Foreign Love (An International Sports Romance) (Love in Shades) by Cassie-Ann L. Miller Page B
Authors: Cassie-Ann L. Miller
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run away from my life. I’m hiding out in some stranger’s bed, delaying the inevitable, when in reality, I have decisions to make, life-changing decisions. I lean against the sink and rub my injured knee. I have to decide whether or not I’ll get the surgery. I have to figure out what to do about my position in the ballet corps. I have to accept that my dance career is pretty much over.
What the hell am I going to do with my life?
Those are all issues I can safely avoid when I’m lying pinned down beneath Lucien’s perfect body.
Maybe I can delay them for the summer. But I can’t delay them forever.
I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. I dry off with a napkin from the pile sitting on the counter. I smooth my hands down the front of my jeans and take a deep breath. I turn and walk back into the reception area.
“ Ah, tu est là ,” Lucien takes wide steps, closing the gap between us. He greets me warmly, kissing my cheek right as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. “I was just about to call you.”
My smile is weaker than I’d like it to be. “I’m here.”
I’m here and I’m not back at my apartment figuring my life out. I’m not in New York getting the surgery done. Suddenly, I don’t think I am where I should be.
Lucien’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Let’s get out of here, poupée .”
I offer him a smile that feels tight against my lips. He doesn’t seem to notice. He just slips his hand around my waist and leads me out the front door of the physiotherapy clinic.
Chapter 18
Lucien
Something happened when I was in my physiotherapy session. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but something tells me to hold back, not to be so direct with her. Instead, I squeeze her body close to mine as we stand on the narrow sidewalk outside of the clinic.
“The weather is beautiful. What do you feel like doing today?” I press my lips to her ears.
She sort of shrugs, trying to imperceptibly wiggle her way out of my arms. A street vendor tries to get her attention, dangling a handful of Eiffel Tower key chains in her direction. With my hands on her shoulders, I guide her down the street and we meld into the city’s fast-moving foot traffic.
I won’t let her sudden foul mood taint this beautiful afternoon. “Come on,” I say as I weave my fingers through Julia’s and step off the curb, dodging between a taxi and a scooter as I pull her across the street. Horns blare around us as vehicles move quickly through the tiny street.
“Lucien!” she screeches. Alarmed, I turn back and find her wincing, covering her eyes.
“What is it?” I ask, panic rising within me.
Her eyes are wide when she says, “You just strolled right out into the street. You didn’t even look.”
Safely on the other sidewalk, I look at her and grin. “Ah, my little, American girl. The ways of Paris still surprise you.”
Her nostrils flare and she tries not to smile, then says, “Where the hell are you taking me, anyway?”
“You’ll see,” I say, tossing her a glance over my shoulder as we weave through the winding streets. We make a turn on Boulevard Périphérique and climb the spiral staircase. Her eyes go bright as Promenade Plantée comes into view.
“Oh wow! It’s beautiful!” she breathes.
I love watching her, a light glowing in her eyes as she takes in the view of the city below. I guess I want some of her radiance to rub off on me so I take her hand and enjoy her as she appreciates her surroundings. We walk along the tree-lined pathway for…for…I have no idea how long. Time loses all significance as I move alongside her, watching her discover the city.
When we finally move off of the walkway, we find a café on the shadowed side of the street. I order an espresso and Julia opts for an iced tea.
“Y’know,” she says staring thoughtfully at the plastic straw sticking
What the hell am I going to do with my life?
Those are all issues I can safely avoid when I’m lying pinned down beneath Lucien’s perfect body.
Maybe I can delay them for the summer. But I can’t delay them forever.
I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. I dry off with a napkin from the pile sitting on the counter. I smooth my hands down the front of my jeans and take a deep breath. I turn and walk back into the reception area.
“ Ah, tu est là ,” Lucien takes wide steps, closing the gap between us. He greets me warmly, kissing my cheek right as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. “I was just about to call you.”
My smile is weaker than I’d like it to be. “I’m here.”
I’m here and I’m not back at my apartment figuring my life out. I’m not in New York getting the surgery done. Suddenly, I don’t think I am where I should be.
Lucien’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Let’s get out of here, poupée .”
I offer him a smile that feels tight against my lips. He doesn’t seem to notice. He just slips his hand around my waist and leads me out the front door of the physiotherapy clinic.
Chapter 18
Lucien
Something happened when I was in my physiotherapy session. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but something tells me to hold back, not to be so direct with her. Instead, I squeeze her body close to mine as we stand on the narrow sidewalk outside of the clinic.
“The weather is beautiful. What do you feel like doing today?” I press my lips to her ears.
She sort of shrugs, trying to imperceptibly wiggle her way out of my arms. A street vendor tries to get her attention, dangling a handful of Eiffel Tower key chains in her direction. With my hands on her shoulders, I guide her down the street and we meld into the city’s fast-moving foot traffic.
I won’t let her sudden foul mood taint this beautiful afternoon. “Come on,” I say as I weave my fingers through Julia’s and step off the curb, dodging between a taxi and a scooter as I pull her across the street. Horns blare around us as vehicles move quickly through the tiny street.
“Lucien!” she screeches. Alarmed, I turn back and find her wincing, covering her eyes.
“What is it?” I ask, panic rising within me.
Her eyes are wide when she says, “You just strolled right out into the street. You didn’t even look.”
Safely on the other sidewalk, I look at her and grin. “Ah, my little, American girl. The ways of Paris still surprise you.”
Her nostrils flare and she tries not to smile, then says, “Where the hell are you taking me, anyway?”
“You’ll see,” I say, tossing her a glance over my shoulder as we weave through the winding streets. We make a turn on Boulevard Périphérique and climb the spiral staircase. Her eyes go bright as Promenade Plantée comes into view.
“Oh wow! It’s beautiful!” she breathes.
I love watching her, a light glowing in her eyes as she takes in the view of the city below. I guess I want some of her radiance to rub off on me so I take her hand and enjoy her as she appreciates her surroundings. We walk along the tree-lined pathway for…for…I have no idea how long. Time loses all significance as I move alongside her, watching her discover the city.
When we finally move off of the walkway, we find a café on the shadowed side of the street. I order an espresso and Julia opts for an iced tea.
“Y’know,” she says staring thoughtfully at the plastic straw sticking
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