2.0: We're Gonna Go Adventuring

    "There." I finished brushing the blush onto my cheeks. I shifted uncomfortably in my tight, red lace dress. "This better be worth it." I mumbled. I snapped a picture and texted Evelyn, who'd come with me to her favorite boutique and picked out an array of outfits for me, including the one I wore, and lipsticks, mascara, blush, brushes, and eyeshadow. They were nice, but summery and impractical for a Bridgeport, New York November. My phone binged and I checked my messages.

Evelyn: Hot ;) Luv it
Tiff: Thanks :)  r u coming?
Evelyn: I can't
Tiff: Oh....
Evelyn: Come on! I's ur B-Day! I've got a surprise for u.
Tiff:  What is it?
Evelyn: U know I can't tell ya ;)
Tiff: Gtg...cake time

    I walked downstairs, pulling the lace hem of my skirt down. "Hey guys." I smiled.
    "Wow..." Mom whispered. "Tiff, you look so....grow up!"
    "Like it?" I asked, nervously.
    "Honey, I love it." She leaned over to hug me. "Now let's cut the cake!"

    "Happy birthday  to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday Tiff and Jamie. Happy birthday to you." Cassie, Alex, Harry, and mom all sang, or a more accurate term, screeched. Jamie and I leaned over our cakes and blew out the candles. I wish....I wish I'll find love. Somebody to love me. Who's preferably French. Happiness. Love. Writing poetry at French cafes while sipping lattes with m
y boyfriend. Then he'll lean over, and whisper in my ear 'I love you' and when he pulls away, they'll be a ring....and we'll be married at dusk, under the shining stars and Eiffel Tower in the background, as the world turns from pastel pinks and oranges to crisp blues and shining violets.  Becoming a famed author, traveling the world publicizing my novels. My husband by my side....

    "Tiff. Tiffani?" Harry asked, whipping me from my fantasy.
    "Hmm? What?"
    "Would you like some cake?"
    "Sure." He served me a slice of raspberry vanilla cake with cream cheese frosting.
    "Jamie?"
    "No way, dude. Abs and cake? Dude come on."
    "Jamie." Mother snapped. Lately Jamie had transformed into stuck up Jock guy. We'd graduated a few months ago and he still acted like he ruled the school, with Ms. Cheerleader Cassie Carols hanging onto his arm and other parts of his anatomy. They were extremely public with acts of intimacy...a disgusting fact that I had to go to a shrink to erase the memory of.
    "Whatever." He got up and went over to the living room and began banging on the drum set Mom and Dad bought him for his birthday.
     "Drummers are sooo hot!" Cassie squealed,  grabbing onto him and kissing him.
     "Guys! PDA!" I yelled. Seeing my best friend shove my brother's tongue...and other part of his anatomy..I might need to go back to that shrink..down her throat was emotionally and mentally scarring. Needless to say, Cassie and I were drifting apart; we were just old friends. Not besties. Not BFFs. Not even friends even, really. Just people who used to be.
    "And Tiff," Alex smiled. "Your surprise is upstairs."
    "Oh boy! Oh boy! Is it a pony?" I mimicked a little kid.
    "Come on." Mom smiled, as we all stood up and walked up the stairs except to my room. All of us except Jamie and Cassie who had locked themselves in the bathroom. I heard the shower running.  I stepped into my room and gasped. Evelyn was standing there, with her guitar. Next to her was a mini Eiffel Tower.
    "Guys! I love it."
    "We haven't even given you the present yet." Alex said.
    "Oh." I blushed. Then Evelyn began singing,
    "We're gonna go adventuring. Oh oh oh, we're gonna go adventuring. From Rome to Spain and back again,  my heart travels with you. Oh oh oh. We're gonna go, we're gonna go, woah-oh-oh. Don't call know, I'm adventuring." She sand, strumming her guitar. Then the French verse came, "On va partir à l'aventure. Oh oh oh, on va partir à l'aventure. De Rome à l'Espagne et à nouveau, mon cœur se déplace avec vous. Oh oh oh. On va aller, on va aller, woah-oh-oh. N'appelez pas savoir, je suis aventure."
    "Great-"
    "We aren't done yet." Evelyn smiled.
    "We aren't?"
    "Here." Harry gave me the Eiffel Tower figurine and an envelope. I ripped open the envelope. They say money can't buy happiness, but it can buy last minute first class tickets to Paris. And aren't those the same things?
    "Oh mi-" I gasped, holding back tears of joy. I was utterly, totally shocked."Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I gasped, hugging everyone in the room at least twice.
    "We booked you a room at a hotel for three nights. You leave at three tonight and have a flight home Wednesday at nine p.m." Harry explained.
    "Thank you, thank you, thank you! Wait, today? Like today Sunday, today?"
    "Yeah." Mom nodded. "Alex, Harry can you help me clean up the cake?"
    "Sure."
    "Of course." The trio wandered out of the room, down the stairs.
    "Here." Evelyn handed me the polka dotted turquoise back pack I'd used back in high school. "I packed everything you need ." She winked.
    "Thanks." I rifled through my bag quickly. All the clothing I'd bought earlier was there, plus a little cosmetics bag. I unzipped the cosmetics bag and looked through it. All the makeup I'd bought, toothbrush, toothpaste, mini shampoo bottle, soap, lotion, a hair brush, and con- "Evelyn!"
    "What?" She asked, innocently enough.
    "I don't need-you packed-cond-Evelyn!"
    "What? It's the City of Love. Figured you'd be making a little. 'Sides unless you want to be a teen mom, figured you'd need protection for him."
    "Evelyn...." It was impossible to be mad at her.
    "Come on. It's one-thirty!" She gasped. "We need to get you to the airport." I rushe
d through hugs and goodbyes and found myself standing in the snow waiting for the taxi to JFK to come.

