Time and Distance

I sat in the small French café, turning a paperback novel over in my hands. It was one of my favorites... But at this place and time, I didn't feel like reading it. I sighed and flipped to a random page, staring at the French. I could read it perfectly, but I couldn't speak it.

I thanked the Higher Power that I would only be here for another two days.

A shadow loomed over my table, and I said one of the few French things I could actually pronounce.

"Thank you, I'm fine," I murmured, not looking up. A throat cleared, and I glanced up, doing a double take when I realized it was not the waiter. I apologized quickly in French, only to make the man look at me even more strangely.

"Um... I'm sorry, do you speak English?" he asked in a thick American accent, and I smiled.

"Yes," I said, and relief crossed his beautiful face. "Can I help you?" I asked, very amused. He blushed and ran his fingers through his thick black hair, his vibrant green eyes wide.

"Um, yeah... I interrupted you for a reason, I promise. I'm a little lost..."

"Just a little?" He smiled back.

"Yeah. I can't find this restaurant.. It's on the Champs Ellises," he said, butchuring the pronunciation of the French street Champs-Ellysés. My grin spread.

"I can show you the way, if you want," I offered, slipping my right heel back on discreetly.

"That would be great... If it's not out of your way. I don't want to intrude."

"No, it's fine. I was heading that way anyway." I tucked my book into the pocket of my jacket, and we headed North.

"So... you're English?" he asked me.

"Yeah. American?" A small smile graced his mouth.

"Yeah... Why are you in Paris?" I shrugged.

"Taking a vacation. And yourself?"

"My band and I are touring here," he answered, looking away briefly before turning to gauge my reaction.

"What's the band name?" I said. He smirked.

"Green Day."

"Ah..." I tried to pretend I remembered who that was. My niece Ella was always talking about something called Green Day, but I had never asked what that was.

"You haven't heard of us." It was a statement, not a question. I blushed and shook my head.

"It's okay. A lot of people haven't. We're not quite as big as we used to be." I nodded.

We eased into conversation, and soon it became so effortless I felt I'd known him for ages. We turned the last corner, and he turned to me suddenly.

"Are you married?" he asked. I balked, taken aback by his sudden bluntness.

"No..." I said slowly. He nodded, smiling.

"Just wondering." We stopped in front of the restaurant.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there," he said, and we smiled at each other.

"No problem." I suddenly didn't want this to end. I wanted to know that this wouldn't end here, that I had met him for a reason.

"I just realized I never asked your name..." he said, green eyes glinting.

"Oh. It's Sara. And yours?"

"Billie Joe." We smiled at each other for a few more minutes, then I mumbled some excuse about having to leave and turned. After a few steps, I halted.

"Sara!" Billie called. I turned back to him, arching an eyebrow. He jogged up to me.

"I was wondering if we could trade numbers?" he asked. I smiled.

"Sure." We both pulled pens from our pockets, and he scribbled his number on a matchbook he found in his pocket. Not wanting to dessicate the only paper I currently had with me (my book), I wrote mine on the inside of his forearm, making him laugh.

"I'll ring you later," he promised, and we parted ways.