Chapter Text
“I just don’t want to leave here without anything to show for it.”
Lindsey sighs grumpily into her coffee mug, watching the flower art of her latte transform into an amorphous blob with each sip.
It’s a beautiful day in Paris. Summer is beautiful in France, and Paris is nothing if not extraordinary when the June sunlight warms the air and the city finally breathes.
Tobin snorts across from her, one hand spinning sugar in an iced tea while the other scrolls through twitter on her phone.
“Yeah, ‘cause playing professional soccer for one of the world’s best international teams at 20-years-old is coming up a little short.”
Mornings like these are what Lindsey loves most; she loves watching Paris wake up, she loves being a part of that. She loves a lot of things. She loves hot coffee and iced coffee, the loves summer rain and winter snow.
What she doesn’t love is Tobin Heath, her best friend in all of France (PSG-BFF as they have grown so accustomed to calling each other), sassing her.
She also doesn’t love that Tobin is leaving soon.
But if she thinks about it too long, thinks about how Tobin has played her last game and how it won’t be long until they will have to say goodbye, then she’ll start to cry (again).
Lindsey doesn’t want to cry right now, not on a beautiful morning in the city she has finally learned to love.
“You know what I mean,” Lindsey replies snarkily.
“Do I?” Tobin smirks, eyes still trained on her phone as she takes a sip from her glass.
“Do I?” Lindsey mocks, but Tobin can tell she’s teasing.
Tobin coming to France had become the biggest relief Lindsey could have received. When PSG was seeming just too tough and just too unbearable, Tobin had arrived to help Lindsey learn to be strong and resilient and brave.
Now Tobin’s leaving, and Lindsey is scared all she’s learned is going to leave with her.
“You’re right, I do know what you mean.” After a brief pause, Tobin looks up and says, “you wanna get laid.”
Lindsey laughs into her coffee mug, suddenly forgetting all about the looming sadness and remembering what it is that she loves so much about Tobin: she always knows how to put a smile on herself.
“Okay, you’re like, old, you are so not allowed to say that to me.”
“Excuse me, I’m old ?” Tobin scoffs. She locks her phone and puts her iced tea down, and Lindsey can tell she’s ready to fight.
“Mmhmm,” Lindsey teases, “might as well be my grandma.”
“I am twenty-six, how dare you call me old?”
“What was that? Sorry, I got distracted by your wrinkles for a second.”
“Alright, okay, good talk,” Tobin laughs, leaning back in her chair.
Lindsey giggles and starts to pick at the croissant that she and Tobin had gotten to share.
“I dunno,” Lindsey starts, “I just hate that you’re leaving again. It was hard enough the first time, but then you came back, and now you’re leaving me again!” She throws the back of her hand dramatically against her forehead, feigning distress.
“Aww, you gonna miss me?”
“Not if you keep this up!”
They laugh with each other but the mood shifts as Lindsey glances down into her mug again.“I just don’t know if I can do this without you.”
“Hey, hey, none of that. Look at me,” Tobin says softly, leaning forward and growing more serious. “You’re a star. You’ve come such a long way from when we first met, and you have so much to show for it. You don’t need me.”
“Don’t say that, yes I do.”
“No, you don’t anymore. Maybe you did before, but you don’t anymore. And that’s a good thing.” She pauses, her eyelids closing a bit as her smile grows. “I’m so proud of you.”
Lindsey blushes, because it’s rare for her and Tobin to really talk like this, talk about their feelings and how much they love each other.
“Well maybe I don’t need you anymore. Doesn’t mean I can’t still want you around.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Tobin chuckles and holds her glass up as if to make a toast.
After drawn out moments of silence, Lindsey’s eyes staring blankly across the bustling city, Tobin nudges her with her foot underneath the table.
“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“This season ending and you leaving, it’s had me thinking a lot,” Lindsey answers after hesitating. “Soccer’s my life, you know? And that’s what I wanted, it is what I want. I’ll always want that. But sometimes I think I don’t only want that.”
