Page 38 of Crossing Lines

“Mind if I shower first?” I ask Iree while opening my suitcase.

She glances back at me. “Go ahead. I need to let my brother know I made it, and no one’s kidnapped me.”

I smirk. “It’s past 1 a.m. in Baltimore.”

“He’s atKrossfire,” she says with a lift of her shoulder.

“Ah.” The mention of the club leads to visions of its owner. I blink his handsome face away and tell her, “Pick any bed you like. Let’s try to sleep for a few hours and walk around before dinner.”

A sweet expression masks her face. “Thanks again for this, D. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate you convincing Chavonne.”

“It’s fine. She wants everyone to have the experience.” Putting on slippers, I grab my hygiene kit and enter the chic Parisian bathroom, in awe of the patterned tiles, clawfoot tub, and statement mirror with a gilded frame.

Exiting after my shower, I hear Iree mention Kross, and that causes a flutter in my belly.

She concludes her call and places the phone on the table by her bed. “Kross says hi.”

“Okay.”Act cool.

“Seems y’all are friends now. Have you been back to the club since opening night?”

“Yeah. Place is a vibe. Kross is a nice guy.”

“Huh,” is all she says before entering the bathroom.

I wrap my straightened hair, secure it in the bonnet, and draw the curtains to shut out the morning light. Climbing into bed, I pick up my phone and call Jamir to tell him I’m in Paris. He doesn’t answer. I guess it’s too late. Regardless, he could have stayed up, considering his arrogant ass stormed off Friday night and hasn’t called. Annoyed, I text him and Trishell before closing my eyes to try and sleep.

We stroll the streets of Rue Saint-Dominique, enjoying the vibrant afternoon, the trendy styles suitable for the cool March weather, and the view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

Following a tour of Musée d'Orsay and a brief stop at Arc de Triomphe, we meet Chavonne, Wren, and the team for dinner. Afterward, Iree suggests checking out some French bars. It’s midnight by the time we return to the hotel room. We take turns washing up, and she collapses in her bed, falling asleep immediately. I was like her at twenty-five, ready to take on the world. I’ve slowed down a lot since.

Restless, I sit on the balcony cloaked with a blanket, staring at the starry sky. My phone vibrates in my hand with a text from Trishell telling me to have fun. There’s still nothing from Jamir. He could have at least replied to my message, but it seems he’s still ignoring me.

Having the strong impulse to talk to Kross, I scroll through my contacts to the letter K. He offered me something, and calling him is an answer.

“Hello?” His raspy voice makes my heart sprint.

“Ahem. It’s Davia. Did I wake you?”

“I just woke up from a quick nap.” He clears his throat. “It’s cool. Hey, Ms. Designer. You’re calling me from Paris.”

“Yeah. So, about stopping by the youth center. I can be there at noon on Saturday.”

“Great. You’ll love the kids.” He hums. “You called me from Paris to set that up?”

I touch my neck. “It just popped into my head.”

There’s a quiet pause before his low breath. “How is the city of light and love?”

“Uh, good.” I glance over my shoulder into the room, checking if Iree is still asleep. Her snoring confirms it. “I don’t know. Something feels missing compared to the previous trips.”

“What’s different this time?” he asks.

I relax in the comfort of his tone, saying, “I’m not sure. Guess I’m changing after turning twenty-eight.”

“You’ll experience that more when you hit your thirties.”

“Speaking of age,” I say on an exhale. “How old are you, Kross?”

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