Good Girls Are Bad Girls That Don't Get Caught

Chapter 41: Ice sculpture=.........

“Yeah, I guess so. So what do we have here?” I said picking the menu up and skimming through.

“Kyle, this restaurant isn’t even English.” I hissed in a quiet tone.

He looked over his menu and at me.

“No, it's French.”

“What good is a menu, if I can’t read it?” I asked frowning.

I swallowed when a waiter walked past with places that held what looked like snails.

“Psst.” I hissed at the man, he frowned but came back.

“May I help you madam?” he asked in a strong French accent.

“Oui.” I smiled. The truth was that ‘yes’ is the only word that I know in French.

My smile dropped when he spoke back “Oh, la jeune femme parle français, dans ce cas, que puis-je vous aider?”

Oh, the girl speaks French; in that case, what can I help you with?

I looked at him gone out, he raised an eyebrow when I didn’t answer.

“U…uh bom bom two bom dun damn?” Okay, I admit it; I made up some random crap!

I balled my fist up when Kyle burst out laughing. I looked at him as he began slapping the table tears streaming down his face. I looked down at my hands embarrassed.

“You… he…” he wiped away at the tears and let out a breath calling himself, “He said do you know French and what can he help you with.” How the hell does he know?

“What? Are you an expert at French now?” I asked annoyed.

He shrugged “I know a lot of things.” He looked at me a smirk on his perfect lips.

“Monsieur, Je serai avec vous dans un instant.” Sir, I will be with you in a moment. The French dude spoke and then left.

“I don’t get the French,” I said and looked at all the different types of knife and forks.

“Can you believe there are this many forks?” I asked and picked the smallest one up and examined it. 

The French man came back, snails not included. I listened fascinated as Kyle ordered for us both, the words coming out of his mouth clean and fluent. Again, I had no clue what he had said and I didn’t care as long as its good food (not snails) its fine with me.

“Well, look at you all French and posh,” I said in my English accent.

“What can I say, I like the French.” He shrugged.

“Okay…” I said looking away, I thought French people just ate baguettes, wear a black weird hat and eat snails.

“I will be back in a minute, toilet break.” He said pushing his chair back.

The French waiter came back with drinks and put something that looked like Coke on the table. I looked everywhere but at him, I even added a little whistle.

I began to play with the napkin that had been placed on my lap and I couldn’t help my eyes drifting off to look at the statue. When Kyle didn’t come back I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor and made my way over to it.

As I was walking over I tripped over a chair leg and nearly fell smack on my face.

“Sorry.” I said dusting my jeans off. I took off not caring that I had spilled her drink down her perfect dress.

“What a rude young lady.” I heard her mutter; I thought about flipping her of but thought better against it.

I carried on towards the statue and looked around to see if people were watching. I did a quick glance behind me before knocking on it. I bit my lip.