Tobin nods pensively and offers a soft smile because she knows. She’s been there too, she’s struggled to balance soccer with everything else.
Tobin gets it and Lindsey knows she does.
“It takes a while to learn that it’s okay to want more,” Tobin explains. “It’s not easy to accept because you feel so lucky to be where you are. We get so used to making sacrifices, but don’t make them just because you think you have to.”
Lindsey takes it all in and wonders if that’s what she’s been doing.
She’s always known what she wanted. Play professional soccer, be the best, make the national team, play in the World Cup. She chose PSG instead of college because she knew it was the right choice for her, but she was still very much aware of what she was sacrificing in the process.
So many other girls have it all and Lindsey doesn’t know how they manage it all. She knows she’s still young and she knows she has time, but being in the City of Love is tough when the weight of love’s absence has felt so heavy. Love, in every sense of the word - family, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, - is hard to come by for Lindsey in France.
She doesn’t want to wish she was meeting more people or exploring the dating scene or not missing her family. She wants to be content with where she is.
“I guess I feel like if I wish things were different, then I’m taking for granted what I have.”
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other. Nothing is black and white like that. You can be grateful for being here but still wish you could see your family. You can love that your office is the soccer pitch but be upset that you hardly have free time to make other friends. That’s okay.”
Lindsey stares at Tobin pensively before she breaks out into a smile. “Where have you been hiding this smart Tobin from me?”
“You are on thin ice, Horan.”
They chat mindlessly for a few more minutes, recounting memories of what they’ve done in this city and feeling thankful that they could do it together. Tobin might not be the best at articulating her feelings, but she’s certainly getting better. All she really hopes is that Lindsey understands how important she is to Tobin.
“Come on,” Tobin demands. She stands up with outstretched hands and Lindsey eyes her quizzically. “It’s too beautiful a day to mope.”
Lindsey mumbles “I’m not moping” before giving Tobin her hands and letting herself be pulled to her feet.
They clear their glasses with gracious “mercis” to the employees before exploring the city they’ve grown to love so much.
There’s still plenty to see that they haven’t already, but Lindsey isn’t really interested in that. Right now she wants to see that spots that she and Tobin found together, to see the memories play out before them over and over again.
Tobin must feel the same because she leads Lindsey down the street where they danced with strangers to street music late at night, past the restaurant where they had their first PSG-BFF date, to the markets and street fairs where they learned to love French culture.
A couple hours later, they end up at the Eiffel Tower. They’re close enough where they can appreciate it but far enough away to avoid the clumps of tourists. They stand there for a while, staring at the tower that represents so much for both of them, as individuals and as a unit.
Soon enough, Lindsey finds herself distracted by the couples walking hand-in-hand, holding each other, and taking pictures together. She glances at Tobin, grateful to be standing next to one of her best friends but wishing she was standing next to someone who was more than that.
“I want to kiss someone.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tobin smiles and roll her eyes without looking away from the Eiffel Tower.
“I do not volunteer.”
“Well good thing I don’t wanna kiss you, Betty White.”
“I’m not old!” Tobin bellows, shoving Lindsey playfully.
“Old or not, I’m not kissing you, so stop begging.”
“Oh my god, you’re unbearable, you know that?”
“You love me,” Lindsey sings.
“Mhm, whatever you say.” Tobin shoves her shoulder playfully. “You know what, if you want to kiss someone so much, then go kiss someone.”
“Well yeah that’s the point, but who?”
“Who cares? Go find someone you think is attractive and kiss them.”
Lindsey stares with wide eyes. “What, you mean, like a stranger?”
“Unless you can think of someone you already know,” Tobin snorts. “But I feel like we’ve established that that isn’t an option.”
Lindsey bites her lip and looks around. She sees cute boys and cute girls, some with each other and some alone. She sees them travel in packs and talk and laugh and act like it would be totally normal for a random girl to ask for a kiss.
“You’re too chicken shit to do it anyway.”
Lindsey knows what Toin is doing, she’s trying to egg Lindsey on until the idea of Tobin being right is so unbearable that she has to do it.
