He invited me to a party this weekend, telling me I would fit right in with his friends.
This past month, I have: traveled to three European countries and two major US cities; hosted dear friends at home; spent more money than intended; and struggled with a pesky cough on top of general exhaustion.
The party is in Boston, and despite all of the above, I looked up ticket prices.
We met in Berlin, he, about to end an internship in our office and me, passing through for work. On my last night, hours before my early morning flight to Paris, he took me back to my hostel aboard his bike. Laughing and laughing, we wound through deserted streets. When we got to my door, I hopped off and gave him a bear hug. He would be visiting his sister in The City of Lights just two days later, and I squeezed hoping I would see him again.
He called me when he got in, asking me to dinner with him, his sister, and one of her friends. After a lovely meal, this time, I led him (albeit on foot) through my city. In a crowded, touristy stretch, we fumbled for each others' hands. We grabbed a drink at my favorite bar and called it a night, but before going our separate ways on the metro, we shared a kiss.
The day after the next, we stuck our feet in the fountain by the Louvre and laid on the grass in the Tuileries gardens. He told me he wanted to visit a couple of bike shops, which happened to be nestled in my old neighborhood. At his urging, I typed in the code for my building, and we stood in the foyer for a minute or two, shaking our fists at those who now live in my former haven. Later, I met up with him and his sister for a Warhol exhibit before joining others for drinks. Abandoning the rest, arms around each other, we made our way to our favorite bar with minutes before closing. Somehow, I managed to convince the doorman to let us in for two glasses of white.
Kicked out of the bar, on the street on my last night in Paris, we gazed at each other and went in for the kiss. My right hand on his cheek, his right hand cradling my head. And then we parted, him thanking me for a fantastic couple of days and me commenting on how cliche it all was.
In the best possible way.
This past month, I have: traveled to three European countries and two major US cities; hosted dear friends at home; spent more money than intended; and struggled with a pesky cough on top of general exhaustion.
The party is in Boston, and despite all of the above, I looked up ticket prices.
We met in Berlin, he, about to end an internship in our office and me, passing through for work. On my last night, hours before my early morning flight to Paris, he took me back to my hostel aboard his bike. Laughing and laughing, we wound through deserted streets. When we got to my door, I hopped off and gave him a bear hug. He would be visiting his sister in The City of Lights just two days later, and I squeezed hoping I would see him again.
He called me when he got in, asking me to dinner with him, his sister, and one of her friends. After a lovely meal, this time, I led him (albeit on foot) through my city. In a crowded, touristy stretch, we fumbled for each others' hands. We grabbed a drink at my favorite bar and called it a night, but before going our separate ways on the metro, we shared a kiss.
The day after the next, we stuck our feet in the fountain by the Louvre and laid on the grass in the Tuileries gardens. He told me he wanted to visit a couple of bike shops, which happened to be nestled in my old neighborhood. At his urging, I typed in the code for my building, and we stood in the foyer for a minute or two, shaking our fists at those who now live in my former haven. Later, I met up with him and his sister for a Warhol exhibit before joining others for drinks. Abandoning the rest, arms around each other, we made our way to our favorite bar with minutes before closing. Somehow, I managed to convince the doorman to let us in for two glasses of white.
Kicked out of the bar, on the street on my last night in Paris, we gazed at each other and went in for the kiss. My right hand on his cheek, his right hand cradling my head. And then we parted, him thanking me for a fantastic couple of days and me commenting on how cliche it all was.
In the best possible way.
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