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We’re totally focused on each other. The sounds of the city are white noise next to the banging of my heartbeat with hers. The lust is too loud to hear the roof door opening.

“Hé! Qu’est-ce que tu fous ici? Vous n’êtes pas autorisé ici.” On instinct, I roll my body over Lizzie and tackle her to the blanket. Shit. Tony warned me you only have a two-hour window before the security sweep. I roll the edge of the blanket over her and pop up onto the balls of my feet.

“You can’t be on the roof screwing yourselves,” he yells in crass English.

Lizzie wraps herself like a burrito with only the top of her head visible. She’s kicking me and whisper yelling, “Get me out of here! What if I get kicked out? That can’t happen.”

Oh shit. I can’t get her kicked out of the program. There’s no way she’d ever talk to me, let alone taste her, again. I swipe my shirt and pull it over my head as I walk towards the red-faced man.

LIZZIE

Oh my FUCKING GOD. I’m in Paris with a dreamy jock artist who likes me, and I’m ruined. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, like, right after the best thing. I’m still warm and pulsing all over from his touch. I rub my thighs together, trying to make it stop.

This guy probably saw my boob in his mouth. That French security guard is questioning my morals. But what is morality? Is it a construct created to keep me in my place and be a so-called “good girl?” Or is it the code I’m supposed to set my compass to? I need to read and research this. First, I need out of the fucking blanket so I can hide from everything and everyone.

This is my punishment for wanting a man to suck my boobs. Sex has always been fast, confusing, and poking, and I know it was going to be different this time. I’ve only ever come when I’m alone, but I was damn close before Pierre Blart: Mall Cop interrupted. Danny is tongue-talented.

I’m terrified this incident will go on my permanent record and jeopardize my Stanford scholarship. My father will kill me, and then I’ll just be dead. But at least I got to be felt up correctly before I die.

Danny approaches the man. I roll over in my cocoon and smoosh my boobs to the ground. I can’t believe I’m topless with two men within fifteen feet of me. This isn’t quite what I expected of France. But it is French-like.

Danny says, “Sincères excuses, Monsieur. Nous partirons immédiatement. Mais je dois demander une touche d’intimité pour mon invité.”

He asked for privacy for his guest. He’s taking care of me. My dad tells me what to do, but Danny is actually thinking about what I need. But now I have to hide forever because that guy heard me make porno sounds. I’m an R-rated movie sound machine.

He puts his hand out. He’s a handshake guy, the kind that owns his shit. My head is battling with my heart and my lady bits. I mean, something happened here. I wanted to do everything to his body. Danny hurries back and kneels.

“I haven’t known you for years, but I know exactly what’s going through your head. I wish it wouldn’t. It’s written all over your face. You’re ok. I’m sorry this happened. Not what we did, just beefy Jacques interrupting us.”

He helps me unravel and sit up. I cover myself, and he frowns as I turn away from him.

“Lizzie, don’t ever hide from me. Every day is more - I care about you more and I want to care for you more. Please don’t let this embarrass you.”

Turns out, he does know me. My responsible nature is beating its drum through my brain, and I can’t turn back. It’s a train with only one track. I exhale to steady my heart.

“Lizzie, talk to me.”

“I, um. I think we need to take a moment. Slow down.” I have to slip away. This is too much for me. I feel like we have to cool off.

He stands up and starts walking in a circle and windmilling his arms around. I scramble for my shoes and fold the blanket. He walks over, pulls it from me, and throws it on the ground. Then I’m in his arms as he slams me to his chest.

“Don’t do this, Lizzie.” He holds me close. And despite my guilt and fears for my future, I can’t help but relax into him.

He says, “Don’t pull back from me. We’re not in trouble. He just said don’t come up here again. That’s it. Everything we do together means something. Please. Lizzie. Don’t distance yourself from me. I’m not sure I can take it.”

Tears fall down my cheeks. I can’t let my dad down or ruin our plans. I need to talk to my mom to help sort through this. I have too many emotions sometimes, and they hit me at once. I hold him tighter. My words squeak out.

“I have to. I’m a mess. Give me a day.”

He kisses my forehead. “Lizzie. I’ll do anything you need. I’ll give you time and space. I’ll be right here for you. I can’t explain it, but it’s like I don’t know how to be anything but yours.” I sigh into him. I don’t know how to tell him yet that I think I might be his as well, but that’s impossible.

“Lizzie, trust yourself if you can’t trust me.”

He’s touched me almost every second we’ve been around each other. My knee, an elbow, thighs sitting next to each other, boobs to tongue. Innocent and not-so-innocent touches, but always in contact. It’s been twenty-six days and it feels like two years. The intensity of what I’m feeling is suffocating me even as it breathes new life into me.

I say, “It’s too much.” I step away and wrap my arms around my stomach.

He says quietly, “Where does that leave us?”