Chapter 59 LXI.
GEORGE'S POV
I hadn't wanted to come here, but my best friend, Williams, insisted. According to him, this was the only proper way to bid me goodbye. Next week, I leave Paris to move back to California and live with my dad. I’m about to start my senior year of high school, and my mom recently decided she could no longer raise me on her own.
My parents divorced when I was six. They fought bitterly for custody, and my mom ended up winning. Dad always visited when he could and did his best to fulfill his role as a father, but we never actually lived together. Now, years later, Mom has decided she can't do it anymore.
I don't really mind, though. To be honest, I've always liked my dad better.
Mom barely had time for me; she never seemed to care that she had a teenager sitting at home. Her mind was always on work, work, work. I know she was just grinding to provide for both of us, but it sucks feeling neglected all the time.
My dad, on the other hand, was always available when I needed someone to talk to. He never minded taking a break from his business to fly all the way to Paris just to spend time with me. And when he was here, I had his undivided attention.
Personally, I’m more than happy about the decision to go live with him. That's why I willingly followed Williams out tonight to celebrate. However, I think a quiet bar would have been a lot better than a deafeningly loud club packed with sweaty bodies.
This is definitely not my scene.
"If I'd known this was where you were bringing me, I would have stayed home!" I yelled, trying to make myself heard over the pounding bass as we settled at the bar counter.
Williams laughed, his sea-blue eyes lighting up with mischief. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you. You're leaving me soon, and I couldn't think of a better way for us to spend our last night together."
"And dragging me to a club was your brilliant master plan?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He shrugged. "It's how men bond, George. Alcohol and women." He raised his glass in a toast and downed his drink. "I just don't expect you to sit idly by, man. You better find yourself someone to dance with. At least experience the feel of a woman grinding against you before you move to California and continue your virgin life."
I rolled my eyes and took a sip from my beer bottle. "I'm not a player like you, dickhead."
He scoffed. "Yeah, yeah. You're searching for true love." He snorted. "News flash, man: true love doesn't exist. And even if it does, it might take decades to find. Why don't you live your life first and worry about a soulmate later? Look around you. There are plenty of pretty girls at your service."
I shook my head. He would never understand. I knew true love existed, and I was willing to wait as long as it took to find that one person who would love me for me—someone I could cherish for eternity.
My parents chose the wrong partners, and because of that, I never got to experience the joy of a complete family. I refused to repeat their mistakes with my future kids.
"I'm not interested in a hookup, Wills."
Williams threw his hands up. "I give up. You sit right here. As for me, I'm gonna go find a pretty girl to take home for the night."
He stood up and disappeared into the throng of bodies on the dance floor.
I sat back, sipping my drink. Through the flashing lights, I caught sight of Williams. He was already dancing with a blonde, his hands firmly on her waist as they rocked against each other.
I rolled my eyes. He was such a player. Sometimes I wondered how he could date a different girl every week without feeling empty. I swear he’d hooked up with almost every girl in our year, and he showed no signs of slowing down.
That just wasn't me.
It wasn't that I lacked options; I had my fair share of girls who showed interest, and a few had even asked me out. I just hadn't found the person my heart longed for. The one who would give me butterflies.
The one who...
My thoughts ground to a halt when I spotted her.
She was on the dance floor, moving carefree to the music. She had long, curly brown hair that fell around her shoulders in a sexy, messy way. She wore a tight crop top that left her toned stomach bare, paired with a skirt that ended mid-thigh, showing off her long legs and black boots.
She looked impossibly beautiful—like a rebellious angel—and I couldn't tear my eyes away.
I was staring at her with my mouth hanging open when, suddenly, her gaze locked onto mine.
Green eyes, bright as emeralds, stared straight at me.
My heart began to hammer violently against my ribs. Slowly, a sly, sensual smile spread across her lips, and my face instantly flushed hot.
She continued to dance, her eyes never leaving mine, casually brushing off any guy who tried to approach her. I watched her, completely mesmerized. For a moment, I actually forgot how to breathe.
Then, she started walking off the dance floor, heading straight toward me.
