It Started in Paris

Chapter Nine: He May Look Good But It Doesn't Mean He's Good

I  woke  up  with  my  white  laptop  beside  me.  Leila  has  already  showered  and  has  changed  into  fresh  clothes.  She  tied  her  hair  into  a  loose  bun--very  professional  photographer  look,  I  must  say. She  wore  a  crisp  cornflower  blue  blouse  folded  at  an  elbow  length,  skinny  jeans  paired  up  with  silver  Paris  Hilton  gladiator  shoes.

"Wake  up,  sleepy  head!"  Leila  said,  her  hands  on  her  hips  as  she  stood  at  the  end  of  the  bed.

"What  the--"  I  glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  bedside  and  it's  only  eight-thirty  in  the  morning.  "It's  still  early,"  I  moaned.  "Go  back  to  bed."

Before  I  knew  it,  Leila  grabbed  my  foot  and  gave  it  a  good  pull  until  I'm  halfway  down  the  bed.

"Whoa!  Okay,  okay,  I'm  up,  I'm  up,"  I  said  breathlessly.

I  stood  up  and   headed  to  my  white  hard-case  that  was  lying  on  the  varnished  parquet  floor. We haven't really made time to unpack. I  picked  out  my  clothes  carefully.  I  chose  a  blueberry-colored  sleeveless  top  that  matched  the  color  of  my  jeans.  I  took  a  brief  shower  and  blow-dried  my  wavy  locks  while  Leila  went  to  the  kitchen  and microwaved the rest  of the pizza leftover out  of  the  fridge  from  last  night.  I  slipped  into  my  blue flats, and  wore  my  ever-fashionable  bangles  that  goes  with  any  outfit.

"What  time  is  Jack  going  to  come  by?"  I  asked  after  I've  finished  dressing  up.

Leila  shrugged  carelessly  as  she  was  chewed  on  a  bite  of  her  pizza,  her  left  palm  resting  on  the  granite  counter top.

Waiting  for  Arrogant  Monkey  to  arrive,  I  grabbed  a slice  and  gobbled  up  until  my  mouth  was  fully  occupied  with  the  most  succulent  pizza  I've  ever  tasted.  Before  I  could  swallow  any  content  of  my  mouth,  the  doorbell  rang. Great.  It must  be  another  prank  from  the  kid  next  door. He's  been  ringing  the  doorbell  since  last  night  and  Leila  and  I  kept  on  opening  and  closing  the  door  like  idiots. We almost thought it must be Helen's ghost or something. I  opened  the  door  and  I  almost  spewed  out  everything  inside  my  mouth. His  nonchalant  face  morphed  into  alarm and brought his arms into defense. My  green  eyes  were  wide  open.  I held  up  my  hand  in  a  "wait"  sign  and  chewed  on  the  hefty  pizza  inside  my  mouth  as  I  blinked.  It  took  a  long  while  before  I  finally  swallowed  everything.

"Please,"  I  said  breathlessly.  "Come  in."

I  didn't  know  if  I'd  heard  it  right  but  as  he  came  in,  I  thought  he  said  "What  a  pig."  Then,  rolled  his  eyes.

"Oh  good!  You're here!"  Leila  said  in  the  middle  of  chews.

"Yeah,  I  am  here,"  he  said  as  if  he  couldn't  wait  the day  to  be  over.  "Can  we  leave  now?"

Leila  and  I  exchanged  glances.  If  we  were  in  a  comic  book,  I   could  imagine  our  thought bubbles:

Leila:  Rude  much?!

Me:   I  know,  right?

Leila  threw  away  the  empty  pizza  box  at  the  metal  bin  by  the  side  of  the  counter.  I  planted  my  ever-reliable  Chanel  bag  on  my  shoulder  while  Leila  brought  along  her  camera.

No  matter  how  good-looking  he  is  even  in  his  unshaven  look,  black  striped  long-sleeved  button-downs,  faded  jeans  and  Converse  sneakers,  I  don't  think  there's  any  girl  in  her  right  mind  would  fall  for  this  guy.

We  left  the  apartment  without  any  word.  When  we  got  outside  of  the  building,  Leila  bubbly  asked  him,  "Where  are  we  going?"

He  put  his  hands  in  his  pocket  and  shrugged.  "Wherever  you  want."

Leila's  cheery  expression  fell.  "This  is  Paris,"  she  said  as  she  jutted  her  head  forward  in disdain.  "You're  the  tour guide."

"Fine."  He  turned  and  walked  at  a  moderate  pace.

Leila  and  I  followed.  We  stopped  in front  of  a  boutique.

He  threw  his  hand towards  the  store.  "There.  Shop."

We  scanned  the  store  then,  looked  at  him,  deadpan.

"Go  on,  shop,"  he  said  as  though we were dogs.

This  guy  has  totally  gotten  into  my  nerves.

"Look,  I  don't  know  what  your  problem  is,"  I  said  hotly.  "But,  we  came  here  to  Paris  with  purpose.  If  you're  wasting  our  time  with  your  arrogance,  you  might  as  well  shove  it  in  your  pants.  And  by  the  way,  just  because  you  look  good,  and  probably  had  girls  falling  on  their  knees,  doesn't  mean  you  don't  look  like  a  monkey  to  me."  I  grabbed  Leila's  hand.  "Come  on,  Leila,"  and  strode  off.

Before  we  could  turn  a  corner,  he  shouted,  "Wait!"

Everyone within hearing range stopped  on their tracks,  our  backs were still on him and waited for what he would say.

"I  know  what  we  can  do  today."