Page 31 of Everything About You

It’s a beautiful, sunny Monday morning, and Sophie has asked me to meet her for breakfast before we get to Maison Dauphine.

I typically hate breakfast, and I absolutely despise any type of meeting for breakfast. What tiny appetite I might have is dashed by the worrying or anticipating that comes along

with a serious discussion.

Like, if our coach wanted us all to meet for breakfast when we were on the road for a tournament, I’d purposely schedule training

early so I could work off some of my anxiety and drum up a need for more fuel. Otherwise the guys would all be like, “Milo,

you never eat.”

Which is about as helpful as you might think.

I’m walking over the Seine now, listening to music and trying to be totally zen. Because I’m sure this isn’t about anything

bad. Maybe Sophie just wants to chat through our strategy for some of the quicker-turnaround international loans. They can

get pretty stressful, and with the resort show coming up, I bet it’s only going to get worse.

It is of note that ever since this thing with Rhodes, I feel a bit more.

.. capable. It’s weird, because while everything is essentially the same, I also am highly aware of the fact that Rhodes thinks so highly of me and wants me for me, not despite what I think are some of my worst traits, but because he seems to understand them.

This could either be amazing or awful, I know, and it’s just the beginning of getting to know each other, but there’s a confidence that comes along with a guy like Rhodes Hamilton wanting to kiss you. There just is.

After our dinner, we walked through dimly lit streets until we passed the Louvre and went down to the cobblestones beside

the river. We watched boats and spent time talking. Off in the distance, as we walked, the Eiffel Tower glittered. Rhodes

held my hand, and I didn’t think anything could be better.

I wished I could just spend the entire night with Rhodes. I wanted to talk about everything with him. Memorize everything

about him. It’s a strange feeling to find so much time with somebody can still not be enough. I know we’ve got plenty ahead

of us, but for the first time since Celeste left, really, I don’t feel like I’m alone.

When I get to the little cafe Sophie suggested, I see her standing outside, eyes glued to her phone. She’s wearing a black

dress and slouchy brown boots with a massive Maison Dauphine hobo bag on her shoulder—it’s hard to decide if she looks more

Paris or New York, but she certainly looks the part for working in fashion.

“ Bonjour ,” Sophie chirps. “I love your outfit.”

I glance down. Same Dunks I wear all the time. Same wide-legged cropped pants with a slightly boxy Uniqlo T-shirt. “Really?”

“Really. You look very effortlessly cool, which I fully mean as a compliment.”

We sit at one of the little blue-and-white woven bistro tables outside; we each order a cappuccino.

I’ve learned, fairly quickly, that Paris is not at all like America when it comes to coffee.

The first time I ordered a latte, I ended up with a café au lait, which I attribute to them thinking I was speaking French poorly, which, to be fair, wouldn’t have been far off base if I had tried.

I’m sure there are places that do the sugary coffee drinks we have back home, but I want to embrace the culture, so I’ve only been getting cappuccinos.

“The gala was a huge success,” Sophie says. “I heard about Rhodes’s little incident with the Instagram Story, but I also heard

people thought it was a fun photo and that it seemed like it was on purpose, even. A way to resonate with the Gen Z audience,

I think.”

Rhodes’s little incident.

I shut my eyes and sigh. “So embarrassing.”

“Honestly, I saw a screenshot and I thought it was cute. Anyway, that’s a social media trend, I think. You see it all the

time—meet the interns, that kind of thing.”

“Right. Well, I’m not looking forward to hearing about it in the office.”

“I doubt anybody will even talk about it,” Sophie says. “They’ll all be on to the next thing. It’s not like Rhodes will be

in trouble. I’d say it’s all in the past.” She browses the menu. “What are you getting?”

“Honestly, I think just the cappuccino.”

“You’re not a breakfast person?”

“Not really. I’m just a bit—well, I just don’t usually have too big of an appetite in the mornings.”

Sophie nods. “Well, as long as you eat lunch and dinner, I guess.”

I shrug. “Most of the time. I’m sure you get it, like, if we’re working or really stressed, it’s harder to keep up.”

“I definitely get it,” she says. “It’s important to take care of yourself, though. Are you doing okay? With everything? I’m

sure this is a big adjustment.”

I sip my cappuccino. “Yeah, for sure. I just tend to get a bit anxious in general, so sometimes it spikes a bit worse. It’s

not like I don’t eat on purpose or anything like that, really. It just is more so my body doesn’t... I know, it sounds

horrible.”

“No, I really get it. Do you take anything for your anxiety?”

Now I shake my head. “I’ve tried some before, but the side effects weren’t great. I actually lost more weight. And I was playing tennis then, so it was dangerous to not eat and then go practice or play. Especially in Florida,

and in the sun.” But the way she says she really gets it and asks about medication, I wonder what her experience is. “Do you take anything for it?”

Sophie nods. “I do. But I know it’s not for everyone. It might just be worth looking into. You don’t have to commit to anything,

but maybe you could find one to take only as needed. Or maybe you don’t need medication at all. I’m not sure, I just know

it helps me. And there’s nothing wrong with you if you do need some help to manage your anxiety.”

“Thanks,” I say, hands around the warm cup in front of me. “Though I have no idea how I’d even go about that while I’m here.

I’m not sure how insurance and health care works when you’re an American in Paris.”

Humming and rocking back in her chair a bit, Sophie drums her fingers on the edge of the table. “Well... what if you were back in the US?”

“I’m sure back home it’ll be a lot easier.”

“Right,” she says. “So that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you today, Milo.”

“I don’t follow?”

