Chapter Two

Dinner with twenty teenagers was nothing like Jean-Paul had expected. The kids were relaxed and entertaining, and they clearly held their teacher in high esteem. They laughed and joked with him, and he answered their good humor with his own. Jean-Paul watched Cam for the whole meal, doing his best to hide his fascination with the other man. They had met when he visited the school on two occasions for club meetings, and each time Camden Archer had made him hyper-aware of his need for companionship. The man was stunning, but it seemed he didn’t even know it. And his personality was as gorgeous and alluring as he was. Jean-Paul had shut down, needing to step away from the instant attraction he felt to the American teacher.

He knew how he must have seemed to the other man, but he felt like he had no choice. It was safer this way, for both of them. Yet this evening, sitting across from the man who had been appearing often in his dreams of late, he found he wasn’t able to pull back as he had done before. Perhaps it was the fact they were on holiday, and he was off duty. Perhaps it was that the teenagers were buoying up his spirits with their carefree laughter and antics. Perhaps it was the man himself. Cam had never been a stuffy teacher. On the contrary, he had been easygoing and approachable, fun-loving and full of good humor.

The women, a parent and another young female teacher, were focused on making sure the young people behaved, which Jean-Paul found amusing, because Cam so clearly was not worried about that. They talked about the places they wanted to visit, about who had been to Washington before, about their dreams of visiting Paris.

“What’s it like in the summertime, M. Terrien?”

Jean-Paul was startled from his thoughts by the question directed at him by a plump girl with the most beautiful smile. He couldn’t help but return it as he answered.

“It is a most beautiful city to visit in the summer,” he told her. “We have outdoor festivals and dining, the museums and gardens, the beach…”

“Beach?” A number of the students looked at him with great astonishment, and Jean-Paul laughed, amused by their surprise.

“It is a long story, but suffice it to say, we transformed the right bank of the River Seine into a long stretch of beach for those Parisians who cannot afford to get away to the beaches on the coasts. There’s swimming, though not in the river…that’s not allowed.”

“So where do you swim?” a boy asked.

“There are pools set up for that,” Jean-Paul told them. “And there are outdoor concerts on the beach.”

“Is there sand?”

Jean-Paul chuckled. “It wouldn’t be a beach without it, now would it?”

“But…there’s no ocean for there to be sand,” another protested.

Before Jean-Paul could respond, other students took up the lesson and he listened as they explained about river beaches, and one student mentioned visiting an inland beach where the sand was brought in from the seashore. Their attention being firmly settled elsewhere, he was able to go back to observing, but only for a moment, before Cam remarked, “They can be a lot to take. But you’re doing pretty well. You haven’t run screaming from the room yet.”

Jean-Paul raised an eyebrow. “Yet?” He cast his eyes over the young folk and turned back to Cam. “They don’t seem particularly…how is it you say, rambunctious?”

Cam grinned. “That’s because I warned them to be on their best behavior.”

Jean-Paul eyed him suspiciously. He didn’t know whether or not the man facing him was pulling his leg or being serious, and suddenly, he had a wish to know that man. Pushing the errant thought aside, he asked, “Are you saying they can be wild?”

“Most teenagers of my acquaintance, including this bunch, can be, yes.”

Cam smiled and turned to look at them, and Jean-Paul found himself admiring the sharp angles of his face. Camden Archer was a strikingly handsome man in a rugged, tough-guy kind of way. Jean-Paul wondered how he came by the body his clothes did little to hide. He had the air of a military man, despite his easygoing demeanor, and Jean-Paul could well imagine him like one of those platoon sergeants on television, yelling at his platoon. The image made him chuckle, which brought Cam’s eyes back to his face.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re right,” he said, but offered no explanation for his amusement.

The rest of the meal passed in equally pleasant conversation, but it became clear to Jean-Paul as soon as dessert had been consumed, the students were ready to leave.

“All right, guys, you can head up now. Remember, lights out at midnight. And we’ll be around to check.”

A few of the kids groaned dramatically, amusing Jean-Paul to no end. Somehow, he knew they really didn’t mind, that it was all part and parcel of the almost loving relationship they had with their teacher. What would Cam be like as a friend? He seemed to be pretty relaxed and calm, but Jean-Paul sensed an intensity to him that was carefully subdued in public. What would it be like to unleash that passion?

