I Love You a Latte

Chapter Nine

We had taken the metro and arrived in the centre of Paris for around 8pm. Throughout our bantering travels, Sebastian had refused to give me even the slightest indication as to what awaited me on this "cheesy, romantic, over-the-top" date of his.

"Won't you even give me the teeniest, tiniest taster of what to expect?" I pleaded, directing my puppy dog gaze to Sebastian's chiselled countenance.

He mocked my eagerness to know everything by repeating what I had asked, but I could tell he was struggling to keep it to himself by the appearance of a slight smirk that quivered upon the tips of his plump, cushion lips.

At this point, it felt like we had been walking for ages. Not that I was complaining or anything, but my legs were on the verge of caving in.

Like, literally.

About five street corners later, Sebastian stopped us in our tracks and we came to a complete standstill.

"Okay, so before we turn this last corner- yes, I promise it's the last- I want you to close your eyes." he announced, his smirk now untying from the grip of his hidden excitement.

I agreed, as he pulled me into his warm, static embrace by means of guiding me to his whimsical plans that had yet to be discovered by moi. As crazy as it must have seemed to the cynical eyes of people who may despise romance, I felt like I was already falling for him, fast and without breath.

Guiding me around this final hurdle, we came to an abrupt holt. I couldn't help but notice an immense sparkling light beaming like lasers through my tightly closed eyelids - I had taken great courtesy of ensuring they were sewn completely shut for the sake of Sebastian's humble anticipation.

"Ouvrir!" announced that splendid, deep voice of his. Within one skip of a heartbeat I opened my eyes. Like curtains, my eye lids had drawn apart to reveal a very beautiful and bespoke monument that sparkled in the navy-tinted, evening skies above. It was moments like this that I so ardently and desirably longed for. Was this actually real? Was I really in Paris, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower with a true Saxophone-playing babe of genius?

"Sebastian... this is... incredible, I-" I uttered, my words being caught by the stream of overwhelming emotions that began to flow upwards from the tips of my toes to the top of my spinning head. Had I known about the one salty tear that had escaped the inner duct of my left eye in that particularly precious moment, I would have hid from the world - hid from him.

But I didn't, nor did I even notice the notion of one dropping tear. That is, until I had again felt the soft, delicate touch of Sebastian's hand graze across my cheek to wipe the tear away from the entirety of all existence. Looking back, it felt like this tear had been symbolic of Harry; a sign that I should forgive and forget, not only him, but the relationship that I had somehow longed to hold on to. This, right here, was my future; a future that I couldn't help but see this Saxophone playing heartthrob who stood beside me in. Needless to say, I did feel guilty for spiralling and thinking about this.

"Ahhh great," I murmured, as my cheek had been freed from the remaining droplet of unwonted emotion, "you now must think I'm a total looney toon!"

I expected him to reciprocate the banter like he had been doing prior to this tear-defying moment. Instead, he lowered his arm and scooped my hand into his wholesome hold. With this one tiny notion of his, I somehow felt a sense of familiarity; a sense of home. At this point, I was starting to get beyond the point of which nerves could carry me in their precocious ways.

And then it happened.

The notion that I had expected from him at the beginning of that evening became no longer a mere thought, but a reality. If ever there were to be the most perfect and decadent moment that this could have happened, then this was it.

His lips. His LIPS! From observation, they seemed so soft and luscious. Now, here I was - here we were - kissing.

KISSING!

The butterflies in my tummy made their fluttering return. This time, there were plenty to fill an entire zoo, never mind an entire stomach. We were both smiling, indulging in the moment with every ounce of our affectionate hearts. Unfortunately, we had to break for air at some point. What can I say, I live a very PG rated life.

"Rosie, I think I might be fall-" he stammered, before becoming endearingly distracted by a tiny droplet of rain - thankfully, the sky seemed to be on my side that night in regards to its emotional instability. Regardless of the opening skies above, I couldn't have cared less about getting soaked.

However, our natural human instincts had kicked in and we had raced for some sweet, suitable shelter. But, oh boy, how clichè this all would have seemed to the naked eye! Of course, we found ourselves to be underneath the tower itself. A busker had also rushed to seek cover, for he stood in the right-hand corner beneath le tour Eiffel also.

Sebastian cleared his throat and sighed a breath of what I had hoped to be one of pure blissfulness and joy. "May I have this dance, Madamè Evans?"

With that adoring, French accent, who in their right mind could resist the temptation of such a request?

"Oui, Monsieur Le Bras!" I retorted, until my cheekbones felt broken by the the abundance of grinning and delight he had swept my way.

And so, we danced. He was smiling. I was smiling. Even the busker who had kindly chosen to play some music in sync to our very unique jigging and jiving was smiling.

Gosh, it felt like the entire universe was smiling so undeniably too!

Dancing under the Eiffel Tower with him, and only him.

Time passed us by, until gradually we had to mutually retire these antics as both of our stomachs began to growl.

We found a local vendor who Sebastian had claimed sold the most exquisite gourmet pizza - no, not just any pizza, gourmet pizza - alongside some of the best seasoned 'frites' known to France. After retrieving this delicious food, we wound up retracing our previously trodden steps back to the banks facing the tower, and sat there together devouring our grub as we chatted to our heart's content.

"Oh shit, it's almost midnight!" exclaimed Sebastian, as he checked the time on his very stylish watch.

So, we disposed of our rubbish in some local recycling bins and made haste to the station which was 'closed'. Great.

We ended up walking hand in hand and called for a taxi until our feet could carry us no more. In the cab ride, I must've fallen asleep on his shoulder as I can remember waking up in his arms at the door of my dorm room.

This morning, there he was, sleeping on my bedroom floor with a blanket and pillow tossed down in his direction, the way that he had insisted.

He really was a gentleman, I'll give him that. This guy was something else, and for this reason, I was slowly starting to see that we were no longer just a pair of coffee shop acquaintances;

we were something.