Transcription
Ah, Paris, enchanting, romantic, a place like no other, the city of my dreams—until now. My name is Ella, and I started my summer vacation in Paris, hauling a backpack and suitcase up five flights of stairs because the elevator at the hostel was broken. I had a reservation for the first floor, but my cheating ex-boyfriend got here first and used it with his new girlfriend, Harpy. Um, I mean, Harper. But it's fine. I'm only 2 days behind them, but I can catch up. They're probably using the itinerary I put together because Ryan, the human equivalent of a decorative house plant, is too lazy to do his own research.
But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning. I met Ryan in the third grade when we were 8 years old. It was love at first sight. We passed notes in class. We ate lunch together. We did homework together. Well, technically, I did all our schoolwork year after year, while Ryan blissfully coasted through life doing whatever the heck he wanted, like perfecting his dumb video game skills. Number four, the Boston Tea Party was a protest against Ryan. Are you even listening? I'm trying to walk you through the homework so you can actually answer a question if the professor asks tomorrow.
I'll be fine. The professor likes me anyway. I don't think so. Just today she said that you have the memory of a frog and that you should get your head out of… Okay. Okay. I get your point. But who cares what a dumb professor thinks about me? Studies are for losers anyway. Did you just call me a loser? No. No, not you. Of course. You're amazing. You're the best, Ella. Now, let's just finish this so I can finally treat you to your favorite ice cream. I'm done with my game anyway. Really? Give me 2 minutes. Yeah, I kind of missed the point there.
And things didn't change much even as I grew older. By the time we got to high school, everyone was calling us Ryanella, much like Cinderella, because just like her, I was out here slogging my butt off for Ryan while he lived his best carefree, zero-effort life. The entire school saw it except me. People would literally call me his unpaid assistant, a doormat, a carpet under Ryan's feet. But I ignored them because Ryan would occasionally give me a big hug, flash that lazy smile, and say, "Ella, you're the best."
Soon, it was time for senior year, and I threw myself into planning our big post-graduation trip to Paris—the perfect way to kick off our next chapter before heading to college together. Well, my new chapter because Ryan had decided to take a gap year. I always thought we'd go to college together. That was the plan, right? Well, plans change, Ella. Besides, I really need to, like, find myself first. There's so much untapped potential inside me. Like, who am I really? What do I want? I need to feel my vibes. You know what I mean? I guess. But we're still on for Paris, right? Because I'd hate for your graduation gift to go to waste. And I pulled out a receipt for a first-class ticket to Paris. Ryan's eyes instantly lit up and he threw his arms around me. Oh my god, this is the best gift ever. But I didn't get you anything. You're in my life and that's all I want. You're the best, Ella.
I was practically floating when I got back home. Ryan and I were going to spend our entire summer in Paris, and it was going to be epic. I was just making plans in my head for the most romantic getaway ever when Mom walked into my room. Ella, why am I getting a message from the bank saying you spent over $1,000 on a first-class plane ticket for Ryan? I was going to tell you, Mom, what? That you spent your inheritance money on a stupid ticket? Ella, that money was for your future. Ryan is my future, Mom. I've loved him since the third grade. Besides, I'll be going to college soon, and I wanted to end our graduation on a happy note. Will you please stop judging me now? I'm not judging you, L. But sometimes you act like an idiot around Ryan. He might be a nice boy, but what if there's someone else out there who's better for you? Better than Ryan? That's impossible, Mom. He's the only one in the world for me. Mom didn't argue with me after that.
A week later, we had our senior prom. And as expected, Ryan and I were crowned the prom king and queen. It was the best night of my life until Harpy, I mean Harper, showed up and Ryan ignored me like I was a potted plant in a corner. Harper, what are you doing here? You're Harper? How nice to finally meet my cousin? Wall-E needed a date for the prom. I flew in last night. Ryan, aren't you going to introduce me? Wow, that's great. How long are you staying? Hi, Harper. I'm Ella. My family is moving here this summer permanently. So, you're going to our… Cool. Then we'll be seeing a lot of each other. For the rest of the night, Harper hovered around me and Ryan like a honeybee. She was on the dance floor by the punch bowl, laughing at the stupidest things Ryan said. It wasn't like I was enjoying third wheeling in my own relationship, but they were old friends. Ryan had always told me stories about how they were close as kids, so maybe he was just excited to see her again. And maybe I was just overthinking.
