Their excitement crackled in the air between them like static electricity, from the cab to the airport, in the plane from the City of Glass to the City of Love, and in the cab to the hotel.
Paris at last, and they held hands or made out during each leg of the trip from Vancouver. But they weren’t teenagers high on new love, uni students drunk on wanderlust, or even newlyweds woozy with the thought of a euphoric life together. No, Michael and Sofia were those most pitiable of people—they were parents of pre-teens.
They had been looking forward to this trip for months, saving every penny they could for two years. Many evenings were spent cuddled in bed, the west coast rain pounding the windows outside, holding the iPad between them as they browsed—museums, art galleries, and of course, the Eiffel Tower. Naturally, they would visit those places, and the patisseries and cafes too, but it was the hotel that grabbed their attention, the hotel they talked excitedly about, long after they had made their reservation.
Old but not rickety, well-appointed, but not lavish. Large, airy. Their suite would be an oasis above the busy Paris streets, close to the Louvre. A bed so large, its white sheets and duvet were like a cloud, far removed from the bustle and chaos of their everyday lives. They were positively giddy at the thought of that suite.
When departure day finally came, the kids dropped off at their grandparents with promises to call every day, Sofia and Michael felt like young virgins, uni students, and newlyweds, all at the same time.
They made out in the taxi in Vancouver, and then lugged their suitcases through the terminal. They felt up each other’s...
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Read all about the wonderful author: JK Mill
so fuckin HOT😘
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