renversante à Paris. Aucune autre femme ne compare à vous. ’
‘I don’t know what you just said,’ I breathed, ‘but I’m pretty sure you’re getting laid tonight.’
‘Let’s get a drink,’ he laughed, nodding over at the barman. ‘It’s pretty much sangria or beer. And I wouldn’t bother with the beer.’
‘Sangria it is then,’ I said, glancing around. The jukebox was loud and already, at six-thirty, the whole place was packed out with pretty Parisians. The cool, grungy kind, not the impeccably stylish ones I’d seen wandering the streets this afternoon. Even though it wasn’t really what I was supposed to be researching, Virginie had promised to take me to the swankier parts of town the next day so I could sigh at pretty things through the windows.
The man from behind the bar, wearing a very interesting hand-knitted jumper with some sort of repeat animal pattern, scuttled over with two glasses and a jug of sangria. After splashing it all over the table, he muttered something in French to Alex and slapped him on the back with a big, hearty laugh. I gave him the raised eyebrow and sipped my drink. Bloody hell it was good. Bloody hell it was strong.
‘Whatever he just said to you, I hope it had something to do with tonight’s specials,’ I said, putting the glass back down on the sticky table. ‘I don’t think I should drink too much of this with only half a baguette and an ice cream in me.’
‘They don’t do much food here.’ Alex frowned a little, making his ‘I’m thinking’ face. I loved his ‘thinking’ face, it looked a little bit as if he was going to break out into a show tune. ‘It’s kind of just tiny bits of bread with cheese on top. There’s a great steak frites place down the block though. We have time if you want to eat?’
‘Right.’ I tried to ignore the fact that my stomach wasn’t rumbling, it was practically causing an earthquake. ‘And you know this because you used to come here when you were doing what in Paris exactly?’
‘Everyone comes here,’ he replied, filling my glass up to the very top. ‘Everyone meets at Odéon, it’s like, I don’t know, Union Square or Piccadilly Circus or whatever.’
‘That’s not strictly an answer to my question, is it?’ I said, squeezing his leg. I was trying to keep things light, but the more evasive he became, the more annoyed I was getting. ‘How come you know Paris so well? And not just tourist stuff. You know where bars are without looking at maps, you know where people meet at night. Spill it, Reid, how?’
‘OK, so don’t freak out,’ he started, leaning back against the wall behind the table. ‘I used to date a girl from Paris and we spent some time here. That’s all. Paris isn’t a huge city, you get to know your way around pretty quick.’
‘And why do you think that would make me freak out?’ I asked in a very, very high-pitched voice. ‘I’m fine.’
‘I guess because we never really talked about our pasts since, you know, the first time,’ he said, his green eyes still cautious. ‘And anyway, it was so long ago.’
‘Were you here for a long time?’ I asked, not really wanting to know the answer. I remembered this sick in the stomach feeling from the last time we had a conversation about exes. It wasn’t pleasant.
‘No. Not for long. And the reason I know the city so well is almost the entire time I was here, we were fighting so much I was out wandering the streets, making friends with bartenders. You pick up the geography pretty quickly that way. The language too.’
‘Right,’ I said, picking up my sangria and having another go at it.
‘So you’re gonna stop asking questions you don’t actually want answered?’ Alex asked, leaning forwards into my line of vision. ‘’Cause, I don’t want to piss you off, but I know you and I don’t think you want to know any more. Apart from that I ended it and then I went back to the States and I met you and I have never been so
‘I don’t know what you just said,’ I breathed, ‘but I’m pretty sure you’re getting laid tonight.’
‘Let’s get a drink,’ he laughed, nodding over at the barman. ‘It’s pretty much sangria or beer. And I wouldn’t bother with the beer.’
‘Sangria it is then,’ I said, glancing around. The jukebox was loud and already, at six-thirty, the whole place was packed out with pretty Parisians. The cool, grungy kind, not the impeccably stylish ones I’d seen wandering the streets this afternoon. Even though it wasn’t really what I was supposed to be researching, Virginie had promised to take me to the swankier parts of town the next day so I could sigh at pretty things through the windows.
The man from behind the bar, wearing a very interesting hand-knitted jumper with some sort of repeat animal pattern, scuttled over with two glasses and a jug of sangria. After splashing it all over the table, he muttered something in French to Alex and slapped him on the back with a big, hearty laugh. I gave him the raised eyebrow and sipped my drink. Bloody hell it was good. Bloody hell it was strong.
‘Whatever he just said to you, I hope it had something to do with tonight’s specials,’ I said, putting the glass back down on the sticky table. ‘I don’t think I should drink too much of this with only half a baguette and an ice cream in me.’
‘They don’t do much food here.’ Alex frowned a little, making his ‘I’m thinking’ face. I loved his ‘thinking’ face, it looked a little bit as if he was going to break out into a show tune. ‘It’s kind of just tiny bits of bread with cheese on top. There’s a great steak frites place down the block though. We have time if you want to eat?’
‘Right.’ I tried to ignore the fact that my stomach wasn’t rumbling, it was practically causing an earthquake. ‘And you know this because you used to come here when you were doing what in Paris exactly?’
‘Everyone comes here,’ he replied, filling my glass up to the very top. ‘Everyone meets at Odéon, it’s like, I don’t know, Union Square or Piccadilly Circus or whatever.’
‘That’s not strictly an answer to my question, is it?’ I said, squeezing his leg. I was trying to keep things light, but the more evasive he became, the more annoyed I was getting. ‘How come you know Paris so well? And not just tourist stuff. You know where bars are without looking at maps, you know where people meet at night. Spill it, Reid, how?’
‘OK, so don’t freak out,’ he started, leaning back against the wall behind the table. ‘I used to date a girl from Paris and we spent some time here. That’s all. Paris isn’t a huge city, you get to know your way around pretty quick.’
‘And why do you think that would make me freak out?’ I asked in a very, very high-pitched voice. ‘I’m fine.’
‘I guess because we never really talked about our pasts since, you know, the first time,’ he said, his green eyes still cautious. ‘And anyway, it was so long ago.’
‘Were you here for a long time?’ I asked, not really wanting to know the answer. I remembered this sick in the stomach feeling from the last time we had a conversation about exes. It wasn’t pleasant.
‘No. Not for long. And the reason I know the city so well is almost the entire time I was here, we were fighting so much I was out wandering the streets, making friends with bartenders. You pick up the geography pretty quickly that way. The language too.’
‘Right,’ I said, picking up my sangria and having another go at it.
‘So you’re gonna stop asking questions you don’t actually want answered?’ Alex asked, leaning forwards into my line of vision. ‘’Cause, I don’t want to piss you off, but I know you and I don’t think you want to know any more. Apart from that I ended it and then I went back to the States and I met you and I have never been so
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