The rest of the trip went as well as it could have. Every morning, the chaperones would give a litany of rules that were to be followed, to which Zach would scoff at and Jason would remark 'What are they gonna do if I break them? Leave me in Paris?' which Dylan would respond to with an 'If we're lucky." Then, all six of them scheme up a way to break the rules without getting caught.

Their plans all worked out well, too. And even when they weren't trying to break the rules or evade curfew, they had plenty of fun. Luna got her picture in front of the Arc de Triomphe and found a cute french guy to share a croissant with at a café in Champs-Élysées. Madeline got to see the Shakespeare and Company bookstore, Carson got to correct enough tour guides while Dylan would argue the socio-economic importance of people and events mentioned during visits to museums and palace gardens to last a lifetime. Jason even dragged them all to Moulin Rouge, which was thrilling, but made for a really hard time waking up call the next morning.

The week had gone by so quickly, and it felt bittersweet that the trip was coming to an end, even though the memories were still fresh and exciting. Like Jason trying, and failing, to order himself a coffee in french, only for the waiter to cave in and speak English because Jason's accent and mispronunciation was just that horrible. Or Zach creating a scene in the Luxembourg Gardens after a bee "nearly killed" him. Then, there was the day Dylan had the bright idea to race up the Eiffel Tower first thing in the morning; Carson ended up winning with Madeline and Dylan right behind him, Zach was about five minutes behind them, and Luna and Zach gave up early on, and bought tickets to take the elevator up to the top and were splitting a muffin while waiting for their friends.

On their final night of the trip before the plane ride home, all six of them returned to the hotel content with their travel, and with enough cheesy souvenir's (mostly Jason's) to fill up half of a suitcase. By this time, they were all so exhausted, they didn't even have the energy to be sad they were leaving. The group parted in the elevators, giving tired goodbyes as Maddie and Luna got off on their floor, and the guys stayed on to ride up to theirs.

The girls dragged themselves down the hallway, making it to the door of their hotel room with sleepy eyes and tired bodies. Madeline leaned on the wall as she waited for Luna to unlock the door, letting her eyes fall shut for just a moment; she knew as soon as her head hit the pillow, she would be out like a light. When she heard the door unlock, she reluctantly opened her eyes and stood up straight, following behind Luna.

Before she could close the door fully behind her, a hand on the other side reached out, stopping the door from shutting. After getting over the initial shock, Maddie opened the door and found Carson standing in front of her, lips pressed in a straight line and eyes awake and alert.

"Carson," she questioned, a little breathlessly.

"You owe me a picture."

Her eyes widened, and she brought a hand up to her face, "Shit. I'm sorry. I forgot about that."

"I know. That's why I came."

Carson remained in front of in the threshold of the door, keeping her from closing it if she wanted to. He tapped his foot, a quiet padding noise against the carpeted floor, and brought his wrist in front of him to check his watch before bringing his eyes back to Maddie. Her brows furrowed. "You want to take it now?"

He shrugged, "When else would we take it?"

She looked around, at the dim – but certainly very messy – room behind her; there were clothes thrown about carelessly, and two large suitcases covering most of the walkable floor area. Even without the mess, it wasn't very ceremonious place, and Madeline couldn't imagine anywhere inside the room that would make good for a picture. "Here?"

He blinked and then let out a slight laugh, "No. Of course not. I have a place in mind."

Madeline contemplated for no more than a second before glancing as the clock on the opposite side of the room – it was nearly one in the morning. The chaperones warned them earlier today that curfew would be strictly enforced tonight; all of the students would be woken up at six in the morning to make it to the airport on time, and they needed to make sure everyone was present. The chaperones had already been displeased that the six of them – along with a bunch of other students – didn't roll in to the hotel until the very last minute before curfew. Besides, they had to be up in about five hours; they were hardly going to get any sleep as is.

"I don't know, Carson," Madeline sighed, fidgeting with the door handle. "I still haven't finished packing and I wouldn't want us to get in trouble."

