Prosecco isn't champagne

After we have checked into the hotel, mum presents me with two identical looking baseball caps. They are black with a small Swedish flag embroidered on one side. “Thanks mum, they’re…”  She laughs at me. “Hideous! But I couldn’t resist when I saw them at the airport!” My mum, the flake. I hug her and jam the ugly thing on my head. She does the same and we take a selfie for her to post on Facebook. I try not to think about the person missing in the photo.

This trip was my idea, but mum was the one who found this resort. It lies outside of Nice and is five stars. Neither of us could believe that we had snagged the last-minute trip to this place. And at almost half the price! For her I hope this will be a week of rest and making happy memories. For me? Well, if she’s happy I’ll not wish for anything for myself.  “Ready to go have dinner?”  I throw my cap on my bed as an answer to her question. “You think we’re dressed smartly enough?”  Mum checks us over and nods. “We’re looking very cute tonight.” She’s is in a red and white polka dot maxi dress, with white sandals to match and I have a two-piece dress with a white crochet crop top and a long and flowy pale-yellow skirt. Paring it with leather flip flops makes it look fancy and casual at the same time. I run a brush through my long blonde hair and make sure my eyebrows look good. It’s too warm to wear makeup, but a bit of clear gel won’t hurt. Mum puts her shoulder length hair into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She looks adorable and I kiss her cheek, earning a smile in return. 

Mum orders us wine with the food. I give her a raised eyebrow, but she waves her hand at me, as if I’m being ridiculous. “A glass of wine to go with your meal is nothing. But don’t think this means I’m letting you drink during this trip.” She looks me straight in the eye. “The legal drinking age here is 18, and you’re not 18 until August.”  “Yeah, yeah. It’s not as if I have anyone to drink with anyway. I’m not so sad I’ll get drunk all by myself, you know.” Mum laughs and we raise our glasses. Sorrow swirls in my stomach as I think of how much Susanna would have loved this place. The faraway look in mum’s eyes tells me that she’s thinking about her too. 

The food is excellent. I’m so stuffed I don’t want to leave my chair. We’ve spent most of the meal chatting about small things, but about halfway in a group of four women are seated next to us and somehow, we all start talking. They’re from London and mum spent quite a few years there before I was born. I actually think my dad’s British, but she won’t tell me anything about him. I bring it up every few years and maybe one day she’ll tell me about him.  “We’re going for a drink in the pool bar. Would you like to join us?” The one called Sharon asks. Mum looks at me and I shrug my shoulders.  “I was thinking I’d check out the resort, but you go ahead and join them. I’ll pop by later.” She gives me a quick hug before joining her new friends. They’re laughing about something as they walk out of the restaurant and I’m so glad that she seems to be enjoying herself. 

The resort isn’t very big. It doesn’t take me more than 30 minutes to wander down all the narrow pathways crisscrossing it. I snap a view of the town to a couple of friends. Sighing I head towards the pool and the swanky bar lying next to it. There’s music coming out of hidden speakers, but the volume is low enough for the guests to be able to keep conversations going. I recognise some old French classic and hum along to the tune, scanning the tables for mum and the London ladies. I spot them quick enough; they’re laughing and talking.  

Something in the corner of my eye has me stopping. Two tables down from where I’m standing sits a guy my age. I’m staring at him. I’ve not seen anyone here younger than mum. Although to be fair, we’ve only been here a couple of hours. I glance at him as I order a 7Up. He’s reading a book and seems well emerged in the thick volume. His tousled blonde hair falls onto his forehead but seems short enough to not get in his eyes and he’s wearing a blue shirt, simple but still dressy enough for this place. I’m extrovert and love to talk to people, but sometimes I don’t know how to start conversations without seeming too much. I really don’t want to scare him off. He might be the only one I can hang out with this week, unless I want to hang with mum and her new buddies. I glance over to her and shake my head, nope. I walk towards his table and try to see what book he’s reading. Impossible. Ugh. 

 “Hi. Do you mind? I don't want to sit by myself.” He looks up. His eyes linger over my boobs. I question my decision to talk to him. Then he checks the nearby tables and shrugs his shoulders. Such a charmer.  “No, go right ahead.” His German accent is strong. That’s cool, I’ve never really hung out with someone from Germany before. I arrange my long skirt as I sit.  “What are you reading?” I crane my neck to see the cover of the book. He looks down at his book and up again. His eyes are the same blue as his shirt. I give him a friendly smile, hoping the suspicious look on face will melt away.  “It’s Faust.” He shows me the front cover of the thick and worn paperback. It’s a dull brown colour with the name of the book in a squiggly font.  “Huh. I think we’re reading parts of that at school next year. Is it any good?”  He shrugs his shoulders again and turns the book over in his hands. “It’s interesting. And it’s one of the classics.”  “Would you mind telling me something about it? Because I looked it up a few months ago and I can’t see what’s so exciting about it.” I give him my easy smile again. Come on! I’m nice. You want to talk to me! 

The corner of his mouth twitches and he shakes his head. “Well, Faust sells his soul to the devil and then it’s all downhill from there.”  I laugh at his narration of the story. “Wow, now I’m really looking forward to reading that!” He finally full on smiles at me and he’s as beautiful as I imagined him to be. I lean towards him, maybe I can afford to be a little forward. “So. You’re from Germany?”  “Yes. And you’re not.” He leans back into his chair, looking more comfortable about the situation.  “No. What gave me away? My accent?”  “Among other things…” I raise my eyebrows quizzically.  He just shakes his head with a smile. “I’m Paul.” He reaches over the table. Maybe he has manners after all?  “Alice.” His hand is nice and warm, and I have to force myself to let go. “Did you arrive today too?”  “No, we got here late last night.” At least he’s not on his way home anytime soon.  “Oh, but you’re here for a week?” “Yes. You too? Are you here with your family?”  I point to the table where mum’s laughing and talking. “I’m here with my mum, she’s the one in the polka dot dress.”  “I’m here with my parents and my little brother. They’re watching the show over at the theatre.” Paul rolls his eyes. I know what he means, the show seems super lame and they practically held you at gunpoint for you to promise to go see it. We fall into a mutual silence, probably pondering the horrors of the hotel show. 

