Page 16 of I Love You in French

I wish I could go back to a few minutes ago, when I was happily trusting and channeling Schmidt from New Girl. But I can’t. And so, it’s time to attempt to fix this fiasco.

“Look, you’re into him, right?” I ask. I hope she says no, but I don’t think that’s what I’m going to get here. She shakes her head both up and to the side, which is confusing.

“I mean, yes, of course—did you see him?” she says softly.

I make a face and shrug. “Well, of course I did, but honestly, I don’t get the appeal.”

A frustrated noise escapes from her throat. I gently reach for her hand in an attempt to comfort her, but when she looks at my hand like it could burn her, I drop it immediately.

“But you like him,” I say the next part quickly, “and I thought you needed me to help you.”

She tilts her chin up and takes a step closer. I try not to notice the way the air is crackling between us. “Why would you think I needed you to help me?”

“Because you gave me these eyes that were, like, ‘Help me!’ or something.” I slide my hand through my hair and feel my eyes narrow as I brace for impact. Instead, she blinks. “I mean, I don’t know you well enough yet. So maybe that’s not what you meant?”

“Of course not,” she huffs. And I hate how adorable she is to me right now. “I’m a lone croissant—and I was going to tell him!”

She rises on her toes so we’re closer to eye level. She’s still shorter than me, even though she’s tall, and I think that if we don’t turn this around soon, I’m going to kiss her.

“Sparrow,” I begin. I hold up my hands in surrender, and she lowers onto her heels again. “You’re upset with me for saying something that prevented him from asking you out?”

She nods quickly. We’re inches apart, and I’ve never wanted to scoop someone up in my arms more than this woman in front of me. “You were really going to say yes to him?”

She hesitates, then nods once. It’s slight, but I caught it.

“Then I just have one question.” She exhales and puts her hands on her hips. “Why did you look at me?”

Her neck tilts as her eyes scan the front of my chest frantically. It’s like she’s searching for the answers or a superhero symbol right in front of her and can’t seem to find either. She drops her shoulders and sighs. “I don’t know,” she says quietly. When her eyes finally lift back to mine, I see the corners glistening with tears. “I don’t know,” she says again.

Something scratches at the back of my throat. I can’t tell whether I’m irritated or grateful that I now know she smells like caramelized sugar and dreams.

“Okay, well, we can work with this,” I say softly. Partly because I can’t handle seeing her cry right now, and partly because I’m apparently eager to get my heart run over.

Sparrow quirks her head to the side. “How?”

“Do you want me to tell him it was all a misunderstanding?”

“That’s even more embarrassing.”

“Well, Jacques is still standing out there. Kind of a bad look on his part, but there he stands.” I cringe and motion to the front of the store. “Which tells me that he’s jealous.”

She scoffs like the idea is unbelievable. “Jealous? Of whom? An orphan who owns a bakery and can’t seem to keep coffee grounds off her clothing?”

It’s clear she didn’t mean for me to hear the honesty she just threw down between us. I reach out and touch the side of her arms, pushing through the delicious sear of pain the touch brings. I look at Jacques through the window. It’s infuriating. He doesn’t deserve her. Sparrow catches my look of scorn and narrows her eyes. Now I’m glaring at him like I have superhero powers I could activate and eliminate him all at once (for the record, I wouldn’t hurt him ...just move him to a different planet).

“So, let’s date. You and me.”

She blinks again. And again. I expect her to refute it, and so I use the opportunity to dig myself in even deeper.

“Fake date, of course,” I add, only to break the silence. My new roommate and friend, aka Hallmark Hot G, is going to have so many words for me. If anyone knows about contracts and messy agreements, it’s him. But here I am, second day in town, making a mess and betting on being able to convince him that I have a good feeling about this and that it’s worth the risk.

Sparrow searches my face with an intensity I’ve never seen before. Her eyes catch on a piece of my hair that’s hanging near my eyes. Her hand lifts toward it while tension in the air hums. She shifts her gaze toward her hand as if she doesn’t know how it got there, and then it falls in a smooth move around her back while her other hand rests across her middle. She’s all wrapped up in her own embrace. Whether for comfort or protection, I’ve yet to discover.

“Oh, um—and why would we do that?”

Interest seems like a good sign, so I start to pick up steam with this idea. “Well, you saw how he reacted just from thinking that we’re together.”

I must be making sense because she nods.

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