《The Love Abroad》Chapter Nine

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We arrive at this bistro right by the Eiffel Tower called Au Bon Accueil - reservations required.

Yet another thing her parents bought for us.

I was interested to meet these so-called guests. All the way over here, I kept asking Kris questions. Who are they? Do I know them? No answer. Well no answer that was detailed enough for me to even make a decent guess.

Entering the restaurant, I'm glad I decided to bring a 'fancy' dress. Everyone in here is in formal wear, men dressed like penguins and their ladies all dolled up for a red carpet.

Our table is right next to a window, overlooking the giant field in front of the Eiffel Tower. I see a family having a picnic with their two little boys. The boys want their father to play with them, but the father is too distracted by the mother who’s dressed in a very flattering summer dress.

He's totally getting laid tonight.

"Shall I take your drink orders?" the waiter says interrupting my little daydream.

"Not yet. We're still waiting on two more people," Kris says with her eyes locked on the menu. I look at the waiter and smile, letting him know that there's at least one person who’s not rude.

After a half hour, the waiter comes to inform Kris that the two guests have arrived. Ten feet behind him enter two guys wearing casual suits, one without a blazer. I can't get a glimpse of their face until they're about 5 feet away.

With a little help from the sun shining through the window, I recognize them. The first man is a dirty blonde with a very Matt Smith style of hair. He's tall but not as tall as the guy behind him. It's Luke.

So if Luke is here that means....

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The no-blazer-wearing, tall and lean guy walking behind Luke is the one and only Tom Hiddleston.

I'm in shock. Surprised. Excited. Confused.

"Well hello beautiful ladies." Luke is being modest, bringing in Kris for a hug. Tom sneaks from behind Luke, tilting his head to the side with a smile - his eyes looking for an answer.

"I don't know what to say," I walk towards him. "I thought you had to finish shooting?" He's standing next to me, pulling my chair out as an invite to sit. "We wrapped this morning. Kris invited us to come out and spend the weekend with you two. I hope that is okay? I certainly don't want to intrude on a girl's weekend."

I guarantee that if I said it was a problem, Tom would be on the next flight to London. That's the kind of guy he is.

"Oh no, no, no. It's fine. I just wasn't expecting anyone else. Especially since it's been over a week since we last spoke," I say, stuttering my words. "I know you've been busy."

The waiter comes back and we order both drinks and entrees. The conversation was stimulating with talks about politics, film and art with a few of Luke' pathetic jokes. Someone even mentioned drinks and dancing.

"I can't dance," I say ashamed.

"I'll teach you. We'll have a jolly time!" Tom's face is lit up and the inflection in his voice is so adorable. I've heard of Tom's dancing escapades from his friends. The boy is apparently Lord of the Dance.

"Okay. Shall we go then?"

Now I am not an expert on Parisian culture but I have heard of their insane nightlife. I've watched movies and I've seen pictures. Remember when Kris said this night was going to be crazy? Well this club is definitely crazy.

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Loud music, neon lights, people screaming and clouds of strong cologne means that we've found ourselves in one of Paris' hottest spots. "Grab a booth, we'll get the drinks!" Luke yells grabbing Kris by the hand leading her to the bar. Tom and I are in charge of the booth selection.

After walking around the club for 5 minutes, we find one that's bar accessible and far enough from the dance floor. Kris and Luke come back with 4 mystery shots and 4 pints of beer. We gather in a circle and lift our shots in the air, pouring the liquid down our throats.

Jager Bombs. I know Jager when I taste it. And boy was that good.

Tom leans into me hand out, "May I have this dance?" I look at Kris who is canoodling with Luke in the booth, both laughing over another of his crappy jokes. "Might as well. Those two seem busy." Tom glances over at them, shaking his head.

Once on the dance floor Tom begins to dance. I can't describe his style. It's definitely unique. Alas, he is a pretty damn good dancer.

"You literally dance like a loon, Tom!" He smiles, grabbing my hands pulling me close to him.

"Time for you to learn." His hands fall on my hips, moving me left and right. "Find your rhythm. Let yourself go."

I move my eyes up to see Tom's face to find him staring at my lower half. His forehead is collecting little drops of sweat and he's licking his lips. I take his hand in mine pulling him off the dance floor.

"Lets get out of here." Without any disagreement, he follows me out to the street, hailing a car to pick us up. "Hotel Ritz, si'l vous plait."

This night is about to get a little bit crazier.

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