Page 13 of Keeping London (Flawed Heart)

Everyone looks at Loïc.

He rubs the short stubble on his chin. “Well, I first saw her at a charity car wash thing she was doing for her sorority.”

“Was it love at first sight?” Georgia asks.

“Did you notice her right away?” my mom chimes in.

“You guys!” I whine.

But my protests go ignored.

“I don’t think it was love at first sight, but I definitely noticed her.” Loïc pauses for a moment and lets out a small chuckle. “Though it would have been hard not to since she was making it her mission to get my attention.”

I whip my head to the side to give Loïc a glare, but he pretends not to notice.

“I bet she was.” Georgia nods. “I bet her boobs were practically falling out of her bikini top.”

Loïc doesn’t respond, but smiles shyly and exchanges a knowing look with Georgia.

“It was probably like a photo shoot straight out of a titty magazine,” Georgia continues, not caring at all that this conversation is taking place in front of my parents. “London has always been able to turn anyone’s attention toward her.”

“Excuse me,” I huff. “Um, I’m right here, and in my defense, he was wearing his military fatigues and looked darn fine. What was I supposed to do? And he didn’t appear to notice me at all actually.” I roll my eyes.

“I might not have shown that I noticed her, but I did. I just didn’t want to give her the wrong impression because I wasn’t looking for a relationship at the time,” Loïc continues.

“So, what changed your mind?” my mom asks.

“Well, we kept running into each other, and I don’t know…there is just something about her. She’s unlike any girl I’ve ever known. Eventually, I couldn’t fight the attraction we had, and I decided to give her a chance.”

“And?” my mom asks again, like an excited teenage girl.

Loïc places his hand on my leg. “And it’s going really well, better than I ever thought possible.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” my mom says. “You’re leaving next week?” Her tone changes to one of concern.

Loïc’s eyes drop for a second before he meets my mom’s expectant stare. “Yeah, I am…next Friday. I’m deploying to Afghanistan.”

“That sucks,” Georgia gives her two cents.

“Yeah, it’s going to be hard to leave London, but it’s my job.”

“It’s fine,” I say cheerfully. “It’s just a year. It will give me time to crank out a bunch of great articles and hopefully get a more prestigious journalism job. We’ll be able to write letters and emails and talk on the phone pretty regularly. It will go by fast. It will be fine,” I say, trying to reassure everyone, including myself.

“It will be.” Loïc squeezes my leg.

“So, writing’s going well?” my dad asks, switching the topic of conversation from Loïc to me.

“Really well, Dad. The online Ann Arbor news site has been featuring several of my articles every week. They seem to really like them.”

“That’s great, sweetie.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m going to wait for a bit and keep writing for them. At some point, when I build up my portfolio enough, I want to apply to bigger papers. I want to write stories that matter, you know? I’m not going to be stuck writing about the local school district’s school board president race or the university’s new steps to be even more green on campus. I mean, it’s okay for now, but I want to do more.”

“You will. It takes time,” my dad offers.

“Yeah, I know,” I agree.

I’m so happy right now, sitting among the people I love more than anything in this world. If Paige were here, my level of excitement would be uncontainable. How can one person be so lucky in the joy department? For all my imperfections as a person, I must have done something right. I love my life.

---