Chapter 8
I looked up at the Eiffel Tower then back down at my sketching.
It was 12:30, and they still weren't back yet. They had said only an hour at the most, but here I was, 2 hours later, being bored out of my mind.
I had wondered around for about an hour before heading back to the house, only to find out I didn't have a key. I had started sketching the Eiffel Tower in an attempt to be entertained. However, it hadn't worked, and I was now sitting there waiting on a phone call from Francis.
As if on cue, an unfamiliar ringtone came from my bag. I rummaged through it until I found it at the very bottom. I pressed the 'accept' button and pressed it to my ear.
"Hello?" I said.
"Clara, where are you?" Francis asked.
"Back at the house on the riverbanks," I replied casually.
"Why did you go back there, mon amour," he asked.
"Because I don't know anywhere else, dummy!" I exclaimed into the phone.
There was a strange silence on the other end as I waited for his reply.
"Oh. Well stay right there. I shall be there shortly!" he said, hanging up the phone. I pulled the phone away and looked at it.
'Shall'? What time period were we in? The 16th century?
I put the phone into my bag and began sketching some more.
I added the river and a few trees that were guarding the base of the tower. I failed several times before getting everything right. I tore it from my notebook and set it on my lap.
I zipped up my jacket and flipped my hood up as a brisk breeze blew off the river. Before I knew what happened, it snatched up my paper and blew it down the street. I shot up and ran after it, not willing to let my best drawing ever end up in the trash.
It came to a stop on the sidewalk about a block down. I let out a sigh, content that it didn't go all throughout town. I bent down to pick it up.
Just as my fingers curled around the edge a shoe came and stepped on it. I frowned and looked up, only to see Francis looking down at me, a puzzled expression on his face.
"Could you move your foot?" I asked, tugging lightly on the paper for emphasis.
"Oui," he replied, bending down and removing his shoe in time for him to snatch it from me.
"Hey!" I protested, making futile attempts to grab it back.
"Mademoiselle, this is very good!" he exclaimed.
I blushed to my ears.
"However, if I had known that you wished to see the Eiffel Tower, I would have arranged a private tour," he continued, winking at me.
"You're such a perv. What's that even supposed to mean?" I said, finally managing to snatch the paper from his hands. I trudged back to the bench and shoved all of my crap into the bag.
"Where would you like to go for lunch?" He asked, walking beside me.
"It's not like I have a favorite. I've only been here for a day." I said.
"I will take you to one of my favorites, he replied.
I tried to keep up with his long strides as he wound his way deeper into the heart of Paris. As we got farther in, I saw more and more people, most families. I grimaced at that.
How long had it been since I celebrated Christmas with someone? I had kind of just stopped celebrating it over the years. Mikayla and I had always exchanged gifts, but I never counted it as 'celebrating'.
