The International Kissing Club (39 page)

Between
Cassidy
and
Linc
:

Cassidy

You are so dead.

Linc

As long as you do me yourself.

Cassidy

Oh, I will. It’ll be long and slow, but you won’t enjoy it.

Linc

Bring it, dyke.

Cassidy

You’re an asshole.

Messages

Between
Piper
and
Izzy
:

Piper

Hey, Iz. Are you okay? Your brother is such a jerk. I’d send more chocolate, but I don’t think there’s enough in all of France to make this better.

Izzy

I don’t want to talk about it. What happened with Mr. Fabulous?

Piper

I didn’t tell him.

Izzy

I think that’s smart.

Piper

Then why do I feel so icky?

Chapter 21
Piper

“That looks lovely, Mademoiselle Douglas. The colors you managed to achieve are quite impressive.”

Piper beamed under the praise of Monsieur Blanchard, the instructor for the glassblowing class that had been kicking her butt since she’d signed up for it her second week in Paris. It was a far cry from the watercolor paintings she’d been doing the past few years, but she’d wanted to try something new while in France. How could she have guessed that she would fall in love with making glass the very first time she’d tried it?

It was hard work—exhausting even, because she couldn’t just walk away in the middle of one of its stages like she could with painting—but that didn’t matter. She adored the arduous process, the brilliant colors, the amazing pieces it was possible to create.

“
Merci
,” she answered softly, using every ounce of restraint she had not to jump up and down at the first compliment he had ever given her. After trying and failing to win his approval three times a week for the past six weeks, she had just about given up hope at ever creating something he might deem worthy. But this time he actually liked what she’d done.

Nothing could have thrilled her more, not even if she could have introduced Sebastian to Germaine the Insane and watched
her archnemesis’s expression upon realizing that Piper had landed a guy Germaine could only dream about.

The only thing marring her happiness was the fact that she’d kissed that other guy in the club. She couldn’t remember his name or even much of what he looked like, and she sure as hell couldn’t remember why she’d been stupid enough to let him kiss her. But she had, and she was afraid she’d ruined everything.

Oh, Izzy had said it was okay not to tell Sebastian, as long as it was just a one-time thing. And it was—God, was it! She never wanted to feel like this again—guilty and sick to her stomach and terrified that Sebastian would somehow find out what she’d done.

She hadn’t set out to kiss that other guy, hadn’t even thought about it. But when he’d grabbed onto her in the club and pulled her close, it had seemed like a natural thing to let him put his lips over hers. It hadn’t lasted very long—in the back of her head, her conscience had been screaming at her to stop, to go back, to run away. So she had, after a few seconds, but by then the damage had been done. She was the worst girlfriend ever.

And the weird thing was, even as she’d been kissing that guy,
experiencing everything Paris had to offer,
she had hated it. It hadn’t been like those fun, flirty kisses when she first got to Paris—maybe because she knew now what she hadn’t known then. That being kissed by a guy who really mattered was worth more than a million kisses from guys who didn’t.

Kissing that strange guy in the club had felt wrong. Not just because it
was
wrong, obviously, but because he wasn’t Sebastian. He hadn’t smelled like Sebastian. Hadn’t felt like him or tasted like him or made her feel anything like she did with Sebastian. Piper’s stomach churned as she tried to figure out what to do. Somehow in the seven weeks they’d been dating, she’d suddenly gone from wanting to gain as much experience as she could to wanting to experience things only with Sebastian. Which would have been frightening if she hadn’t
felt as though he was the other half of her soul. If she hadn’t believed that her heart was completely safe in his hands.

And she hadn’t known just how special that feeling was until the other guy had pressed his mouth to hers and all she’d wanted to do was throw up when she’d realized what was happening. Even though it had been a few-seconds thing and she hadn’t let it happen again. Hadn’t even been
tempted
to let it happen again, not when she felt so icky about its having happened at all.

With a sigh, Piper tried to shove all her concerns back down where she’d hidden them for the past two weeks. She was worrying for nothing, she told herself as she crossed the room to where her instructor kept tissue paper for them to wrap up their glass projects. She had only a little while left in France—surely she could keep Sebastian from finding out about the other guy that long. And once she went home … Once she went home, it would probably be months before she could see him again.

The idea was a lot more depressing than she’d thought it would be when she’d been talking to her friends at the mall all those weeks ago. Had she really thought that she could come to Paris, do wonderful, exciting things with amazing, fascinating people and then just go home? No harm, no foul? It was ridiculous. Paris was wonderful, so wonderful that the idea of going back to Texas was almost unthinkable. Now that she knew what it was like to live the kind of life she’d always wanted—now that she’d made friends here, found a guy she really cared about, found the kind of art she really wanted to do—was she just supposed to give all that up when she got on the airplane back to Texas?

Laying the suncatcher she had just finished on the thin white paper, she stared at its vivid blend of colors—every shade of blue and silver in the spectrum, with subtle hints of purple and green thrown in for effect. She’d made it for Sebastian, for the huge picture window in his room that got such brilliant afternoon sunlight. When he was home from college sometimes, she hoped that he would look at it and think of her and
everything they shared. A long-distance relationship—especially one over the Atlantic Ocean—would be hard. But it wouldn’t be impossible. Not if they didn’t let it be.