“But this is a nice hotel though.” I wave in the general direction of the reception.  “Yeah. We’re come here every summer.” Alright. So, his family is loaded. I sip my soda, feeling a little uncomfortable about the fact that mum and I are here because we were lucky enough to find a cheap last-minute trip. “Have you been here before?”  “No. It’s our first time. In France too. We talked about Paris for years, but never made it. I guess Nice is a good place though.”  Paul nods knowingly, as if he’s able to tell the pros and cons about both cities. “Paris is very nice, but too hot in the summer. Paris is for springtime and autumn time.” He shrugs his shoulders again, as if this was all common knowledge. I take a sip of my soda to not have to comment. 

A woman comes up to us, she gives me a glance before turning to Paul and speaking in German. He answers her and they carry on a conversation about whatever you talk about in German. Sounds like mum and son talk about me though, the pinched look on his face and her not so subtle gesture my way says it all. I try to subtly get an ice cube into my mouth when Paul suddenly turns towards me and speaks in English. “This is Alice. She’s from… actually I don’t know where you’re from.” Awkward.  I spit the ice cube back into my glass and give them both a what I hope is a cute smile. “I’m Swedish, I’m from Sweden.”  Something about this has the woman, who I suppose to be his mother, visibly relaxing. “Nice to meet you. I’m Greta, Pauli’s mother.” We shake hands. It’s super weird, to me at least. She turns to her son again. “We’re taking Simon to the room. Are you coming soon too?” “Yes. I won’t be long.” Her hand squeezes his shoulder before she turns to me again. “Have a pleasant evening, Alice.”  “Thank you. Good night.” She leaves and the awkwardness leaves with her. Paul seems to relax a little too. I crunch on my ice cubes, waiting for him to pick the conversation up again.  “Would you like another drink?”  I’ve spaced out waiting for him to say something. “What? Yeah. Sure. 7Up, please.” 

He gets up and I get a good look of his ass in those khaki shorts. Not too shabby. I spot mum looking at me from across the bar, she wiggles her eyebrows comically and I try telling her to shut up, but without so many words. She grins at me and turns to her new friends again. A waiter is bringing them new drinks. The air is still hot, and the evening breeze isn’t doing much for us sitting here in the pool bar. I lift my hair from my neck, wishing I had thought to bring a hair tie. Oh well. Paul is returning from the bar, two glasses in hands. I guess he’s willing to stay a little longer. Which is alright by me, mum’s in no hurry to go back and neither am I. 

I thank him when he hands me my glass and then wait for him to say something. The music hums somewhere above us. I take a sip of my soda instead and start to giggle. Paul looks at me like I’ve grown another head. I swallow my mouthful. “This is lemon Schweppes.”  He looks shocked. “I’m sorry! Do you want me to get you a new one?” He’s halfway out of his chair.  I take another sip and wave him down. “No. I was just surprised, that’s all. I like lemon Schweppes.” I smile and raise my glass towards him.  He raises his glass and takes a sip. Immediately he grimaces and gingerly places his glass on the table. “And I don’t like it, at all.” His German accent is stronger and before draining my glass I laugh at him again. The bubbles tickle my nose.  “Then maybe we’re done here for tonight?”  “Yes, maybe we are.” Paul’s face splits into a grin and even though I knew he was a good-looking boy, I’m unprepared for how gorgeous he is when he lets his walls down.  I force myself to blink and look away. “I’m going to tell my mum I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”  Paul gets up at the same time. “I’ll wait for you.”  “No! You don’t have to do that.”  He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s what my mother taught me to do.” I know my eyebrows are trying to reach my hairline, but this would never happen with a Swedish boy.  “Uhm, yeah. Okay. She probably wants to know your name anyway.” I turn towards where mum is sitting and pray, she’ll behave herself and not embarrass me. 

“Mum.” She turns towards me, laughter in her eyes. They seem to all have a splendid time. “Mum, I’m kinda tired so I’m heading to bed.”  She ignores me and turns to Paul. “It’s so nice to see someone Alice’s age here. Good to know she won’t be bored.” She has the audacity to wink at him and I wish for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I can’t look at either of them.  “I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t call myself the life of the party.” Paul not being in the slightest embarrassed or thrown has me gawking at him.  Mum laughs and hold out her hand. “I’m Iris, pleasure to meet you.”  “Paul, Paul Sholtz.” He shakes her hand and standing slightly behind him I try to tell mum to let us go without further questions. She catches my eye and smirks. Oh please, say goodnight and let us leave.  “Well.” I subtly shake my head. “Goodnight you two. Alice, I won’t be too late I think.”  “Goodnight mum. Ladies.” I nod at her new friends. They all look like they’re about to burst with giggles. We’ve only just left the bar when they can’t hold it in anymore and waves of hysterical laughter hit us from behind. Great. Not embarrassing at all. I don’t look at Paul. I stare right ahead and hope the semi darkness hides my beet red face. 

“I’m this way.” Paul points to the right.  “And I’m going straight ahead.” It’s all a little awkward. At home I’d know how to do this; a quick hug and a goodnight and away. Here, no idea.  Paul shifts from one foot to the other. So, goodnight Alice.”  “Yeah. You too. Maybe I’ll see you around tomorrow?”  “Most likely.” There’s a smile to his voice. “It’s not a very large resort.”  “Ha-ha. Yeah.” Someone shoot me right now! He takes a few steps to the right and I offer a pathetic wave, which he returns before turning around and disappearing down the path. I take a deep breath to calm my runaway heart and hurry the last bit to our tiny bungalow. I can always make a better impression tomorrow. Yes… no.  

I’m checking Instagram and Snapchat in bed when Mum returns. “A decent start to our week, don’t you think?” Her face is glowing and she’s humming. “Not too shabby.” Paul’s smile comes to mind.  “He’s very cute.” She’s washing her face in the bathroom and can’t hear my answer.  “He is.” Smiling I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.  

The next morning, I wake up to the sound of my mum taking a shower. I curl up under the sheets and try forcing myself back to sleep, but it’s useless. Memories of last night trickle to the surface and I feel my face and body growing hot at the thought of Paul’s smile. I know it’s dumb and cliché, but a holiday fling would be kinda fun. At home there’s an ex-boyfriend, we said we’d stay friends, but I don’t know if we really are. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do. 