    I sighed a sigh of relief; made it to the plane, on time. First class really was a treat. I know you aren't suppose to think about money when marrying, but I'm really glad that Mom married a retired superstar and not a hobo....not that I wouldn't be happy that she's happy, but having money is nice. Living with the threat of eviction and unpaid bills isn't a lifestyle that I'd advise. With all that Harry had, I was set for life. I took out my laptop and began working on my novel. Words flowed through my fingertips like blood. I finished the novel, requested a drink, then fell asleep. A long, dreamless sleep.
    "We will be landing in Paris, France shortly." A voice over the loud speaker chimed. "Please," she listed the procedures we all knew, but had to be told a thousand times. Excited, I looked out the window. Dawn. We'd arrived at five a.m., whatever the Parisian time zone was. I assume it made sense. A flight from New York to Paris took about seven hours and they were seven hours ahead. So it was like I'd left at ten p.m. Paris time from the States and traveled seven hours.

    I checked into the hotel, took my room key and crashed onto the bed. I was tired. I was in Paris. Paris, France! Twenty-four hours ago, I had no idea what was ahead for me, nor did I know that the day was going to be that crazy. Best birthday gift ever. Paris.....
    "Beep! Beep!" My iPhone began ringing. I groggily sat up. It was eight o'clock. I'd slept les than three hours. But I did have a nap on the plane. Besides, Paris! That by itself was a good enough reason to get up. I showered and got dressed quickly and went downstairs. Groggy tourists where eating breakfast, in their tourist-y sneakers and hats, with cameras strapped around their necks. I had none of that. I decided that a walk in the Parisian sun would be better than talking to a group of  people who, judging by their accents, where from the American South. Also the tee shirts that had a peach on them and Georgia written underneath helped my assumption.

    I wandered the streets, loving everything. The weather was so much better than New York. Gorgeous, scenic views. Crisp, clean air that wasn't the smoggy mess I lived near. And the accents! Paris beats the Brooklyn accents any day.  A little shop with a little sign that said Alexis's Relics was to my right. I ducked in and began to browse. Figurines, jars, knick knacks, and vases lined the walls and filled the shop to the brim. I picked up a pla
in, golden vase and glanced at the price. I had plenty of Euros; I could easily buy the vase, but it was still extremely expensive. Mom would like it. Besides, I can always sell it for a pretty penny, or whatever the European penny is, and buy something else if I found something that I liked better.
    "Ah, Mademoiselle. You're eyes shine, like zee sun." 
    "Thanks. I just want to buy this vase. Acheter relique. That means buy relic, right?" I thought back to my sophomore French classes.
    "But, of course. Or. Comment parfait pour une dame de votre classe."
    "What?"
    "You speak French, oui?"
    "Minimally....New York didn't care much for that language. They cut the class the second semester I took it and replaced it with Spanish."  
   "Honteux, ils devraient être. Ashamed they should be! "
    "Yeah, well...can I just buy this?" 
    "Oui." I handed him the Euros and he handed me the vase again. He began flirting like mad, which was quiet creepy.
    "Look....old are you?"
    "Quarante-sept. Forty-seven." 
    "Older than my MOM! Buh-bye." I slipped the vase in my backpack. I began causally strolling the streets again. My stomach began grumbling, so I ducked into The Catania Cafe.
    "Fromage danois, s'il vous plaît." I ordered a cheese danish. France was magnificent....if you forgot Mr. Creepy. I can look past that, though. You can't stereotype a country based on one person. I hadn't even seen anything that was a landmark or famous and I still loved the country. There was a great museum here, I just had no idea where to go. I walked outside to the Town

