Chapter 17

T hree days.

I could live my life for three days; that seemed easy enough.

I sat on my hotel room bed the next morning, staring out the window as the sun rose and trying—failing—to think of things to do that day. I was determined to prove to Simon that I could live forever. I was in Paris. There had to be hundreds of things for me to do here to demonstrate how much I loved living. Food, culture, history, literature. The sky was the limit—at least, it should have been.

Try as I might, I couldn't think of a single thing.

Back home, I had a routine. I went to work. I slept. I went out drinking with my work friends or my boyfriend. I went to brunch at my parents' house. Then, I repeated the process… over and over again until it became my entire life.

I never traveled because I couldn't afford the time off work. And where would I go, anyway? I worked so much that I dated my coworkers. My parents—and Addie, when I could reach her—were the only people I talked to who had nothing to do with the hospital.

Before work, school was the same way. On weekends, I spent my time alone, with Addie at the observatory or watching astronomy documentaries. Over the years, as school became more intense and eventually became work, my hobby dwindled to a simple photo from NASA every day and a documentary once or twice a month when I managed an hour to myself. Somehow, I had become so busy that I didn't have a life outside of studying or working.

I never saw it happening.

"Fuck," I swore, burying my face in my hands. I had no idea who I was and never realized anything was wrong.

Begrudgingly, I pushed myself out of bed and got ready for the day. I braided my hair, dressed in a black shirt and denim shorts, and stared at myself in the mirror.

Did I recognize that girl? The one with the sad, empty gaze. I leaned forward, tracing my fingers over the dark bags beneath my eyes with a long sigh; they seemed darker than I'd ever seen them, the glint of green I was used to seeing long gone. I resented that this was the version of me that had arrived in Paris, as if I could tarnish this city with my broken soul.

It was barely after seven in the morning when I stepped out onto the street. There was a slight chill to the air that would no doubt be gone in a couple hours. I gripped my travel pack to my chest and set off walking. I hadn't called Addie yet, though I needed to. I owed her an apology for storming off again.

Before I could, an idea formed in my mind the same instant I almost walked past the café where I'd eaten several times already. I surveyed the morning crowd, sparse from the early hour.

As I expected, Simon sat in the back corner, his digital pen moving quickly across the screen of his tablet.

I stopped at the edge of the café, lingering near the gate to take in the sight of him. The early morning light glinted on his ashy blonde hair. He chewed on his bottom lip while he worked; a half-empty latte sat on the table in front of him.

His eyes flicked up as if he sensed me watching, and he waved a little in greeting. I straightened my shoulders and slipped past the outermost tables. Simon lowered his tablet when I approached, placing it face-down on the table.

"Good morning, Lucinda," he said warmly. "Here for a cup of coffee?"

"No," I said, inclining my chin. "Well, yes, but that's not the real reason."

"Oh?" Simon tilted his head, waiting for me to continue.

I did. "Show me Paris."

Simon flicked his tongue against the corner of his mouth and chuckled. "Why?"

"Because I've never been here before, and you live here," I said, then added, "And you never said I couldn't ask for help."

"You need help?"

I sighed in frustration. "I realized this morning that my whole world has always been work or school, and I've never had any time for extracurriculars. Well, I never made the time. I could have if I wanted to. But, the point is, I don't think I know who I am or what I like at all, and I'd like to find out."

"Why can't you ask your sister?"

"I don't think she'll understand."

"And you think I do?" Simon challenged.

"Yes."

I couldn't explain why, but I knew he did.

Simon sat back in his chair, his eyes searching mine. I stared back at him. I was sure he thought of me as some desperate, mentally ill American girl—and he was right. I was desperate. I needed him to do this for me.

"What if I have better things to do?" he asked, sipping his coffee.

"Cancel them," I said.

He smiled, then. "You're brave."

"Or stupid."

He motioned for the chair next to him. "Have some coffee and a croissant, then we can go."

It took everything I had to keep from squealing in joy.

I sank into the chair next to the vampire with a beaming smile.

"I would have thought you'd take me to the Eiffel Tower first," I commented, following Simon up the stairs and out of the metro station.

"Too much of a tourist spot," he replied.

"I want to see the tourist spots," I whined.

He glanced back at me. "You asked me to show you this city. Now hush your mouth and follow me."

"Rude," I shot back, but followed him nonetheless.

Simon led me through what seemed like a thousand miles of small, mostly empty streets. I admired locals living their everyday lives, unbothered by the hustle and bustle of the middle of the city. We walked through a small garden, where an older man and woman sat on a bench and whispered sweet nothings to each other, and a man walked his tiny dog. I admired people on their balconies setting out flowers, wringing out rags, and watching passersby.

When it finally seemed like we were going nowhere, Simon led the way up to a building with a short line out the door. I tilted my head in shock, opening my mouth to argue when he paid the doorman for two tickets.

"I could have done that," I said when we stepped inside, patting my travel bag.

"It's my pleasure." He didn't look back at me when he spoke. He walked down a dark hallway, pushing through a curtain.

I followed behind him, my jaw hitting the ground when I stepped into the room beyond the curtain. It was an empty warehouse of sorts, but every surface was covered in moving art projections.

"Welcome to L'Atelier des Lumières, " Simon said in my ear, placing his hand on the middle of my back. His breath on my neck sent shivers down my spine, and I almost— almost —leaned into him.

I followed him blindly, turning in a circle as I took in the art surrounding me. Sunflowers decorated every inch of the room. Some grew in size while others danced across the floor. Simon sat against the wall, and I sat beside him, pulling my knees to my chest and watching the world move. My heart swelled when yellow turned to blue, and one of the most famous paintings in the world took over the room.

Van Gogh's Starry Night moved as if it was alive. My eyes traced every paint stroke and every vivid color as every one of them came to life around me.

On and on the exhibit went, seamlessly transitioning from painting to painting. My heart raced as I watched it all.

And when it was over, I dragged Simon to the other side of the room to watch it again from a different perspective.

I'd never felt my soul soar like that before.

I thought I might cry when we finally left. I fell into step next to Simon when we stepped out into the bright, hot morning.

"Wow," I breathed, looking over at him.

His green eyes were soft and shockingly human as he watched me. "You enjoyed it?"

"I loved it." I placed two hands over my racing heart, overwhelmed by the sensation. "Thank you."

Simon offered me his arm. "The day's just begun."