I woke up, my eyes opening to the soft light of the early morning. My first thought, one that even surprised me, was why Pierre wasn't lying next to me. Memories rewound in my head: meeting Pierre at the Palace of Versailles, him asking me to a dinner date, laughing and eating wonderful food at L'Abeille, and the unforgettable kiss.

    The kiss. It felt so different, so much better than any other kiss I had experienced. It was another kind of passion, another type of electric feeling. I lied there for a bit, reminiscing the feeling of his soft lips on mine.

     My daydreaming done, I cheerily hopped out of my comfy hotel bed, threw my arms up to the ceiling in a deep stretch. I tossed the covers back over so that they weren't half on the floor and practically skipped to the bathroom.

     I went through my normal morning routine by taking a shower and getting dressed. Soon, I headed out to find a cute bakery for a true French breakfast. Spending a mere €7, I enjoyed a freshly brewed cup of strong coffee and an assortment of pastries with a side of vegan sausages that were unexpectedly amazing.

     I flew through the doors into the open and breezy air; the soft waves of wind ruffling my lacey, pastel-pink skirt. I felt so free. So happy. So alive.

     I danced along the sidewalks, watching as vendors sold various things ranging from small snacks to rental cars. I knew what I wanted to do that day, and quickly found what I was looking for. I skipped, more like strutted, up to the woman working the rentals and found the same pink cruiser bike I had rented before and paid about €5 for five hours.

     I placed my small backpack-purse in the basket found at the front and took out my phone to get directions. My bike, it would be about a 40-minute ride on flat roads, easily doable. I fitted my converse covered feet onto the pedals and rode at a casual pace, wanting to get there but also to take in the sights as well.

     My smooth legs pumped in a circular motion as the bike surged forward, gaining speed and momentum. My hair streaked behind me in a golden stream as I moved onto another sidewalk directly from a turn that my phone had told me to make.

     Another twenty-five minutes of calm peddling, I saw the top peak of the beautifully shaped pyramid museum. The glass Lourve rose into the sky, each delicate glass panel rimmed with silver framing. The brochure had piqued my interest, but the photo had done no justice compared to the glorious museum. Behind the pyramid lies the huge museum filled with artwork of all sorts. The building used to be a royal palace, but they turned it into a museum fit for public viewing. It was stunning. The palace-turned-museum was a gargantuan structure with stone decoration inlaid on all the sides. Details made your eyes want to wander, but the front of the palace was where your eyes were held.

     I paid my €20 entry fee and immediately in rushed to see the sights. I read placard after placard and got lost in the sights of some of the most famous pieces in art history. I swept past paintings from the likes of Michelangelo and Paolo Veronese to Leonardo da Vinci. I took picture after picture and sent them to Pierre and Autumn, who I texted earlier about meeting Pierre and what my plans were for the day.

     I spent hours and hours going through the museum multiple times, not wanting to miss a single stroke of a brush or chip of a chisel. The wonders of artists' crafts were magical. So many people try to undermine their works, while instead they should be treated with such care and respect.

     After looking through the museum for the third time, I finally took my last glance at the Mona Lisa and left for my bike. I had chained up the rental about a block from the Lourve and taken all of my stuff with me before losing myself in the wonderful exhibits. I walked away from the great glass pyramid and started down the street. The sun was low in the sky, making me do a double take at the time displayed on my phone screen. It was six-fifty. I'd spent almost the entire day in the huge museum, and now I had only twenty-two more minutes before the pink cruiser was due back!

     I jogged back to the bike rack where I left it and stopped short. I looked left, I looked right. I even looked behind me. There was no bike. Making sure I was on the right street (I was), I looked at the empty bike rack and saw my lock on the ground. It had been cut cleanly. I would have to pay for the bike, another 30-ish euros down the drain. Sadly, that wasn't the end of my problems, I still needed a way to get back to the hotel. A forty minute bike ride would be about an hour and a half walk. The time it would take to walk and now the late fees of the stolen bike on top of the cost of the new bike itself made my heart dull a bit inside. 

     My breathing started to quicken. My palms started to sweat. I started to think. What am I going to do? I have to get back as soon as I can and it will take too long to walk. I have no car, no bike, and no one to call. Or do I?

     I whisked out my phone, which beeped, letting me know it was on five percent battery level, and quickly thumbed through my contacts list until I found the name I was looking for.

     My breathing was shallow and by the time they picked up, I was ready to pass out.

     "Blonde?" Pierre's voice called out through my thinning hearing.

     "I need h-help, " I heaved out.

     "Are you alright? Are you hurt? What's wrong?" He said, his pure, accented voice full of sincere concern and worry.

     "I'm stuck, and I n-need to g-get back." I breathed out.

     "Okay, Blonde, where are you, and I'll be there as soon as I can, " Pierre said and sighed deeply. I can imagine the arch of his brown eyebrows turning down with concern.

     "Thank you, Pierre." I whispered and cried as I sent him my location.

       ***************************

     Ten minutes later, Pierre pulled up in his black truck; my knight in a shining Ford.

     He immediately jumped out and helped me into the passenger's seat. My sobs had been reduced to small hiccups.

     "Now that I know you're safe, what happened?" He inquired, his chocolate eyes soft, with not a hint of mocking.

     "My bike was stolen while I was in the Louvre and I had no way to get back to the city. I had a panic attack and didn't know what to do. I've been having them ever since I was in middle school. My mom always overlooked them but they have gotten worse. So much worse." I could feel  hot tears fall down my cheeks.

     He said something in French, I could only assume it was a curse. Taking his right hand off the steering wheel, he held my hand as he drove me back to the bike rental vendor. Somewhere along the ten to fifteen-minute drive, I fell asleep. The last thing I remember was his hand, smoothing my hair in a loving way.

       **************************

     I awake to fingers intertwined in my hair. The light noise of quiet music floated around me. I remember when I fell asleep, I had my head resting against the window. Now, my head was resting on a soft pillow. I glanced around the room I was in and stopped, gulping.

     Pierre's smiling face met my eyes.

     "Good morning, Blonde." He smiled at me. "Sleep well?"

     I looked up at him, but not moving my head off his pillow.

     "Yeah."

     I sat up, scanning the room. It was clean and simple, with a certain charm to it. The walls were blue, with a lot of windows. It wasn't a huge room, but bookcases covered all the space, apart from his bed, crammed in the corner. This was the first time I'd been in a boy's room, and I never would've expected my first time to be a French boy's bedroom.

           "I'm in your house, right?" I questioned, even though I knew the answer. Pierre laughed, and I tried not to blush.

          "Of course Blonde. You fell asleep before you told me where your hotel was, so I brought you here. After paying for the bike of course.

     I groaned. "You didn't have to do that. Next time, just do what my mom does to wake me up."

     Pierre sends me a questioning look. I can tell he's curious.

     "Scream in my face." I finished with a wry smile.

     We burst out laughing and he lets go of my hand. I mentally sigh and move away from Pierre. He looks at me with confusion, but realization hits him in the face.

     Pierre moves back toward me, closer then before, caressing my cheek lightly with his hand. I can't help but lean in so I can be close to his touch. When Pierre leaned in, I followed his lead, meeting him half way.

     This kiss was just as good as the first, maybe even better. This time, we weren't shy or afraid that we would be rejected by the other. Now, we were confident in eachother. Our lips moved in sync as his other hand wrapped around my back. My hands lazily wrapped around his neck, while my fingers strung through his dark brown hair.

     When he pulled away, I finally opened my eyes. His chocolate orbs glowed from where I sat.

     He makes me feel free. He makes me feel safe. He is my knight, whether or not he has his armor.

       ****************************