   Square and plopped down on the bench, next to a handsome French blonde. I pulled the guide book out of my backpack and flipped to the Tourist Attractions section. La Gallerie d'Art. The directions where nonexistent, but the history of the place was six pages long.

    "Excuse me," I asked the handsome stranger.
    "Oui?" He asked.
    "Parlez-vous anglais?" Do you speak English?
    "Oui. Yes." He had a slight American accent, along with his sexy French accent.
    "I'm looking for-" I stumbled. He caught me. Our eyes met. Electricity. Sparks. I wanted to kiss him so badly.  "The La Gallerie d'Art."
    "I know the way. It's," he began telling me the directions.
    "Will you go with me?" 
    "Like, how you zay, a date?"
    "Yes. Wait, no! No. Well....I mean do you-I just, bad with directions." I blushed.
    "I tease." He laughed. "Zeis isn't a date. I show you real date."
    "Uh,"
    "I tease. You Americans. Vhat's your name?"
    "Tiff."
     "Ah, Tiff. Where are you from?"
     "New York."
     "New York. The city?"
     "Bridgeport. It's pretty big, but smaller than NYC."
     "NYC....ah the people, the places. I studied in America at university." 
     "Really? When?"
     "I was there two years; abroad. I''ve been back about half a year. I graduated know, you see."
     "So you're...I calculated his age. Twenty-two? Twenty-three?"
     "Twenty-one. I went to university at seventeen. How old are you?"
     "Eighteen."
     "Shall we go?"
     "Of course." I rented a scooter and he used the one he owned. Sweet, handsome, smart, French. He met all the standards for guys I can fall for. It suddenly occurred to me  that I had no idea what his name was. I liked him a lot, and I think he liked me, but I had no idea what his name was. I parked next to him and hoped off my scooter. "What's your name?" 
    "Francois. Francois Bonaparle."
    "Nice name."
    "Thank you."
    We stepped inside the museum. Francois insisted that he pay for me, as well as himself.  The art was breathtaking. We walked through rows of Chinese statues, Egyptians gold, and French sculptures and paintings. Lastly, we reached the Greek section. I stared up at the statues, mystified. Somebody did this. Someone actually created a statue out of nothing but a hunk of marble. I never think that I could do that...but somehow I can create a novel out of nothing but ink and paper. Or fingers and a keyboard, if you want accurate. 
    "Amazing, oui?"
    "Oui. It's...somebody did this. Without  modern tools. I just...it seems crazy."
    "Ah, but craziness is love, oui? If zee man loved hez art, he could do crazy. Love makes zee crazy." 
    "Love makes you crazy..." I pondered. Love makes you crazy. I suddenly wanted to fall in love to find out if it was true or not.
    "Museum's closing." A security guard walked past, ruining the moment. "Everybody out."  We strolled out. The sky had turned a dark navy blue, with silver beams of stars. 
    "Thank you...we should.....again sometime."
    "When you leave?"
    "Wednesday night." 
    "Tomorrow then? We can call it a real date. I can pick you up at, say, eleven? Are you staying at the hotel?"
    "Yes. A real date...I don't know, this seemed like a pretty good first date."
    "Well, we French men know how to treat a lady."
    "You do." I leaned over to him and kissed his lips. They were cold and soft. "You do." I whispered. I turned away, leaving him in shock. I hopped on my scooter and began driving back to the hotel. He stood there, dazed. 
    "Tiff. Don't leave." I heard his soft whisper in the breeze. I wanted to g o running into his arms, but I used all the courage I had to kiss him. He was a great kisser. Tomorrow  I'd see him tomorrow. Tomorrow.  I wish it was tomorrow already.