24 Hours in Paris

Chapter Four

One p.m.

Mira took the lead in navigating the route through the winding streets of Paris. For Jake, that was a welcome relief, as it spared him from looking at his phone screen and having to see another text from Colette. Yes, Colette, not a text from the imaginary trader he'd
described to Mira. His on-the-spot lie was a hell of a lot easier than explaining what was really going on.

Just a casual request for a dick pic, he thought. Isn't that great, Mira?

While Jake had experience in taking specific photos at flattering angles, the timing had been horrible. He just couldn't see himself jumping into the bathroom for an X-rated photo shoot, not when Mira had been so generous with her storage space, her shower, and now, her time.

Or maybe she would be cool with it. He began to imagine bro-ing out with Mira over his hookup, but some muddy details from last night's dinner started filtering in. Like how Mira had been disgusted by the moves he was putting on the waitress. Or maybe she'd been disgusted this morning, when he'd stumbled into the hotel lobby and told her about his one-night stand. He struggled to determine which scenario was true.

Maybe he was still a little drunk.

For now, his goal was to avoid spoiling Mira's afternoon, which included steering clear of awkward dick pic conversation.

With that in mind, Jake decided on ignoring Colette, with the plan to apologize later.

Mira sprinted a few yards ahead. "Ready for a little exercise?"

His long strides slowed to a stop, as he fully absorbed the looming set of stairs that stood between them and the next street up.

Jake was glad they'd traded in the sidewalk garbage and cell phone repair shops for quiet streets, corner cafés, and cobblestone—which people always seemed to be obsessed with when dreamily referring to Paris. What he wasn't glad about? The hellish staircase that seemed to go on forever.

"Well?" she urged, jogging up the first few steps and staring down at him. "Come on!"

Jake watched as she continued her ascent, making no move of his own. He hadn't slept at all the night before, and now that

he'd seen those stairs, he was even more certain that the alcohol he'd consumed the night before was still swishing around in his bloodstream. "Isn't there a shortcut that's flatter?"

She stopped and looked back at him. "We're in the real Montmartre now, Jake. Embrace the hilly charm."

"But I'm tired," he whined. "And it's hot." It really was.

She pulled the hotel key out of her pocket. "You could always go back to the room and take a nap."

"On that bed? No, thank you."

"Then hop to it!"

Mira took her own advice and started hopping up the stairs two at a time. Jake tried to guess what sort of drugs she was on, or if her normal state was hyperactive. Based on the handful of times he'd seen her in the elevator, or bored and antisocial during company events (not to mention last night's dinner), he was leaning toward narcotics.

By the time he'd struggled to the halfway point of the staircase, he noticed that Mira had already finished the climb.

"Let's go," she said, clapping her hands in encouragement. "Don't tell me you've been skipping out on leg day at the gym."

"I always do leg day!" he gasped, finally reaching the summit.

She tried not to laugh. "I can see that."