It’s drizzly and cold. I’m sitting at a café, drinking café au lait, miserable. This trip sucks. France is evil.
And then things got worse:
“Today we’re going on a hike!” Joanna exclaimed this morning.
I cannot go on a hike. Those with incapacitated toes barely walk, never mind climb the Alps. Becca offered to stay and hang out with me, but I insisted she go. She loves to hike, and I didn’t want to suck her into my personal web of misery.
So I hobbled over to a nearby boutique. I saw a pretty purple dress in the window. I asked the salesgirl if I could try it on. She said oui. It didn’t fit.
She then yelled, “Zut alors! You waste my time! Why you are waste my time?”
I hobbled out.
Now I am alone. Sitting at a café. Eating a croissant and brie.
Tomorrow we leave for Nice, the last leg of our trip. I can’t wait for this to be over. I want to go home. To my house. To my family. To my dog.
The waiter who keeps bringing me cheese is kind of cute.
Kind of. Not really. But kind of.
Maybe I should grab him by the collar, plant a wet one on his lips and that would be that.
I’ll guava-fie and smile pretty and see what happens.
YOU ARE READING
A Nice Fling is Hard to Find
Teen FictionLindsay is on a summer teen tour to France and she's determined to have a fling before she comes home. And not with a fellow American. No, she's only considering boys with foreign accents. Will she find her Jacques or Jean-Claude who will look deep...