“Good morning honey, ready to go get some breakfast?” The complimentary bathrobes look super fluffy.  “Mm, yeah. Just give me a minute.” Mum pulls a sage green sundress from the suitcase as I drag myself into the bathroom. My hair takes the longest, but eventually I manage to detangle and braid it. I hear mum talking to gran on the phone, she’s laughing, and happiness fills me at the sound. I hope we can take some of this happy back with us when we leave.  Digging around in my suitcase I find a pink bralette and a grey singlet dress. Cute and simple, and hopefully chic enough for this place. Last night I quickly realised just how posh this hotel really is. Mum and I might get away with one week of boho chic outfits, but I’m so glad we’re not staying longer than that. I am hoping that we’ll go into town tomorrow or something, but I doubt we’ll afford much of anything. I wear my flip flops again. It’s hot outside and it’s only just past nine.  “Whew!” Mum wipes her forehead and makes a face at me. “You sure going to Nice in July was a great idea? We’re going to boil away into nothing!”  Laughing I slip my arm around her waist and give her a peck on the cheek. “I think we can afford to lose a few kilos without dying.” 

There doesn’t seem to be any danger in us withering away into nothing, the breakfast buffet is mind-blowing. I walk the counters before deciding on croissants and tea. Mum is boring and has gone for plain yogurt and fresh fruit, which basically is what she eats at home. Like, come one! The have eight different jam to choose from and I’m stuck choosing between raspberry or apricot, knowing full well I’ll end up with both on my plate.   “Good morning Alice. Did you sleep well?” My plate wobbles and the croissants start gliding off it. Paul grabs the edge of my plate and averts disaster.  “Thanks. And good morning.” My cheeks are burning, and I can’t quite look at him. “I slept well, thank you. How about you?”  He gently lets my plate go and I hear a smile in his voice. “I slept well too. But now I want coffee.” I smile and nod and relaxes as he wanders off towards the barista. 

Mum is sat outside, despite her little grumble about the heat. Our table has a glorious view of town and the Mediterranean. How can we be this lucky?  “Want to head into town today? I know it’s hot as hell, but I need a new bikini, or two. The one I packed will not do for this place.”  I pop the last bit of my croissant into my mouth and lick the apricot jam off my fingers before answering. “Sure, thing mum, we could have lunch on the Promenade des Anglais, or something.”  “Yes! I’d love to have a Salade Niçoise in Nice.” Her excitement is adorable. I put my arm around her waist as we leave the restaurant, she slips her arm around me and gives me a squeeze.  

After slathering ourselves in sunscreen, we ask the front desk to call us a taxi. Mum’s friends from last night find us waiting outside and greet us with cheek kisses and laughter. “Iris! We had the loveliest time last night!”  “You really must join us again tonight, love.”  “And you too, darling. Unless that handsome young man comes along, of course…” Sharon wiggles her eyebrows. Everyone but me laugh. I smile and turn away slightly. I’ll let mum handle them. 

Inside I spot Paul. He’s been talking to the front desk and seems to be heading back towards the pool. Halfway two ladies stop him and start talking animatedly. I see him smile and lean in to listen to what they’re saying. Maybe he knows them? There are more German tourists here than any other kind. One of them digs around her oversized beach bag and pulls out what looks like a magazine, its glossy front page catches the sunlight streaming in through the skylight. The lady with the magazine holds it out to him. Why would he read a magazine? It’s not like it’s Faust. I chuckle. The other lady digs around in her own bag and produces a pen, which she holds out to him. What in the heck now? Paul takes the pen and scribbles something on the front page. Did he just autograph the magazine? What? Who is he? 

“Our taxi’s here.” Mum has me tearing away my eyes from Paul and the ladies. The English ladies have all moved to a bus; “Lavender Tours” is emblazoned on its side. “Margaret said she’d buy me some lavender oil today, apparently the farm they’re going to is the best producer of lavender oil in all of Provence.”  “Yeah?” I turn back to see that Paul has disappeared. “The best oil?” Mum laughs.  “Well, I said I’d love some. Lavender is my favourite scent.” She grows quiet and I curse my forgetful brain. Susanna wore lavender perfume every day, to the very end. I give mum a one-armed hug before we jump into the taxi.  I look away as she wipes her eyes. “Do you want to start the day off with some ice cream? I’ve heard that they make excellent ice cream here.” Her smile trembles, but it’s there, as she nods. “That’ll be our first priority then.”  

I’ve sweated my deodorant off, even before we’ve had a chance to find a decent restaurant for lunch. Mum has a cute hat, I forgot to bring one and I’m now being punished for it. The Mediterranean sun is trying to boil my brain.  “Oh. This one’s cute.” Mum is holding a red halter neck bikini in front of her.  I nod. “Very cute. The blue one’s super cute too.” She hums appreciatively and flips through the rack outside the little boutique. Further in I see a display of beachy straw hats. The AC blasts my face and I thank god for modern inventions, the woman behind the register smiles welcomingly and I mumble a “Bonjour”.  

“Do you think we look chic?” Mum asks around the olive she just popped into her mouth. We’re sat at a café on the Promenade and two enormous plates of Salade Niçoise have just been placed on the table.  I adjust my new hat, a wide brimmed thing that shades my face and shoulders. “I bet we do. I sure feel chic.” Her laughter sends bubbles of joy bouncing around my stomach. I raise my glass of Perrier. “A toast. To looking chic.” Mum grins and clinks her glass to mine. She pauses before taking a sip, Susanna’s ghost swirls around the table and I can almost hear her laughter. Life’s so unfair. I swallow my mouthful of sparkly water and attack my salad. Mum soon digs into hers, making content noises in between spitting olive pips and spearing haricot verts on her fork. 

“One more shop.” Mum looks at me with huge doe eyes. I shake my head but follow her into the women’s clothing store. Everything is light fabrics and bright colours, everything breathing summer feelings and French fashion. Mum oh’s and ah’s at the pretty skirts and blouses. I drift over to the sales rack, flipping through the items there. A red paisley dress catches my attention. It’s off the shoulder, wide sleeve, with a bodice and a full-length skirt. A row of small buttons goes all the way from the hem of the dress to the neckline, adding to the bohemian style.  As I free it from the other dresses, I see that it’s in my size and marked down several times. I look over to where the sales lady is talking to mum. Surely, she’s made a mistake. I read the handwritten scrawl on the tag, but my high school French isn’t up to par. “Excuse me. Could I try this on?”  The lady smiles at me. “Of course. The changing room is back there. That is such a lovely dress.” Her French accent is strong. I hold the dress out to mum, who nods approvingly.   

