Salon du Chocolat

The line of people snaked back by almost a mile, past a cafe and the gates to the massive venue that the Salon Du Chocolate was being held. A smattering of people walked into the other entrance. I and Lauren stalled, deciding which line was the one we were supposed to be in.

"A bit lost, are you?" He said, his voice friendly and very very British.
"How could you tell?" We giggled. He didn't know that Lauren had given me a sharp look and that I had barely nodded.
In Paris, you stay on your guard. Just in case.

That friendly voice belonged to Brian, a nice fellow looking for friends in the city of light. He had just moved here, but had traveled extensively. We got to hear about most of those travels, especially the ones in the United States.

The Salon was packed shoulder to shoulder with people, and vendors with chocolate samples went on beyond what my eyes could see. Some of the chocolate melted in my

mouth. One tasted like sardines. I think I ate a coffee bean in there somewhere, too. Through it all, Brian trailed me and Lauren.
He was too nice to tell him to get lost, and just weird enough to make us feel uncomfortable. So we just let him awkwardly trail behind us as I stuffed my face with the best chocolate in the world and as Lauren sipped and expresso and we as we all elbowed people to walk in a straight line.

Finally, we made a move for the exit, spouting something about needing to meet up with the others and having a stomach ache (both somewhat truthful).

Brian whipped his phone out, hands shaking and sweat

beading on his forehead. I groaned internally. We put our numbers into his iphone and bid him goodbye. I ate another chocolate sample on the way out for consolation.

A few hours later I'm frantically packing for Germany. The bus is leaving in two hours and I need to leave in 10 minutes. My phone buzzes and I see Brian's name pop up, asking if I would like to go iceskating at Montmartre that night.

I politely decline and tell him I'm headed for Germany. Maybe some other time.

That's the last we've heard from Brian, and it makes me wonder if I may have thwarted the greatest love Paris has ever seen. I think I'll blame it on the stomach ache.