Je t’aimais: Part Six

 Long Walk Home

We met back up with our friends in front of Le P’tit Vélo. It must have been nearly 4:00 in the morning. I had no idea where the time went, but just at that moment I realized that the cute black heels I was wearing had taken their toll on my feet and the air around me was cold.

“Où habitez-vous?” French James Dean asked, wondering where Kayla and I lived. He spoke absolutely no English, which at first was charming, but that late in the night my brain was not up to the challenge. Together, Kayla and I managed to describe where our host parents lived on the northeast part of town.

French James Dean looked guilty and sad. He explained that he and his friend had plans in Paris the next day and needed to catch the first train out of Rennes. Because Gare de Rennes, the train station, was south of the town center, the guys had to go straight there.

French James Dean pulled me aside, “Je suis très content de faire ta connaissance, je souhaite je peut rester près de toi,” he kissed my cheeck, “peut-être, on peut revoir quelque jour…” just then, his friend pulled him away.

Kayla and I were left in Place de St. Anne with no ride, no bus, and a 30-minute walk home. Now I was really regretting that shoe choice. I was quiet, but a million thoughts were swirling in my head and butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“So…where did you guys go off to? What did you do?” Kayla interrogated me as we started the long walk home. Before I had the chance to answer her, we heard loud footsteps approaching quickly. I turned around and there was French James Dean. He was a little out of breathe, but he was able to ask for my phone.

“Voilà, mon numéro. S’il te plait, m’envoies un texto quand tu arrive chez toi, j’ai besoin de savoir que vous êtes saines et sauves.” He handed the phone back to me, his hand lingered on mine for some time before he ran back to catch up with his friend. I guess if he couldn’t escort us back home, the least he could do was give me his number.

“Wow, he must really like you!” Kayla exclaimed.

“Yeah I guess…” He must really like me, I thought, not sure if it was out loud or not.

We continued walking down Rue d’Antrain. Kayla and I kept talking and walking, before I knew it, we were turning the last corner and our houses we only a few more steps away. I looked down at my phone; French James Dean’s number looked so foreign to me, as did his nickname… Flo.

“So, are you going to tell him?” Kayla asked as we reached her house.

“Who?”

“Your fiancé…”

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Je t’aimais: Part One

Writing 101, Day Four

C’est salement romantique

It was April 5th, nearly midnight, and I was a half bottle of wine and two tequila shots in.

He was tall with dark hair, dark jeans, and a dark leather jacket. I instantly thought of James Dean when I saw him; I wondered if this rebel had a cause… He sat right across from me; our melange of francophones and American college students had decided to go to Le P’tit Vélo, a small bar near Place de la Lice. I noticed that he was staring at me, but not saying much. I leaned towards my bestie, Kayla, and she confirmed what I was thinking – he was cute and clearly interested. Most of us were speaking English, that’s what study abroad students do on their time off. James Dean understood only a handful of the words that were being drunkenly slurred across the table, but I did hear him when he whispered to his friend, “Elle a les plus jolies yeux.” She has the most pretty eyes. 

I was smitten. When a brooding, French James Dean falls for a sophomore from the Midwest, she can’t help but fall too.

 

(the title is also the name of a fabulous song by Cœur de Pirate)