I peel out of my singlet dress; it’s sticking to my body and I don’t relish the thought of wearing it again. The red cotton dress is cool on my sweaty skin and as I fiddle with the tiny buttons, I’m surprised to find that it actually fits perfectly. I hear mum talking and laughing with the sales lady. Smiling I shake my head, she makes friends wherever she goes.  I open the curtain to the changing room and they both turn to me. “Mais oui! C’est parfait!” The woman walks up to me and starts pulling at the fabric and unbuttoning a few of the top buttons. “Voilá.” I turn to the mirror. Unbuttoning the two top buttons takes the dress from cute to sexy. I regret wearing my pink bralette, it seriously clashes with the dress.  Mum steps up to me and pulls at the bralette strap. “This needs to go.” She turns to the lady. “We’ll take it.” The lady gets a pair of scissors and cuts the tag off. Mum picks my grey dress off the floor and pulls the curtain shut again. I just stand there. Then a huge grin spreads across my face and I take my bralette off.  

Even in my new dress I feel sweaty and gross by the time we return to the resort. The pool looks incredible and I regret having to walk past it.  “I’m going to take a shower and have a bit of a lie down.” Mum kisses my cheek and dumps her bags by her bed.  “I’m going to the pool.” She waves a tired hand in my direction. Before I dig my bikini out of the suitcase, I take great care in hanging my new dress in the wardrobe. My phone beckons, with its Snapchat notifications and so does the bed, but instead I slather a new layer of sunscreen on my body and put my bikini on. The grey singlet dress is already icky, so I pull it over my head and then slip my sunglasses on before leaving the blessed cool of the air-conditioned room. 

The front desk gave us plastic tokens, to use when we wanted a towel for the pool. One of the lifeguards hands me a deep blue beach towel after I hand him my token and give him my room number. He takes great care to check his list and cross my name before he lets me go. There aren’t too many sunbeds free at the pool. Tourists in different stages of sunburn are occupying them and I have to walk to the far end before I find one no one has laid claim on. I smile at the ladies on the beds next to mine as I spread my towel, they smile back, but soon continue talking in rapid German. I wonder if they’re the ones who talked to Paul earlier. 

Pulling the hair tie from my now dishevelled hair, I make failed attempts at finger combing it. Admitting defeat, I pile it all in a big bun on the top of my head. I can’t be arsed to make an effort with it, the bright blue water in the pool is calling to me. If there weren’t this many people in the pool, I’d dive in. Make a big splash! Taking the stairs takes too long and when I’m halfway, I throw myself in and dive beneath the surface. Heaven. I could stay in the water forever. 

I swim back and forth, more under the water than not. Floating on my back, eyes closed, I relish the warm sun on my face and the cool water surrounding my body. There are people all around me, talking, splashing and laughing. A child is having a bit of a tantrum and I open my eyes to see what it’s all about. An older sibling is holding a slush just out of reach and the younger child is jumping and screaming to get at it. I watch them for a while, amused, since it’s not my problem. It all settles down when an adult comes with another slush for the little kid. I start swimming towards where I left my towel, a cold drink seems like the best idea right now.  

As I’m drying my legs, I see that the German ladies have a stack of glossy paged magazines on the ground next to their sunbeds. They look like the kinds I read at the hairdresser, full of gossip and sob stories about more or less famous people. My fingers are itching to leaf through them, to see if my new friend Paul can be found within their pages. Too bad I don’t know a lick of German. Although I’m sure I can Google translate the captions to any photos I find. I start constructing a master plan to get my hands on one or two of the glossies. 

“A lemon slush, s’il vous plaît.” I wish I had paid better attention in French. This vacation is nothing but proof of me being absolutely rubbish at the language. “Merci.” At least I know enough to seem polite. Taking a giant brain freeze of a sip, which is totally worth it, I make my way back to the pool. An inkling of a plan has hatched, and I decide to kinda wing it. 

The German ladies have relocated to the pool, leaving towels, bags and the magazines unattended. I manage to stumble on nothing and have the pile of magazines spread out towards my sunbed. Oops. No one seems to care that I knocked the magazines over or spare me more than a glance. The German ladies are chattering away, swimming slowly as they try to not have the water touch their hair. Gingerly I place my slush on the tiny table next to my sunbed, time to start stage two of this plan of mine. Slowly I pick the magazines up and scan the front page for someone I know. 

The first two are a bust, but the third has an image of someone who looks a lot like Paul and the words “Ist Paulis Herz gebrochen?” written over it. I wish I had brought my phone with me; Google translate would be helpful right about now. I can’t see his autograph anywhere. So, I guess him being on the cover of magazines is something that occurs fairly often? I put the other magazines back in the pile and flip through the one with whom I’m certain is Paul on the cover. Halfway in there’s a two-page spread with more pictures of Paul, most of which have a brunette holding his hand. They’ve made it look like someone’s ripped the pictures in half, same as the do at home when there’s talk of breakups. I feel sorry for him, as I do any celebrity who gets their life analysed to pieces in media. Breakups are hard, even without the world knowing what’s going on. I try deciphering the text and captions, but I might as well try to read Chinese. Sighing I put the magazine back with the others. My slush is half melted and the sun is burning my skin. Mum was right, a shower and a nap would have been a better choice. Adjusting the parasol, I manage to shade most of my sunbed. I’ll just close my eyes for a little while. 

Someone’s saying my name. I drag myself from the depths of my afternoon nap, rubbing my eyes and blinking to focus on the person crouching next to my sunbed. “Wow, you were really sleeping deeply.” There’s a smile in his voice.  My face instantly heats up, the images of him in the gossip mag swirling around in my head. “Yeah… ha-ha…” I can’t look him in the eye.  “Don’t be embarrassed! You didn’t drool or anything. You looked quite peaceful actually.” He leans in, blue eyes sparkling. “I haven’t seen you all day. Where have you been?”  “Mum and I went shopping. In Nice.” Like duh, where else would we go? I mentally roll my eyes. “So yeah.” I shrug my shoulders.  “I’m going to the beach. Would you like to come with me?” I don’t know how to behave around him anymore. I’ve never met a famous person before. The beach though. I haven’t had a swim in the Mediterranean yet. He cocks his head, widens his smile, lifts an eyebrow.  “Yes, I’d love to.” I had forgotten about the state of my singlet dress, but no way I’d walk down to the beach in just my bikini and towel. Sighing I pull it over my head. Paul is patiently waiting for me to collect my things. “I have to go by my room and get more sunscreen.”  “I have some.” I now see that he’s carrying a blue towel and a yellow bottle of sunscreen.  “Oh. Cool.” It’s just the sun on my skin making me hot, it’s nothing to do with the thought of Paul’s hands on me. His slow smile makes me feel all tingly on the inside. “Let’s go then.”  

