Page 29 of Everything About You

Rhodes: Did you see Sophie’s gala post?

Rhodes: She is living her best life

Rhodes: #SophieInParis

Me: Be nice!

Rhodes: Ain’t hating

Rhodes: I love it

Rhodes: What are you doing?

Me: Cleaning a little

Rhodes: Oh yeah?

Me: Yeah, my friend is coming back to Paris on Friday

Rhodes: That’s exciting

Rhodes: Celeste, right?

Me: Yeah. She’s the blonde on my wallpaper collage

Rhodes: Ah right. Nice. Hope to meet her.

Rhodes: Fancy dinner tonight?

Me: You will. She’ll love that

Me: And yeah, that’d be nice

Rhodes: Brilliant

Rhodes: Do you want to go to a restaurant? Or I could have them make something for us at mine? While it is hard to beat my cooking,

it’s still good lmao

Me: You have a personal chef?

Rhodes: Well, not exactly.

Rhodes: Kind of, yes. Lol

Me: Let’s go somewhere

Rhodes: You’re right, it is our first date

Me: Exactement

Rhodes: Tu es si doué pour parler francais.

Me: Oui.

Rhodes: Haha I’ll text you in a bit, have fun cleaning

Me: It’ll be the most fun I’ve had in Paris, I think

Celeste keeps insisting I don’t need to do anything to clean, but I seem to have had a minor slip into some not-so-great mental

health territory over the past couple of weeks. All alone, and mostly petrified by anxiety, the dishes have begun to stack

in the sink, the laundry is a blur of chaos, and all my products in the bathroom or bedroom have lost any sense of organization.

I tell myself this is okay, but it does happen somewhat regularly. It’s like I become so transfixed with anxious thoughts or spirals, I either forget to take care of smaller, routine things, or I just outright choose to neglect them.

This spell has been made particularly worse by loneliness and sleepless nights.

After the gala, however, I was able to really, truly rest. It took a while for me to actually fall asleep, going over the

night—every word Rhodes said, the way his mouth looked redder after we’d been kissing for a while, and the way his eyes were

both wild and sweet—but once I did, I was out like a light with no restlessness or waking in the middle of the night.

I clean the apartment while listening to music, and it doesn’t take as long as I’d expected at all.

Like a schoolboy with a crush, I check my phone every five seconds to see if Rhodes has texted me. We’ve been talking pretty

much nonstop since we each left the gala, and we were going to see each other yesterday, but he was busy with his parents

and Ollie. Now they’re all gone, and I’m practically buzzing because I am so excited to see him and kiss him again.

This is absurd.

This is an emotional response.

But this is Paris.

And this is Rhodes.

He texts in the early afternoon with some dinner ideas, and we pick a restaurant in the 2nd Arrondissement. He says we can

probably go on a nice walk after if I’m up for it, which I definitely am.

While I’m getting ready, my mom calls. This must be the call. She’s finally going to let me in on her little surprise.

“Milo?”

“Bonjour, Mère!”

“Sounds like you’re in a good mood.”

I smile. “It’s the magic of Paris.”

Soon you’ll be here too!

“So you’re completely fine?”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Well, I know you sometimes get a bit anxious, and I don’t know what exactly happened, but I do

know there was some debacle with a photo of you on the Maison Dauphine Instagram?”

I swallow the newly formed knot in my throat. “No, it’s all fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”

Cue criticism.

“You’ve got to be more careful, Milo. You’re just starting your career. Once something is on the internet, it’s there forever.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I know.”

“And I saw a photo of you and Rhodes on WWD . If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two looked very friendly.”

“We’re friendly,” I say. “We’re going to dinner.”

“Just take it slow,” she says. Ever the pragmatist. “It can get messy to mix business and pleasure.”

I’m so happy you’re happy, Milo. And I know you can make good decisions. Would that be so hard?

I want to groan, but I don’t. “I’m being smart, Mom.”

“Good.”

Mom hums. “Did you meet Liam Hamilton at the gala? Was he handsome? Tall? Does he look the same in photos as in real life?”

I laugh. “I didn’t meet him. I did see him, very briefly, and I’d say he looks the same. Definitely tall.”

“Amazing. Well, I’ve got to run.”

Oh, come on. I want her to let the cat out of the bag already. It would be nice to start coming up with a little itinerary together.

“Big week?” I ask.

“Of course,” she says. “We’re partnering with Kate Kensington for a huge local launch event next weekend.”

Next weekend? As in the weekend she’s supposed to be here?

“Oh. Next weekend? You’re going to be there for it?”

“I will be. You know I need to make sure it all goes perfectly.”

