We’re both a little out of breath when we get to the top and turn around to face the vastness of the city beneath us. I’ve been in Paris for weeks, but I’ve barely scratched the surface. “I wish I could just spend my last few days exploring the city.”
Louis lets out a laugh, but it sounds kind of sad. “No, you don’t. You’re going to spend your last few days performing the role of a lifetime in front of all the right people. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
I shrug. “I know, but this,” I say, taking in the gorgeous panorama of the city once more, “has to be the most beautiful and romantic place in Paris.”
A smile forms on Louis’s lips. “The most beautiful, maybe,” he says, “but for the most romantic, there’s a lot of competition. Come on, let’s go.”
He pulls on my arm, and I follow him down the backstreets of Montmartre. It’s quiet at this hour—both the portraitists and the tourists have gone home. Yet it feels so familiar to me now. We shared our first kiss right here. I’ll always think of Montmartre as ours.
A few minutes later, we arrive on Rue des Abbesses, which is lined with restaurants, cafés, and more charming shops. Louis leads us to another smaller square that looks like it’s straight out of a movie, with its green wrought-iron métro entrance, a colorful carousel, and a small gated park.
“Here it is,” Louis says as we cross over to the other side. It’s pretty dark, and I don’t see what he’s talking about at first. But then, as we stop under two streetlamps, I see it: a large wall spanning at least thirty feet long and over ten feet high, covered in blue tiles with white handwriting and red little squares all over it. I step forward to get a closer look.
“What does it say?” I ask, trying to read some of the words on the wall. “This isn’t in French.”
Louis turns to me. “I love you.”
My heart stops.
“That’s what it says,” Louis continues. “？‘I love you’ in dozens of languages. This is the ‘Mur des je t’aime,’ and I think it’s a pretty good contender for the most romantic spot in Paris.”
My heart starts beating again. In fact, it knocks against my chest at a rapid-fire pace, while my mind is trying to deal with what I thought Louis just said to me, and how much I wanted to hear it.
“So?” Louis asks, gently shoving me. “Do you like it? I think it’s cool.”
I take a deep breath. I can feel Louis tense next to me. “I love it,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment or two, and just looks into my eyes, breathing slowly.
Je t’aime. That’s what I really wanted to say. But I’m too chicken to do it, too scared to deal with the consequences of my leaving Paris—and Louis—in just a few days. But I am definitely a bit braver than I was when I arrived here. So I pull him toward me, and, before I can think any more about what I should have said or what I want to say, I stand on the tops of my toes and brush my face against his. Then I kiss him for all the world’s “I love you’s” to see.
TODAY IS THE day. The end of the program and the start of a new life. In between: showtime! Costumes, music, and the entire cast performing Swan Lake from curtain to curtain for a very special audience.
The magnitude of what I’ve accomplished in the last weeks hits me even harder when Audrey and I arrive at school. As the leads, we’re given our own dressing room to get ready, away from the commotion of the corps de ballet. For the first time in my life, I feel truly special, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’ve worked hard. I rehearsed for hours and hours and hours. I want to believe that, whatever happens today, I will have no regrets.
Audrey and I sit in total silence next to each other, facing our own mirrors. I apply a thick layer of foundation, glittery eyeshadow across my lids, but when I try to move on to lipstick, my hand shakes too much.
The apprentice program director for ABT is going to be in that room. My lifelong dream is up for the making…or breaking.
Audrey shoots me a glance in the mirror. “You got this,” she says firmly. “You’re ready.”
My bottom jaw trembles, and I have to put my lipstick down. I can’t steady my hands. “What if I’m not? Or what if I am and it’s still not enough?”
Audrey takes a deep sigh. “I can’t let you freak me out.”
She gets up and starts pacing the room, her chest rising and falling with every breath. “You think I’m not scared about what’s going to happen in there?”