them, and almost every building I can see has some sort of a balcony. With flowers. Flowers everywhere. It’s beautiful and charming.
The Eiffel Tower is a few blocks away, stretching above everything else, its beauty not marred by the light-grey clouds behind it. It’s a majestic sight even from here.
I lean my back against the wall, wrapping the sheet tighter around me. I have a sneaking suspicion that Tyler asked for this suite—for one that faces the Tower. Like he knew how much it would enchant me.
“So much for sleeping,” he says softly, stepping out onto the balcony.
“I couldn’t. I wanted to look at, well, this.” I cast my eyes across the horizon. He wasn’t kidding when he said that it was breathtakingly beautiful.
“You look like a little kid who just found themselves in a sweet shop.”
I smile. “Sweet shop.”
He tucks some hair behind my ear. “Sweet shop.” He grins. “I got you pastries. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you three.”
“Ooh, which ones?”
“A croissant, a beignet, and a pain au chocolat.”
“Oooh, chocolate?” My eyes widen and I dart into the bedroom. Two paper bags are lying on the bed, and I delve into them. “Um, which is which?”
Tyler hands me the pain au chocolat and I take it with too much excitement.
“Seriously? It’s acceptable to eat chocolate and carbs for breakfast here?” I bite into it anyway. Oh my god, so good.
“For breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” He grabs the beignet and tears some off with his teeth. I drop onto the bed and nibble my way through the pain au chocolat, reveling in this newfound glory far too much.
I mean, carbs and chocolate. For breakfast. Hell-o, France. I’m moving here.
I’ll consider working out at a later date.
When I finish the pastry, I drop back onto the bed. Hello, carb high. I haven’t officially left the hotel room yet but I already love Paris.
Tyler leans over me. “Get ready. Get pretty. We’re going out.”
“Get pretty?” I raise my eyebrows and link my fingers behind his neck.
He drops a quick kiss on my mouth. “I’m not obliged to tell you you’re pretty all the time until you’re actually my girlfriend.”
“Ha, ha, fucking ha!” I throw the croissant at him when he gets off me.
He grabs it off the floor and bites the end off savagely. “Thanks, baby girl.”
“Fuck you.” I get up. This time, I leave the sheet on the bed.
Tyler looks across my body and my eyes shoot to his pants. One, two… There it is. A telltale bulge begins to show and push against the zipper of his jeans. I bring my eyes up to his and he swallows.
“Get dressed. Now. Or the first thing you’ll be seeing of Paris is the underside of those fucking sheets over there.”
I bite the inside of my lip, smiling, as he walks out of the room.
Hey, two can play the asshole game. He throws the relationship thing in my face, I’ll throw my body in his. I get the feeling that the next three days will be much the same—back and forth, pushing and pushing against each other. It’ll all bundle into a tight ball of tension that will either be eliminated by sex…or an argument.
Either way, I say bring it the fuck on.
This is the most cliché moment of my life.
It’s raining and I’m standing in front of the Eiffel Tower…with a red umbrella. I swear, Tyler thinks he’s hilarious. I think the British have a very, very odd sense of humor.
“Just smile,” he begs, his own umbrella tucked under his armpit—to keep his baby dry, he claims. He lifts his camera to his face. “Please.”
“This looks like all the images on Pinterest I’ve seen!” I protest. “Seriously? Red? Wasn’t there blue or something?” I twirl the umbrella.