Chapter 8 (Pt 1)
They were supposed to meet over an hour ago, and Christian was really starting to worry. It�s not like Xandrie hasn�t been late before, but this was too much even for her. He glanced nervously at his wristwatch for the nth time that evening. What if something happened to her? He wouldn�t even know where to go looking for her. He didn�t know where she lived � she wouldn�t tell him. How was he supposed to look for her? He turned back to the Seine, slamming his fist in frustration against the stone barrier that fenced in the river. He hadn�t felt this helpless since �
�Christian!�
He whirled abruptly, relief washing over him at the sight of her. Finally! He cocked his head to one side, putting on an expression of mocked annoyance. �Perhaps you should consider stealing a watch next time, so you�d know the difference between fashionably late and really late.�
His attempt at sarcasm was left without response, and a deep frown crossed Christian�s features as he paid closer attention to the girl before him.
She stood a few feet away, as if not daring to come any closer, her arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders; the setting sun accentuating the deathly pallor of her face. But it was the look in her eyes � the haunted broken expression clouded over with the kind of deadness that made him shiver inside. Something did happen.
Christian took a step toward her, but she recoiled, putting out her hand to prevent him from further movement.
�Xandrie, what�s �� he began, but she cut him off before he had a chance to finish.
�I can�t see you anymore, Christian.�
He was dumbstruck. �What? Wh-why?�
�I just can�t,� she repeated harshly. �We just don�t belong together anymore.� Xandrie lowered her eyes to escape the wounded expression on his face.
He crossed the short distance between them, grabbing her a bit forcefully by the arms.
�What the hell are you talking about?� he exclaimed, searching her eyes for an answer. �What happened to you?"
For the briefest of moments, Christian thought he saw something flash in her eyes, something akin to regret, and she seemed about to say something. But the moment was over before he had a chance to act on it, and then it was as if a wall came down around her, shutting him out. The green eyes grew hard and cold, as Xandrie pushed his hands away, taking a step back.
�Nothing happened to me, Christian,� she said in a cool emotionless voice. �I just don�t want to waste any more of my time with a spoiled American tourist so he could later boast to his American friends about how he screwed around with a sorry French pickpocket.�
He winced at the harshness of her words. �Is that what you think of me?� he asked quietly, disbelieving.
The pain in his eyes was so intense that she had to bite her lip to keep herself from running to him at that very moment, from taking back her words and begging him to forgive her.
She couldn�t, she reminded herself. It was for the best.
�Go home, Christian,� she said quietly, hiding her emotions. �Go back to your country. There�s nothing left for you here.�
And with that she turned around and walked away, feeling the enormous weight of his gaze upon her back. It was better this way, she thought, repeating the words in her head like a mantra. It was better this way.
Christian watched her go, the image of her retreating figure suddenly becoming blurred like in a dream � no, a nightmare , he corrected himself. It took him a moment to realize that those were his own tears that clouded his vision. He shook his head, snapping out of his stupor, furiously wiping the tears away.
Looking around him at the carefree passers-by and the amorous couples who strolled hand-in-hand along the banks of Seine or stood gazing lovingly into each other�s eyes, unashamed of the openness of their affection, Christian winced as in agony. He was no longer part of that romantic atmosphere which made Paris the city of lovers, and now that romance suffocated him. He needed to get out. Even if that meant going back to the place he hesitated to call home.
***End flashback***