But then we went to the lady's room and Harper turned to me with a smirk. I love that crown. Do you mind if I try it on? Before I could answer, she snatched it off my head and crowned herself. For a moment, I fantasized about wrestling her to the ground and taking back what was mine. But all I did was smile like an idiot and tell her how pretty she looked. I thought I would just tell Ryan about it on our way back home, but he insisted on dropping off Harper and her cousin. Shotgun. She slipped into the front seat while I was stuck in the back with Wall-E snoring on my shoulder. Suddenly, the car stopped. Ella, you're home. Wait, you're dropping me off first? You're on the way to their house. Can I at least have my crown back? Oh, but it looks so much better on me. Please let me borrow it for tonight. I'll make sure to send it with Ryan tomorrow. But relax, Ella. It's just a dumb crown. I'll see you tomorrow. Okay. And he just left.
It's safe to say I never got my crown back or my man because 2 days later Harpy—oops, Harper—joined our school and Ryan broke up with me. He started ignoring me at school. Didn't even return any of my calls or messages. Ryan here. Leave me a message. And if this is Ella, stop texting me. I spent thousands on your first-class ticket to Paris and I was going to play coach. That's how much I love you. And now you're ghosting me. I was devastated and I planned on hiding under the covers forever. But on the day of my graduation, Mom flung open my door. Ella, enough is enough. You're graduating today. I'm not going. You worked hard for this. Don't let that boy take it away from you. Everyone knows he dumped me for Harpy. It's embarrassing, Mom. Well, if you ask me, it's a blessing. Now you won't be stuck with a lazy loser who doesn't know what to do with his life. And you can finally travel to Paris all by yourself, doing things that you like.
No, I can't do it. I'll go to the graduation, but to go to the most romantic city in the world without my one true love? I'd rather eat sawdust. Besides, Ryan and I planned that trip together. No, Ella. You planned that trip. Ryan just showed up. Now get up, put on a cute dress and go to your graduation with your chin up. I did what Mom said, and honestly, it felt like a good idea. My friends tried to cheer me up, and for a moment I was happy. But then I walked on stage to get my diploma and spotted Harper sitting in the front row wearing my crown. And I knew it was going to be a long, horrible summer.
I drowned myself in pity for the rest of the summer—ate junk food, watched sad movies, doom-scrolled social media till I passed out crying over my stupid single life while everyone else posted pics of their perfect summer: volleyball games on the beach under the California sun, trips to the Redwood Forest, the Grand Canyon, Disneyland, Ryan and Harper, the Eiffel Tower behind them. Wait, what? Ryan went to Paris with Harpy? I immediately clicked his social media profile, and there he was, enjoying that two-faced witch on my vacation. Ryan and Harper taking a selfie at an outdoor Parisian cafe. Ryan jumping for joy, the Arc de Triomphe behind him. Harpy, I mean Harper, holding a yellow umbrella in front of a hotel that we were supposed to stay in. I had it. It was one thing to break up with me and a totally different thing to take Harpy—sorry, Harper—on a vacation that I planned. My blood boiled and I screamed for Mom. Mom, I'm going to Paris.
The Paris streets were bustling with life. People walking their dogs, couples chatting in outdoor cafes, everyone dressed in immaculate clothes. This was the Paris of my dreams. But I couldn't enjoy it because I was on a mission to find my cheating ex-boyfriend. And the best place to start my quest was at the hotel. I was sitting in an outdoor cafe across from the hotel, sipping my third cafe au lait, when suddenly the hotel doors opened and Harpy, I mean Harper, and Ryan walked out hand in hand. I threw some money on the table and started stalking them until they stopped to look in a shop window. Ryan looked behind, and I immediately ducked into a souvenir shop. I bought a baseball cap and an oversized hoodie as a disguise and continued tailing them when I saw Ryan hail a taxi. I felt angry, miserable, and humiliated all at the same time. And I wanted to ball my eyes out, but just then my phone pinged. It was a social media notification from Ryan. A selfie of the happy couple in the taxi. Next stop, the Lou. I immediately decided to take a taxi, but they flew past me like I was made of cellophane. Am I invisible? No. I pulled up a map on my phone. The Lou—the Louvre—was only a mile and a half away. If I walked fast, I could make it in 30 minutes. I made my way through the streets crowded with slow-walking tourists, trying not to step on anyone. Pardon ma. Pardon ma. And when I saw the iconic glass pyramid up ahead, I started to run.
