Chapter Thirty-Four

December 2005

Never in a million years did Mandy ever think she would be spending New Year's Eve in Paris. Mandy should've been home in California, but the closer and closer her departure date approached, the more apprehensive she was about actually going back. What would she be going back to anyway? Her old room in her parents' house? Back to apply for colleges she wasn't even sure she wanted to go to? Back to a town where everything in it reminded her of Isa?

It had been about four months since Mandy said goodbye to her, and it didn't hurt any less to think about. She poured herself into her studies. Tried and failed at so many pieces, because she was blocked—because she wasn't good enough. And she needed to talk to someone about it but couldn't, since the only person Mandy needed wasn't talking to her. Nor would there be any reason for Isa to ever want to talk to Mandy again.

Mandy couldn't even make it home for Christmas. Her heart was in the United States, but it wasn't in California. It was somewhere on the East Coast. Breakups had never been this hard before. But Mandy knew why this one was different. Because Isa was different. Because their relationship was different. Because Mandy never wanted to break up with her to begin with. So she convinced her parents to come out and spend the holidays in Europe with her, and then she convinced them to allow her to extend her studies, saying she could apply to colleges from anywhere, and telling them schools wouldn't take her midterm anyway.

The New Year's party Mandy attended was in the flat of a friend of a friend of Sophie's. Some guy with shoulder-length dark hair, deep brown eyes, warm bronze skin, and by the looks of the flat, lots of money. There were so many people, there was no place for Mandy to be alone—which was probably a good thing. Although this not being alone didn't stop her from all the thoughts swirling in her head. Mandy didn't know why she even agreed to come to this. Trying to socialize with a bunch of random people was the last thing Mandy wanted to do. Her plans were to go to the cantina near her flat, gorge herself on chips and terrible salsa, and then go home to cry in bed alone. So basically, the thing she had done at least once a week since being in Europe. But Sophie dressed her up and dragged her out, saying she couldn't keep moping around. But moping was the only thing Mandy wanted to do.

She casually sipped from her bottle and pretended to be interested in the painting on the wall. A French artist from what Mandy could tell by the signature, but one Mandy hadn't heard of before.

"Pretty," someone said on her right. The voice was like Sophie's—British, not French. A girl with platinum blonde hair and the bluest eyes stood next to Mandy in a sequined minidress.

"The composition is a little too busy for my tastes. But I do appreciate the limited color palette. It shows some restraint and makes you really think about why they placed the gold where they did." Mandy tipped her head to the side, studying the piece a little more.

"I wasn't talking about the painting." The girl was looking straight at Mandy.

Mandy blinked.

"That was bad, wasn't it? My mates told me to come over and talk to you, and now I must look like the biggest wanker. Giles said that Sophie said that you were into girls too and…I should piss off, shouldn't I?" It was adorable the way her pale cheeks lit up like two bright neon cherries. Mandy had never really been hit on before like this. She was being hit on, right?

Mandy smiled. "No. You don't have to go."

The girl smiled back. "Cool. I'm Poppy."

"Mandy."

"Yeah, I know."

For a moment they just stared at each other. Mandy swirled the liquid around in her bottle and got a whiff of what had to be Poppy's perfume—lavender and patchouli. "So you were asking about me, huh?"

"You are the only posh American girl in the room. We all just really want to hear your accent. I know I could personally listen to it all night."

Mandy laughed. "The feeling's mutual." And there were those red cheeks again. "Poppy's fitting. At first, I'd say you are more of a sunflower, but I get it now."

As though she knew what Mandy was talking about, Poppy touched her cheeks with both hands. "It's a curse, really. I'm shit at poker."

"There are worse things than not being able to lie."

Poppy shrugged. "When you put it that way."

Mandy wasn't sure what to say. She stood there fidgeting with the bottle in her hands. The liquid inside had already grown warm, so she didn't really want to drink it, but Mandy also didn't know what she was supposed to do, so she took a small swig and tried not to make a face when the yeasty mixture hit her tongue. This whole flirting thing was exhausting.

"Yeah, I hate that stuff too." Poppy lowered her voice. "Come on, let's get you something better."

Mandy didn't really want anything else, but she also didn't really want to talk about it, so she followed Poppy. The crowd of people's faces blurred, their conversations crashed into the music playing somewhere in the background, turning it into the sound of a traffic accident.

In the kitchen it wasn't as loud, but the scent of stale beer lingered like someone had spilled some and didn't properly clean it up. Poppy took her time mixing an amber-colored fruity liquor with something like Sprite, but she called it lemonade. She joked and glanced at Mandy through her eyelashes, until she was finally done and handed Mandy a glass. It tasted significantly better than the warm beer.

In a way, it was strange being with Poppy. She was sweet, and funny, and pretty, and she was definitely flirting with Mandy—which was why Mandy's stomach rolled around with moments of calm that shifted to moments of panic. Because there were things Poppy did that reminded Mandy of Isa. The way Poppy would lightly jab her elbow into Mandy's side, or the way she could raise just one single eyebrow. Mandy alternated between being in the moment and not thinking of Isa at all, to all of her thoughts being consumed with her, which made being with Poppy excruciatingly awkward from time to time.

