Page 2 of Only After We Met

“Ginger. What’s yours?”

“Rhys.”

His accent was American. And he was so tall he made me feel tiny. But he had something. That something you can’t always put in words when you meet someone. It’s not that he was handsome or that I felt lost in the city I’d just arrived in. It was that I could read things in him. I still wasn’t sure if those things were good or bad, but when I looked at him, the very last thing that came into my mind wasempty, which was funny, because I’d find out later that the emptiness was one of the things Rhys feared most. But I didn’t know that yet. We were still two strangers looking each other in the eye in front of a ticket machine for the subway.

“Do you have any advice for me?” I said, getting back to the subject.

He hesitated but didn’t look away. “Yeah. I could show you Paris.”

“Look, before this gets uncomfortable, I might as well tell you I just broke up with my boyfriend. We were together a long time, so I’m not into getting to know someone else or having a one-night stand…”

If only someone had told me what a fool I was being then.

“I offered to take you to see the city, not to bed.”

He crossed his arms with a wry grin. I blushed like a fifteen-year-old.

“Of course. But, like, just in case…”

“Right. You’re planning ahead.”

“Exactly. I try to, anyway. I mean, actually, at this moment, I’ve obviously done anything but plan ahead, but fuck it, I’m trying to get…to get my life in order. And everything…”

Rhys didn’t seem bothered by my momentary insanity. That should have been the first sign. I should have known right then he would be different. I was talking nonstop, the way I usually did when I felt nervous, and that was what was special in that moment, the way he just listened, nodded, and agreed.

“…everything’s just chaos right now, you know? This situation. My life. Maybe I’m here in the middle of an unfamiliar city as a kind of symbol of what I feel like right now. Sorry, I don’t know why you haven’t turned around and walked off yet.”

“I like people who talk.”

“Why, to fill the dead air?”

“Maybe. I haven’t really thought about it.”

That was a lie. I’d later learn Rhys was a good talker, the kind who asks questions others don’t even think of, the kind who can stay up all night rolling over whatever’s in their head and never get bored of it.

“The thing is, my flight back leaves tomorrow.”

He looked at me a few moments, tense, interested. “You want to do this visit or not, Ginger?”

I remember all I could think right then was,Why does he say my name like that? Why does he sound like he’s said it a million times before?It scared me, but I liked it in equal measure. Or no. I liked it more than it scared me. Because he uttered it delicately, and I’ve neverliked my name. Ginger’s a spice or a root, not something romantic or spiritual, but when Rhys said it, it sounded different. Nicer.

“You’re a stranger,” I said.

“We’re all strangers until we meet.”

“Yeah, but…” I licked my lips, nervous.

“Whatever. It’s your call.” He shrugged.

Then he wished me a safe trip, his face brushing the collar of his jacket, and he walked toward the tunnel that led outside.

I weighed my options. I was lost in Paris because I’d just broken up with my boyfriend and I thought I was being a rebel by buying the first ticket I could find, even if it was a round trip with a quick turnaround and I had nowhere to stay and nothing on me but a backpack with a pair of panties, a change of socks, and a pack of crackers. And I didn’t know where to go. And I couldn’t ignore the shiver I felt when I heard his voice the first time.

I don’t know. It was an impulse. A sudden attraction.

“Wait!”

He stopped.