Max + Martha

Paris

The sun was blazing on the day we decided to go to Montmarte. No, scratch that. I decided that we would go to Montmarte. Max had never been a planner, he wasn't the type to wake up one morning and decide to go somewhere. He just had the kind of life where everyone told him what to do. But I was a planner. I was a strategic planner, a really good planner, a strategic planner, a know-everything-before-you-go planner, and this open itinerary he'd set up for us was probably a bad idea. But it was his grand gesture, his a little too grand gesture, and I wasn't going to waste it by telling him off.

We were dating now, after all.

That sounded so weird. Dating didn't seem right, for what we were doing, it seemed so...casual and lacking of the gravitas that was our relationship. Because with Max, it's never going to be just another relationship (not that I had a lot of those).

But anyway, I downloaded transit instructions, slapped sunblock on the both of us and headed out, with him following lazily behind me. I was a fast walker by experience, and Europe felt like the ultimate test of my walking speed. Time was limited, and not ours to waste, my father always said.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Max asked, his hands in his pockets as we looped in and out of Rue Yvonne le Tac, following the map's instructions to get to the funiculare up to Montmarte.

The street was much like the rest of Paris—with high buildings that blocked out the sun, and teeny tiny shops that offered a variety of goods, including a traiteur asiatique, whatever that meant. Most of the shops were still closed, it was that early.

"I don't want to waste time, that's all," I said, huffing slightly as a cramp started to hit my lower leg. This happened sometimes, especially when I was a little too excited to get somewhere. "Ow."

"See, your body is already telling you to slow down," He smiled, slipping his hand in mine so we could take a slower, more leisurely pace. "You're going to miss a lot of you just speed on by."

He stopped and looked up in that leisurely way of his, exposing the line of his neck and the shape of his collarbones. I sucked in a breath, because I still couldn't believe that they were mine. My collarbones to kiss, my neck to nuzzle (if I could reach).

Dear universe, thank you. Thank you for sending me a best friend/lover/boyfriend like Max.

"See," he said, pointing up at the wrought iron balconies on a building. Above the gorgeous, carved wood of the door, above the blue building numbers, someone had decided to put sunflowers, against the door, against the windowsill, against the teeny tiny balcony. They were fake, but it didn't take away from the color's bursting happiness against the cream tile.

I couldn't help but smile. Some languages were universal, and flowers were one of them.

"Why are you so wise?" I asked him, hugging his arm as we walked casually, like we'd walked this way our entire lives.

"I'm wise because I'm with you," he said, and god, he was so charming when he was happy. Back then when he said things like this, I didn't quite believe him. Now I did.

We walked on, and made it to the plaza with the funicular. Next to the platform was a set of stairs, meant for people who didn't start wheezing after two flights of stairs. Letting go of my hand, Max took three steps forward and bent his knees a little, holding his arms out behind toward me.

"Come on," he said, throwing me a mischievous grin over his shoulder. "Piggyback you to the top?"

"Do you want to die?" I snorted, rolling his eyes. Max may be strong enough to carry around full grown Chaos and Alaskan Malamutes, but I was significantly heavier than either of them.

"To die in your arms is such a heavenly way to die," he quoted, and I frowned.

"It's 'to die by your side,'" I corrected him, walking ahead to the funicular, giving his flat butt a little pinch when I passed him. I'd never seen Max so alarmed as he did when he jerked up. His face was red as he looked at me with wide, shocked eyes. My cheeks were red too, because had I been placed in front of a court of my Titas, I would not be able to explain why I thought pinching my boyfriend's butt in the middle of Paris was a good idea. But I was just so happy, and so excited, and Max was right there...

His shock quickly changed to a grin as he pulled me into his arms and spun me around, dancing backwards until we hit a wall. Looking up at him in surprise, cramp completely forgotten, Max's eyes were a little dark as he stroked my cheek, smiling before he tucked me into a kiss.

Seriously, universe. Thank you.

After we were all kissed out, and took the funicular up, I was gasping at the view. There was a reason why Paris was a cliche for romance, and this had to be one of them. The view spread out as far as I could see, buildings in fading blue and cream stretching down with large patches of green. Paris was dirty and smoggy, but Paris was also full of possibility. The city had a light of its own that never seemed to go out. And with the Sacre Coeur overlooking it all, it was no wonder that Renoir had made Montmarte the source. of his inspiration.

"I like you like this," Max said, wrapping his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder as we both looked out at the view. We looked like a movie poster, and I felt...god. I felt beautiful. "I like it when you're happy."

"I'm happy you're here with me," I admitted to him. "It had to be with you."

We kissed again, and I didn't think we would end up being one of those kissy couples in the middle of everywhere. But you never knew where bliss would come from, and when it came from Max, it was the best kind.