This Side of Sunny

Chapter 2: Arrival

No matter how many times Paolo had done this, it still didn't get old. It was just like that nerve-racking moment before punting the ball into the net—all his muscles would tense, including his brain; all effort concentrated on that one kick, which would spell the difference between a goal or a failure.

Right now, he was in the small snack bar by the beach, sharing his small, round table with Sabine, Clarisse, Adele, who were chatting him up with an accent so charming, it was making him forget how to execute a goal. But the balmy breeze, the gentle whoosh of the sea waves a few meters away, and even the smooth jazzy tune gliding from the speakers were all helping to create the perfect ambiance.

But Adele—oh, Adele was, hands-down, the most gorgeous of them all. Fine blonde hair cascading past her shoulders like a golden waterfall, skin as creamy as fresh milk, and a finely chiseled face punctuated at the center by an upturned nose.

Paolo gave a quick mental shake of his head and tried focusing on pulling off his signature flirting—smooth and easy minus the desperate vibe.

"So where are you guys from?"

"Guess." Adele leaned forward, an eyebrow raised.

She looked every inch like a Guess model that for a moment, Paolo felt himself being helplessly drawn into her pale blue water-colored eyes.

The goal. Focus on the goal.

He heard them speaking French earlier so the answer was probably a no-brainer. But since they also spoke good English, he hesitated.

"Quebec?"

The girls burst into giggles. Sabine shook her head, her bob swishing against her cheeks. "Try again."

Paolo shrugged and smiled. "France, then."

Clarisse tossed her hair and looked at him in mock horror. "Comment osez-vous dire ceci?"

He burst out laughing. "Did not understand a word you said. But yeah, I got it that I guessed wrong again." He looked directly at Adele and pleaded in a conspiratorial whisper. "Can you just save me from further shame and tell me?"

Adele's blue eyes danced at him. "Belgium, of course."

"Of course!" Paolo threw his hands up in the air. "Belgium! I freaking love Belgium!"

The girls giggled and Paolo felt himself relax a little. Not quite a goal yet, but getting there.

"Why?" Adelle was still looking at him, a half-smile on her lips.

Time to give it all he'd got without looking like he was making an effort. And he really wasn't, not today, because his reply was right there on the tip of his tongue, low and warm and and ready to be said.

"Because . . ." He gave her one of his slow smiles, the one that almost always guaranteed a victory. "De toute beauté."

Oh, he could tell it was a good line. It was one of the few phrases he remembered from his foreign language class years ago. Paolo felt the game change ever so slightly. Sabine had paused in sipping her mango shake. Clarisse had straightened up ever so slightly. But Adele was the cool one; she stayed still, her face not giving anything away.

"You think Belgium is de toute beauté? Beautiful? Have you been there?"

He held her gaze, eyes on the prize. "I wasn't referring to Belgium."

The world seemed to hold its breath. The music had faded, transitioning to the next song. The awning right above them, which a moment ago, was billowing like a windblown sail, went still. The relentless summer sun scooted behind a passing cloud.