Haute Couture

Her fingers brushed against the pure white wood as she examined the store display. It was simple, only containing a model of the Eiffel Tower sitting on a couple of books bound in light leather. A soft smile tugged at the ends of her lips while she looked at the two picture frames on the blue wallpaper. The smaller frame held a postcard-like photo of the Arc de Triomphe while the larger displayed a snapshot of the Notre Dame.

The girl’s eyes shined brightly while staring. Even though it was a silly little picture of the grand cathedral, she still felt mesmerized. She could just make out the flying buttresses and stain glass windows, which looked minuscule in the plain, wooden frame. They brought back memories of her father from years ago. She closed her eyes and listened to his travel stories as she imagined the scent of his favorite cologne. Her eyes opened again causing her smile to fade.

She reluctantly looked away from the shop. She almost couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. Her dream was always to own her own boutique in Paris. Her studies and new job has lead to it, but she was beginning to fear it would take her in a different path. She didn’t want to design for the runways or the stars. She could care less about the glamour and glitter. All she cared about was creating and sharing her designs for the public.

A light breeze blew down the street, forcing her to grab her hat and push it back down on her dark hair. Her favorite dress flapped against her legs. She instantly ran down the sidewalk and turned the corner. Her breath hitched in her chest as she leaned against the brick wall. She hated the wind. It always caused her asthma to kick in and made her breathe heavier than usual. A couple of people stared in her direction, making her blush with embarrassment.

“Are you alright? Did something scare you?” The source of the voice was staring over at her, his blue eyes sparkling as he laughed. She crossed her arms over her chest with difficulty. Her phrase book and map sat in one hand while her purse was in the other. “Parlez-vous Francais? English?” he asked, looking towards her eagerly.

“I understood you. I just didn’t want to answer,” she replied. The wind pushed her curls out of her face as she looked at him. He ran his fingers over his short cut hair before pushing up his glasses. She normally hated men who wore glasses. Half of the time they were either too large or too small for the face, but the glasses seemed to work for him. “I have to go.”

The man walked after her and gently grabbed her arm. “I’m sorry for laughing earlier,” he said with a soft smile. She eyed the bags in his other hand. They looked like typical shopping bags except the usual brand logos were missing. He let go of her. “I’m Marc.”

She couldn’t help but to smile. He was cute and she couldn’t deny it. His smile was accented by small dimples on each cheek, a trait that has always been one of her favorites. She flashed a smile in his direction before gently moving some of her hair out of her face again. “Arianna,” she replied.

“I have to get to work. It would be great if we could meet up again,” he said, almost hopefully. She kept her smile and nodded.

“Sounds great,” she said with a small wave. She walked backwards a couple of steps before fully turning around and walking down the street.

“Wait! How will we know when and where?” Marc called after her. She turned around again, not bothering to stop walking. He was still standing at the corner, his bags at his feet and his smile dropping slightly.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around again,” she said simply. His smile returned which caused Arianna to smile once again. He nodded and walked in the opposite direction. She continued to walk down the street. She usually didn’t leave second meetings or dates up to fate, but something seemed different. She was in a new country and city. Things change.