"It's the last night, and we graduate in less than a week. Who cares if we get in trouble?"

"Yeah, but-"

Luna popped her head in between Maddie and the door, a disgruntled look on her face. "You two are actually so dramatic." She turned to her best friend, addressing her first. "Maddie, go. You know you want to. You can sleep on the plane. I'll finish packing your stuff." Before Madeline could protest, Luna slapped a hand across the girl's mouth and turned her attention over to Carson. "You. Somehow I know this won't be just a quick little trip, so please make sure you are both back in time for the bus to the airport. And I swear to God, if you get her pregnant in a foreign country-"

"Got it, Luna," Carson cut her off warily. "Thank you."

She stuck her tongue out at him before shoving Maddie out into the hall, almost crashing into Carson's chest. As soon as the door closed, and Carson was sure Luna had moved away from the door, his entire face lit up with a smile.

"You ready?"

"How can I be ready if I don't know where you're taking me?"

He chuckled, "Trust me. I think you'll like it." He held out his hand for her, and she barely hesitated before grabbing on. As soon as her hand folded into his, he began walking down the hall hastily, with large strides that forced Madeline to practically jog in order to keep up. Any exhaustion she felt five minutes ago had turned into anticipation and excitement. She didn't ask why exactly they had to run down the hall to get to where they were going, but she was curious.

"We've got to hurry," he said, answering Maddie's question before it even left her mouth. "We don't have a lot of time." They made it to the elevator, and when the doors didn't open as soon as Carson pressed the down button, he proceeded to press it about another dozen times. He impatiently checked his watch once, and then again not even ten seconds later.

"We can't wait," he said, lightly tugging on her hand. "Come on."

Madeline wasn't given the chance to protest as Carson dragged her to the staircase and began descending them two at a time. They were only four floors up, but by the time they burst into the hotel lobby, Madeline was more than out of breath. Carson, however, was unrelenting, and since he was still holding onto her hand, she had no choice but to follow him as he pushed himself out the front doors of the hotel.

As they made it onto the empty street, Carson glanced at his watch once again before breaking into a run. His hand slipped out of Madeline's and she forced herself to keep pace with him. The nighttime breeze was pushing her hair out behind her and chilling her skin. Carson was a few paces in front of her, giving her a good view of his taut back and side profile.

He seemed really serious, and she couldn't understand why. She was sure that if anyone passed them right now, they would think the two of them were clinically insane, and for some reason that made her smile. Running in the middle of streets in Paris with him felt liberating and exciting, and she had no idea where they were headed, but she already knew this would be her favorite memory of the trip.

They ran in silence for a few minutes; the only sounds were their feet against concrete and their heavy panting. "We're almost there," Carson called to her over his shoulder. He made a sharp turn down a side street, which appeared to be mostly residential buildings. "We've got to hurry."

After what felt like ages of running, even though it was probably only a mile or so at most, Carson came to a sudden halt. Madeline almost slammed into his back, and was about to question why he stopped, when she noticed what he was staring at.

"We made it in time," he said, panting only slightly.

They had a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, unobstructed and close, and completely secluded from pretty much everyone else. They were deep within a neighborhood of Parisian homes, and the sounds of traffic and tourists were muted into barely-present white noise.

"I found this spot the other day," Carson explained. "Seems mosts tourists don't look very far off the beaten path." He checked his watch once again, smiling to himself. "12:59 am. You ready?"

Madeline watched as level by level, the lights of the tower turned off. Then, all at once, the tower began sparkling– bright, white lights illuminating the sky. She had seen the light show a few times throughout the trip, usually from the hotel window or from much further away, but never had she seen it so close in front of her. And it was true, the last show of the night was the most spectacular.

"Woah," she breathed out.

"I know."

Carson gave her a few more moments to gawk at the tower before saying, "Come on. Let's take the picture before it ends."