The thing is, she couldn’t just ask someone to kiss her, that would be absolutely ridiculous. Asking a total random person to kiss has got to be one of the most bizarre ideas ever.
Lindsey doesn’t want to be that girl, some girl desperate for attention or affection to the point where she’s begging on the streets for it.
But maybe it isn’t like that. Random people hook up with other random people all the time. One night stands are very much a thing, dating apps are very much a thing. She supposes there isn’t something totally wrong about approaching someone she finds attractive and asking to kiss them.
“How about this,” Tobin adds, “I’ll give you 50 euros if you kiss a random stranger. Another 50 if you let me take a picture.”
Lindsey howls out a laugh but doesn’t hate the idea. Kissing someone and getting 100 euros for it? Not a bad deal at all.
“A picture? You’re such a creep.”
“Hardly,” Tobin argues, “with a picture, you’d definitely be able to leave Paris with something to show for it.”
Lindsey ponders it as Tobin mumbles “and then you’d finally shut up about it” playfully.
A few moments pass before Lindsey looks Tobin dead in the eye, wearing a smirk, and says -
“Deal.”
“No fucking way,” Tobin trumpets. Lindsey raises an eyebrow as if to challenge her and Tobin takes a huge breath. “Oh my god, okay, who are you gonna ask then?”
“I don’t know, who should I ask?” A different way to phrase the question is “who is someone that I would want to kiss that looks like they wouldn’t be totally weirded out by a random stranger asking to kiss them for a picture?”
They look around regardless, trying to find someone who looks single and kissable.
Lindsey sees handsome men of different shapes and sizes, some with facial hair and some without. She sees beautiful women with different facial features and body types. Lindsey learned at a pretty young age that her sexual orientation didn’t really fit within any boundaries, and attempting to label it was just too complicated. Besides, she’s never really taken dating seriously. Being so invested in soccer has sort of denied her most of those opportunities, which is a large contributing factor to the situation she’s in at this very second.
Minutes pass and she’s about to give up when someone catches her eye, a girl likely around her own age with blonde hair tucked into an adorable messy bun. She’s wearing baggy boyfriend jeans and a gray short-sleeve crop top, and Lindsey thinks it looks really soft.
She’s beautiful in the way that’s pretty and cute and hot all at once.
She’s standing in front of a large display of various pieces of art for sale, art that Lindsey assumes the older man standing beside them has made himself. She’s seen people walk by him and ignore him or admire the art but never buy any.
The girl is looking at all the paintings like they’re the most miraculous things she’d ever seen. Then she’s pointing at them with her mouth dropped in shock, like she can’t even believe they’re real.
Lindsey watches her call over her friends, demanding they look at the paintings. The few girls seem impressed but don’t appear enraptured like this blonde is. They walk away and she ignores them as she walks up to the artist, an older man with a big beard and hunched shoulders. He smiles like he’s seen the whole world and his eyes crinkle, and the blonde girl’s do the same.
“Linds, what are you doing?”
Lindsey doesn’t answer Tobin, just watches as this random chick communicates with the artist. She wonders if this girl is French or if she’s a tourist, she wants to get closer to hear what they’re talking about.
But then the girl is buying a painting, a smaller one that illustrates the Paris skyline with pastel colors, giving the man enough money that he raises his eyebrows.
Then she’s hugging him and skipping over to her friends, literally unable to contain her excitement as she boasts about the painting.
Lindsey turns and looks at Tobin for the first time, and watches as Tobin registers the look in her eyes. “Found her.”
“Linds, what -”
She turns on her heel and without even thinking, without even registering what’s happening, she’s walking up to this random, gorgeous, stunning girl and tapping on her shoulder and saying -
“Hi.”
The girl turns, and her already present smile grows a little bit. The girl turns and sees Lindsey and she swears she sees one of the most beautiful girls in the world and says -
“Well hi there.”
“I’m Lindsey.”
“I’m Emily.”
“You speak English.”
“Mhm,” Emily giggles, “so do you.”
They maintain eye contact before the girl’s friends are clearing their throats.