I finally entered the museum and my eyes went straight to this gorgeous painting: The Mona Lisa. The masterpiece was smaller than I had imagined, but it was a thrill to see her. I was admiring the artwork when I felt a hand pull a cell phone out of my back pocket. I smiled to myself, then turned around to see a handsome pickpocket slipping it into his jacket. It's a fake. I assure you, the Mona Lisa is quite real. No, I mean the cell phone you just stole, it's fake. The city of love is quite famous for pickpockets at tourist attractions. So, I carry a fake cell phone for thieves to steal, then continue on their way. Then I'll continue on my way. I grabbed his arm and held on. That's so fast. Why are you faking a French accent? I was born here, but then my mother took me to Hollywood. She wanted to act in films. Clearly, she must have failed because here you are robbing tourists. Can you let me go now? Uh, no. Look, you have two choices. I can go tell the security guard you stole my phone, or you can help me find these two losers. I showed him the pic of Ryan and Harpy by the Eiffel Tower. Did they steal your fake wallet? No, that's still in my bag. She stole the love of my life, and I'm going to get him back with your help because you speak French and four eyes are better than two. I'd rather get arrested. Please, I can pay you. Why are you running after the despicable monster who dumped you? Because I've loved him since the third grade. And maybe it's time to grow up. You don't understand. I've spent all these years planning a future with him. Now my future is a big blank because this girl stole him from me. And now they're out having fun on my vacation. And here I am trying to talk a pickpocket into helping me tail them. Oh god, I'm such a loser. I feel like slapping myself across the face. And then I don't know what happened, but I started to cry. Like a real hard, ugly cry. Could you please stop crying? Everyone's staring at me like I stole your kidney. Will you help me? Okay. Okay, I'll help you. But your ex isn't here. How could you possibly know? Gabriel pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. Ryan's ID was inside. They were on their way out of the museum when I…um…bumped into him. I must be an evil person because this news put me in a better mood. Maybe he deserves it. But when we find them, you'll give it back. Okay, of course. There's one problem. How do we know where they're going? I think they're following my itinerary. If I'm right, their next stop is the Jardin du Tuileries.
The fountain was even prettier in person, and it took me back to the time I was planning the trip. Back then, I imagined myself strolling the sweeping promenades of the garden with my Ryan. Instead, I was walking around the iconic central pool with a French pickpocket. Since I'm helping you stalk your ex, shouldn't we know each other's names? I'm Ella. Like short for Cinderella, Isabella, Mozzarella. Just Ella. Now, can we focus on finding Ryan? I'm Gabriel, in case you're interested. But I wasn't. I was too focused on finding Ryan. Just then, I took a sip from my harmonica bottle, then casually played a tune on the harmonica built into the cap. Did you just make music with your water bottle? Yep. Coolest thing ever. Hydration and entertainment in one. Whoever invented this is a genius. Okay, that's actually impressive. I kind of want one. Oh, are you planning to steal it? Some things are actually worth paying for. Can I try it? Uh-huh. Fine. Here, try it. Just blow into the cap like a civilized person. This is cool and I love it. Where do I get one? Amazon. Links in the description. Now, can you walk a little faster? What's the American saying? Stop to smell the roses. I'm not here to see the sights. I'm here to get my man back. And what will you do when we find him? Punch him in the nose, drop to your knees, and beg him to come back. Kiss me passionately to get him jealous. All the above. None of the above. I'll simply tell him we were meant to be together. Oh, sure. That should work. He'll come to his senses. I'm hungry, aren't you?
