The Truth

twenty one

 I can't believe where I'm standing. The wind this high up is bone chilling, but I feel nothing but warm standing in Harry's arms. Other couples like us stand close together, whispering sweet nothings while taking in the sights of the City of Love. Harry points to different landmarks, but I find myself not focusing. Instead, I only watch him speak. The light in his eyes when he tells stories is beautiful. He catches me staring, and he stops speaking.

"What?" he giggles, smiling warmly.

"There was something I wanted to ask you," I begin. "7243."

"What about it?" he asks, feigning ignorance.

"It's your passcode right?" I ask, to which he nods sheepishly. "It's 'Page' in alphanumerics."

"Only you would notice something like that," he chuckles. I swear I spot a rosy flush flaring up on his cheeks.

"I love you, Harry," I say suddenly. My heart stops beating for a moment. I can't believe the words left my mouth. From his face, neither can Harry.

"I love you, too," he replies, as if it is the simplest thing he's ever said. My lips find his slowly, and I gently kiss him. It is Harry who breaks the kiss, and he grabs my hand. "Come on. We still have a lot to see."

First he took me to a restaurant where I had the best meal of my life. We sat in a private room and gorged ourselves on classic French food, ending with another bottle of wine and crème brûlée.

"Harry, how did you pull all this together?" I ask in awe.

"It helps to have friends in high places," he answers as he pours me another glass of wine.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk," I chuckle before taking a sip of the dark red drink.

"I most definitely am," he chuckles. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he quickly checks it. "Sorry. Just someone letting me know my request for the hotel room is set up."

"What request is that?" I ask.

"You will see," he giggles."Haven't learned to trust that my surprises are usually great?"

"Since the trench coat fiasco," I reply, and he shakes his head, chuckling heartily.

"Okay one not so good surprise," he chuckles. "But trust me. You'll love it."

"Fine," I sigh. "Maybe it's the wine, but I trust you."

"Good," he replies, smiling coyly. "Let's get out of here. I have a surprise for you."

He leaves a wad of cash on the table, not counting how much he left behind. Our waiter seemed quite pleased with his tip. Harry leads me out of the restaurant and starts walking down the street. A comfortable silence settles as we walk. We don't feel the need to speak. Our lips meet occasionally for a quick pec, or I hug him. There is no use for words when you're both thinking the same thing.

"This is it," Harry spoke up when we reached what looked like a twenty story building. He leads me inside, hand still gripping mine and walks to the front desk. He speaks in broken French to the concierge. "Chambre pour Styles, S'il vous plaît." The man passes him a card key, not paying much attention to him, as if he has more important things to worry about. "Merci, mousier."

We take the elevator all the way to the top floor.

"I got us the penthouse for the weekend," he explains. "Worth the view."