See? It works. As soon as you make peace with yourself, good things happen. You’ll never guess who I saw on the beach . . .
I had set up my foam mat next to Becca’s and closed my eyes when I felt someone blocking my sun.
Vlad! Looking hot and Slavic. “Hello,” he said. “I have been searching for you.”
He! Was! Looking! For! Me! I quickly sat up. “Hi, Vlad,” I purred. “How was Switzerland?”
He sat down at the foot of my mat, and told me all about Zurich. They had arrived in Nice two nights earlier and had been looking for us.
“Want to swim?” he asked.
“Sure, but I’ll need some help,” I said, motioning to my foot. He took my hand (took my hand!) and led me down to the water.
Now the beach may be covered in pebbles, but the ocean is as gorgeous up close as thought it would be. And it feels almost as warm as bathwater. Azure blue, sparkling bathwater. Almost as stunning as Vlad’s green eyes . . .
Sigh.
“Will you meet me tonight?” he asked. “It is my last night here. Tomorrow we go to Spain.”
“Yes! I have to go to dinner in the old city, but I can meet you as soon as I’m done.”
“Perfect. You will meet me at Whiskey Disco? At 10? We will dance?”
Hooray! Of course I agreed. Dancing with Vlad! Kissing Vlad on the dance floor? Hello, fling! “Why don’t you stay two more nights? And then go to Spain on Sunday?”
He shook his head. “That is not plan.”
OK then. Must stick to the plan.
Don’t forget,” he said, putting his hand to his shirtless, now wet chest. “Tonight.”
Forget? How could I?
Now that you’re all filled in, I gotta go shower and look extra fabulous.
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...
