All for You (Paris Nights #1)(5)

Instantly, that vision flooded back: her clinging to him on the back of a motorcycle, blowing this place as that deep, powerful motor roared them out of here to a new life.

Her nails flexed into her palm, trying to drive that dream back.

It was kind of hell having such a crush on her brother’s friend, when she knew it wasn’t reciprocated. But she still hadn’t managed to get up the courage to just leave him and go find her own way in the world, either. Come on, Célie, you’re eighteen now. You’ve got to just do it.

They reached the worn-out green space in front of their building that once upon a time had been some architect’s idea of bringing nature to fifteen-story towers. All three of the limp, exhausted trees had their trunks covered with initials, bottles broken at their bases, here and there a syringe. Giant concrete towers rose above them, as if they’d been set there to turn humans into cockroaches and then crush the life out of them. Célie’s apartment was up there, floor fourteen, its windows unbroken. Joss’s was on floor seven.

A lot of stairs, when the elevator broke down.

“Where would you go?” she asked. Maybe I can tag along.

“Away from here,” he said flatly.

Yeah. That was pretty much where she wanted to go, too.

She touched his wrist gently. Once in a while she tried something like that. I’m sixteen now, all grown up. I’m seventeen now, all grown up. I’m eighteen now, all grown up. Are you ever going to notice?

He turned and faced her, in front of the doors to their tower, under a lonely tree scarred with so many initials that there was even one that said J + C that didn’t mean them at all. Over it, someone had carved an obscene symbol.

“Joss.” Her heart broke a little for him. Sure, he tried to keep his expression neutral, but she’d known Joss a long time now. Behind that stoic expression, he held so much tense determination not to be beaten down by this place. And yet it was trying to break him. He was a good mechanic, she knew he was. He was a good guy. A really good guy. And yet just by association with her drug-dealing brother, he’d lost his job. He couldn’t even find another one. It hurt her, every day that he couldn’t. “Joss. You know you’re amazing, don’t you?” She felt so shy to say it but somebody had to tell him.


“Célie.” His eyes closed a second, and he shook his head.

She stuck her chin up. “Well, you are.”

“Célie.” He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, and she stilled. Even her heart tried to stop. Her lips parted, and she stared up at him.

Had he—was he—had Joss finally noticed her? As something other than his friend’s pain-in-the-neck kid sister? Had Ludo’s removal from their relationship somehow allowed him to see her?

“I’m never going to let you down,” Joss said, low and fierce. “I swear it, Célie.”

“No,” she agreed firmly, making a fist of encouragement, cheering him on. “You won’t. I know you won’t.” You’re such a good guy. My only good guy. And behave, you stupid wiggles. “You can do anything.”

“Right,” he agreed, that monosyllabic intensity of Joss’s that turned one short word into a vow. He shifted his hand to her chin, still holding her eyes.

She held very still. She kept her lips faintly parted. Just in case that was all the encouragement he needed to bend his head and …

Kiss her on the cheek.

Damn it!

The other cheek.

Her heart sank in disappointment.

But he didn’t let go of her chin, after the good-bye bises were finished. “Célie. I’ve got to go.” That deep voice of his made her want to curl up with it so badly. Most nights, she pretended Joss and his deep voice were in her bedroom with her, just to comfort her enough so that she could fall asleep.

Something about the intensity in his eyes made her want to step forward and curl up in him now—press herself against his chest, get him to fold his arms around her, as if he was going to be wrenched from her if she didn’t. But other than the time when she’d started crying after her brother was arrested, he never did hold her. She was the kid sister.

“I know,” she said wistfully. Of course he had to go. He probably had a date or something. She was such an idiot.

His other hand shifted in his pocket. As if he was clenching it and unclenching it.

“You’ll be all right?” he said.

Up went her chin. “Of course I will!” This place could not get to her.

He bent again. And—

Damn it.

A third kiss on her cheek. A fourth.

The full four bises, as if they came from some extra-affectionate part of France, the kind of regions where arriving at a party and greeting all the guests exhausted your cheeks. Not so common here, unless for a greeting after a long absence or a long good-bye. Or maybe, to give each other courage.

Or maybe because … he was noticing her? Maybe liking her? Not quite ready to move straight to a kiss on the mouth, but getting interested? Wanting an excuse to touch her more?

She tried to hold very still, so as not to shake any possibility of a birth of interest away.

“Célie.” He closed his eyes a moment. “The way you look at me.”

What was wrong with the way she looked at him? Heat climbed into her cheeks. Damn it, if he knew about those wiggles …