“My boss at Maison Dauphine says she hires good people, so she lets them do their jobs.” I say it like it’s a joke, and we

both laugh. But I wish she’d consider the possibility that she could miss the event. “No, of course, I understand.”

A familiar feeling of disappointment washes over me.

I swallow, and my eyes begin to sting.

This is way worse than her missing a match or a parent teacher conference. I’m across the ocean, all alone, and I guess it

was stupid of me, but I thought maybe that’d be enough. Maybe she’d prioritize me. At the very least, maybe she’d prioritize

a trip to Paris.

She sighs. “Celeste told you, didn’t she?”

I wipe away my tears and try to sound like I’m not upset. “She did, but it’s okay. It’s a big event.”

“If I could be there, I would be. I wanted to. And this is why I didn’t say anything—I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“My hopes weren’t up, it’s okay.” I even force a laugh. “It’s a Kate Kensington launch, I get it. Huge.”

“Thank you for understanding,” she says. I almost roll my eyes. “And I will just say, there is still a surprise arriving in

Paris with Celeste.”

My mouth falls open. “A surprise? What kind of a surprise?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. Now I really have to run. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

When we hang up, I realize she mentioned the surprise to distract me from the disappointment. It’s sort of working, because

what kind of surprise could Celeste be bringing me?

There isn’t any time to think it over now, but I’m sure I will start to obsessively go over all the possibilities as soon

as I get home tonight.

I feel like an idiot for thinking my mother was going to come visit me in Paris, and I feel like even more of an idiot for

still feeling so sad even after all the other times this has happened.

At least I’ve got tonight with Rhodes.

After I’ve showered and gotten dressed—in a nice button-down with slim green trousers and brown shoes—I get a text from Rhodes

that he’s almost here.

We’ve already kissed, and we already know each other, but this still feels so monumental and special. This is our first date.

For all I know, I’ll be getting to know an entirely new side of Rhodes. Even our texts since Friday night have been so warm

and different and exciting. We didn’t stop speaking Saturday from the moment we woke up until I fell asleep.

Rhodes: Je suis arrivé!

I head down to the street, where he’s leaning against a cherry-red vintage Porsche convertible, arms folded with a big grin beneath his mirrored sunglasses.

He’s wearing a similar outfit to me, only his shirt is ivory and striped, and his pants are a blue-gray.

He looks so cool with his windswept hair and confident smile.

My jaw drops, and he pushes himself off the car, gesturing toward it. “What do you think?”

“This is probably the coolest car I’ve ever seen,” I say. “It looks like it’s from a movie.”

He nods. “It’s my dad’s. A 1960 Porsche 356.”

“Are you allowed to—”

“Of course.” He laughs.

Rhodes takes a few steps onto the sidewalk and takes me in his arms. He smells fresh and woodsy, a scent that isn’t too strong,

but still pronounced. I’m not sure what it is, or how this happened so incredibly quickly, but I feel a sense of safety when

he’s holding me like this—his arms around me, hands on my back, my cheek against his chest, and his chin on the top of my

head. I could stay like this forever, which seems silly because I’m not someone who cares for hugs in general. But this doesn’t

feel like it’s just a hug; it feels like a silent promise.

Rhodes moves back just a little, pulling one hand around to graze my jaw, lifting my mouth to meet his. His tongue parts my

lips, and I instinctively follow his lead. When we’ve kissed for a moment, he opens his eyes, glancing down at me. “What?”

Rhodes laughs when I lift my shoulders. “You’re smiling so big.”

“I am.”

“Just a massive smile.” He kisses me again, and then he walks back to the car and opens the passenger door. “Monsieur.”

I get in, and he closes the door before he gets in on the driver side and cranks the engine.

“Allons-y, Milo.”

It’s like a dream, Rhodes’s profile against the blurry streets of Paris in this car that’s too cool to even be real. How is

this my life right now?

When we roll to a stop, he turns to me. “Did you get everything ready for Celeste?”

I nod. “Yeah. I talked to my mom a bit ago. It turns out she can’t make it after all, but she did say Celeste is bringing

me a surprise.”

“She can’t make it?” Rhodes frowns. “I’m sorry, Milo.”

Shrugging, I watch his hand grip the wheel. He presses on the gas. “It’s fine. I should have known better than to get excited.”

“Still, that’s shitty,” he says. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. Par for the course.”

“All right. Well, at least you’ve got Celeste. And a surprise on the way?”

“True. I’m not huge on surprises. As a general rule. But I guess I’ll do my best to focus on that.”

“You? Not big on surprises?” He sticks his tongue out, laughing. “Could have guessed that, mate.”

I knock him lightly on the arm. “It’s kind of the anxiety, I guess. It doesn’t exactly lend to appreciating the element of