“Oh, um, hey,” Lindsey says over the blonde’s shoulder, “I’m Lindsey.”
Emily’s friends introduce themselves in a way that’s almost too friendly for just meeting a random person on the street. A short girl with pale skin and reddish-brown hair introduces herself as Rose. A girl with dark skin and darker hair says, “hey, I’m Mal,” and the last friend, who towers over them all, introduces herself as Sam with a goofy smile that Lindsey finds contagious.
It isn’t until the air gets awkward that Lindsey clears her throat. Emily still looks at her with big eyes and a bigger smile.
“So, I kind of have a weird question.”
“Okay, Lindsey, fire away.”
“Can I kiss you?”
Her eyebrows shoot up and her smile quirks. “Sorry, did you just ask to kiss me?”
“Yup. Yeah, I did.”
Lindsey glances over Emily’s shoulders where her friends are watching in shock. Sam’s mouth is agape while Rose just smiles like she can’t believe it. Mal’s eyebrows are so far up her forehead that they might as well be a part of her hairline. But Emily is still smiling and that’s all Lindsey really cares about.
“My friend over there,” Lindsey tries to explain, pointing at Tobin over her shoulder who offers a weak wave, “she bet me 50 euros that I wouldn’t kiss a random person.”
“No shit. That’s a lot of money.”
“Yeah, plus she said she’ll give me another 50 if she can take a picture. I think she wants to use it to blackmail me.”
Emily whistles like she’s impressed, but she doesn’t say anything and Lindsey gets antsy.
“It’s a weird question, I know.”
Emily hums, her smile still present. “Yeah, a little bit.”
“Is that a no?”
Lindsey isn’t sure where this new-found courage is coming from. Maybe it’s because 100 euros is on the line, maybe it’s because Tobin is watching like she can’t believe it at all, maybe it’s because she’s finally realized that she deserves to have it all.
(Later, she’ll accredit it to this Emily girl being just too intriguing and too irresistible to stop herself. She wants to kiss this girl, this girl is standing there looking insanely kissable.)
Besides, the worst case scenario is that Emily says “no” and they both walk away with a funny story to tell in the future.
Emily is taking too long to respond though, and Lindsey starts running her hands over her face anxiously. “Oh my god, I’m such a whackjob,” she realizes aloud. “I am so sorry, please ignore me, have a nice day.”
She’s turning on her heel and borderline sprinting towards a very confused looking Tobin before Emily is grabbing her hand. “Hey, whoa now, wait a second,” she chuckles, “I didn’t say no.”
Lindsey can’t pretend she isn’t surprised.
“You didn’t say yes, though.”
“Well, I was getting there.”
“Really?”
“Well duh.”
Lindsey finally releases a nervous laugh, all the tension of the situation disappearing. “Well jeez, you were really taking your time with that! Seriously, I feel so crazy.”
“Well, you are a little crazy, but…” Emily’s eyes flit down to her lips and then back to her eyes. “I guess I’m a little crazy too.” She winks and Lindsey’s breath is caught in her throat and -
“Okay,” she breathes. She turns to Tobin, who looks absolutely perplexed and insanely impressed and is somehow still smiling through her shock.
Lindsey drags Emily, who quickly hands her recently purchased painting to her friends as they call after her in confusion, over to stand right in front of the paintings where Lindsey had first seen her. She holds her phone out for Tobin to take the picture.
Lindsey’s almost rushing , because she’s terrified that if she takes a minute to think about what she’s doing, she might chicken out. If she thinks too long, she’ll realize that this is absurd. Absolutely absurd and entirely out of character and exactly what she needs to be doing right now.
She shakes the phone towards Tobin impatiently before Tobin finally takes it. “Um-” Tobin starts.
“Get ready to pay up.”
“Yeah, get ready to pay up!” Emily exclaims.
Lindsey grins cheekily at her before turning back to Tobin, shooing her away with a “go on.”
Tobin still hasn’t processed any of what’s happening, but her feet move robotically a few feet away to prepare to take the picture.
