Summary: Zig and MC (Lydia) arrive in Paris and talk about their plans for the future.
As they approached the cafe, Zig dropped Lydia’s hand a jogged a few steps ahead of her to open the door.
“Merci,” Lydia said with a smile as she breezed past him into the cafe.
“De nada,” he replied. Lydia laughed.
“Zig, you can’t mix French and Spanish,” she teased, poking him in the side when he joined her inside and slung his arm around her shoulders. He shrugged.
“Close enough,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.
They had arrived in Paris that morning and, after dropping their bags at the hostel, they’d decided to wander around and explore the city. The train ride had been long and uncomfortable and they were both in dire need of caffeine.
“Wow, this place is beautiful,” Lydia said as she looked around the cafe. Despite the bright sunlight outside, the cafe was cool and dark and full of intimate tables and cozy booths. The light fixtures on the walls were ornate with tarnished silver and smoky glass that was evocative of a bygone era.
“Yeah, it is,” Zig agreed. He took Lydia’s hand and threaded his fingers between hers before leading her towards a booth in the back. They settled into the curved leather banquette that smelled faintly of cigarettes and espresso.
“Bonjour,” a waiter said as he appeared alongside their table. “Que désirez-vous?”
“Deux cafés au lait, s’il vous plaît,” Lydia said. The waiter nodded and headed back towards the counter. Lydia sighed contentedly and looked around the cafe, taking in the room, when she suddenly became aware of Zig’s eyes on her.
“What?” she asked. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Since when can you speak French?” Zig asked, dumbfounded.
“Oh, I took it back in high school. Trust me, that sounded way more impressive than it was. I can basically order coffee and ask for the bathroom, anything past that and I’m screwed,” she explained with a laugh.
“Well, I’m impressed,” Zig said as he leaned closer to her.
“Why?” Lydia asked, genuine consternation twisting her face. “You’re fluent in two languages.”
“True, but I don’t speak French,” he said.
“I don’t really speak it either,” Lydia countered. “I just pretend to.”
“I’m still impressed,” Zig murmured as he leaned in towards her, his lips brushing her ear and making her shiver.
“Well then remind me to tell you all about my other mediocre talents later,” Lydia said, tilting her face towards his. Her nose brushed against his and she could feel his breath on her lips.
The waiter made a polite coughing sound before setting down the two coffees on the table. Lydia pulled away and felt her face flush, but the waiter had already turned and left. Zig leaned over and kissed the blush of her cheek before picking up his coffee and taking a sip.
“Hey, Zig?” Lydia suddenly asked.
“Hmm?”
“What do you want to do?”
“Like today?” he asked slowly, a little confused. Lydia smiled.
“No, not today. Well, unless you have something you really want to do today. No, I mean what do you want to do now that we’re out of college?”
“I want to continue traveling around Europe with you,” he said with a cheeky smirk. Lydia reached over and squeezed his knee in just the spot where she knew he was ticklish. “Hey!” he protested, jerking his leg away from her. “Okay, okay, I know what you mean.” Zig hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling shy. He shared everything with Lydia, but he hadn’t told her this yet. “Well, I had this idea …” He paused.
“What is it?” Lydia encouraged, trying to fill the silence and urge him forward.
“No, it’s dumb,” Zig said, staring at his coffee. God, why was this question making him so nervous? It wasn’t like he was proposing yet. He thought again of the ring, now tucked safely in his wallet. Zig had decided against leaving the ring in his backpack at the hostel. Sure, there were lockers, but still … just in case.
“Zig, I’m sure it’s not dumb,” Lydia assured him. “Unless your life’s ambition is to balance a plate on your nose for tips in the park.”
“How did you know?” he exclaimed, gasping with mock surprise.
“Lucky guess,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “But seriously, Zig. Just tell me.”
“Well … I had this idea to open a coffee shop,” he said. “Is that stupid?”
“Are you kidding? Of course that’s not stupid!” Lydia said. “I think that’s an amazing idea!”
“Really?”
“Really!” she said. “Seriously, it’s a perfect fit for you. Plus, now you have that fancy business degree to go with all your coffee experience.”
Zig laughed.
“I’m not sure how fancy it is, but it is a business degree,” he said. “I don’t know though, does the world really need another coffee shop?”
“It does if you’re running it,” Lydia said. “Seriously, this could be really cool.”
“I’d want to make it something unique,” Zig said. “Maybe even something like this,” he said, gesturing around the cafe. Lydia’s gaze followed his hand.
“This place is really cool,” she agreed. “It reminds me of the kind of place where Hemingway and Picasso would’ve hung out, like an artistic salon or something.”
“Well, if I open a coffee shop, maybe you could start a whole new crowd of the artistic elite,” Zig said as he reached for her hand. “You could write the great American novel while I bring you endless cups of coffee.”
Lydia grinned.
“That sounds perfect,” she said. Zig leaned in and kissed a spare drop of foam from her lip, their mouths melting together in a way that he found both familiar and exciting, old and new. He felt sure that he’d never get tired of kissing her.
“You know,” Lydia said when they finally pulled away from each other. “If you wanted to go full literary, you could name all the drinks after famous writers and books. Like, a cup of black coffee could be called ‘The Raven’ or something.”
Zig laughed.
“I actually love that idea,” Zig said. “Although, that means that you’d have to open the coffee shop with me to help me come up with the drink menu since you know way more about books than I do. But then once we got up and running, you could step back from the business side of things so you could write your book. What do you think?”
“Go into business with you?” Lydia asked as she raised an eyebrow. “That’s a big commitment, Mr. Ortega.”
Zig felt his heartbeat skip faster and his palms grew hot. Was she going to say no? Was she not ready for any kind of commitment with him? Had he pushed too far?
“But,” Lydia continued, “there’s no one else I’d rather do this with. Yes, let’s do it. Let’s open our own little piece of Paris back in the states.”
Zig grinned, relief flooding from his chest to his fingertips.
“Perfect,” he said as he put an arm around her and pulled her closer. “Our own piece of Paris.”
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