A lifeguard waves at Paul as soon as we set foot on the beach. Paul waves back and motions with his head that we’re heading in that direction. “Alain always saves me a good beach chair.” He fist bumps and bro hugs the lifeguard. “Alain, this is Alice.”  I give him my ‘hi this is kinda awkward’ smile, but he ignores that and grins at me and nudges Paul’s side. “She’s pretty, no?” As I said. Awkward…  “She is.” Paul is being as smooth as he was with mum. I look at him with a raised eyebrow. Like sure, you’re hot, but please don’t be obnoxious. Someone calls Alain’s name and he salutes us as he trudges over the sand to see what they want.  

“So, which one would you like?” Paul gestures to the two sun chairs.  I dump my towel in the one closest to us, next I drop my sunglasses on my towel, pull my dress over my head and turn my back to him. “Do you think you could help me put sunscreen on my back? I don’t want to burn and swimming in the pool must have washed it off.” I close my eyes. I could have stopped at ‘back’. I’m sure he knows swimming washes it off. Nothing happens. I look over my shoulder to Paul standing there with his towel and bottle of sunscreen in his hands. Oh my god. Did I break some unspoken German rule of conduct or something? As I open my mouth to take it all back, Paul jumps into action. He drops his towel on top of my stuff and flips open the lid of the sunscreen. “Just my back and my shoulders and then I can do you.”  

I freeze as I realise what I just said. Paul’s hands go still on my back and then he snorts with laughter. His laugh triggers my own and it takes a while for us to calm down. “I haven’t been in the water yet; I don’t need more sunscreen.” His accent is very thick as he’s trying not to laugh.  When his hands leave my skin, I turn around and reach for the sunscreen. Paul leans down a little to catch my eye, his cheeks are flushed pink and there’s amusement in his eyes. I grab the bottle and fight the grin wanting to split my face in two. “Shut up.” Laughing he backs off and pulls his t-shirt over his head. My mouth goes dry. He’s not obviously muscular, leaner and more defined, but my fingers still want to trace his skin. Tearing my gaze away I focus on evenly spreading the yellow tinted goo on my arms and legs.  “Come on Alice!” Paul’s done waiting and moves towards the water. I smear the last bit of sunscreen left on my hands on my face and hurry to catch up with him.  

At the edge of the water I stop. Savouring the moment. Paul doesn’t wait for me and wades our until he’s waist deep and the dives headfirst into the blue waves. He resurfaces and turns around. “Alice!” Grinning I start running towards him and throw myself in. It’s cool, but not as cool as the water in the pool. I resurface near where Paul is waiting for me.  “I’ve never swam in the Mediterranean before.” The look of surprise on his face makes me want to take it back. But then again, we’re never going to see each other again, so I might as well be honest. “It’s my first time in France too.”  Paul seems to collect himself. “There’s a… Floß… raft I mean, over there. Want to swim to it?” He gestures to a large blue plastic raft which seems anchored into place out by the floaties marking where the bottom drops several meters.  “Yeah! I’ll race you!” I might not have gone to practice in almost a year, but unless he’s a practiced swimmer too I think I can take him. I set off towards the raft.  “Hey!” If I wasn’t so focused on breathing, I’d laugh. The thrill of the race fills me with adrenaline, and I remember why I used to love to compete. Susanna’s illness took away so much more than just her. It killed my will to continue with swimming competitions and mum stopped doing anything but taking care of her partner. Sadness and longing hits me like a punch to the gut and I lose my momentum. I’m nearly at the raft though and I let myself glide the last bit. 

I’ve only just begun to lift myself up on the raft when Paul wraps his arms around my thighs and pulls me down again. I try wiggling out of his grip, but he’s strong and to be quite honest I’m not in too much of a hurry to have him release me. When I’m down in the water again he let’s go of me and hurries to climb on board the raft.  “Yes!” He raises his arms in victory. Laughing I pull myself out of the water, this time he lets me succeed.  “I won the race though.” I say as I lie down on my back to soak up some sun.  Paul sits next to me, feet in the water. “You did. Where did you learn to swim like that? Do you compete?”  I close my eyes. “I used to.”  “Why did you stop?” 

I shield my eyes from the sun and peer up at him. He’s watching me intently. Sighing I drop my hand and close my eyes again. “Mum’s partner got cancer and everything just sort of... stopped. I don’t know. Things didn’t seem so important anymore. Because, right from the start we were told she wouldn’t make it. And…” I’m choking up. I haven’t really talked to anyone about this, except the school counsellor. “...and we got eight months with her and I never went back after.” A tear is sneaking its way from the corner of my eye and annoyed I wipe it away and sit up. I shrug my shoulders. “Anyway. I guess I could go back, but it’ll be hard to get back to the same level as before.”  

I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see that look on his face. The pitying squinty eyes and that tilt of the head. Instead I follow a bird hanging low over the waves. Neither of us say anything for quite some time.  “Well shit. That sucks.”  I give a surprised snort. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.” He bumps my shoulder, daring me to look at him. There’s a smile on his lips, it nearly reaches his eyes, but traces of the pitying squint ruin it. “Shit, now I’m all sad. I can’t be sad! I’m on vacation!”  Paul does this half nod, stands and offers me his hand. “I know what we need to do.” I let him pull me to my feet. We’re chest to chest and I can see that he has almost like these silver flecks around his pupils. His eyes flicker down to my mouth and I feel my breath growing ragged. “Let’s head back and I’ll help you feel better.”  

I can think of something we could do right here that would make me feel a lot better. But my courage fails me, so I just nod. I take a step back and then dive into the clear blue water and I’m gliding under the water until my lungs start to ache. I hear Paul dive in after me. Kicking myself to the surface I notice Paul keeping pace with me. I turn over and start doing backstrokes.  “Now you’re just showing off.” I grin and swim faster. I beat Paul to the shallows. When it becomes too difficult to swim, I stand and wait for him to catch up. Watching him getting out of the water is a sight for sore eyes and I’m quite certain he knows it too. He flashes me the wide grin I saw last night, transforming him from good looking to gorgeous.  We trudge up the sand to the beach chairs and there’s a moment's confusion as to which towel belongs to whom. “Didn’t you drop yours last? You helped me with the sunscreen.” I hand him the towel on top and gingerly pull the bottom one from the chair. I manage to not drop all my stuff on the sand and call that a victory.  