He halted the thought immediately. There were all sorts of reasons why he should not begin even a friendship with the man who was now giving high fives to the kids who walked by him on their way out of the restaurant, leaving their money behind for him to pay for their meal. And chief among them was the fact that his assignment was temporary, until his predecessor was fully recovered. Six months at the most…what would be the point of a six-month friendship, where there was little possibility of them seeing each other much even during that time, let alone when he returned to France?

“Jean-Paul?”

His name spoken as a question brought Jean-Paul out of his musing and he turned, feeling his cheeks warm in embarrassment at being caught distracted.

“Please pardon me. I was distracted for a moment.”

“I was just wishing you goodnight,” the young female teacher said. “We’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

“Good night to you both,” he replied, smiling at her as she excused herself from the table. “Have a good night.”

“Thank you.”

He saw the spark of interest in her eyes as she slid out of her chair. She was too young for him, he thought, but that was not her only disadvantage as far as he was concerned. If only she knew he would never have any interest in her beyond the acquaintance he had made. She wasn’t his type. That distinction was held by the man sitting across from him. Squelching the wish to deepen the connection he wanted to have with Cam, he watched her leave with her companion and the students, and turned back to Cam, wiping all expression off his face.

“So, we should probably talk about tomorrow.”

Best to keep things professional, even if he had relaxed enough to enjoy the evening together.

Cam gave him a piercing look, as though he knew Jean-Paul was hiding something from him, and then he said, “Yes. I know we have to be there by seven, and I know there’s to be some kind of mocktail reception for the kids before dinner.”

Jean-Paul nodded. “Oui, and then after dinner there will be a show before we watch the fireworks over the Pont d’Avignon. We thought it would be nice for the kids to see the bridge they sang about when they were younger and just learning the language.”

“That’s cool. I’m sure they’ll love it. Be prepared for a few to break into song, though.”

Jean-Paul chuckled briefly. “That will no doubt be very entertaining.” He paused, then added quietly, “Do the students know anything about the ambassador’s personal life?”

“You mean that he’s openly gay? Yes. One of them Googled him and brought it up in the last club meeting. They don’t care,” Cam assured him.

Jean-Paul smiled. “Excellent!”

His French accent had become more pronounced, and he realized it had been an unspoken worry for him that the students might be homophobic. He had sensed that his boss’s sexual orientation was of no interest or concern to Cam, but it meant the evening would be hopefully as relaxed as this evening had been, since the students had been the life of the party tonight. There were very few opportunities for the embassy to host young people, and he knew his boss was looking forward to doing something a little different to celebrate their country’s independence.

“It wouldn’t have mattered, though,” Cam went on, oblivious to his immense relief. “My kids know how to keep their opinions to themselves and behave like normal people when they’re in public.”

“No doubt that has a lot to do with you,” Jean-Paul said, aware of the way Cam’s eyes were taking him in. He hadn’t missed the look that had begun their time together earlier, but he had managed to shunt it to the back of his mind, allowing himself to be lost in the company and the simple pleasure of being out for an evening. Now, however, as they paid their respective bills, he knew Cam’s attention was focused on him.

“I think you underestimate your influence over these students,” he said, smiling as the server returned his credit card.

“Merci!” he told the young man before turning back to Cam, who was putting away his own card in his wallet. On a whim, he said, as they stood to leave the restaurant, “Do you have time for a drink before you must resume your chaperoning duties?”

Cam nodded, and Jean-Paul wished he could read the expression on his face. It wasn’t exactly blank, but it hid much more than it showed.

“Sure,” he agreed amiably. “The bar is open till midnight.”

Jean-Paul let him lead the way to the bar, which was half full of patrons. They slid up to the counter and sat on stools next to each other.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” the cheerful bartender said with a dashing smile. “What can I get you this evening?”

Jean-Paul answered at once. “Whatever your newest cocktail is,” he said with an answering smile. He loved to try new drinks and saved his hard liquor for when he was at home.

“And you, sir?” The bartender looked over at Cam who said, “Just a dark beer.” He paused for a second, then added, “Any Imperial Stout you have will be fine.”

“Coming right up, gentlemen.”

The bartender turned away to see about their orders and Jean-Paul said,

“I have seen how you are with your kids. It is clear you love them, and they love you in return. They would do anything for you, including behave themselves when they must. They do it for love.”

