Page 23 of Everything About You

I once told Celeste I was worried that in all my obsessive research and social media scrolling related to Paris, I might have

spoiled too much of the Louvre. I might have seen it all, I’d said.

I was an idiot.

The Louvre is massive . It’s unlike any museum I’ve ever been to.

My mom loves The Da Vinci Code , so I’ve always thought that the huge metal-and-glass pyramid outside was beyond cool. Especially when it was lit up at night.

But the scale of it was something I somehow didn’t expect. It’s major, and it honestly looks even cooler when taken in the

full context of the grand palace that wraps around it. I already sent the family group chat a selfie of me in my tuxedo with

the pyramid behind me.

Paris is amazing, and it just keeps getting better.

Everything about the museum is incredible, and though the sun is only beginning to set, the Louvre has closed two hours early.

I am fairly certain the only reason they were able to shut it down like this is because of some of the more high-profile guests.

Seeing it empty feels like an immense gift, and one I try to savor as much as I can.

The guest list is expansive. Diplomats, rock stars, painters, magazine editors, actors and actresses, the most famous athletes, and at least three Time people of the year.

French Vogue is involved somehow, though I’m not entirely sure if it’s just that they promote or sponsor or how it all works. Either way,

it will be wild to just walk around getting content and experiencing such a huge event.

This is going to be a dream come true.

Of course, there is the fact that I’m standing next to Rhodes, who is zooming in on his phone and squinting like an old man.

“Right, so we need to get a few establishing shots. Those are just clips we can use to—”

“I know what establishing shots are,” I say. “It’s sort of self-explanatory.”

He chuckles. “Of course. All right, I think we should just get some shots of iconic painting halls. The main portion of the

gala is here in the Cour Marly.” He pinches the interactive map on his screen and points it toward me. “We could quickly run

up here, to the Grande Galerie, and get some of those shots and maybe you can get some IG stories that tease the night ahead

as we make our way back to the courtyard.”

His plan is fine, it’s just slightly annoying that he’s running the show. I realize, of course, that this is incredibly petty.

No drama.

“There’s one thing I want to see,” I say. “Especially with nobody around.” Then: “I can use it for content too.”

He doesn’t say anything, just lifts his chin slightly as if considering this, before giving the smallest nod and starting

to walk.

Quick footsteps echo loudly in the empty lobby, and Rhodes’s twin brother, Ollie, is rushing toward us in a tuxedo, with a brunette girl in a chartreuse silk slip dress.

Ollie Hamilton, holy shit. I mean, I know Rhodes already, and so his famous footballer twin brother shouldn’t make me feel starstruck in any way, but

I’m caught by surprise and find myself nervous like I’m queued up for a meet-and-greet and I might say the wrong thing.

Bizarre.

“Ole buddy boy!”

“Ollie?” Rhodes cries. There’s a bit of a crack in his voice, and I can tell he’s not wholly thrilled by this surprise. When

Ollie pulls him in for a bear hug—one that’s a bit aggressive in my opinion, considering how expensive and well fitted these

jackets are—Rhodes laughs. “How did you get in?”

Pulling away and making a face, Ollie clicks his teeth against his tongue. “You’re not part of the welcoming committee for

this gala, I hope.”

“It’s just that you’re two hours early.”

“Right, why isn’t the Fête à Minuit at midnight?” He waves off the question before I can answer him, sliding his arm around

his date’s waist, pulling her closer. “Mum and Dad are back at the hotel, but I thought I’d like to show Phoebe a private

tour of the Louvre.”

“Did you?” Rhodes holds his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Phoebe.”

Pleased to meet you?

It sounds awfully formal, and for some reason just not what I’d expect from Rhodes when meeting his twin brother’s girlfriend.

Or date.

“Wait, Mum and Dad are at a hotel?” Rhodes asks. “I thought they’d be staying at the flat. I just had it cleaned.”

Ollie shakes his head. “They’re in and out. Didn’t they tell you?”

Rhodes pokes his tongue in his cheek. “No, they didn’t.”

My chest burns. I recognize that look anywhere. I can feel that look in my bones. It’s the feeling of looking out at a crowd

of parents at a match and realizing your mom is nowhere to be found.

I study Rhodes and Ollie as they stand beside each other. Where Rhodes has wavy blond hair with a middle part, Ollie has a

shaved head. They’ve got the exact same aquamarine eyes, the same full lips, and the same square jaw with a defined chin.

Both tall, both have an athletic build with muscular thighs, large hands and feet. It’s a miracle for one person to be blessed

with such good looks, but it’s mind-boggling for two.

