“Well, I don’t have any definite plans…”
Sebastian took a deep drag from his cigarette. “Would you like to come visit la musée d’Orsay with me? We still have an hour before it closes, and I know of a great bistro around the corner where we could go afterwards.”
“Sure, so long as I’m back at my hotel at a decent time. I’m still getting used to the time change and I didn’t sleep too well on the plane.”
“I’ll have you tucked in before midnight, just like Cendrillon.”
“Cendri – Oh, you mean Cinderella!”
He chuckled. “The very same. My mother used to read me those awful stories when I was small. It ruined me for life – now I’m a hopeless romantic. Well, it looks like we’re here.”
He helped me off the boat and we walked the few blocks to the museum. He proved to be very knowledgeable about art, pointing out his favorite artists and the way they used shadow and light in their work.
“You must come here a lot.”
“You’re right. I work here.”
“You work here?”
“I am a curator.”
“You’re so young, though. How long have you been working here?”
“This is my fifth year working for this museum. I am 32, surely not too young to be a curator?”
I blushed for like the hundredth time. “Oh no, of course not. I think it’s great. It sounds like an awesome job.”
“It is.” He looked around him, taking in the priceless paintings hanging on the walls, letting his eyes soak them in. He turned back to me.
“And you? What do you do in America?”
“Me? I’m just a student at NYU . I’m studying for my Master’s in English Literature.”
“That’s a university in New York. I go there. I live there, too, in a dorm. I have a roommate who’s 18 and always coming in at the crack of dawn. I guess that’s what you get for still living on campus when you’re 28.” I sighed. I was talking way too much, like I did whenever I got nervous. He was probably bored.
To my surprise, he was still looking at me intently. “I have never been to New York. I hear it is beautiful.”
“It is, but not like this. Not like Paris.”