True Blood/Southern Vampire Mysteries Fan Fiction ❯ Ghosts That We Knew ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all characters.

Chapter 3
The next few days seem to fly by. I know that I should probably start apartment shopping, but I just can't seem to rationalize doing it, since we are going away for an entire month. I keep getting calls from Bill, and lots of text messages, and I decided a few days ago to change my number—at least I won't be hearing from him in Paris. That would be awful.
Amelia and I have been keeping ourselves busy, preparing for the trip. We don't do much clothes shopping, since we figure we'll be doing enough of that once we are there. We do, however, do a lot of carry on shopping. Things like hand sanitizer and toothpaste, just in case we don't have time to buy it as soon as we land.
Today is finally Monday, and we are up at a God forsaken 4:15 in the morning, so we can be at the airport two hours early for our 7:30 flight. Whoever came up with the "two hour early" rule really needs to think about these early morning flights. I am up stumbling around, making sure everything is packed and ready to go, and finally make it into the kitchen to get some coffee. I have always made fun of Amelia's Keurig, since I drink so much coffee—but let me tell you, when you forget to put the pot on the night before and don't have time to make one, it sure is nice to have that little sucker. I am sitting at the kitchen table drinking the coffee when Amelia comes stumbling in, too. She makes her own cup, and sits down at the table with me.
"Are you going to fly comfy, or nice?" she asks suddenly.
I look at her strangely, and then answer that I am flying comfy.
"But don't you think that you might want to go out or something once we arrive?" she asks, looking at me expectantly.
"Amelia, it is a fifteen hour flight. We won't be getting anywhere 'til 10:00 tonight. I'm not going out," I tell her with finality. "You can go if you want, but my ass is going to be in bed."
"I guess you're right," she says, sounding disappointed. Oh well. We'll be there for a month. There'll be plenty of time to go out and explore Paris at night.
We finally leave Amelia's place at 5:15 and arrive at the airport at around 5:45, since she lives so close. Because it is so early, we luckily make it through the checked bag area and the security area relatively fast, and have plenty of time to burn before our plane starts to board. We sit in the terminal for a little while, playing on our cell phones—it's not like the battery needs to last—and just engaging in some small talk. That's when Amelia decides to bring up the heavy topic,
"Sook, are you sure you're okay to do this? To be so far away, I mean? I know it's a little late to ask if you want to back out, but I don't want you to resent me for talking you into a trip you didn't want to take," she says, sounding worried.
"Amelia, I'm okay with it. I'm excited. Ineedthis. I need to get away, and get my mind off things. I just caught my fiancŽ cheating on me. No, I guess I'm not okay with the situation that I'm leaving behind, and yeah I kind of feel like I'm running. But I'm okay with the tripÉif that makes any sense," I say, starting to laugh.Idon't even understand what I just said. I don't know how Amelia is going to.
"So what if you meet a hot guy in Paris?" she asks, looking at me. She's being completely serious.
"Meels, I just don't know. I want to say that I'll be a strong, single woman, and just say no to the temptation, but sometimes I feel like such a hopeless romantic, that I don't know what would happen. Just know that I am going to try my best to not be romantic with anybody. I'm just not ready for all that," I say, serious as well. I don't want to be in another relationship, and Idefinitelywant to be in a relationship with somebody an ocean away. I sigh, hoping that I can keep my resolves strong.

15 Hours Later
We finally arrive in Paris. Finally. The plane ride went as expected—long as hell and uncomfortable. When we get off the plane, we file into the airport, and head for the baggage claim. When we get our bags, we head to the front of the airport so we can hail a cab to take us to our hotel/apartment. When we pull up in front of the building, I am flabbergasted.
"Amelia, this isn't the apartment we talked aboutÉ" I trail off. It is a huge tan building, with wrought iron balconies in front of every window. I am worried that she changed the hotel, because she couldn't afford the other one.
"Oh, shit I forgot to tell you. This is a building my dad owns. So we need to decide if we want one apartment or two," she says simply.
"What do you mean one or two?"
"Well, do we want two, two bedroom apartments, or one, two bedroom apartment," she says, looking at me expectantly. "Sorry, I forgot to mention it on the plane earlier. That's what my dad called me about when we were waiting at the terminal."
"Uh, what would you prefer?"
"Well, I intend on having some men and/or women over, so I'd prefer to have my own apartment," she says, looking apologetic. "We could get them adjoining though. I just think privacy would be nice. And then we wouldn't have to decide who gets the nicer room."
I mull that over, and decide that it would be the best idea to get two apartments. The cab driver clears his through, and Amelia apologizes in French and pays him. We get out and walk into the building. The lobby doesn't look that nice, but I don't want to say anything to Amelia.
She goes to the desk, and says who she is, and asks for two suites on the top floor. The woman at the counter hands her the keys, and Amelia motions me to the elevator. When we arrive at the top floor, she hands me my key, and she goes to her own room to drop off her bags and get comfortable. I unlock my door and drop my bag as soon as I see it.
The apartment is two floors and immediately opens into a huge living room with a fireplace. Adjoined to the living room is the kitchen area, which has everything I could need. There is a bar area, and is very warm and inviting. The color scheme so far seems to be a beige color and red. I walk up the stairs, and find a huge room, with a huge bed to match. The walls are all rustic stone and the ceiling looks like wood. The floor is hardwood. The highlight, though, is the huge hot tub in the corner of the room—yes, as in, in the room with the bed. It has a huge closet, and shelf space. I found my bedroom.
I go back downstairs, and notice there is another bedroom. This one is more convenient, but just not as pretty. I still opt for the upstairs room. I grab my luggage from the entryway when I hear a knock at the door. It's the bellhop, bringing the rest of my luggage. I thank him, and lug everything up to my room. I hang everything up and put on my pajamas and head back to the living room. I call Amelia, and she comes over. We watch a movie and make a list of things that we'll need, namely converters for all of the outlets.
When she leaves, I go upstairs and go to sleep, excited about what Paris will have to offer me, and hoping that this month goes by as slow as possible.
I wake up the next morning, and realize I don't have any groceries. Since this "hotel" is more of an apartment style, there is no room service to call up. I decide to take a shower in the downstairs shower since I don't have a lot of time for a bath, and put on a pair of white shorts and a pretty blue blouse. I finish the outfit with a cute pair of blue wedges. I put my make-up on light, and head over to Amelia's room so we can begin our day.
Once she is up and dressed, we head to the local drug store to purchase things like tooth brushes, toothpaste, and those sorts' things. We then head to an electronics store and buy the convertors that we need for all of our plugs. By the time we are done with all of that, it is time for lunch, and we go to a little diner and order sandwiches. We decide to just walk around the city for the rest of the day to try to get our bearings about us, but right when we are walking out, a man is walking in to the diner. And not just any man. A god of a man. He is at least six and a half feet tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He is the most attractive man I have ever seen.
"Merci," I say, thinking that he must be French.
"du Šr vŠlkommen,"he says back. "You aren't French, are you?" he asks with a smirk.
"No, I'm afraid not. Is my accent that bad?" I say, embarrassed.
"It's not bad at all. I'm Swedish, and here on vacation. Eric Northman," he says holding a hand out.
"Sookie Stackhouse," I say smiling. We shake hands, and I swear, I feel a jolt of electricity.
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Sookie," he says, and then walks into the diner.
Wow.