Madeline smiled, and wrapped an arm around his torso and rested her other hand on his shoulder as he crouched down closer to her height, extending the camera out in front of him.

"Say 'ville de l'amour'!"

The bright flash of his camera blinded her for a moment, but she didn't care. She turned back to watch the light show, not able to stop smiling.

"It's so beautiful," she said, turning her head to look at Carson. His eyes were already on her. Her hand was still on his shoulder, and her face was mere inches from his.

He smiled, "I know."

And it felt like the perfect moment to kiss him– like that one perfect moment in a romance movie when it's so obvious that one person will lean into the other. And he looked so kissable like this, smiling at her like nothing bad had ever happened between them– they were just two people, young and in love. It would be so easy to just reach out and touch him. Him and his green eyes and high cheekbones and perfectly crooked smile and perfectly messy hair.

But she knew better, so she didn't kiss him. The photo was cute, and they both agreed it was worth sneaking out instead of sleeping. They watched the rest of the light show before heading back to the hotel. The entire walk, they were both aware of how empty their hand felt with out the other's holding onto it, but neither of them were bold enough to initiate contact. They made it back to the hotel without getting caught by a chaperone, and Carson walked Madeline back to her room – because it was late, and, yes, he knew she was capable of protecting herself, but he still felt better if she would just let him walk her – and watched as she disappeared behind the door with a quiet 'goodnight.' And as soon as she was safe from Carson's eyes, Madeline's smile broke into a frown because this felt so wrong, but it was the right thing to do.

Or it would have been.

But that would be boring. Real life isn't that boring– or easy. Real life is full of mistakes, and kissing someone you love and can't help but choose to be with over and over again is as real and as honest and as stupid as it gets. Just for a fleeting second, while standing in an empty street in Paris in front of the Eiffel Tower at 1:00 o'clock in the morning, they could be young and in love, and to kiss would be a crazy, beautiful, romantic thing to do. And if a few 'I'm sorry's and some 'I love you's' were mixed into the messy concoction of desperate mouths and tongues and teeth, who could really blame them? And who would know, other than them?

Her hands were in his hair, gently running through the tousled waves and pulling on them just a little, as if to make sure they were really there, and that she was really touching him like this again. His hands found their way to her waist, sliding up gently until his thumbs were spread across ribcage, pulling an uneasy breath from her. His lips were on her lips, then her jaw, then down her neck and collarbone, and up her throat, and then back to her lips. He pushed her body even further into his and lifted her off the ground a few inches, holding her as close to him as he could.

And it felt good. Better than good. It felt right. It felt like coming home after a long day; when you hate every second of it, but in the back of your mind you know that your person will be waiting for you, and everything you hated about the day will dissipate into nothing.

Kissing Carson felt like coming home. And she wanted to do it, over and over again.

When they finally broke apart, the light show had ended long ago, and they were now standing in an empty street with swollen lips, flushed faces, and messy hair. The only sound was their ragged breathing as they recovered, never taking their eyes off of each other.

Neither of them said anything for a while, despite just sharing a kiss that definitely probably needed to be addressed sooner rather than later. Now that the Eiffel Tower had gone dark for the night, the only illumination was coming from the scattered, yellow street lights. The dim beams highlighted the angles of Carson's face just right, and made his eyes a wild green.

And there it was again. The urge to rush forward and kiss him. To kiss him and never stop kissing him– not for air, not for a plane ride home, not for the world. She contained herself this time, though, because if kissing him the first time was wrong, then a second would be unforgivable.

The longer they stood there, the more she thought about it, and the angrier she got at herself. How could she have such little self-control? She broke them up and now she was kissing him? It was stupid and selfish and unfair of her to do. And yet it felt so fucking right.

Should she say sorry? She couldn't remember who actually leaned in to the kiss first, but she wasn't sure that it really mattered. Would he even want an apology? She was barely certain she could muster up the words, never mind back them with any honesty. In truth, she wasn't sorry. Not even a little bit.

