"That's it! That's my plan!"

Adrien follows her gaze to the massive stadium. The violet gray sky, the same sky Paris has seen every day since the temperature dropped, has subdued it, stripped away its golden gleam.

"A football game?" he asks warily.

"You know, I've been here for so many years, but I've never been to a game." She jumps into the crosswalk leading toward the gate.

He shrugs. "It's nothing special. Americans have soccer too."

The bluenette stops to glare, and he pushes her forward so she's not run over by a blue tourist bus. "Oh, right. Soccer. Why didn't I know that?"

He shoves her playfully. "Anything but the football game."

Her expression turns thoughtful. "Where to go, then? Do you want to go somewhere?"

"Trés bien," Very well. "Now that the matter's in my hands, I'd just like to walk around. Alone. With you."

Although the words are not specific, they strike a chord in her heart. Damn that smooth-talker! Hmm, a lot like Chat Noir, now that she thinks about it.

It starts drizzling. They pop into a bookshop across from Notre-Dame. The yellow-and-green sign reads SHAKESPEARE AND COMPANY.

Inside, they're struck by chaos. A horde of customers crowds the desk, and everywhere Marinette turns there are books, books, and more books. But it's not like a chain, where everything is neatly organized on shelves and tables and end caps. Here books totter in wobbly stacks, fall from the seats of chairs, and spill from sagging shelves. There are cardboard boxes overflowing with books, and a black cat naps beside a pile on the stairs. Adrien's eyes twinkle for some reason when he sees it.

But the most astonishing thing is that all of the books are in English.

Adrien notices her awed expression. "You've never been here before?"

She shakes her head, and he's surprised. "It's quite famous. Hey, look—" He holds up a copy of 'Balzac and the Little Seamstress. "This is familiar, eh?"

She wanders in a daze, half terrified to disturb anything. One wrong touch might break the entire store. It could collapse, and they'd be buried in an avalanche of yellowed pages.

The rain patters against the windows. She pushes her way through a group of tourists and examine the fiction section.

Marinette pulls a random hardcover copy of The Flaw from the shelf, and she cringes at the familiar romantic couple kissing on the cover.

"What's that?" Adrien asks. She startles. She didn't realize he was standing beside her.

He takes the novel from her. He flips it over, and the author photo grins back at them. Candice Cane.

"She was my friend in college." Marinette informs him.

Adrien raises his eyebrows.

He flips it open and reads the jacket. She watches his face anxiously. His expression grows puzzled. Marinette sees him stop and go back to read something again. Adrien looks up at her. "It's about cancer," he says.

Oh. My. God.

"This guy has cancer. What happens to him?"

She can't swallow. "She is an idiot."

An excruciating pause. "She sells a lot of these, does she?"

Marinette nods.

"And people enjoy this? They find it entertaining, do they?"

"I'm sorry, Adrien." Tears are welling in her eyes.

He shuts the book and shoves it back on the shelf. He picks up another, The Entrance. The leukemia novel. Candice wears a dress shirt with the first few buttons casually undone. Her arms are crossed, but she has that same ridiculous grin.

"She's a freak," Marinette says. "A total ... freak."

He snorts. He opens his mouth to say something, but then sees her crying. "No, Mari. Mari, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen this." She snatches the book and thrusts it back onto the shelf. Another stack of novels tumbles off and crashes to the floor between them. They drop to pick them up and bash heads.

"Ow!" she says.

Adrien rubs his head. "Are you all right?"

Marinette wrenches the books from his hands. "I'm fine. Just fine." She piles them back on the bookcase and stumble to the back of the store, as far from him, as far from her friend, as possible. But a few minutes later, Adrien is back at her side.

"It's okay. You don't have to feel bad."

"I don't want to talk about it." Her voice is cracked.

"Fair."

Under his insistence, somehow, they end up in the Le Jardin du Luxembourg. The Luxembourg Gardens, is busy today, but it's a pleasant crowd.

Adrien and she are sprawled before the Grand Bassin, an octagonal pool popular for sailing toy boats.

It's strange that this is her first time here as well, because the garden rests against their school. She's been missing out.

Marinette says they're in the best park in all of Paris, but he thinks it's the best park in the world.

A tiny sailboat breezes behind us, and she sighs happily. "A-adrien?"

They're lying next to each other, propped up against the ledge of the Bassin. He shifts, and his legs find a comfortable spot against her. Their eyes are closed.

"Hmm?" he asks.

"This is sooo much better than a football game."

"Mm, isn't it, though?"

He slaps her with a lazy arm, and they laugh quietly. Sometime later, she realizes he's calling her name.

"What?" She must have drifted asleep.

"Your hair is wet. Come on." He stands and offers his hand. Marinette takes it, and he helps her up. She expects him to drop it, but he doesn't. Instead, he leads her to a safe spot away from the pool.

It's nice holding hands. Comfortable.

Marinette wishes friends held hands more often, like the children she sees on the streets sometimes. She's not sure why they have to grow up and get embarrassed about it. We sit in the grass underneath a canopy of pink blossoms.

Her hair drips through the back of het shirt but, somehow, it's not so bad right now.

They are still holding hands.

Okay, they should let go. This is the point where it would be normal to let go.

Why aren't they letting go?

"Look, I think we need to talk." Adrien squeezes her hand, willing her to look at him.

Uh-oh.

"Why were you lying to me?"

The question startles her. Not what she was expecting. Nor hoping.

He stares up at her. His green eyes are huge and heartbroken. She's confused. "I'm sorry, I don't know what—"

"November. At the crêperie. I asked you if we'd talked about anything strange that night I was drunk in your room. If I had said anything about our relationship, or my relationship with Kagami. And you said no."

Oh my God. "How did you know?"

"Nino told me."

"When?"

"November."

She's stunned. "I . . . I ..." Her throat is dry. "If you'd seen the look on your face that day. In the restaurant. How could I possibly tell you? With your father—"

"I thought you weren't interested."

"But you were drunk! You had. . . Sorry, have, a girlfriend! What was I supposed to do? God, Adrien, I didn't even know if you meant it."

"Of course I meant it." He scoots closer to her. "I was going to break up with her."

"Then, why didn't you?"

"I tried to— but, my father told me something—"

"Anyways, it doesn't matter. You. . . love her. And I'm going to go back anyway."

Another squeeze on her hand, and she dares herself to look at him. She does.

Adrien's emerald eyes search hers. "What are we doing?" His voice is strained.

He's so beautiful, so perfect. Marinette's dizzy. Her heart pounds, her pulse races. She tilts her face toward his, and he answers with an identical slow tilt toward hers.

Adrien closes his eyes. Their lips brush lightly.

"If you ask me to kiss you, I will," he says.

And then he stops. Instinct. His body is rigid.

"How could you?" a girl cries.

*

Dun-dun-dun! More drama for you, people! Vote and comment please. I'd appreciate it very much.

Stay pawsome! 🐾
— Upama