Abstract

Chapter 5

(A beautiful song to listen to this chapter is La Vie en Rose. It's a famous French song, so there's many versions of it. My favorite is Louis Armstrong's, which is in English. If you would like to listen to it in French, there's a version by Edith Piaf :)

The dinner continues, and I allow myself to enjoy Harry's company. He's quite funny, and he has a beautiful way of talking. It's not the what he says but it's the way he says it.

"How do you sell your paintings?" I ask.

"Online, mostly. Sometimes people come to me to see them."

"It's nice that you get to do what you love." I sip my wine. I'm feeling a little bit woozy from the alcohol.

He studies me. "Yes, it is."

I take another bite of the dessert that Harry ordered, a dark chocolate cake.

Maybe it's the slight buzz in my brain, but I notice a few people shooting us looks. I try to ignore it, but it's difficult to not look at them.

I take out my wallet, handing my credit card to Harry. He shakes his head no, putting his own card in the check.

"Take it." I persit.

"No,"

"Harry!"

"No," He hands the bill to the server.

I sigh, finishing the wine in my glass. He stands up first, taking my hand to help me up from my seat. I stand up slowly, following him out of the beautiful hotel.

"Did you enjoy your dinner?" He asks as we walk to where the cabs wait.

I nod, "I'm just glad I didn't have the fish."

He laughs "It's not that bad once you figure it out."

I call to a taxi, who pulls up out in front of us. I turn to face Harry, who studies me.

"I have to admit, I had a good time tonight." I tell him.

"As did I. I'm not that bad, right?"

I laugh. "I guess not."

He looks past me, at something in the distance. "Would you like to come over?" His gaze returns to me as he speaks.

My mind doesn't process the words correctly, and I quickly blurt "Sure."

"I'll see you there."

I get in the cab, my pulse throbbing with anticipation. What am I doing? I can't go upstairs with this boy...who knows what he has planned. I debate calling him to cancel, but I don't know his number and part of me doesn't want to cancel. If anything my mother had told men in the past about men had stuck with me, I would have told him no. I guess I'm not my mother.

When we get to our complex, Harry is waiting for me out front. He smiles when he sees me, putting his long arm around my waist, causing my skin to tingle viciously. What have I gotten myself into?

He tells me a story about his friend Nick from England as we walk up the stairs. The humor helps the knot in my stomach to loosen, but not much.

He holds the door open for me. The movement is very polite, but when I walk into the dimly lit living room, my blood seems to turn to ice.

"Wine?" He asks, going to the kitchen.

"I'm fine." I tell him. I'm already buzzed enough.

He nods, instead taking a sip from a water bottle before putting it back in the fridge.