Carson brought a hand up to his neck, rubbing down his throat before letting out a nervous cough. "It was a good kiss," he said at last with feigned indifference.

Maddie nearly laughed, and suddenly all of the tension resting between her shoulders was gone. "It was," she responded. "I don't think we've ever had a bad kiss."

"Well," he cocked his head. "There was that one time, the day you had your wisdom teeth removed and were high on laughing gas, that you made me kiss you. Right after crying for ten minutes because you woke up to me and not Theo James. That wasn't our best kiss."

"I did not cry," Madeline denied, abandoning the previous argument completely.

"No?" Carson's eyes shone with amusement. "I have a video that would prove otherwise if you would like to see."

"Shut up," she demanded, but her conviction was lost to laughter.

"It's a cute video," Carson continued, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "Your cheeks were so puffy. You looked like a little chipmunk."

Maddie shook her head in annoyance, but her lips were still curled up. "You're horrible."

They fell back into silence for another moments, taking a moment to appreciate their view. Most of the lights in the surrounding buildings were dwindling down as regular people all went to bed, and the usually busy streets were fully abandoned, with the exception of the two of them. It seemed nearly all of Paris was asleep, like the city was just theirs for the night– and it was an opportunity too good to waste.

"Let's do something," Maddie suggested abruptly.

"Do something?"

"Yeah... unless you're tired," she said, trying her best not to sound disappointed or dejected. "We could go back, if you want."

"No," Carson responded quickly. "No let's do something."

"Really?"

He nodded, "It's our last night. Might as well make it worth it."

"Okay," she smiled. "Um, what should we do? Everything is pretty much closed."

Carson shrugged, "We'll figure it on the way. We always find something to do."

Without thinking about it, she held out her hand for him to take. When she realized what she had done, she quickly moved to pull it back in, but Carson grabbed her hand before she could and laced their fingers together. Maddie questioned it at first, a worried look on her face, but Carson tugged on her arm, yanking her closer to him. He didn't give her anymore time to think it over or worry about what it meant before he was pulling her down the street. Neither of them had a clue where exactly they were, or where exactly they were going, and there was something so thrilling about it– about being here together.

They managed to find their way to the Seine, and walked alongside it for a stretch. The water was calm and, for the most part, unmoving. The golden lights from the surrounding buildings made the river look enchanted, and they stared down, following their own reflections for a while.

Eventually they abandoned the waterfront, and moved on to find a different adventure. They ended up in a small town square, which seemed to be the secret spot of every other night owl in Paris. The doors to all the storefronts and restaurants were left open and a band was playing music and people were dancing and laughing. It didn't take much convincing from Maddie before her and Carson threw themself into the mix of strangers, dancing carelessly and singing along to the songs they knew. They made friends among the people in the square, talking and laughing alongside them.

Carson's shirt fell open at some point, and was half unbuttoned, exposing his tanned chest. His face glistened and was beautifully flushed from all of the excitement, and Madeline could only assume she looked similarly disheveled.

They could have stayed in that square until the sun rose, but the crowd began tapering down, and the two took that as their sign to move on to somewhere else. They ended up stopping at a random 24/7 bistro, where they split a few crêpes, before finding themselves at a rooftop bar that overlooked all of the city. They stayed there for a while, drinking their weight in champagne and dancing it off as they went.

They seemed to both forget that they were broken up, and not on good terms. It was like a silent agreement between them that tonight was separate, and could be anything they wanted it to be. For just tonight, they were free to act as in love as they were and not face any consequences for it. And when they danced together, it was like it was just them two, and everyone else was merely spectating.

Her waist fit so well in his hands, and his hands felt so right on her waist. Her shoulder looked like such a perfect place to kiss her, and his kisses felt so perfect on her shoulder. His hair was so soft against her fingers, and her fingers felt so good while they were running through his hair. For tonight only, they were allowed to complete each other in every way they knew how to.