True Blood/Southern Vampire Mysteries Fan Fiction ❯ Ghosts That We Knew ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

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

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all characters.

I walk over to Amelia, heart pounding. She gives me her signature shit eating grin, and loops her arm through mine.
"So who was that piece ofdelectablecandy?" she asks, nudging me in the side.
"Ouch, that hurt. And that was Eric Northman, here on vacation, and he's from Sweden," I tell her nonchalantly, hoping that she'll drop the subject.
"Shit, girl. You should have gotten his number or something," she says, scowling at me, as if it was her loss.
"Amelia, I'm not ready for that. I wanted to come here and not have to worry about relationships, remember?"
"Honey, you don't have to be in a relationship to enjoy a good fuck with a handsome man," she says, grinning again.
"Amelia Broadway! You know that's not that kind of girl I am," I say, blushing profusely.
"Yeah, but that's why we're in Paris. You don't have to be yourself. You can be someone completely different, and no one will be the wiser. Have some fun, for fuck's sake," she says, forever the eloquent best friend.
I just roll my eyes, and we keep walking, just looking at all the streets and remembering the names, and places that we want to visit. I'm determined to visit the Louvre while we are here, and I tell Amelia so.
"Well, it's only a couple of streets over. We can go if you want," she says, starting to drag me towards the art museum. When we arrive, I can't contain my excitement. This is a once in a lifetime experience, and I'll be damned if I don't soak it all up. I'm most excited about seeing Hammurabi's code and the Mona Lisa, but of course, those are the most touristy attractions. When I finish at the Mona Lisa—which by the way is really small!—I try to find Hammurabi's Code. When I do, I'm annoyed, because there is an extremely tall blonde head blocking my view of the entire thing.
"Um, excuse me?" I say, tapping the giant's shoulder. "Can you move please? Small person trying to see something over here."
But when he turns around, my jaw drops. It's him—Eric from the diner. When he sees me, he smirks down at me, and takes a second to look at my cleavage.
"Well, if it isn't diner girl," he says, finally meeting my eyes.
"Hello, Mr. Northman," I say, not feeling like dealing with male bullshit.
"Please, call me Eric," he says, smirking again. I turn to walk away, when he grabs my hand. And there it is again, that little jolt of electricity.
"Look, Eric, you seem...nice enough, but I really need to meet up with my friend," I tell him, motioning in the general direction of the gift shop where I left her.
"That friend?" he says, pointing at none other than Amelia, who is grinning with an evil glint in her eyes.
"Oh, well I guess she found me..." I say, trailing off because I can't think of any other excuse to leave.
"Sookie, right?" he asks, and I nod. "Can I at least have your number?"
I sigh, and gesture for him to hand me his cell phone. I put in a fake number, and hand it back to him, smiling.
"Thanks," he says. "Can I give you mine?"
I give him my cell and he puts his number in as well.
"Well, Eric, it was...nice seeing you again," I say, although it was more awkward than anything. "I need to get back to my hotel so I can get ready for dinner tonight." I walk away and head to Amelia who is grinning like an idiot.
"Oh my god, tell me everything!" she demands, grabbing my arm.
"There's not much to tell. He's a prick. He was staring at my tits that entire time. I gave him a fake number," I tell her, and her face falls.
"Why would you do that?" she asks increduously.
"Because he's a prick. And I don't want to get involved with anybody, especially not somebody over here, that will have to go back home to fucking Sweden, that I'll never see again."
We walk the rest of the way to the hotel in silence, and we go our separate ways to get ready for dinner. I pick out a black dress, that flows slightly, and black Louboutin pumps—which I saved up for, forever—which make my legs look great. The only reason I am getting dressed up, is we are going to a club when we get done with dinner. I grab a clutch that Amelia lent me, and do my makeup, with red lips and a dark smoky eye.
Amelia comes over dressed in a royal blue dress, pumps a mile high, and light makeup. She looks so different than her usual soccer mom get up.
"You look amazing!" we say at the same time, as soon as we see each other. Amelia's hoping to get laid, while I, on the other hand, just want to have some fun and dance. We head out of the hotel and call a cab, because we both plan on becoming outrageously drunk tonight. When the cab arrives, we send it to the restaurant, and plan our evening. The club we are going to is on the same block as the restaurant, so we won't have to call another cab to get there. It should be a fun place to be, simply because it is made primarily for adults, and there isn't a lot of teenage rifraf hanging out.
We arrive at the restaurant, and the food is absolutely to die for. I had heard that French food was good, but this was fantastic. After our main course, our dessert, and a bottle of wine later, we're ready to head to the club.
When we arrive, Amelia just drags me straight up to the bouncer, and he lets us in immediately, much to my chagrin. When we walk in, I gasp. It's beautiful inside the club. There are black leather couches set up around the perimeter, and a huge black and red dance floor set up in the middle. The theme of the club seems to be black and red, so I fit in perfectly, but Amelia doesn't seem to mind. She's already headed off to the bar to get us drinks, and I pick us out a table before it gets snatched up by someone else. As I am sitting down getting myself comfortable, I hear a familiar voice behind me.\
I turn around, and it is none other than Eric fucking Northman standing next to the table.
"So, I called you today," he said. "And a lovely gentleman named Jose answered."
I groan, and put my head in my hands—I am so embarrassed. I've never had a guy confront me about the fake phone number trick before. I look at him, and he has sat down in the booth across from me, patiently waiting for an explanation.
"I never thought I wouldactuallysee you again. I just figured that would be it. I'm not really in a place to start a relationship right now," I tell him blushing. He stands up, and takes my hand, ushering me to the bar.
"Get whatever you want. Pamela will cover it for you," he says, gesturing to the beautiful woman standing behind the counter. She rolls her eyes and scowls at him, muttering something in Swedish, making him laugh. He has a lovely laugh.
"Uh, thanks, Eric. But I don't want to make you pay for all this," I tell him, feeling guilty.
"Don't worry about it, Sookie," he says, smirking again. "It is my bar after all."