Page 94 of You + Me – Against the World

Arcadius: Who’s “we”?

Alma_from_paris: You, me, my mom, and my little sister. It’s thirty-five degrees colder over there, so we need to buy you a coat before we leave. Do you have a passport?

Arcadius: Yes, Keith made me get one last year. Alma, is this for real?

Alma_from_paris: It is, unless you want me to back off a little…

Arcadius: Who said that? Nobody said that! We’re going to fucking Paris!”

***

Of course, Vadim refuses to wear his brand-new black puffer jacket when we get off the plane in the early morning. It isn’t quite light out yet. Sitting in the taxi taking the four of us to the 17th arrondissement of Paris, where my parents have kept their apartment, I feel him shivering next to me. The wannabe rebel keeps telling my mother that he isn’t cold, his eyes fixed on the car window even though the scenery outside remains, for now, completely uninteresting.

There isn’t much to see: no great monuments, no street performances, not much life at all this early in the morning, but Vadim doesn’t want to miss any of it. He turns to me from time to time, just to smile, then drifts back into his quiet observation. My mother is half asleep, while Lily keeps up a steady stream of chatter, counting on her fingers the friends she has to call when we arrive and listing aloud everything she absolutely has to eat before we leave. I feel good, surrounded by this little gang I never thought I’d end up bringing together.

The taxi finally drops us off in the middle of Rue Jouffroy-d’Abbans, in front of the Haussmann-style building I know so well. My sister rushes to the front door and takes advantage of a resident leaving to block it with her foot. Vadim takes care of getting the three large suitcases out, along with the crammed backpack that serves as his luggage. Lily and my mother step into the tiny elevator, which creaks as it takes them up to the third floor.

In the old, dimly lit stairwell, I find myself alone with Vadim.

Finally.

I don’t even have time to ask him how he feels before he grabs me by the waist, pins me against the nearest wall, and kisses me. Like the ultimate bad boy.

“I’ve been waiting for this since last night,” he breathes, pulling his lips away from mine.

I find him dangerously good-looking in the half-light.

“You do remember that we aren’t supposed to kiss in front of my mother, right?”

“Alma, I’m sure she suspects we do all kinds of things together when she’s not around…”

His eyebrows arch playfully, and the smirk tugging at his lips makes me want to bite him.

“You promised, Vadim.”

“No contact, no scandal. Politeness, good manners, and discretion,” he recites. “Is that right, Princess? Oh, and I also need to slip into your bed every night to teach you about real life…”

He murmurs those last words, sending shivers through me. I go to give him a playful smack on the shoulder, but he dodges it and steals another kiss. Upstairs, I think I hear my mother’s voice.

“The elevator has come back down. Should we go?” Vadim asks. “Our chaperone seems to be getting impatient.”

We slide the suitcases inside, and as there’s no room for us, we send them up in the elevator and take the stairs instead.

“You certainly took your time! I can’t get the door open!” My mother sighs, somewhat exasperated.

“Can I try?” Vadim offers.

One bump of his shoulder, two turns of the key, and he finds himself standing in the middle of the entryway. He stays there, captivated, taking in the high ceilings, the moldings, and farther inside, the antique furniture, the fireplaces, and the double glass doors. Lily runs past him, letting out shrill squeals, and then Mom comes in too, rolling her suitcase across the polished hardwood floor.

I take my prince by the hand. “You’ll get used to it. Shall I give you a tour?”

“This isn’t an apartment, it’s a museum!”

“La décoration, à la française,” I say to him, amused.

“No idea what you mean.”

“The guest bedroom has its own bathroom. So, there’s no need for you to be walking around naked when you get out of the shower.”