Cam chuckled. “I doubt if ‘love’ is the word they’d use. I prefer to think they respect me because I’m honest with them.”

“Honest? In what way?” Jean-Paul found himself eager to discover what the students knew about their teacher.

“I don’t hide what I think about important issues, like sexual orientation and choice. They know I’m gay, and they know I’m pro-choice. And they know that for me, that means each of us has a choice, and should be free to make it. Whether it’s about babies or lovers, we should be free to choose.”

Jean-Paul hid his shock at the calm but intense way Cam spoke of his preference for men over women. In a town like DC, in the circles in which he ran, the sides were sharply divided on the question of homosexual rights. He had never, in his nine months in the city, had any reason to share his sexual orientation with anyone. No one had even so much as piqued his interest…until Camden Archer. Three months—six at most—before he would be back in France, and anything he thought he was feeling about this revelation would be useless.

“I’m sure you’re a great role model for your students,” he said, while he cringed at how stiff and wooden he sounded.

Cam nodded his thanks as he accepted the beer stein filled with his dark brew, and then he tipped the glass to Jean-Paul’s cocktail glass when he took his own drink.

“Cheers!” he said, and took a deep swallow.

Jean-Paul watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, and dragged his eyes away, scolding himself for the seed of interest, of hope, that had begun to sprout inside him. Cam was gay. He liked men. Would he like someone like Jean-Paul, with his stuffy ways and proper demeanor? Or would he be impatient with Jean-Paul’s cautious nature? And what would he think if he knew Jean-Paul’s secret fear? A man like Cam didn’t seem like the type to fear anything, and he didn’t think Cam would be as indulgent with his weaknesses as he most likely was with his students’ own. They weren’t fully grown adults as yet…he was.

He blinked when he realized Cam was still speaking. “I think my kids have a great many other role models in their lives besides me. And some of them come from homes where I would not be welcome. So, their parents would see me as the opposite of a good example for their kids.”

Jean-Paul nodded in understanding before taking a sip of his drink. It was fruity and subtly sweet, but he felt the kick of the alcohol behind the innocent notes. He hummed in enjoyment, and then blushed when Cam chuckled.

“You like your cocktails, eh?” he said, letting Jean-Paul know his sound of pleasure had not been silent.

“I like to try new flavors, yes,” he said. “This is delicious.”

He may as well admit to this secret…it was harmless enough, and should they ever be alone together again, Cam would no longer be surprised when he expressed his delight in what he was drinking. He took another sip, and added,

“Delicious, and very strong! Just the way I like it!”

The liquor gave him a much-needed shot of calm. Maybe he’d have a second, so he could restore his equilibrium. In the meantime, perhaps he could find out more about his companion.

“Where did you study French?” he asked.

“I went to Middlebury College,” Cam said, “in Vermont. Great college, and if I decide to, I can return for a doctorate.”

Jean-Paul smiled. “Is that something you’re interested in doing?”

He admired anyone who strove for greatness in their chosen field and worked hard to achieve their goals. Having gone all the way to a doctorate himself, he knew the tremendous patience and determination it required to go the distance. His respect for Cam grew higher.

“Maybe someday, once I’ve reached as high as I can go in education. A doctorate in modern languages isn’t a priority right now, unless I choose to switch professions, and even then, it’d be a second masters in language translation and interpretation.”

“Are you interested in working as a diplomat or in the diplomatic corps?”

It would be wonderful to have someone in his field that he could talk to uninhibited, someone who didn’t know his sad past, someone who wouldn’t bring pity to the table. He was tired of people’s pity, and he would never let anyone know how the trauma he had endured had permanently scarred him. Cam would be a great person to have as a friend.

Cam’s chuckle startled him. He didn’t think he had asked an amusing question.

“I’m not cut out for the starchy life. Thanks, but no thanks. I’d probably use it to teach, still. Or translate foreign novels or something.”

Jean-Paul struggled not to be offended by the idea Cam seemed to harbor that he, and his job, were “starchy”. He couldn’t blame Cam, really, since he hadn’t been particularly friendly on the two other occasions on which they’d met. He had been too eager to maintain a professional distance, and that apparently looked “starchy” to the casually relaxed American. Having been in the country for nine months, he knew he was more relaxed than he had been when he first arrived, but he was also aware that he still reverted to his more aloof self in new situations.