Poppy took a sip of her drink, blue eyes peering over the top of her glass. "Sophie said you're a painter."

That was what Mandy had come to Europe to learn more about, but she had way more failures than she did successes. And aside from showing in a "student gallery," no one had ever even seen her work, so could she even call herself a painter? "I mean, I paint."

Poppy giggled—that was the only way to describe the way she laughed, all quiet and shy, and she covered her mouth anytime it happened. "Well, that would make you a painter then."

Mandy just shrugged.

"It's like me. I'm studying costume design, but I already make costumes, so doesn't that make me a costume designer? Just because I haven't finished learning doesn't mean I'm not already one. With art there will never be a finished learning moment, so when do we get to claim it?" She took another small sip and quickly brought her glass down. "I say we get to now. It's not like being a solicitor or doctor or anything." Satisfied with that answer, Poppy brought her glass back up to her lips.

But there it was again. The reason Mandy was in Europe alone. The reason her heart still hurt after all these months. Isa had to become a doctor. That was her plan, and Mandy couldn't take that away from her. The air seemed to thicken as Mandy slid her finger across the glass clutched in her hand, removing some of the condensation, and she was immediately thrown back to the time when she and Isa had taken one of their little "trips" to get away from parental eyes.

They'd do that from time to time—make up a reason or a place they had to go so they could be alone and have deep conversations where they could stare into each other's eyes or hold each other, which also sometimes—okay, lots of times—led to making out. It wasn't as if she could help it; Isa was so beautiful, and the physical connection was something Mandy yearned for.

One time in particular though, Mandy parked her car behind the movie theater and slid into the back seat with Isa. That time it wasn't to talk. Electricity had been brewing between them all day, and Mandy felt as though she'd jump out of her skin if she couldn't just touch Isa. The way Isa grabbed Mandy by the collar as soon as Mandy closed the door said Isa felt it too. Isa kissed Mandy with so much force it sent tingles to her toes. She wanted, no, needed, to be closer—for their skin to connect. Mandy's breathing was rapid as she trailed kisses down the front of Isa's body and continued lower. Isa's moans shook Mandy to her core as they took turns satisfying each other. After they were both completely spent, Mandy had to wipe her hand across the window to remove the evidence of their labored breathing before she could drive Isa home.

Now as Mandy stood in that kitchen, the backs of her eyes burned. "I have to go to the bathroom." And before Poppy could say anything, Mandy took off. The air inside the flat was too heavy and warm; it was hard to breathe.

She pushed out onto the terrace and found a corner away from everyone, bracing herself against the railing—the cold metal biting into her palms. Don't cry. Don't cry. Her chest tightened, and a tear slipped down Mandy's cheek. She should never have come to this party.

"Mandy?" Sophie said before she came up next to Mandy.

"I just needed some air," Mandy lied.

Sophie placed her hand on Mandy's arm. "No. You just need to stop punishing yourself."

"I'm not—"

"But you are. Look. I know you miss her, but you can't change the past."

"I should've stayed. I shouldn't have come…"

"And why's that? Because her dreams were more important than yours?"

"I could've waited."

Sophie tugged Mandy's arm to get her to face her, and then held Mandy's arms in her hands. "You get to have your dreams too. I obviously don't know Isa, but from what you've told me, she would never have wanted you to give up on your dreams either. You did the right thing. For her and for you."

"It doesn't feel that way."

"And it may not for a long time. But you can't keep doing this to yourself. You have to move on. You were meant to be here. You're going to be a famous artist one day. Just like how she's going to be some great doctor."

Cold air nipped at Mandy's damp cheeks and nose. "I miss her."

"I know you do." Sophie squeezed both of Mandy's elbows. "I'm going to kiss you now because I care about you. And it's going to feel awkward and wrong, but it's something you need to do so you can press on, and it needs to be with someone who understands, okay?"

Mandy hadn't even thought about kissing anyone since she left the States. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Isa had been the love of Mandy's life—the person she confided in, the person she could be the most vulnerable with, and being vulnerable wasn't easy for Mandy. She may have loved love, but she was always a little bit scared to let her walls completely down—except with Isa. Maybe it was stupid, but Mandy thought she'd never kiss anyone but Isa for the rest of her life. And now she was here—in Paris—without her.

Sophie stared at Mandy, her hands so warm, so steady on Mandy's arms. Maybe Sophie was right. As much as Mandy hated the thought of a life without Isa, Mandy couldn't stop living; she had to move on. So she didn't say anything, she just nodded.

Sophie pressed her lips to Mandy's. They were soft and kind, but she was right, they were also so awkward and wrong. Tears streamed down Mandy's cheeks, but she didn't push away. She stayed there with her lips pressed against Sophie's until her chest tightened so hard she couldn't breathe, and then she sobbed into Sophie's shoulder.

Sophie tightened her grip around Mandy there on that balcony, holding her up when all she wanted to do was crumble to the ground. "It's going to get better. I promise."

As the crisp air stung Mandy's wet cheeks, and her lungs started to fill once again, Mandy wanted so badly to believe Sophie, and for a fleeting moment she did.