“And is this your...?” Ollie gestures toward me.

Rhodes and I exchange quick glances.

“No!”

“God, no!”

“Right,” Ollie laughs, now offering his hand to shake. “I’m Ollie Hamilton.”

“Milo,” I say. “Milo Hawthorne.”

Ollie grins. “Ooh, that’s got a nice ring. Very well, Milo. And all of us have got surnames that begin with H.”

“Mine is Hack,” Phoebe says with big eyes and a wide smile.

“Fancy that?” Rhodes says. “Well, it’s good to—”

“Do you work for Maison Dauphine, Milo?” Ollie asks. Phoebe seems intrigued by this, her emerald-green eyes boring into my

soul.

I nod. “Well, I’m an apprentice. Same as Rhodes.”

“That’s fantastic,” Ollie says. “I hope you’ve been looking after my baby brother. He sometimes needs extra supervision.”

Rhodes shakes his head and, not to me, but to Phoebe, says: “He always acts like he’s so much older. We’re talking minutes .”

“And all the wiser for it, I reckon.” Ollie laughs. He turns his attention back to me. “I remember you now, I think. You’re

the American with the social media campaign. Brilliant. How do you like France? Is it a culture shock? I love America, but

I bet it’s tough to adapt.”

I shrug. “It’s a little tough. Mostly just because I’m here all by myself.”

Phoebe’s eyes bug and she frowns a big, dramatic frown. “How sad.”

“Sad indeed.” Ollie seems personally affronted. “Has my baby brother not been keeping you company outside of Maison Dauphine

as well, then?”

“I wish you’d quit with the baby-brother thing,” Rhodes says, going red.

Ollie ignores him. “Because he’s all by himself, as well. He just sulks around the flat, as I understand it. Isn’t that right?”

I turn to Rhodes. I didn’t quite form a full picture in my mind of Rhodes’s life in Paris, but I did expect it to be glamorous

and social and exciting. I imagined he had parties in that giant apartment, and now imagining him there alone all the time

kind of makes my heart sink.

He shakes his head though, forcing a laugh. “Ollie, have you been drinking?”

“Not yet.” Ollie echoes his brother’s laughter. “You two ought to come up to London sometime if you’re both bored. Come see a match!”

Something he’s said has struck a nerve with Rhodes. He immediately stiffens and his jaw clenches.

“They’re a lot of fun,” Phoebe says to me coolly. “They have Dom in the box.”

Rhodes remains quiet and Ollie looks perplexed. “You really ought to, I think it’d be nice. You haven’t been in ages.” He

looks to me. “Rhodes came to my academy matches a bit, but he’s been too busy lately. Now that he’s going to have a career

in fashion, I suppose football is less intriguing. Though don’t let him fool you, he loved it as much as I did once.”

“Ollie.”

“What? It’s the truth.” He waves him off. “Just because you—”

“Ollie.” Rhodes is sterner now, and Phoebe seems shocked at the shift in tone. “Milo and I have got to get some work done.

We’ll see you round the gala, yeah?”

Taken aback, Ollie nods. “Right. Yeah, we’ll see you round the gala. I’m sure Mum and Dad will text you once they’re here.

You know Dad’ll want a family photo. Even if you’re a waiter or whatever.” When Rhodes doesn’t laugh, Ollie rolls his eyes

and shoves him in the shoulder. “I’m only joking, mate. Relax. Mum and Dad are proud you’ve got a job now.”

“Sure thing,” Rhodes says. He looks to Phoebe. “Lovely meeting you, enjoy your private tour.”

Phoebe smiles. “I will. Lovely meeting you. And you as well, Milo Hawthorne.”

“You too, Phoebe Hack.”

She seems to love this, bursting into giggles as she and Ollie rush away.

Rhodes and I stand there in silence for a brief moment, and I instinctively look down at the ground, kicking together the

toes of the patent leather shoes. He takes a deep breath and pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket, recalibrating the map

and mumbling to himself about the route we’re going to take to get our content quickly.

I consider if I should say anything at all, but I can tell he’s upset. I opt for levity, thinking it may not be my place to

get too specific:

“That was...” I say with a chuckle that might sound too forced.

“That was...?” Rhodes snips.

“Oh, I don’t know. It seemed like you were tense with Ollie.”

Rhodes shoots me a look. “What are you on about, Milo?”

“Sorry?” I bite my lip. “I thought maybe Ollie was picking on you a bit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “We just mess around. We’re brothers. You’ve got that Circus clown of a

brother, you should know.”

“Don’t talk about him like that, you don’t know him.”

“Fine. Okay, whatever. To the Grande Galerie we go.”