Last Kiss in Paris

Chapter 5 - Vodka Love

Suggested Song: 2002 by Anne-Marie

I will always remember the day you kissed my lips
Light as a feather
And it went just like this
No, it's never been better

Than the summer of 2002

--

Amrisha had not seen him so clearly for almost two years. Standing in front of her, was one of the most attractive humans imaginable.

Ben was, as always, beautiful – if you could call a boy that. He wore a button-up shirt and shorts, and his blonde wavy hair was slightly tousled, giving him an adorable look of having just gotten out of bed. His blue-grey eyes glinted mischievously, framed by long curly eyelashes that fluttered as he blinked. Every inch of his body, from the long graceful limbs to the strong jawline, was perfect like a model's. He looked just as Amrisha had remembered, but was now a good 20cm or so taller than her – not as tall as Pierre was, but tall enough to make her feel safe in his strong arms as she flung herself towards him in an embrace.

"Ben," Amrisha muttered happily, leaning her head on his chest. He smelled of soap and a fresh breeze.

"Amrisha," Ben replied, pulling out of the hug and examining her. He grinned, eyes twinkling. "Long time no see eh?"

"I've enjoyed my two years without seeing your ugly face," Amrisha joked, staring into the Tiktok-poster-boy face of Ben's.

"As if you could live a day without my hotness," he flashed a dazzling smile. "C'mon, we've got a lot of catching up to do." He grabbed Amrisha's wrist and led her over to a shiny green motorcycle parked on the sidewalk. "Hop on."

Amrisha's jaw dropped. "You're not old enough to ride a motorcycle," she said, remembering Saige's horrifying story.

Ben laughed. "I know. But this," he grabbed two helmets and thrust one to Amrisha, "is an electric scooter." He grabbed two helmets and thrust one to Amrisha, as well as some gloves. He started up the engine, and cocked his head at her. "Come on, have a seat." Gazing dreamily at how dashing Ben looked on the moped, Amrisha dazedly climbed on behind him.

"Where are we going?" she asked after about fifteen minutes. Amrisha had her arms wrapped around Ben's waist, and the wind was whipping flyaway hairs from her face as Ben expertly weaved through the rush-hour traffic. All the cars seemed to be heading towards the direction of the Eiffel Tower, which was slowly growing closer, a twinkling beacon against the skyline.

"You'll see soon," Ben called over the wind.

It was a pleasantly warm autumn evening, and Amrisha began to lose herself in absorbing the amazing world of colour, sound and activity around her. She suddenly noticed that they were no longer on the busy main road, and that Ben had ducked into a side street. After many twists and turns through alleyways and streets that had Amrisha wondering how Ben could navigate them, he pulled to a stop outside an apartment block perched on the summit of a hill. From this point, the Eiffel Tower could be seen clearly in the distance. Ben hopped off, grabbed a large basket from the trunk, and led Amrisha to a set of stairs on the side of the building. It looked like an emergency fire exit located on the outside of the building.

Up, up, up. Amrisha's feet were aching by the time they reached the top floor and she was seriously reconsidering wearing heels. Ben jiggled open a gate and led her to the rooftop terrace of the building. It was a rather decrepit place, with desolate pot plants scattered here and there, a few broken plastic chairs and tables, and what seemed like a large pile of abandoned furniture in a corner. Amrisha was not expecting this – what did Ben have in mind? She had expected to go to a fancy restaurant or the Eiffel Tower, not here.