waiting for him and I didn’t care if I lost sleep. He was worth it.
“Hey, Mari Cherry.” He looked even more tired than he had earlier, and his head was propped up on his hand as if he was too tired to hold it up anymore.
“Hey, Fin.” I smiled, a reflex of seeing his face. Even on the slightly pixelated video he was a glorious sight. His hair was all over the place, as if he’d been running his hands through it. “How was the rest of your day?” He raised his hand and tipped it to the left and the right, as if he didn’t even want to say anything.
“That great, huh?”
He nodded. “But I was thinking … I’m in Paris, and even though I’ve seen it, you haven’t. So I’m going to show you Paris.” There was his smile. “I’m going to call you on my phone so I don’t have to walk the streets with my laptop like a freak.” I agreed and waited for the video to pop up again. It did, just a few minutes later, and he was out on the street, the video shaking a bit as he walked.
“So, you ready?” he asked. I leaned closer to the screen to see and hear him. His voice layered over the background noise of cars and taxis and pedestrians on the street.
He started walking and narrating, telling me about the places I was seeing. The video was shaky and made me feel a little motion sick, but I didn’t stop watching.
“And there is Le Tour Eiffel,” he said in a perfect French accent. God, he was so damn sexy. The phone panned upward, showing the tower all decked out and blinking. He turned the camera back on his face. “What do you think, do you want to see the top?”
“You don’t have to do that. I know it’s a lot of steps,” I said. There was probably an elevator though.
“I’d walk miles for you, Marisol. A few steps is nothing. I’d walk to you if I could right now,” he said, his voice going serious again.
“I’d walk to you too. We could meet in the middle.”
If only that were possible, I’d put on hiking boots and grab a backpack and be on my way. But an ocean separated us. And that wasn’t the only thing. If it was just the distance, things would be much easier.
He kept walking, and soon he was buying a ticket. Apparently, you couldn’t just walk to the very top, so he had to get a ticket to ride the elevator. Fin talked to me the whole way, even though I’m sure the people around him were giving him funny looks. As he walked, his voice was interrupted by his breathing, but he didn’t sound like he was struggling. Of course Fin could climb a bunch of stairs and make it look like a piece of cake. His steps were steady, even near the top.
“I would be passing out about now,” I said, and he gave me a grim smile.
“No, I’d pick you up and carry you.” Knowing him, he would. And not get winded at all.
He held the phone up to the window, and I watched as the elevator took him all the way to the top. I could barely hear his voice over the chattering of tourists.
“And here we are,” he said, getting out of the elevator and panning the phone around three hundred and sixty degrees. It was breathtaking, even on his phone.
“Wow. Is it windy up there?” I asked. He trained the camera back on his face.
“A little bit,” he said as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. “What do you think?”
“I wish I was there,” I said. So much that my chest started to ache again like it had when he’d walked out and left me sitting on his bed.
“You are. You’re always with me.”
A fter Fin rode the elevator back down he walked around some more and we talked.
“Hey, you should stop and get coffee somewhere, and I’ll make coffee and we can drink it at the same time,” I said, and he laughed. I loved that sound. So much. I also loved laying on his chest when he laughed, feeling the vibrations through his body.
Seven weeks.
“Let’s do it,” he said, and I took my computer with me into the kitchen and put on the coffeemaker as he walked into a café and ordered a
“Hey, Mari Cherry.” He looked even more tired than he had earlier, and his head was propped up on his hand as if he was too tired to hold it up anymore.
“Hey, Fin.” I smiled, a reflex of seeing his face. Even on the slightly pixelated video he was a glorious sight. His hair was all over the place, as if he’d been running his hands through it. “How was the rest of your day?” He raised his hand and tipped it to the left and the right, as if he didn’t even want to say anything.
“That great, huh?”
He nodded. “But I was thinking … I’m in Paris, and even though I’ve seen it, you haven’t. So I’m going to show you Paris.” There was his smile. “I’m going to call you on my phone so I don’t have to walk the streets with my laptop like a freak.” I agreed and waited for the video to pop up again. It did, just a few minutes later, and he was out on the street, the video shaking a bit as he walked.
“So, you ready?” he asked. I leaned closer to the screen to see and hear him. His voice layered over the background noise of cars and taxis and pedestrians on the street.
He started walking and narrating, telling me about the places I was seeing. The video was shaky and made me feel a little motion sick, but I didn’t stop watching.
“And there is Le Tour Eiffel,” he said in a perfect French accent. God, he was so damn sexy. The phone panned upward, showing the tower all decked out and blinking. He turned the camera back on his face. “What do you think, do you want to see the top?”
“You don’t have to do that. I know it’s a lot of steps,” I said. There was probably an elevator though.
“I’d walk miles for you, Marisol. A few steps is nothing. I’d walk to you if I could right now,” he said, his voice going serious again.
“I’d walk to you too. We could meet in the middle.”
If only that were possible, I’d put on hiking boots and grab a backpack and be on my way. But an ocean separated us. And that wasn’t the only thing. If it was just the distance, things would be much easier.
He kept walking, and soon he was buying a ticket. Apparently, you couldn’t just walk to the very top, so he had to get a ticket to ride the elevator. Fin talked to me the whole way, even though I’m sure the people around him were giving him funny looks. As he walked, his voice was interrupted by his breathing, but he didn’t sound like he was struggling. Of course Fin could climb a bunch of stairs and make it look like a piece of cake. His steps were steady, even near the top.
“I would be passing out about now,” I said, and he gave me a grim smile.
“No, I’d pick you up and carry you.” Knowing him, he would. And not get winded at all.
He held the phone up to the window, and I watched as the elevator took him all the way to the top. I could barely hear his voice over the chattering of tourists.
“And here we are,” he said, getting out of the elevator and panning the phone around three hundred and sixty degrees. It was breathtaking, even on his phone.
“Wow. Is it windy up there?” I asked. He trained the camera back on his face.
“A little bit,” he said as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. “What do you think?”
“I wish I was there,” I said. So much that my chest started to ache again like it had when he’d walked out and left me sitting on his bed.
“You are. You’re always with me.”
A fter Fin rode the elevator back down he walked around some more and we talked.
“Hey, you should stop and get coffee somewhere, and I’ll make coffee and we can drink it at the same time,” I said, and he laughed. I loved that sound. So much. I also loved laying on his chest when he laughed, feeling the vibrations through his body.
Seven weeks.
“Let’s do it,” he said, and I took my computer with me into the kitchen and put on the coffeemaker as he walked into a café and ordered a
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