Frenched
“Had it really been just last night I was shuffling down these streets, miserable and alone, hating couples acting just like we were right now? It seemed impossible to believe how my luck had completely reversed.
“This is my street.” Lucas turned left, giving my hand a squeeze.
I glanced around, taking in the seven-story buildings of light stone with detailed entrances and decorative iron railings on the windows. At the street level were a few shops and cafes, but mostly it appeared to be a residential street. I saw no other people out and about and only one car passed us as we walked. “Quiet neighborhood.”
At least until I start screaming your name.
Jesus, Mia, stop it! What if he’s not thinking what you’re thinking?
“It is, pretty much,” Lucas said, letting go of me to take a key from his pocket. He went up to a large set of black double doors under a stone pediment and stuck his key in the one on the right.
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