“Come.” Paul is done rubbing his arms dry and tosses his towel on the other chair. When I start to wrap myself in my towel, he shakes his head. “No, leave it. We’re just going up to the bar.” He points to the white building next to the beach, where a small bar or café services the beach going hotel guests. He seats me at a small table right next to the sand and soon returns with two small glass flutes filled with what looks like sparkling water. He offers me one and sits down across the table. I sniff it carefully and realise it’s alcoholic. 

Paul raises his glass. “To vacationing in France.”  I stop smelling my drink and smile. “To new friends.” I take a small sip. The bubbles hit the roof of my mouth and the tart sweetness curls my tongue. “Wow. I’ve never had champagne before.”  Paul smiles around taking another sip. He shakes his head. “This isn’t real champagne. It’s just bubbly wine. Like… cava. Or prosecco.”  “Oh… I didn’t know… wow, so there’s like a difference?” My voice rises and nearly cracks at the end. God! I’m so clueless.   Paul is grinning again, and I take another sip to try to hide my embarrassment. “It’s nearly the same thing, don’t feel bad about it.”  “Really?”  He laughs. “No. But who cares?” He finishes his drink. I gulp mine down too. I hope it’s not too strong, because mum would be so mad if I showed the slightest sign of being drunk. “Do you want another one? Or maybe something else?”  “No. Thanks. I actually think I need to head back. Mum must be wondering where I am.” I tuck loose strands of hair behind my ears. “We’re meeting her new friends for dinner tonight.” I don’t know why I feel the need to tell him this.  Paul just nods. “Of course. Let’s head back.”  

When we’re back at the beach chairs, he turns to me. “Maybe we can do this again tomorrow?”  “Drink not-champagne?” Damn, his grin is killer. I turn away to hide my satisfied smile.  “That too, but I meant going to the beach.” We walk towards the stairs leading up to the resort. I look back towards the water. Tomorrow I need to spend more time there.  “Yeah, sure.” Heck to the yes!  “Cool.” We get to where our paths diverge. “I’ll see you at dinner, maybe?”  “Probably. It’s not a very big place.” I’m rewarded with one of his grins.  “True.” We stand there, looking at each other, no one moving to leave. I pluck up some courage and step up to him. Quickly I stand on my tiptoes and give him a peck on the cheek. “See you later.” I turn away before he has a chance to say anything. Why on earth did I think that a good idea? I walk as fast as my flip flops let me and when the door to my room closes behind me, I lean against it until my heart has calmed down slightly. 

“Alice? What time is it?” Mum sounds sleepy. Smiling I shake my head and walk into our shared bedroom. Mum’s on the bed, clearly not quite awake.  “Almost 5 I think.”  She sits up and grabs her phone to check the time. Chuckling she lies back down again. “Oh my god, I’ve slept nearly two hours! I guess this really is a vacation… anyway, did you have a nice time by the pool?”  I’m glad my head is bent over my phone; my cheeks are on fire. “Uhm, yeah. Paul and I went down to the beach though. It was nice. We’re talking about going back there tomorrow.”  “Oh… Paul showed up, did he?” She gives a mirthful cackle.  “Shut up.” But I can’t help from laughing with her. She adjusts her pillows behind her back and turns the TV on. French commercials tell us to buy things, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what they’re selling.  

After answering snaps and checking other social media I drag myself into the bathroom to rinse sand, salt and sunscreen off my skin. Shampooing my hair feels divine and I stay there longer than I need, almost falling asleep under the warm water. I ought to blow dry my hair, it’ll take forever to dry otherwise, but I can’t be bothered. Wrapping the towel around my body I make it back to my bed and drop down on it. It would be so good to not have to leave the room again tonight, but I know I’ll be hungry in a while. “You think I’ll have time for a nap?”  Mum’s eyes stay on the TV as she nods. “We’re not meeting them until after 7, and that’s for drinks.”  I manage to free myself from the towel and crawl under the sheets. “Wake me in an hour.”  

Mum shakes me awake, but it’s hard to not fall asleep again. She grabs underwear from my bag and throws it onto my bed. The bra lands on my head. “What are you going to wear? Your new dress?”  I half sit up, trying to force myself awake. “Mm. Yeah.” I get up and put my underwear on. “I need another bra though.” I take mine off again and search my bag for a strapless one. The red dress looks really good on me. My hair though! Falling asleep with damp hair has made it dry all weird and not even detangling it makes it any better. Mum helps me sort it into a fishtail braid. Waiting for her to do her own hair I check my phone again, telling myself want to see what my friends are up to. I google Paul. The sites are all in German, at the top of the search results are what look like newspaper articles. One of the photos catch my attention. It’s a beach picture and I recognise the blonde in the black bikini. I tap the link and it’s an article with more beach pictures, all of them featuring Paul and the blonde in the bikini. I have Google translate some of the text.  

Has Paul gotten over Simone? These photos show him having a good time on the French Riviera with an unidentified blonde. Sources tell us they met at the resort Paul visits every year with his family. Will she be able to mend his heart? Or is this just a vacation fling? And what will Simone say when she finds out? We’ll keep you updated!

My jaw is on the floor. These photos are from this afternoon. Someone was taking pictures of us on the beach! Someone sold these pictures to the press! Oh my god. Do I tell mum? No. She’ll get mad. I think. No need to worry her. And Paul. Does he know? Of course, he does, I’m sure he has like a manager or something that keeps an eye out for these things. Do I say anything? It’s not like he knows that I know.  “Are you ready, honey?”  I quickly close the tab. “Yeah, let me grab my shoes.” Stepping into my black flats I shove my phone into a small back purse. If he’s completely clueless I might have to show him what’s going on. Why on earth would anyone think this is okay?  

