Occupying the backseat, my eyes are pierced out the window as we cruise down Rue de Rivoli. With my folded arms upon the windowsill, my hair takes shape of the bypassing drift of the swarming, city traffic.
The sun is high, yet lenient enough to grace us with a perfectly-pleasant, July, summer day. Lifting my spirits and even more so my head, in the distance, I can trace out the nearly 800,000-acre complex.
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"Once a royal palace in the 14th century to Charles V, The Louvre, the world's largest, art museum was originally built as a castle under Philip II," I say out loud, over the mild-sounding radio.
Besides me, my brown-haired company expresses his pique through a noisy sigh. My brows come together to create wrinkles across my forehead – confusion and offense are written boldly between the lines. I find Marcel resting the side of his head on the glass, disappointedly shaking his noggin as he stares past the driver's ear.
"Is there a problem?" I blink through my testy question.
With a kiss of his straight teeth and another lengthy exhale, Marcel owns our fitting title. "Damn, we're nerds." Per usual, at the mercy of his harmless insult, a childish smile lifts my lips. Marcel's once bored facade shifts into a knowing side-eye with a hint of his provoking smirk. "You're talking as if you lived here. A royal palace... Okay, princess. Welcome to your kingdom."
Turning away to hide my grin, my first order is, "Shut up."
THE LOUVRE
"Home of the Mona Lisa. A portrait of Lisa del Giocondo and painted by the great, Leonardo da Vinci during the Italian Renaissance." I stand before it, stunned to be in its presence. "Smaller than I thought it would be," I say looking over to Marcel. Yes, go ahead and throw in your that's what she said joke.
Stowing away the digital view, Marcel lowers his camera. I think it's adorable how he'll get off-guards of me, but once I speak, he'll bow the camera to give me his full attention; no matter how small my detail is.
Flipping my hair out of the way, I heighten my shoulder to conceal my chin as I gape down, through the bulky lens. Delighted by my participation, Marcel lifts his camera, but I break character and burst out laughing before the rare photo is snapped. I got shy. Don't hate me.
With my mouth spilling giggles, I cover it with both hands as I walk over. My eyes jump from the evident camera to Marcel's accountable eyes. He's unaware of the validation I seek. He's already browsing through the camera roll.
"Let me see." I bite the tip of my finger. I know I look goofy in this photo. I know nothing about posing and looking deliberate without coming off try hard.
After a few flicks of his thumb, I point, then cover my face seeing that he caught my pose before it went to complete and utter shit.
"I like this one better." He swipes to my character-breaking laugh. "It's about catching the authentic moments. They make the best photography."
