Anna and the French Kiss: Etienne's POV

1

I grip the armrest, feeling the blood rush away from my hands.

I've always been completely terrified of heights--and being on an airplane for around four hours doesn't always help the situation. 

I'm on my way to Atlanta, Georgia. It's not my destination, but it's the rest stop. I'm actually on my way to Paris. My fourth and final year at the School of America in Paris, or as us students call it--SOAP. It's quite hard to believe that I'm going to be a senior. It feels different, unlike the other times I was starting another year at SOAP. 

I focus on thinking about my friends--Meredith, Rashmi, and Josh--and not the insane idea that I'm thousands upon thousands of feet in the air. But most of all, I'm thinking about my girlfriend Ellie. I haven't seen her once this summer. She graduated from SOAP last school year, and she'll be attending college close by. I wonder what she looks like. She's probably changed a lot in the past three months. Whenever I think of her, I feel butterflies in the pit of my stomach. They flutter around and hit the sides of my organs. I love her. 

After a few hours of agonizing pain in my tense hands, I get off the plane. It's going to be an hour or two before the next flight. Most people would think that someone would hate the hours before getting on the next plane, but for me, I take advantage of them. I'm about to go on my laptop and watch another episode of an American show--Breaking Bad, when my phone begins to vibrate in my front pocket of my trousers. 

It's Mum.

"Hello?"

"Étienne! Gosh, I've been calling you every 10 minutes for the last hour." She sounds relieved.

"The wireless internet connection is God awful on the plane. Sorry about that. I just got off 10 minutes ago."

"That's good. How was it?"

"Sickening. My hands hurt from bloody gripping the seat so much."

"I miss you already," she says. "I hate having to send you off to Paris every year. I know it's exciting you get to see your friends again but it hurts to let you go. Have you talked to your father?"

"I miss you too. And I'd rather not be the first to call him. He'll just suck the life out of me, like he always does." 

"Étienne, you're father loves you, very much. You shouldn't talk about him like that." It's almost like my father brainwashed her into saying that. She hates him--we both do.

"Mum. He's an arse. I know you talk about him in such a way to your girlfriends, you hate him. I don't get why you won't leave--"

"Enough. There are a million reasons why I shouldn't leave him. I don't have a choice in the matter anyways. And what did I tell you about calling him an ass? If he found out he'd cause volcanic eruptions."

I groan. "I don't give a flying crap what he does. You've honestly have gone mad. I don't recall him ever becoming the President of the United States of America. You're allowed to leave him."

"He'd take everything away from me. The condo, the money, and most importantly--you." 

"He doesn't control me."

"He does," she says. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Are you excited to see Ellie?"

I pause for a moment. Why is it that she always changes the subject right away? It's like she thinks he can hear everything she says behind his back. "I haven't been this anxious to see her in ages. It's going to be different, not having her at school. I hope she comes to visit Rashmi a lot. She'll be furious if Ellie doesn't come to see her."

"That's true. Well, I have to let you go. It's the middle of the night here. Call me as soon as you get off your next flight. Don't forget." Her voice is soft, and I feel like my stomach has flipped. I'm going to miss her. I know that it gets easier every year, but I love me Mum. I love the way she makes a joke and no one else laughs, but as soon as she cracks herself up over it, every one laughs. Her smile is contagious. She's the most amazing person I know. 

I tuck my phone into my pocket and begin to watch Breaking Bad. After two episodes one of the airport workers calls everyone on the flight to Paris to board the plane over the intercom. 

"Where would you like to go, sir?" The taxi driver asks in French.

"School of America in Paris," I reply--also in French. I hand him 18 euros, and he begins to drive.

I look out the window at the familiar city lights. Paris is most beautiful at night, even at 11:00 the streets are buzzing with tourists and Parisians. 

There it is. SOAP. It feels like it's been ages since I've seen the school. I hop out of the car with a quick merci, and race inside Résidence Lambert. The lobby is filled with people arriving, their suitcases dragging across the wooden floors. I wait in line at the dorm desk, and ask the dorm advisor, Nate, for room key 508. Everyone keeps the same dorm room. He hands it to me happily and I race up to my dorm room.

I burst the door open and throw my luggage onto my bedroom floor. I'll take care of that tomorrow. 

I can't wait to see Meredith. I talked to her over the phone a little bit over the summer, but not much. She's one of my closes friends at SOAP next to Josh. 

I wind my way through the loud boys on my floor, and quickly down the stairwell. I'm pretty sure Mer is room 407 but I'm not posit--

Ouch. Someone slammed into me.