I keep my eyes out for him, but the pool bar is all adults, not counting me. The English Ladies are waiting for us, sitting at a table and waving us over as soon as the see us. Cheek kisses and smiles all around. “Good of you to join us. Now, what’s your poison?” Sharon gestures for us to sit as she gets up.  “I’ll have a glass of white wine.”  Mum looks at me and I shrug my shoulders. “7Up will be fine.”  The ladies laugh. “Not much of drinker, eh? That’ll change, love.” Sharon winks at me and sashays to the bar as the ladies once again laugh.  I lean into mum and whisper in Swedish. “If they’re going to keep laughing like this I’m out of here.”  Mum smiles and pets my cheek. “They’re harmless and think that you’re adorable.” “Adorable? I’m 18! I’m not adorable!”  Mum smiles knowingly, but whatever she meant to say gets lost as Sharon arrives with our drinks and mum instead turns to Margaret. “Did you enjoy the tour?”  “Oh yes! It was absolutely marvellous. You need to do one of them if you have them time!” Sipping my 7Up I zone out and people watch while the ladies laugh and talk and laugh. 

“Oh, that young man is here. I bet he’s looking for you.” I spot Paul immediately.  “They went to the beach today.” I roll my eyes at mum and get up. The Ladies’ merriment has him looking in my direction, a smile hiding at the corner of his mouth. Paul’s wearing tan khakis, and the white polo shirt makes him look more tanned than he is. Clutching my purse, I debate with myself if I should tell him what I found or not. We start talking at the same time.  “Good evening.”  “Please Paul, save me from them!”  His smile warps from flirty to amused and his eyes leave mine to look over to where mum and the Ladies are sitting. I don’t dare turn around to see what they’re doing, but Paul nods and then turns to me again. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”  “Well, I’m supposed to have dinner with mum and the Ladies…” A bout of cackling laughter is heard from their table. “...but I think they’ll do alright without me.” Paul makes a sweeping gesture to have us moving towards the stairs leading up to the restaurant.  

There’s a young woman taking pictures of everyone coming up the stairs. I know that she works at the hotel and sells vacation pictures to the guests, but after seeing the creep shots from the beach I feel myself flinching when she turns the camera towards us. “Don’t you like having your picture taken?” Paul places his hand at the small of my back, as if to steady me.  “No. I don’t mind. I… uh… I didn’t see her. That’s all.” I look at him out of the corner of my eye and I can see that I’ve failed to convince him. One of the maître d’ saves me when she steps up to us and smiles politely.  Paul smiles at her. “Un table pour deux, s'il vous plaît.” His pronunciation sounds flawless to my ears. But then he comes here every year. I’m sure I’d be much better at French if I were lucky enough to do just that. We’re shown a table out on the balcony overlooking the water. Paul pulls out my chair and I have to hold back a giggle, because this is just a bit too surreal. None of the guys back home would ever do half of the things Paul does naturally. It’s weird and nice at the same time.  ”Voulez-vous du vin rouge ou blanc?” Paul looks at me.  I feel my cheeks growing hot. “I’d prefer mineral water, please. Eh. S’il vous plaît.”  Paul smiles at me, his eyes crinkling and telling me he thinks I’m being funny. I’m so trying not to be. “L'eau minérale, pour moi aussi.” The maître d’ smiles and nods and disappears towards where they keep the beverages.  

“Do you want a full three course meal? Or, how hungry are you?” To buy some time I smile at the waiter placing a pitcher and two fancy looking menus on the table. I don’t think I have enough money tonight to be able to have more than the main course, mum’s the one with the Master Card. “It’s on me, obviously. I won’t ask a girl out on a date and then have her pay.”  “There’s no need to…”  I begin to protest, but Paul cuts me off. “Alice, please let me buy you a meal.” It’s his eyes. They’re pleading to me to let him do it. Had he smiled or smirked I would have refused. I can totally see why he’s some sort of celebrity.  Shaking my head, I smile. “And date? Really?”  Paul chuckles. “Well. It doesn’t have to be, that’s just me hoping.”  “Let’s just call it dinner, Paul. It’s only a week anyway.” I say more to remind myself than him.  “Alright Alice. Dinner.” Feeling calmer, I look through the menu. Everything looks so good. “So, a full three course meal?” My grin splits my face as I nod in agreement. “Their suggestions for tonight look nice, or would you like to pick something else?”  “Nah, that looks fine.” Paul catches the waiter's attention and in perfect French orders our dinner.  

All around us people are eating and talking and laughing. Paul isn’t offering a topic, sitting there people watching. The woman photographing hotel guests is moving in between the tables and offering to take pictures. God. I have to tell him about the pictures. Shit. “Paul?”  He turns his head to look at me. “Yes?” I bite my lip. His eyes focus on my mouth.  “Uh. I don’t know how to say this without seeming all weird and creepy.” His eyes snap back to mine. “Paul. You’re famous, aren’t you?” Looking defeated he sinks back into his chair and looks away. I wait for him to say something. Anything.  “Blaue Straße.” Paul looks at me again. “That’s the name of the show I’m in. I’ve been on that show for over ten years.” His voice is tired. “Everyone back home watched me grow up on that show and everyone thinks they know me. That they own me.”  “Wow. I… I don’t know what to say.” He shakes his head. “I guess that’s why I found pictures of us online?”  That has him sitting up straight. “You what?!” The guests closest to us turn to look at what made him raise his voice. Paul colours slightly and leans toward me. “You found pictures of us? You and me? Online?” Instead of explaining I get my phone out and find the German magazine article again. 

I hand my phone over and sit on my hands as he’s reading and looking at the pictures. An angry look is taking over his face and I feel my pulse quickening. My mouth goes off on its own. “I really didn’t mean to pry. It’s just I saw these ladies ask for your autograph and I wondered why. And then I saw your picture in these gossip magazines and I wanted to know more. But I don’t speak German and…” Paul hold his hand up and I stop the verbal diarrhoea. Our waiter brings the first course, a small bowl of consommé and I start eating. I’m hungry and eating will also stop me from talking. 

“This wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” He hands me my phone back.  “What does it say?” I look at the picture of us laughing at the beach.  “Oh, nothing much. Just something about me being seen with an unknown blonde beauty while vacationing in France.”  My giggle snort lights the grin on his face, and it tells me he’s not angry anymore. “But like, who took them?” The grin disappears and he won’t look me in the eye. “Paul?”  “My mother.” I’m sure my eyebrows have disappeared into my hairline. He shrugs his shoulders. “She’s my manager and things have been bad lately. Press wise. And she saw a chance to fix that. That’s her job.”  “Your mum?”  He waves his hand dismissively. “I’m not saying it’s okay, I’m just saying that’s what she does.” I’m flabbergasted. Like. His mum creepshot us on the beach and sold the pictures to a glossy? “Let’s eat.” He offers me a piece of baguette from the breadbasket and then dunks his piece into his soup. Not knowing what to say I follow his example.  

