“I don’t usually carry one, no.”
“Well shit,” she says, chewing her lip and contemplating. “Give me your shoe.”
“My shoe?” I ask, amused.
“Yes, we’ll bash the end of the bottle until the cork pops out.”
“And that will work?” I ask, unlacing my trainer.
Anya shrugs. “I saw it online once.” She takes the shoe I hold out and starts smacking it against the bottom of the bottle. I try not to laugh at her look of concentration as she spanks a wine bottle with half of a pair of Reebok trainers.
“Stop laughing,” she hisses. “You try.”
She shoves the bottle and my shoe into my hands.
“Why don’t you just see if one of the people around here have a spare we can borrow?” There are a lot of things I would do for this girl, but this is probably my limit.
“Why don’t you ask?”
“You’re the one who speaks French.”
She rolls her eyes as she pushes to her feet. There’s a smattering of dust on the back of her smooth thigh from the ground and I have to sit on my hands to stop myself from brushing it off.
I watch as she approaches a group further down the bank. She gestures with her hands and the woman at the front nods as she hands over a corkscrew. Anya says something which makes the group laugh and she waves as she walks away.
“Pass it here,” Anya says, standing over me. My eyes are level with the hem of her dress as it flutters in the wind. I can’t take this anymore. It’s like I’ve never seen legs on a beautiful woman before.
I pass over the bottle and she uncorks it easily. She returns the corkscrew to the group and I wait for her to settle before saying, “We don’t have glasses.”
“Ugh.” She groans dramatically, slumping against the wall.
I laugh and place my hand on her thigh, “We can just share, freckles.” Her soft skin under my palm is inviting and I can’t help myself from brushing my fingers against her smooth skin. Her eyes widen at my ministrations, her mouth parting.
I could easily lean forward just slightly and capture those lips with my own.
“Here.” I hand her the wine and watch as she brings the stem of the bottle to her mouth.
“Have you ever done this before?” she asks, looking away.
“Drink wine out of the bottle?” I ask, taking it from her. “Once or twice.”
“Very funny,” she replies. “Have you ever worked in Paris before?”
“I haven’t, but I’ve come with Pip for Fashion Week a few times. Not my kind of thing usually but it was alright.” I look out at the setting sun as it bathes the banks of the Seine in beautiful pink and gold. “What about you? You worked here before?”
“No,” she says. “I came here to visit my aunt once or twice as a teenager but then my mum stopped speaking to her and I haven’t been here since.”
“What did they stop speaking?”
Anya shrugs. “I have no idea. I was too young to get it and it’s too late to bring it up now. Although, mum did reach out about using Claudette’s apartment so who knows? Maybe they’ll make up.”
“What’s your mum like?”
“She’s one of a kind,” Anya smiles. “She’s a French teacher so she’s always complaining about her students, but I know she loves it.”
I see her open her mouth ready to ask about my mother so I jump in with another question before she can.
“So what do you want to do next? After the film, I mean.”