Kissed in Paris by Juliette Sobanet

of a pen and paper, but didn’t find anything. Just then, the shower stream switched off from inside the bathroom. Julien would be opening that door any second now.
    Lunging across the bed to reach the night stand, I opened the drawer and found a pen next to a pad of paper. Underneath the Hôtel Splendid heading, I scribbled the text message down, tore the piece of paper off the pad, folded it up and pushed it into my bra. I hurried back across the room, fiddled with Julien’s phone to bring it back to the main screen, then returned it to its exact spot on the desk.
    Just when I made it onto the bed, Julien emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. His dark brown hair was all wet and messy, and his lips curved upward into that disarming grin I’d already seen a few times that day, revealing the dimple in his right cheek.
    “That was a nice shower, was it not?” he said as he used another towel to dry off his ears.
    “Mmhmm,” I mumbled, trying not to look below his face at his rock-hard abs or his tan, muscular shoulders. I rubbed my hand over my chest and felt the folded piece of paper hiding in there, then smiled back at Julien. “It was the best shower I’ve had in a long time.”

 
    Nine
     
    The sound of the door clicking shut jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to find Julien dressed in his clothes from the day before, a preoccupied look passing over his features.
    “Sleep well?” he asked.
    “Mmhmm,” I mumbled. “Like a rock.”
    “Is this what you are like when you share a bed with a man?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “When your fiancé takes you to bed, do you go to sleep immediately?” Julien whipped open the drapes, letting in a stream of bright light.
    I pushed myself up to a sitting position and squinted as my eyes adjusted. “What are you implying? That I’m frigid?”
    He shrugged his shoulders. “Just wondering.”
    I stood up in a huff.
    “Do you live together?” Julien asked. “You and your fiancé?”
    “Yes, of course we do. Why are you drilling me? I just woke up.”
    “Is he able to please you?”
    My jaw dropped. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”
    “What is the problem?”
    “I just met you yesterday—that’s the problem. If you think I’m going to discuss my sex life with you, you’re crazy.”
    Julien shrugged and stifled a smirk. “Don’t get so upset. I am just curious. I know that when people move in together, sometimes the romance goes away.”
    “Have you ever lived with anyone?” I asked him.
     “No.”
    “Well, if you must know, things can get less exciting once you’ve lived with someone for a while. Not that I’m saying that’s the case with me and my fiancé, but for many couples, yes, that can happen. Of course you can still come up with ways to spice things up.”
    He lifted a brow. “Such as?”
    I ducked into the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. “Use your imagination.”
    Julien popped his head around the corner and caught my eye in the mirror. “I have a very vivid imagination.”
     “Yes, you proved that to me during your little nude beach stunt on the Newlywed Tour Bus from hell yesterday. So charming,” I muttered as I looked at my flushed cheeks in the mirror and closed the door on Julien’s laughter. “What time is it?” I called through the door.
    “It is nine-thirty. I have just returned from the train station.”
    “Why did you let me sleep so late? Can we get a train out of here soon?”
     “Actually, there is a problem.”
    I whipped the bathroom door back open again. “What kind of problem?”
    Julien ran his hand through his hair. “There is a grève .”
    “What’s a grève ?”
    “What is the word in English?” Julien sat down on the edge of the bed, tapping his chin with his forefinger. “A strike?”
    “A strike?”
    “Yes. That is the word. All of the transportation workers are having a strike today. There are no trains.”
    “What do you mean, there are no trains? How can this be