We have to have some conversation during dinner. Paul is as talkative as ever. My meaner side whispers that this must be why that brunette dumped him. I mentally smack myself. “So. Why aren’t you having dinner with your family tonight?”  Paul stirs his soup. “They’re here somewhere.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I asked my dad if it was okay if I didn’t eat with them tonight. He doesn’t really care, as long as I eat something and as long as I don’t get drunk and make a fool out of myself.”  “Ah, okay.” I stick a spoonful of soup in my mouth, this isn’t going very well. The consommé is delicious, so is the seared unidentified fish we were served as a main course. I’m about to say that the food is really good, but I can’t do it. I need more thrilling conversation and if this continues, I’ll stab myself in the eye out of boredom. 

“Are you done with school?” Wow. It speaks!  “No.” I take a sip of water. “I have one year left of high school. How about you?”  “I graduated last year.” Huh. I thought he’d be a little older than that.  “Did you go to a normal school or were you like home-schooled?” I casually take another sip of water.  “I was tutored, there was no time to go to school. I was busy with the show and... other things.”  “How old are you?” I blurt the question out, realising too late how rude it sounds. “Are you like, 20?”  Paul shakes his head with a tiny smile. “I turned 19 in April.” He drains his glass of water. “And you Alice, how old are you?”  “18.” I picture mum’s frown and add: “Next month.”  “But why are you on holiday now? Instead of for your birthday?”  I smile and shrug my shoulders. “It was a last-minute thing. Mum is off from work and my job doesn’t start until next week.”  He looks confused. “Your job? But you’re in school?”  “Yeah, but I have to work during summer and most weekends. I’ll never afford to do stuff with my friends otherwise.” I smile at him; this is just how it is. Paul on the other hand seems a little dazed. The waiter removes our plates and asks if we want coffee with our dessert. Paul looks to me, so I nod.  

We soon get these small heart shaped ceramic bowls filled with Crème Brûlée and an assortment of fresh fruit arranged around the edge of the plate. Taking my spoon, I tap at the caramelized sugar. There’s a satisfactory snap as it dives into the vanilla goodness underneath. It’s silky smooth on my tongue and I close my eyes, wishing I had a bucket of the stuff. “This is like the best thing.” I sigh to Paul.  He’s much more composed about the whole thing. “Haven’t you had it before?”  “Mum makes it all the time, but this is so much better. Don’t tell her that!” I scrape the sides of my bowl, sighing over the smallish amount. “Oh well.”  “I would have given you mine.” Paul looks down at his own dessert. His eyes flick back to mine and the edges of his mouth show me he’s trying not to smile. “But as you say. It’s delicious.” He eats the last bit of crème brûlée with a satisfied smirk.  “Ohmygod. I get it now! You pretend to be this nice guy, and everyone buys it, but really you’re kind of an asshole!” Paul looks a little stunned and I curse my mouth and no-filter brain. I’m about to apologize when he bursts out laughing.  “Oh, Alice. I’ve never met anyone like you.” Embarrassment and giddy happiness are tumbling around in my stomach, colouring my face and stealing my words. I know my smile is a silly one, but I can’t do much about it, so I shrug my shoulders and finish my coffee. “Are you ready to leave?” I nod.  

Paul pays over at the bar. I’m guessing he put it on his room, I can’t see any money or credit cards changing hands. Mum would have a fit if I did something like that. We’re allowed to splurge a bit during this holiday, but even that is carefully budgeted. He effortlessly chats with the maître d’. Pauls people skills are obviously great, when he has to make an effort that is. When he joins me over at the entrance, I slip my hand into his.  I’ve made a decision. “Don’t talk.” He lets out the breath he took to say something. “I’ve decided to help you along. The press can be ruthless, and I don’t much care for it. You’re human, like the rest of us. You get dumped like any other and quite frankly, it’s nobody’s business if you do.”  “Alice…” He pulls at his hand.  “No. Shush.” I drag him out the restaurant and down the stairs. “This won’t be a holiday fling. This will be us hanging out and letting your mum take pictures of us doing that. What they write is up to them.” There aren’t many good tables left over at the bar.  “Alice…”  “Seriously Paul, shush.” Letting go of his hand I point to the only good table left, the same one I saw him at two nights ago. “You go sit; I’ll bring us something to drink.” 

My mind is such a jumble of decisions made and nerves that any French I know has gone out the window. “Two glasses of the bubbly stuff.” The bartender smiles at me and fills two flutes from a small bottle.  He holds them out to me but looks me in the eye. “You are 18, no?”  “Yes. I’m 18.” Next month! mum shouts in the back of my mind. He glances at my all-inclusive wristband and lets me leave with the two glasses of not-champagne. 

My eyes scan the tables. Paul has done as told and is now talking quietly with his mother. I pace my steps, making sure they spot me. His mother glances my way and stops whatever she was saying. I place the glasses on the table and smile sweetly at her.  “I was just asking Paul if he wanted to join us over at the theatre.” Of course, you were. Paul looks pained.  “Oh. Do you want to do that Paul?” He raises an eyebrow at me and shakes his head. I bite the inside of my cheek to not burst out laughing. “Well then, neither will I.”  His mother takes a step back and nods. “Have a good evening. And Paul, I’ll see you back at the rooms.” The thought of her lying in the bushes, taking pictures of us drinking and talking has me nearly blowing everything. I bite down even harder on my cheek, I’ll soon draw blood. Paul gets up to pull my chair out, but I stop him and take the seat myself. He sits and looks at me, as if he’s waiting for whatever I’ll get up to next.  I raise my glass. “To vacationing in France.”  He lifts his glass and taps it lightly against mine. “To new friends.” We both take a sip. 

“Now Paul, tell me all about that tv-series you’re in. I want to know everything, from the start.”  Paul smiles around his mouthful of not-champagne and nods. “Only if you tell me everything about you.”  I laugh. “That you would have gotten anyway.” I swear, he’s practiced that grin in the mirror.  “Alright. So, it’s about this street in Berlin. Mostly about one of the houses and the people living there. I play the son in one of the families and this season I’m struggling with my girlfriend being jealous of my friendship with this new girl. But at the beginning...” Paul’s gestures get more animated the more the talks about the show. I nod and shake my head and laugh and gasp at the right moments. I always knew that this holiday would be great, making a new friend is just a bonus.