He freezes for a moment, then his arms twine around my body and he hugs me back. “I love you, too.”

Ansel is so much more to me than a friend. He’s family.

“I’m scared to go home.” It seems dumb to admit since this is my decision. “But I know I need to.”

He lets me go, giving me a serious look. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“You’re not mad I’m leaving?”

“You’re not mad I’m staying?” he counters, arching a brow.

I laugh, realizing how silly I’m being.

“When are you going to leave?”

“I’ll look for a ticket tonight.” I look around the apartment, a little sad to leave this place behind. “Probably pick one for a week from now.”

“You’re going to be okay, Meadows.”

My eyes drift back to him, my lips tugging into a smile. “I know.”

Paris on New Year’s Eve is a delight. The city is always vibrant, full of life, but tonight it’s even more abuzz with energy and excitement over the impending New Year. Ansel and I run out of the restaurant hand in hand, full of giggles, faces flushed from the wine we had with our dinners. It’s dark out, the sky sprinkled with glittering stars.

A short distance away the Eiffel Tower looms above us, beautiful and magnificent. It takes my breath away every time I lay my eyes on it.

Ansel’s laughter carries over his shoulder as he runs, dragging me behind him.

“Slow down,” I giggle, “your legs are longer than mine.”

I feel tipsy and happy, loose in a way where the bad things can’t touch me.

Ansel doesn’t slow and in no time we’re below the Eiffel Tower. We actually stopped by before our dinner, riding the elevator up to the top while it was still light out.

I love it like this, lit up in the dark like a beacon.

“Come here, picture time,” Ansel commands, when we’re near the landmark but at a good spot to get it in the background.

He swings me around in his arms while I laugh. He holds out one hand with his phone and starts clicking, the flash lighting up our faces as he takes multiple photos. I kiss his cheek and then we’re both laughing.

“I think I got enough.” He flicks through the fifty or so photos he took by accident.

“Send the best ones to me.” He starts looking through them. “I didn’t mean now.”

“Too bad, Meadows.”

My phone dings a few minutes later with the photos and I save them to my phone, staring down at our happy, carefree faces, the Eiffel Tower looming behind us.

I don’t know what makes me do it, it’s been weeks since I last sent him a message and he doesn’t read them anyway, but looking down at the photos of Ansel and me, I want nothing more than to make Lachlan jealous.

I send two of the photos to him, one of us laughing, and the one where I kissed Ansel’s cheek.

Me: This is what moving on looks like.

I want to blame the alcohol I had, which even though it wasn’t much I’m sure it’s a contributing factor in me being reckless like this, but mostly I’m sad, because last year I spent New Year’s Eve with him and now he’s a ghost.

Ansel and I continue walking up to the tower, hand in hand.

There’s nothing romantic between us, not in our touches, not in our glances, but I sent those photos and that text to Lachlan because I want him to think there is. I want him to hurt like I have since he left. He’s probably moved on with some beautiful woman who’s his age, with long legs, and shiny hair, and she probably works an awesome job, and wears skirts and heels every day and—

Tags: Micalea Smeltzer Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net