I turned the corner to a busy street, my eyes flickering around the area for anything interesting to snap a picture of. I came up with nothing, but spotted a cute little café. I decided to take a quick break for a coffee, considering my senses had grown dull from my encounter with cheesy-pickup-liner Charlie. I hurried across the street and into the café. It wasn’t at all busy, so I went straight up to the counter.
“Bonjour, que voulez-vous?” The young woman said from behind the counter.
I partly understood what she said, but not fully. “Anglais?”
“Non,” She replied, shaking her head.
Well crap, that’s just great! Why couldn’t they have sent me to a place like England? It would have been so much easier if everyone just spoke French.
“Je voudrais un café, s’il vous plait.” I said. Hopefully I got that one right.
“Bien sur,” She said, nodding as she walked away.
The lady came back a minute later with a coffee in hand. “$3.20” she said, still heavily accented. I opened my bag, roaming my hand inside.
“Damn, I forgot my money at the hotel!” I exclaimed furiously.
I was biting back my tongue from swearing again; when I heard a pair of footsteps come up from behind me. “I’ll pay for you” the voice said. I turned around to see a familiar face, but I couldn’t quite grasp where I had seen him before. He had brown hair and eyes, with no French accent. He was slightly taller then me, and was quite handsome.
He grinned, handing the woman his money. She walked off, and I smiled at him in response. I just couldn’t help it, he had such a friendly vibe. Plus he had the warmest brown eyes I’d ever seen in my life.
“Thank you.” I said sincerely.
He nodded, taking a seat next to me. “Visiting?” he asked.
“Yes, second day here.” I replied.
He laughed loudly, “Make sure you bring money next time you leave your hotel.”
He laughed again, and I was intoxicated by the sound. It was the sweetest thing, how much this boy laughed. It almost made me want to say something funny again so that he wouldn’t stop.
Eventually, though, we decided to leave. He grabbed my arm and guided me out of the café briskly, looking amused yet sad at the same time. I couldn’t help but wonder why he would be sad. There was still so much I couldn’t understand about him, which was strange for me. Usually I can read a person straight off by sight, but this man was different. Not to mention the fact that he looked so familiar to me.
“What’s your name?” He asked once we were outside.
“Claire Pierce” I replied “And you?”
“Jared” He said “Jared Ross”
I stopped dead in my tracks - he was the one I had to kill. It was almost like he found me, like he wanted to die.
“Are you okay?” He questioned.
It felt like there was something caught at the back of my throat, “Yeah, fine.”
“How are you liking France?” He asked.
“It’s beautiful. Are you visiting also?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I moved here about a year ago, I’m from Florida”