Her instructor dismissed the class. Piper finished wrapping the small disk made of intricately twisted glass and then slid it into her purse. She was meeting Sebastian for dinner at a small café a few blocks away. She couldn’t wait to see his face when she gave him the present. He liked her watercolors, but the first time he’d seen the one she’d done of the Eiffel Tower, he’d told her that the medium wasn’t her passion. She’d tried to argue with him, but by then she’d been a few weeks into her glassblowing class and she’d known that he was right.

She made the trip to the café in only a few minutes, reveling in the sights and sounds of Paris in the evening. Night had descended about an hour before and the streetlights gleamed yellow against the black sky. Stores were lit up in reds and oranges and greens, and small bulbs twinkled in many of the trees she passed.

The roads and sidewalks were still slick from the late afternoon rain she’d heard hitting the windows of the glass studio, and ornate lightscapes stretched from one side of the street to the other, rows and rows of them in dazzling golds and whites.

Piper stood on the threshold of the café for a minute, looking back toward the street. Soaking it in. Creating a mental photograph. Trying hard to ground herself in the moment, in the here and now, so that she would never forget what it felt like to stand on a busy street corner in Paris, France. So that she would never forget this perfect sense of rightness, of belonging. So that she would never forget the person she’d been here.

She’d never felt this at home in Paris, Texas, and hated that once she left here she might have to spend the rest of her life without it.

When she was ready, when she knew that she’d be able to call up this exact moment wherever she was, Piper turned and headed into the café. She spotted Sebastian right away. He was seated all the way
at the back of the tiny restaurant, a glass of red wine on the small square table in front of him. She bubbled inside with happiness, knowing she was about to be sitting at an intimate little table, holding hands and flirting with her handsome boyfriend. For the first time in her life, she’d felt like it had finally happened. Like she was all grown up.

Swooping down, she gave him a huge hug before brushing her lips across his. She lingered for a second, and he deepened the kiss, just as she’d hoped he would. God, how was she going to go the next few months without this—without him? She’d grown used to seeing him every day, talking to him, kissing him, just being with him.

Ignoring the little sliver of pain that came with the thought of not being with Sebastian all the time, she asked, “How was your art history test?” She settled herself in the chair across from him. “Did you ace it?”

“I’m pretty sure.” He reached for his glass of wine with a grin, took a sip.

“That’s terrific!” She clapped her hands. “Not that it’s a huge surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who knows as much about art as you do.”

“I don’t know. You’ve got a pretty decent knowledge yourself.”

“What is this?” Piper put her hand to her chest in mock surprise. “A compliment from the guy who once offered to buy me the French masters refrigerator magnets? I’m honored.”

“Actually, I did get you something.” He picked up a bag from the floor next to his chair and handed it to her.

Guilt slammed into her all over again. She was lying to Sebastian and he was buying her presents? Could she get any lower? “You didn’t have to do that,” she finally stammered, tucking her hands in her lap, so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach for the gift. He always gave her the most amazing things.

“Take it, Piper. You know you want to.” He reached for her hand, rubbed a thumb over it. “Besides, I made it for you and I want to know what you think.”

Excitement thrummed through her. Sebastian had made something, had taken the time out of his overloaded schedule to create something just for her. Guilt or no guilt, she had to know what it was.

Expecting a sculpture, she opened the bag and pulled out a small journal. Shooting him a questioning look, she flipped it open and realized it was a photo album, not a notebook. On the inside cover, in Sebastian’s artist’s scrawl were the words,
For the girl who showed me a Paris I’ve never seen before …

Her hands shook a little as she turned the page and saw a beautiful black-and-white nighttime photo of the Louvre courtyard, the beautiful glass pyramid taking up most of the background. The angle on it would have put the photographer right where they’d been standing the first time Sebastian had kissed her.

The next photo was of the park where they liked to walk, followed by one of the catacombs and another of the steps at the Sorbonne, where they’d picnicked a couple of weeks before. On and on she flipped, through pictures of the Champs-Elysées, the Place de la Bastille, the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Beautiful, stark photos of all the places they’d visited and loved.

She had tears in her eyes even before she flipped to the last photo. It was the only picture in the album that was in color, and it was of her.
Is this how Sebastian sees me?
she wondered as she stared, in awe, at the picture. Was this what he meant when he told her she was beautiful? Looking at this picture of herself, wearing a long, flowy dress in shades of purple with the scarf Sebastian had bought her wrapped around her shoulders, Piper could finally see what he was talking about.

This girl with the big sunglasses and blue-streaked hair
was
beautiful. Confident. Happy. Strong. And in love, so in love as she grinned at the guy behind the camera. As she grinned at Sebastian. She’d always worn her feelings on her sleeve, but it still felt strange to sit here and see, in a photo, just how crazy she was about him.