“It can be a challenge to be an official representative of one’s country elsewhere in the world,” he said, trying not to make it sound like an apology. “And some of us who work in that environment have a deeper learning curve than others.”

That was as far as he was prepared to go to explain his behavior to Cam. It seemed to work, because he smiled at Jean-Paul.

“My learning curve would be so steep, I’d fall off it,” Cam joked. “I’m afraid I was born without a single drop of diplomatic blood.”

Jean-Paul didn’t agree with him and said so. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have gotten to where you are in your career if you spoke or acted without filters, Cam.”

“I thought that was called being an adult,” Cam retorted with a smirk.

“That, also,” Jean-Paul conceded with a slow grin.

He was enjoying this conversation about nothing with Cam. It felt like the beginning of a happy camaraderie, as though he had found someone with whom he could relax more than he was used to doing. He liked it; it felt good. He took another sip of his cocktail and asked,

“So, what plans for tomorrow before dinner?”

There was so much to see and do in the capital that Jean-Paul couldn’t imagine staying for what was essentially a one-day visit.

“The kids want to do a bus tour and get on and off. They’ve chosen a few places to do that, and then it’s back here to get ready for dinner.”

Jean-Paul eyed him curiously. “It seems a rather hurried visit. Would you come back to visit on your own for longer?” Almost instantly realizing how the question might appear, he added hurriedly, “There is so much more to see than one can do with any real satisfaction in just one day.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I’ve visited before and spent longer than a day, but I’m sure there are many places I missed.”

Jean-Paul watched as Cam took a long swallow of his beer, his Adam’s apple rising and falling as he did. The movement mesmerized him, and he was caught up in a fantasy where that movement was traced by a hungry tongue sliding over it. He blinked…there was no place here for such lascivious thoughts about a man he barely knew.

“Perhaps if you return and I am still here, I can show you some of my favorite places.”

Clearly his heart had taken over from his head and his mouth was in agreement. The invitation could not be retracted without explanation, and anyway, what would he say if he tried? I do not wish to get closer to anyone here, as I have only six months left to stay. Or maybe he could be honest and say he hadn’t planned on making the invitation. That would certainly not go over well. Nothing he said would make sense.

“I’ll definitely think about it,” Cam said with a smile.

It was probably best if he ended their little after-dinner chat now before he said something else he didn’t intend to say. He drained his cocktail glass and licked his lips, stopping abruptly when he noticed Cam’s eyes following the movement of his tongue. Patting them with the napkin, he fought against the thrill that leapt in his chest at the thought that perhaps Cam found him as compelling as he did Cam. There was no sense in initiating anything with only a day to work with. And it would be a day filled with children and others with whom neither of them would wish to be engaged.

Removing his wallet, he went to pull out his credit card, but Cam forestalled him.

“Drinks on me this time,” he said, and Jean-Paul lifted an inquiring brow.

“This time?”

“If I return to DC and you’re still here, the drinks will be on you that time.”

Cam winked, sending blood rushing through Jean-Paul’s body. Even if he were not deliberately flirting, Jean-Paul was sure Cam must know the effect his teasing could have. He was just too self-assured a man not to know how potent he could be.

Mustering an answering smile, he slid from the stool and turned, preparing to shake Cam’s hand. “I had a lovely evening, Camden,” he said.

“As did I.”

Cam drained his glass and slid some money beneath it for the bartender before coming to stand next to him.

“I’ll walk you out,” he added, and put his arm behind Jean-Paul’s back, ushering him out of the bar toward the front entrance.

They walked quietly to the reception desk, with Jean-Paul wishing he was headed anywhere but out of the building. It had been years since he had felt anything like the pull that Cam was unknowingly exercising over him. It must be because he was lonely that this man was unraveling his control. Perhaps it was a good thing they would only see each other once more before he left the city, and left Jean-Paul to his emptiness.

“We’ll see you tomorrow evening then.”

Cam’s voice broke into his thoughts. He stretched his lips into another thin smile and nodded.

“I am looking forward to it. À bientôt!”

Again, his words conveyed more than he wished to speak aloud. It would never do for Cam to discover his interest. Nothing good could come of it. He extended a hand and when Cam took it, he shook it firmly and let go, refusing to acknowledge the jolt he felt when their palms touched. It was just loneliness. He was used to being alone. He would survive this. It was imperative.