Panic set in.
Wait, what should I say?
She reached the bar and gracefully slipped onto the empty stool beside me. I swallowed hard, trying to look anywhere but at her, but the weight of her intense gaze made my skin tingle with nerves.
"Hi," she breathed. Her voice was husky and melodic.
I looked at her, and my brain short-circuited. Up close, she was even more breathtaking. Her green eyes practically glowed in the dim club lighting.
"Uh... h-hi," I stuttered like a complete moron, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
She chuckled softly. "You're cute." She swept her hair over one shoulder and crossed her legs, angling her body entirely toward me. "I saw you watching me from the dance floor. I kept waiting for you to come over, but you never did."
My eyebrows shot up. "I didn't realize you wanted me to."
She shrugged playfully. "Well, I was pushing everyone else away and staring right at you. I thought that was a pretty clear signal."
"Oh." I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. I was usually nervous around girls, but this one took my anxiety to a whole new level.
"So, are you here alone?" she asked, smoothly changing the subject when she realized I was too tongue-tied to keep the banter going.
"No, I'm here with my friend, Williams." I gestured toward the dance floor, only to find Williams shamelessly making out with the blonde from earlier.
Really, dude?
The girl followed my gaze and laughed. "Your friend seems busy." Her eyes shifted back to mine, dark and mysterious. "Do you want me to keep you busy, too?"
She leaned forward, placing a warm hand gently on my thigh, looking up at me through her lashes.
I gulped, staring down at her hand. "Uh, I don't even know your name."
"Izzy. And yours?" Her fingers slowly traced an inch higher.
"G-George."
"Nice to meet you, George." She leaned in closer, until our faces were only inches apart. "Since we know each other's names now... can we make out?"
My eyes widened at her boldness. "Uh, I don't think—"
She didn't let me finish.
Closing the gap, she pressed her lips to mine.
I gasped into her mouth.
This is my first kiss.
Holy shit, I'm having my first kiss.
She cupped my jaw, deepening the kiss. After a moment of pure shock, instinct took over, and I started to kiss her back. It felt incredible.
When she finally pulled away for air, we were both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other. All I wanted to do was pull her back in.
"Do you want to go somewhere more private?" she whispered.
Dazed, I just nodded.
I don't know who led who, but a minute later, we were tumbling out the back door of the club into a dimly lit alleyway, kissing desperately like the world was about to end.
My hands roamed over her body as her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. I felt like I could kiss her forever.
Things escalated quickly.
Her hands dropped to my waist, her fingers fumbling swiftly with my belt buckle. It wasn't until she brushed against my growing arousal that the fog of lust finally cleared from my brain.
"Wait!" I gasped, gently grabbing her wrists to stop her.
She stepped back, her eyes heavy with confusion and desire. "What's wrong? Did I do something?"
I sighed, running a trembling hand through my hair. "I... I can't sleep with you unless you agree to be my girlfriend."
"What?" she blurted out, looking genuinely shell-shocked.
"Listen, I'm not the type of guy who just hooks up," I explained, my voice steadying. "You were actually my first kiss. If I'm going to give myself to you, it has to mean something. We have to be together."
She stared at me in stunned silence for a long moment.
Then, to my surprise, she giggled. "Are you being serious right now? That was really your first kiss?"
I nodded, feeling my face heat up again. "Yeah. Like I said, I'm looking for something real. Not just a fun night."
She kept giggling, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's crazy. It's even crazier that I was your first kiss."
She took a step closer, and my breath hitched.
"Okay, let's do this," she whispered, a playful glint in her eyes. "If we are truly meant to be, then I'll be your girlfriend the next time we meet by coincidence. But if we never run into each other again... then I guess I'm not the one for you."
Her words left a hollow ache in my chest. I knew meeting her again would be impossible—I was flying to California tomorrow morning.
Still, I couldn't bring myself to argue.
"Okay," I murmured. "It's a deal."
She gave me one last, lingering peck on the lips.
"Bye, George."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked away into the neon-lit Parisian night.
I thought I would never see her again after that day.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.