And suddenly, my tummy started making noises, and I realized that I hadn't eaten the whole day. Gabriel suggested we sit outside a small cafe at the edge of the garden and keep watch from there. I was inhaling my pasta when I noticed Gabriel staring at me. What? Just never seen a pretty girl eat pasta like an uncivilized freak. Let me show you the right way to do it. And then he picked up his fork, spun the spaghetti against the spoon in one fluid, effortless motion, lifting the perfect swirl of pasta to his lips. Slow, deliberate, ridiculously attractive. I was so lost in watching him swirl that pasta that I barely noticed when the waiter brought a bottle of wine to our table and poured two glasses. But I'm not 21 yet. In Paris, the legal age is 18. Santé. Santé. As we ate, I learned more about Gabriel. His mother brought him back to Paris when he was 14 so she could help his grandparents run the family cafe. He cleaned tables after school until he was old enough to be a waiter. But then his grandparents passed away in a car crash. Mom wanted to keep the cafe in the family, but she wasn't good at business. She took out several loans and struggled to keep up with the payments, and she got sick and left. Since I was not earning enough to pay the loans, the bank foreclosed on us and I lost the cafe. What about your dad? He's not around anymore, but I don't need him either. One day I will make enough money to buy my cafe back. This pickpocketing thing, it's just temporary. The waiter handed Gabriel the bill and he pulled out Ryan's wallet. I think Ryan should buy you dinner. No.
Once Gabriel and I left the cafe, I told him that the next stop on the itinerary was a sunset walk along the Seine River. The setting sun sparkled across the river. Couples strolled hand in hand. It was truly romantic. Then I caught sight of a familiar head in the crowd. That's Ryan. I started to make my way through the crowd with Gabriel right behind me. Shouldn't we discuss strategy? Just follow my lead. But I had no lead for him to follow. All I had was a stupid plan in my head that I would stand next to Ryan and pretend to trip into him in the middle of the crowd. But just as I leaned, Ryan moved away and instead of dramatically crashing into him, my face planted straight into the pavement. "Ella, is that you?" I got up and flipped my hair back, ignoring the fact that I probably looked like an injured street pigeon. Oh, Ryan, what a surprise. I didn't think you'd be in Paris. You know, on that ticket I paid for. You really have no self-respect, do you? Oh, wow. Harper, is that you? I could barely recognize you. I guess the Paris sun has really roasted you alive. Oh, no. Wait, maybe it's not the sun. Maybe that's just how you glow when you're half human, half pure evil. Ella, you shouldn't have come here. Why? I planned this entire trip, didn't I? I made the itinerary, the reservations, the whole experience. Why shouldn't I be here? And don't worry, I'm not here to stalk you. No, sir. I actually came here with my boyfriend. I turned around to see Gabriel staring at me in shock. I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward me. This is Gabriel, my…amore…the guy who stole my heart away, right, sweetie potato? Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you. Wait, you have a boyfriend? You were crying over me just last week. Weak. I'm over you, darling. And why are you so surprised? You moved on in less than a day. Forgot about all our great love like it was yesterday's trash. What great love. Ryan and I had been dating for a year before the prom happened. A year? I thought you loved me, Ryan. Whoa. I never said I loved you, Ella. I said you were the best. And you are. You always made things easy for me. But now it's over.
It hit me like a nuclear bomb. He was right. He never said he loved me. All those years, every birthday card was signed, "You're the best." After every date, I'd only get a quick peck on the cheek. My blood boiled with anger. And before I could think, I just whirled around, grabbed Gabriel by the collar, and kissed him. I thought he'd push me away, but to my surprise, his hands wrapped around my waist, and he kissed me back. When I finally pulled away, Ryan just stood there frozen. Well, that settles it. You and I are officially over. Have fun on my trip. And I think this belongs to you. Found it on the ground. Much like your ego. And I ran before Ryan could see my tears, with Gabriel close behind me. You okay? I'm fine. I mean, the guy I've loved all my life was cheating on me behind my back and my first kiss was with a French criminal. But yeah, I'm totally fine. I'm not a criminal. Okay. And what do you mean by first kiss? You and Ryan have never kissed before. Of course we have. Okay, fine. We never kissed. Unless you count an occasional peck on the cheek, like some bird pecking at seeds. I guess that makes me a giant loser who's been in denial about everything. I don't think you're a loser. Maybe just someone who loved a loser. Oh, yeah. That makes me feel so much better. What do you want me to say? You're a perfectly beautiful girl who probably has the prettiest eyes I've ever seen. You're smart, brave, and definitely have a personality. So, I don't know why you're crying over some guy who barely cares about you when you could have literally anyone else in the world. You sound like my mom. And moms are almost always right. You really think I have pretty eyes? The prettiest I've seen. And I'm not a loser. Maybe a little, but Ryan's a bigger one for sure. Now, please stop crying and let's get you an ice pack. You did fall on your face. Remember? Gabriel and I spent the rest of the night wandering through Paris. Even though it was late,
The city still felt alive. Street lights glowed on old buildings, and quiet music drifted out of tiny cafes. I was finally having fun when Gabriel asked if he could drop me home.
