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Chapter 12: At the Eiffel Tower

Chapter 12: At the Eiffel Tower

            He held my hand as we walked out from the lift. He looked at me and smiled. He led me to Le Restaurant. It was the hotel’s restaurant that specialize French cuisine. The waiter opened the glass door and greeted us warmly. I looked around the place to see if there were any paparazzi waiting while Tim was talking to the waiter. It seemed that there are none so I sighed for relief. He let go of my hand then put it at my back beyond the waistline. It was awkward but I just let him. It might be one of his plans.

            We walked side by side as he holds my waist until we were at the table set for two. He, then, let me go and moved the seat for me. I thanked him and smiled. It was a classy restaurant but it was different from the hotel’s theme, it was a bit modern. The waiter gave us the menu. I read the menu which most of it were written in French language. I put back the menu to the waiter and waited for Tim.

            “So what do you like to eat, Babe?” he asked. Babe! The hell called me that. But I remember that we’re pretending to be in a relationship so I smiled to him.

            “I don’t know. Just pick something delicious for me.” He looked back at the waiter and ordered him something that I didn’t even understand in my basic knowledge of French language. He looked again to me when the waiter walked away from us and smiled. “What?”

            “Do you like me to call you babe, huh?” he asked while grinning at me.

            “No. Why did you call me that?” I asked in return.

            “Because you are my girlfriend for now, right?” he reached my cheek and pinched it. I slapped his hand.           

            “Aww! Don’t do that. It hurts.” I scowled at him.

            “So what do you like me to call you, then?” he asked again. Babe was one of the least words I would like to hear. Then, I remember Frank again. I frowned at the thought of him. I must forget him so I could go home now and end this crazy play.

            “What’s the problem, Babe?” he asked suddenly. I was not at myself a while ago. He might see me frowning.

            “oh. Nothing.” I answered back.

            “Are you sure, babe?” he asked for assurance.

            “Yes and stop calling me “babe”!” I snapped at him. My voice rose a little bit at the word “babe”.

            “Okaaaay! Just calm down.” He said.

            “Sorry.” I looked away from him to hide the pain in my face.

            “So, what do you like me to call you?” he asked again.

            “Anything. Just don’t call me babe.” I answered. He murmured under his breath. I hoped he’s not mad at me. Then, a waiter approached us and served our ordered meal. Tom took out his wallet and tipped the waiter with five Euros. I ate my breakfast slowly. I was averse with what I act a while ago. I hoped he didn’t call me honey. I sighed and continued to slice the sausage.

****

*Tim*

            I looked at her while she is eating. He didn’t look at me after she raised her voice. What’s wrong with her? Pain crossed her face after I asked her if I can call her “babe”. What’s wrong with the word? Then, I realized that I didn’t know her that well. I didn’t even know why she was here in Paris alone. She couldn’t be in a business transaction or for work because no one even tried to look for her. Is she in pain like me? Paris is also good for singles. But is she really single? Maybe. She agreed to me in this play. I wanted to ask her. I would like to know everything about her. Then, I spoke.