One Summer in Paris

No one but her seemed to notice.

The air was flavored with perfume, cigarette smoke and another smell that she recognized. Weed. Was that legal in Paris? What if they were all busted?

Etienne elbowed his way through the crowd, laughing and chatting as he went. He seemed to know almost everyone there, and Audrey saw girls smile at him. Several of them sidled up and kissed him on both cheeks. Audrey hovered by his side, trying to look cool and totally at home, but she understood none of the words that flew past her. Everything felt alien, from the language to the behavior. The French were so open and demonstrative, always kissing and hugging.

Etienne slid his arm around her and pulled her closer to protect her from the crush. “Drink?”

She nodded, thirsty. What she wanted was a soda or something.

He didn’t let her go. Instead, he kissed his way down her jaw to the corner of her mouth.

Audrey felt her stomach swoop. He was so gentle and he kissed like a god. She really liked him, and now she wished they’d just gone back to his place and not bothered with the party.

A man appeared, loose limbed, eyes glittering. He looked edgy and a little dangerous. Drunk or high? Audrey wasn’t sure.

He and Etienne talked and laughed for a minute and then Etienne introduced her.

“Mmm.” Marc leaned and kissed her on both cheeks. “You’re English? Welcome. You don’t have a drink? What can I get you?” He was standing a little too close for comfort and she pulled back.

“Soda would be great, thanks.”

Marc looked amused. “Soda?” He glanced at Etienne. “You are dating a schoolgirl, no? Do you have to have her home by nine?”

Audrey was flooded with embarrassment.

“I’m thirsty, that’s all. I’ll have a vodka, too,” she said quickly. “Vodka and tonic.” It didn’t mean she had to drink it. She’d find a way to spill it or leave it on the side. No way was she admitting she didn’t drink. She’d be a social pariah and she’d humiliate Etienne in front of his friends.

Marc stroked his finger down her cheek. “You have the cutest accent. When you are tired of Etienne, call me.”

She clenched her hands into fists by her side to stop herself from punching him.

Etienne said something to him that Audrey didn’t understand, and Marc gave a wolfish grin.

“I’ll fetch your drinks.” He spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd, laughing, exchanging a few words as he walked.

“Ignore him.” Etienne pulled her against him. “You’re so pretty, everyone wants to know who you are. Shall we dance?”

“Yeah.” At least then she could forget she was the only one who couldn’t speak more than one language. Still, did that matter? The music was too loud for conversation anyway. A party was a party, wherever you were in the world. Everywhere she looked people were laughing, drinking, kissing.

A lot of the people seemed older than her, though. Late twenties?

He kept a tight hold on her hand, and they squeezed and wriggled their way through the crush of people to the room where everyone was dancing.

Audrey lost herself in the rhythm of the music. When she danced, all her problems were pushed to the edge of her consciousness. She raised her arms above her head and moved to the heavy, pounding beat.

Etienne was a good dancer, too, his movements fluid and sexy.

She danced until she felt someone touch her arm and there was Marc, holding out a drink.

“Thanks.” She took it gratefully, took several gulps and almost choked.

It was neat vodka. Her eyes watered. She assumed he’d forgotten both the tonic and her request for soda, but then she saw the gleam in his eyes and knew he hadn’t forgotten.

He was waiting to see what she’d do.

Audrey took another massive gulp of her drink, and almost choked. It was disgusting. It tasted like lighter fuel. Her eyes watered. How did her mother do it? How did anyone do it?

Unused to drinking, she felt the effects almost immediately. Warmth spread through her limbs and her head spun a little, but she managed to give Marc a cool look.