I don't know if I want to go back to the hotel and run into Ryan. I'm not sure I can resist the urge to break his nose if I see him again.
"Well, that might give you short-term satisfaction, but maybe not the best idea."
"All right, then. If you're sure, you can crash at my place."
By the time we reached Gabriel's place, I was bone tired. I just wanted to crash. But as soon as we flicked on a light, I saw a tall man standing in the middle of the room with a funny-looking cat and a bunch of guys in black. I looked over to Gabriel to ask what was happening, but he just stood frozen.
"Gabrielle Monfis, I've been waiting."
"What are you doing here?"
"That's no way to meet your father."
"What? He's your—"
"No, he's not."
"How did you find me?"
"I have ways, Gabrielle. And you're my heir. You belong with me. I assumed once your mother disappeared, you'd come back to me. But no, you decided to run."
"Disappeared? But I thought your mom was dead."
"He told you that?"
"Oh, Gabrielle, you lied to your girlfriend. Bad, bad manners. Anyway, now that I have found you, I'll take you with me and teach you how to treat a lady right."
"I told you before, I— I want nothing to do with you. Now, get lost before I call the police."
"The police? I'm sure they'd love to question you about your extracurricular activities. You've been sloppy, Montece."
Gabriel's dad signaled his men to grab him.
"You really don't know when to quit, do you?"
And he grabbed my hand and ran. We sprinted through the streets, through late-night cafe tables, knocking over chairs, tables, and whatever came in our way. I was trying to keep up, but Gabriel was so fast, and I had the legs of an old chicken. I wanted to stop and rest, but then I looked behind and saw a black car skidding around the corner right behind us.
"They're in a car. Gabriel, we are not winning this race."
"Nope. Which is why we're upgrading our ride."
Before I could ask what he meant, he swerved toward a row of rental bikes lined up outside a shop, yanked one free, and hopped on. I jumped onto the back, and together we cut through the crowd. For a second, I thought we'd lost them. When suddenly, this car screeched in front of us, and Gabriel slammed the brakes.
"Get in, Mom."
"What?"
"Just get in."
Gabriel and I exchanged one look. Then we jumped in. The car sped through the city until the bright lights of Paris disappeared behind us. I had no idea where we were going, but I was too busy trying to process everything. We finally stopped at this abandoned building, and Gabriel's mom told us everything.
"I met Gabriel's dad when I was just 18. Fell in love, got married, and thought I'd have a happy life until everything fell apart. Mom didn't know dad was in the mafia. We only found out when I was 12. I wanted to leave right away, but his father made it impossible. He threatened to take Gabby away, and I was too scared to fight back. But when he turned 14, I saw how deeply the mafia life was pulling him in. That's when I decided to take him and leave for my parents' house. Dad's been chasing us ever since. After my grandparents passed, mom and I decided to go separate ways to trick him. But that didn't work."
"Then why did you lie to me saying that your mom was dead?"
"No, I said she fell sick and left. There's a difference. Besides, I just figured you'd cry at my tragic backstory, and I really couldn't handle that anymore."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. It should have been more clear, but we have more pressing issues at hand."
"Mom, dad's not going to stop, is he?"
"No, he never does."
"So, what now?"
"You guys keep running forever."
"No, we fly to Hawaii."
We spent the night at the safe house, and the next morning, we left for the airport. While Gabriel's mom did the paperwork, he walked up to me with a smirk.
"So, I guess this is it."
"I guess."
"Thanks for everything. Really helped me with the whole Ryan situation."
"There was no situation. You were just chasing the wrong person. Just promise you won't fall for another idiot."
"If I do, do you promise to knock sense into me again?"
"How about we try to stay off bad guys altogether and give a chance to genuinely nice people like me?"
Before I could get a word out, our flights were announced, and Gabriel winked at me and left. I didn't know what he meant or what was waiting for me on the other side of this flight. But for the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid of the unknown. And that's a happy ending for a stocking story. Don't you agree?