“Wait,” Emily starts, and Lindsey is certain that she’s going to back out after finally realizing how absurd this situation is. “Tell me some stuff about you.”
“What?”
“Yeah, come on, give me the SparkNotes version of you. That way, we aren’t strangers who are kissing, we’re just… kind of acquaintances?”
“Okay,” Lindsey giggles, “that’s actually a good idea. Okay, I’m Lindsey, I’m 20-years-old, I’m from Colorado but I play professional soccer here in Paris.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“Yes, seriously, but shush, I’m not done.” Emily mumbles out an “oh, right, sorry,” as Lindsey continues. “I love avocado toast and lattes, I’m not a natural blonde, my favorite show is The Office, and… oh, I’m allergic to cats but not dogs.”
“Wow, nice comprehensive list there.”
“Why thank you. Okay, you go.”
“Okay, my name’s Emily. I’m 21-years-old, from Georgia, going into my senior year of college. I’m studying abroad here for a few weeks this summer. I couldn’t go during the school year because I also play soccer.”
“Oh my god, are you serious?” Lindsey bellows.
“Yes but shush, I’m not done,” Emily teases and Lindsey thinks she could actually really like this girl. “I love the Waffle House and dancing, I am a natural blonde, and I hope one day to become a sensational meme.”
“Is that right?”
“Mhm, I think I have real potential.”
“I bet you do.”
“Are you gonna kiss or what?” Lindsey and Emily jerk their heads over to where Emily’s friends are standing and smirking, Rose cupping her mouth with her hands to scream at them to hurry up.
Lindsey looks over at Tobin who gives her a thumbs up. She’s able to hide her grin behind Lindsey’s phone as she holds it up, prepared to take the picture.
Lindsey then looks at Emily, taking a small step forward into her space. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” she asks nervously.
Emily nods, once softly and then again more distinctly. “Yeah,” she mumbles, and then Lindsey is moving forward again. She feels her heartbeat in her fingertips as she cups Emily’s chin with one hand, the other resting on her cheek.
She’s a couple inches taller than Emily so she has to lean down a bit. She rests their foreheads together, her lips coming insanely close to the older girl’s.
This is happening , Lindsey thinks as she smiles. I’m about to kiss someone in Paris .
She waits for Emily to lean forward and initiate it, but then Emily is whispering “kiss me” against her lips, and Lindsey tilting Emily’s head back and kissing her.
It starts out soft and slow, Lindsey taking Emily’s bottom lip gently between her own. They linger against each other for a second before Lindsey goes to take charge a bit more, pulling Emily closer without being too aggressive.
Emily responds in kind. She steps as close as she can, tugging herself forward by Lindsey’s hips. Lindsey can’t shake how nice it feels to have Emily gripping at her hips firmly, grinning against her lips after a string of a few kisses.
And that should be it. It’s supposed to be one easy kiss, neither intense nor flashy. On top of being strangers (or “kind of acquaintances”), they’re completely in public for everyone and anyone to see. Neither of them are looking to put on a show, despite Tobin standing only 15 feet taking a picture.
But they both get wrapped up in it. It feels nice , the kissing and the feathery touches and the sensation of the whole world disappearing around them.
When Lindsey pulls away, it’s only to tilt her head to deepen the kiss and Emily mirrors the action. When taller blonde runs her tongue over Emily’s lip, Emily ignores the invitation and instead takes the lead, slipping her own into Lindsey’s mouth. Lindsey moans through her surprise before moving her hands to Emily’s waist greedily. Emily reacts immediately, wrapping one arm around Lindsey’s neck before resting her other hand right above her chest.
It becomes hotter and needier, and before either of them know it, they’re full on making out in the middle of Paris. Tobin’s grin grows tenfold behind the phone. She decides to stop taking pictures, though, because it’s starting to feel like she’s really intruding on something.
It isn’t until Emily’s friends are howling out teases that the two pull apart from each other. Emily’s eyes are still closed but she’s smiling dumbly and Lindsey can’t help but stare. “Wow,” Emily whispers. Lindsey nods, at a complete loss for words as her eyes continue to trace Emily’s face.
