Oops! Questa immagine non segue le nostre linee guida sui contenuti. Per continuare la pubblicazione, provare a rimuoverlo o caricare un altro.
okay I love this book sm but it's funny bc it's also my least popular book😭
catalina's pov
present day (January 2023)
I walked out of the airport, stunned at what I saw, Paris. It was nothing like New York. Well, sort of nothing like NYC. Paris had this romantic, dreamy, European essence.
It looked straight out of a dream. Well, that was until I looked 10 meters to my left and saw a group of rats munching on a croissant.
"Díos mio." I muttered to myself.
I gaped when I saw the extremely large line of people waiting for taxis. There must've been a hundred people in line. Inwardly groaning, I moved myself and my bags to a nearby Starbucks, figuring I might as well get an Uber from there.
I strolled in the Starbucks with my midsized luggage and went up to the register, which, very surprisingly, had no queue. The man at the register smiled at, babbling some French nonsense. I knew very little French but had been studying for a few months in preparation. I could only assume he asked me what I wanted to order.
"Bonjour Monsie..." I started to say before being interrupted.
The employee cut in, "Darling please do not do this to yourself. It is okay, I speak English."
Ouch. I understood he was trying to be nice, but still, ouch.
I politely nodded, "Just an Americano with some crème please."
Before the order could be placed I heard a voice pipe up from behind me. I turned to see a girl, somewhat around my age, look disapprovingly at the man.
She rambled to him in French and I was left looking between the two in confusion.
Maybe they dated before? There's no way. She seemed way out of his league. Once she was done speaking to him, she sent him on his way gesturing that he continue with his work. The woman turned to me, smiling brightly.
"I am so sorry about that. Some French people just have the biggest attitudes." She sympathised with me, a distinct, but not strong French accent came through in her voice.
I smiled gratefully, "Thank you so much."
"I'm Colette!" She introduced herself.
I furrowed my brows at her, "Colette? What's your surname?"
Now it was Colette's turn to give me a weird look.
"Allard. Why?" She questioned with suspicion.
I sighed in relief. Colette was the senior student who was supposed to be my "guide". At Northeastern, many, many students went abroad. For my year abroad in Paris, since I spoke no French, I was assigned senior student, native to Paris who went to one of my university's sister schools.
