Stars Align

chapter two

Standing at baggage claim, I can see why his hoodie is so big on me. He's got at least six inches on me, his chin a good inch higher than the top of my head. His body is long and lean with broad shoulders, explaining why the piece of clothing almost looks like a dress on me.

We patiently stand together to wait for our luggage, enjoying each other's company even off the plane.

"Thank you, again, for the hoodie and the small French lesson," I tell him after we've both claimed our bags, walking side by side through the busy Paris airport.

"No problem." He chuckles, flashing me a smile. "I hope it helps."

"Oh, let me give you back your hoodie," I say, suddenly realizing I'm still wearing his hoodie and should give it back. Stopping in the middle of the airport, my fingers reach down to the hem of the hoodie, ready to peel the fabric off, but I quickly remember that I'm not wearing anything underneath- due to both my shirt and bra being soaked in the soda spilling accident. "Uhh," I say awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie instead of going to take it off. "Actually, let me just change in the bathroom really quick. I promise it will only take two minutes," I assure him, not outright telling him about the little issue I'm facing, whether he knows or not. The material was thick enough and my chest was small enough to not be able to tell.

I start to turn to run off to the bathroom but he stops me. "It's ok," he says, putting his hand up to signal for me to stop. "You can keep it." He gives me a small smile, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and for a second I think I see a blush forming on his cheeks.

"No, I don't want to steal your hoodie," I object. "I promise, it will only take me two minutes," I say, thumbing behind me to point out the nearby restrooms.

"How about this." He nervously bites his lip, hands shoving into the front pockets of his jeans. "Keep it for now and hold on to it. If we run into each other again... it's meant to be."

"What?" I ask confused, but the string of his words tend to thrill me.

"Just keep hold of it," he says, pointing at the hoodie on my body while grabbing the handle of his suitcase and slowly walking backwards. His eyes finally break from mine, a small smile playing on his lips, when he turns around and walks towards the airport doors, getting lost in the sea of the other passengers rushing about.

I stand there frozen in amusement and my heart seems to be doing summersaults in my chest. How could he do that? How could he be so smooth and charming with one simple request? Most importantly, what did he mean by it?

Slightly shaking my head, bring myself back to reality, I grab my luggage and make my way out of the airport to attempt to catch a taxi in the foreign city.

Hailing a taxi proved to be easier than I thought. The driver even jumped out of the car to pop the trunk and place my bags inside for me. "Merci," I tell him, proudly putting my short French lesson to use, after he opens the door for me and I slide into the taxi.

"De rien," he responds with a smile, tipping the brim of his hat at me and closing the door. I can only assume he just told me 'you're welcome'.

Jogging around the car, he slips into the driver's seat and buckles up. "Where to, miss?" he asks, looking over his shoulder at me and I am beyond grateful that he speaks English.

"Umm," I stall, pulling the address up on my phone, not knowing how to pronounce the name of the hotel. Instead of attempting to butcher it into oblivion, I just shyly flash him my phone.

"Ah," he comments with a nod of his head, turning back around to put the car in drive and pulling out into traffic to drop me off at the hotel.

Instead of sitting back and relaxing during the drive, I'm on the edge of my seat, whipping my head back and forth to try to capture all of the beauty passing by through the windows.