As far as first kisses go, that had to have been one of the best in, like, the history of humankind.
Lindsey giggles when she registers that Emily’s friends are applauding them and screaming out “whoop whoop”s. Emily can’t take her eyes off of Lindsey’s, though, and Lindsey notices. She doesn’t want to look away, but she has to when Tobin approaches them.
She walks over to them hesitantly, still worried that she’s encroaching on Lindsey’s moment, but holds the phone out with a cheeky smile.
“I got some good action shots,” Tobin teases, shoving her hands in her pockets.
Lindsey ignores her and swipes through the pictures, holding her phone so Emily can look as well. She tries to ignore the way her heart continues to race when Emily stands so close that their arms are brushing, pointing at the pictures she likes the most.
“Wow, these are kind of cute,” Lindsey mumbles, and she’s right. The pictures are precious, they look adorable and the backdrop with the paintings is beautiful, the top half of the Eiffel Tower peeking out behind them.
The pictures really look like they’re of two girls who are in a happy, loving relationship.
Lindsey kind of wishes it was.
Emily looks up at Lindsey, her smile cute and wide and happy, like she’s just been thoroughly kissed in the City of Love.
“These are cute,” she affirms, turning her attention to Tobin. “Looks like you’re gonna be out 100 euros.”
“Yeah, I won’t lie to you, I really did not think she was going to go through with that.”
“You’re lack of faith in me has cost you dearly,” Lindsey comments. “Emily, I would offer you some of the money but, um, that kinda feels like prostitution?”
“That’s okay,” Emily snickers. She wants to say something cheesy about how the kiss was worth far more than a hundred euros, but her friends interrupt them.
“We got some pretty good pictures, too,” Sam says and presents her phone. She, Mal, and Rose had taken selfies with Emily and Lindsey kissing in the background. They’re pulling funny faces or sticking their tongues out at the camera. There’s one of Rose pretending to squish them with her fingers using the depth of their positioning and another of Mal standing closer to them, pointing at them with a huge smile.
Lindsey can’t help but laugh. Emily’s friends seem just as goofy as she is, and she’s appreciative that they’re embracing this odd situation and not making Lindsey feel weird about it.
She doesn’t feel self-conscious at all until Mal leans up to whisper something in her ear and Emily grimaces. They walk away to give the two blondes space, which Tobin notices, so she also retreats to a bench.
“They just reminded me that we have reservations at some fancy restaurant,” Emily frowns, “celebrating one of our last nights.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you up.”
“No, don’t apologize. Trust me, this was a very good reason to be held up.”
She’s flirting , Lindsey thinks, and she likes it.
“Yeah? Not too bizarre?”
“Nope. Just the perfect amount of bizarre.”
Lindsey grins and ducks her head before looking back up and finding Emily’s eyes. Ask her for her number. Get her number. Get any type of information where you can talk to her again.
“Well,” Lindsey starts, holding her hand out for Emily to shake, “pleasure doing business with you.”
“Please,” Emily says, playing along by taking Lindsey’s hand, “the pleasure was all mine.”
She hesitates. She’s waiting for Lindsey to ask for her number. But Lindsey doesn’t, just shakes her hand dumbly.
Emily assumes that the Lindsey that was bold enough to ask her to kiss her in the middle of Paris would also be brave enough to ask for her number if she wanted it. But she must not be interested, so Emily just winks and turns and walks back to her friends, and that’s that.
Lindsey watches her go and immediately regrets not getting her number, but she’s too embarrassed to go after her.
Tobin sidles up next to her after a few moments, wrapping an arm around Lindsey’s shoulders. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, Linds. That was fucking epic.”
Lindsey rolls her eyes and shoves Tobin’s away. “Whatever,” Lindsey chuckles, trying to ease the pit in her stomach that she really screwed up and will never see Emily again. “I’ll take my payment in cash or as a check, please.”
Tobin throws her head back and laughs. “How about Venmo?”
“Deal.”