When the Heart Falls(100)

I grab everything, slipping back into my shoes as I half-run, half-trip away, my jacket and belt dangling from my arm. I don't look back to see if the hot cowboy is watching the most ungraceful escape ever made by a girl. I just can't deal with him.

This is worse than the time I bought my first box of tampons and found that the checkout clerk was the sexy upperclassman I'd had a crush on since I was in middle school.

Worse than when I threw up in public at a football game.

Worse than anything I can even imagine.

My only consolation is that I'll never see any of those people again. This is one of the biggest airports in the country, and they will be scattered all over the world within a few hours. I'll live down my humiliation in the privacy of my memories.

I dash into the nearest bathroom and hide in an empty stall, waiting for the horror to die down. I can't believe Daring put these things in my suitcase. No wonder she was so anxious to help me pack. Through the years she's played pranks on me. Sharing a room with her has always been an adventure, but this tops the cake.

Once my heart rate returns to normal, I spend the next twenty minutes looking for my gate and debating whether or not I'm going to call my cousin and chew her out, but I don't have the energy for a fight. Better to just forget it and move on.

When I reach my gate, the first thing I see is Monsieur Bellugue, my French professor, holding a sign that says "Summer in France Program". A group of college-age students huddles around him, and I join the mill. Only two of us are from Sarah Lawrence, the rest have flown in from other participating universities. It's an elite program, and I'm still in awe that I got in.

The second thing I see is the sexy cowboy.

Standing with my group.

Looking right at me.

Oh dear God in heaven, why won't you let me die?

Someone places their hand on my hip, and I turn ready to chew them out for invading my personal space, when my mouth goes dry, heart palpating at the sight of Rodney Payne, or as I like to call him, Mr. Asshat.

"Hey, babe," he leers at me. "Long time no see."

"What are you doing here?" I step back, away from his touch.

"I had a last minute opportunity to join the group, and when I found out you'd be here, I couldn't resist. Aren't you happy to see me?" He slides his finger over my cheek and I cringe. "No? Still the Ice Queen I see."

"Don't call me that." He gave me that name when I was a freshman in high school and it has followed me ever since.

My professor spares me further contact with the Asshat when he smiles at me and walks between us, calling us to gather for a little speech. His thick French accent carries through the terminal. "We are all here now, very good, very good. Your seats have all been assigned; please do not change seats during the flight. When we arrive in Paris, we will be picked up by a van and taken to the dorms. There will be testing and an orientation over the next few days so that you know what to expect for your summer. Very good, very good."

He lowers his sign and sits down, crossing his legs in a slightly effeminate way, and tugging on the cuffs of his tweed coat. He bends his salt and pepper head over a book, and I find a seat for myself and do the same, ignoring Mr. Asshat and the pull of the sexy cowboy's eyes, knowing I'm eventually going to have to face them both with such a small group, but putting that off for as long as possible. My book draws me in, an intriguing mystery written under a pen name by our illustrious French professor. I researched him last spring and found out about his side career. With his words, I get lost in another world as time disappears.

My best friend, Jenifer, interrupts my reading by pulling on my arm and shaking me. "How can you read right now? This is the most exciting day of our lives!"

I look up and force a smile at the pretty blond. "The excitement won't really start until we're actually in Paris." Our group has dispersed as we all wait for boarding.

Someone sits next to me and I turn, facing my French professor.

He smiles at me. "Bonjour, Winter. Comment allez-vous?"

"Bonjour, Monsieur Bellugue. Je suis bien. Et vous?"

We carry on our conversation in fluent French, other students eyeing us in surprise.

He chuckles. "You could be teaching these French classes, you know. You're better than most natives."

I shrug. "It was my passport to Paris, in a manner of speaking."

He nods. "I received your emails about your book. I'm sorry I couldn't reply sooner. The plans for this trip took a great deal of time."

"I understand." I wait, hoping he has more to say to me, hoping he'll agree to my request.

He points at the novel in my hand. "I don't even know how you found out about my pen name and my books, but well done." The skin around his brown eyes crinkle into fine lines when he smiles. "And to answer your question, yes, I'd be happy to read and critique your novel when you're ready."

"Thank you. That means a lot to me."

He leans in, whispering, even though I'm pretty sure no one speaks French well enough to follow our conversation. "Let's keep this between us, shall we? I like to stay incognito, as they say."

I match his whispering. "Your secret is safe with me."

He nods and returns to his seat to read, and I dive back into my book, ignoring Jenifer as she prattles on about the trip.