“We want to bring the apprenticeship to our New York office,” Sophie says. “It’d be a paid opportunity, and it’s very important

we get someone amazing, because it’s a pilot program. If it doesn’t do well, it’ll reflect on my team. We want someone innovative,

who works hard, and who knows Maison Dauphine.”

I understand what she’s saying, but I wait for her to bring it home.

“We want you.”

Drawing in a shallow breath, I blink and swallow and look around, again expecting some sort of Candid Camera situation here.

“Sorry, did you just say... You’re trying to tell me...”

“I’d love to hire you,” she says. “It’ll be thirty hours a week, so almost full-time. And we can work together to figure out

housing options.”

“Wow.”

“Is that a good wow or a bad one?” Sophie smiles, indicating she’s not even entertaining the idea of the latter. “I actually

have a girlfriend who lives in the East Village, and she’s looking for a roommate. I’m sure she could cut you a great deal

if you wanted to sublet the room. There are other options too.”

I stare at the foam of my cappuccino that is stuck on the sides of the cup. This is a lot, and it’s amazing, but it’s also

so unexpected.

“I’m not sure what to say.”

“Do you want to do it?”

I shrug. “I mean, New York is so cool. I never really... I don’t know. My plan was to try and stay in Paris.”

Sophie bites her lip. “Really?”

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s just... you don’t speak French. Plus, there’s the whole visa thing.... And I’m as optimistic as anybody, truly.

But—don’t take this the wrong way—there’s only one job in Paris at the end of the apprenticeship.”

Of course it’s what she doesn’t say here. Rhodes is going to get it.

“I honestly am not sure. I just... I wanted to stay in Paris and I guess I figured if I really did a great job, maybe it

could be me.”

Sophie orders a ham omelet from the Le Petit-Déjeuner menu, and the idea of that makes my stomach turn, but I don’t say anything.

“I get it,” Sophie agrees. “But it’s not guaranteed. And this opportunity in New York is guaranteed. We wouldn’t even make

you interview or anything. You’d just transfer over. Keep your email and everything. Maybe a few extra forms, but it’d be

seamless. We have an assistant position opening up, and the apprentice will transition into that role. You’d be all set in

New York, Milo.”

“Okay,” I say. “Right, okay. I guess you’re right. I don’t see why I couldn’t...”

This is what I wanted. Even if it’s being presented in a different way, this is ultimately what I came here to do. The plan

was to kick ass at Maison Dauphine and find a way to stay on with the house. So I’m on track. Plus, Sophie is right, I don’t

speak French and I don’t even know what that visa process would be like.

“Perfect,” Sophie says. “I leave tomorrow morning, but we could give you a couple of weeks if you need to get everything in order.”

I blink. “Wait, a couple of weeks?”

She nods. “Is that okay?”

“Oh, I thought this would be for the fall or something....”

“Well, it’d be great to have you in New York before the resort show. That way you can take the lead on a lot of American requests

when the line is live. Leadership feels there is enough staffing for the show, but stateside there will be a lot of press

attention we’ll need help with. Only one of you is going to be working the show here, anyway.”

And there it is. There’s the gut-wrenching twist.

I’m only just now starting to get used to being in Paris. I’m only just now starting to fall for this ridiculously cute guy

who is like a dream come true. I’m only just starting this story, and now... how can I turn down an offer for an apprenticeship

in New York? And one that could lead to a job?

“Is there any way I could stay a bit longer?” I ask. “I want to come to New York, I really do. But I just got here....”

She frowns. “I get it. I wish things were different, but if we don’t have someone in place before the resort show, we’ll have

to open up applications, and from there, I can’t guarantee it’d be you, unfortunately. It’s not that I wouldn’t still want

to pick you, but HR will need to treat every applicant fairly, of course, and that means if someone with more experience comes

along... it’s a gamble.”

I nearly spill my cappuccino because I sit up so quickly. “No, I get it. I completely understand.”

There are a million thoughts swirling around in my head, and I can’t seem to wrangle even one of them, so I just figure the best and only option is to buy time.

“I’ll need to talk to my parents,” I offer. “And figure out some of the logistics. When would you need to know?”

Sophie sucks her teeth and looks off, eyes darting around as if she’s calculating. “I’d say by next Wednesday at the latest.

That’s when we have our departmental meeting, and they’ll want an update. There won’t be much I can do once it gets beyond

our team, so if you’re not signed on, things just get really complicated.”

I nod. “Sure, okay. By next Wednesday.”

“At the latest,” Sophie says. She makes a strange humming noise, leaning a bit closer. “Milo, I’m a bit surprised here, I

can’t lie. You seem so determined, and I know you want to stay with Maison Dauphine. This is really a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity

we’re talking about here. This isn’t something many eighteen-year-olds would get offered.”

“I know. Trust me, I am so grateful for the opportunity.”

“Is there anything that’s holding you back here? I just sort of thought you’d be thrilled and jump at this. Maybe that was

presumptuous of me, but—”

I can hear her tone shifting, and I suddenly feel desperate to shift it back.

“No, you’re so right. I am just really surprised, that’s all.

I’m in shock. This doesn’t happen to random guys from Citrus Harbor, Florida.

At least not that I know of.” She laughs at that, and I can tell she’s feeling less offended by my initial lack of enthusiasm.

“But this is amazing. I’m going to talk to my parents, and I’ll figure it all out. ”

She smiles as the waiter sets the ham omelet down in front of her. “Okay, good.”

“I really am grateful,” I say. “Thank you for putting me up for this.”

How is it I’ve gotten this amazing opportunity but won’t even let myself feel excited?

I can practically hear Celeste now.

Milo Hawthorne, a boy with a choice.

Risk it all for Paris?

Or start fresh in New York?