Profilers in Paris } s.r.

Chapter 11- penance

*back to y/n POV*

You wandered the streets of Paris, tears welling in your eyes as you willed yourself to stay calm. You kept your eyes down, counting each brick you passed in an attempt to even your breathing. Before you knew it you were in a place you didn't recognize, you must've been walking aimlessly for an hour now. Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you spot a small cafe on the corner up ahead. Your feet have begun to hurt from all this walking so you decide to head over and sit for a bit.

You arrive to the cafe and pick a spot outside, enjoying people watching as you wait to be attended to. A handsome man, maybe in his early thirties, with a small black apron on his hips approaches you from the doors that led inside. 

"Bonjour, que puis-je vous offrir?" he asks, staring at you expectantly. 

You give a small frown, "I'm sorry, I don't speak French well." you reply 

He smiles, "Ah, an American. Not a problem, I asked what I can get for you." his right hand gesturing to the menu in front of you, his left holding a pad of paper.

"Maybe just a coffee for now, please." you say, looking up at the man.

"Yes madam, right away." and with that he picks up your menu and heads inside to place your order.

You begin to be lost in thought once again as you look out into the open road and see many people traveling about. Mothers with their children rushing them to cross the road, teenagers with their friends laughing at jokes, and couples who look so in love that it's hard not to stare. The way they smile at each other and look longingly into each other's eyes... you've always wanted that.

This only brings Spencer back to the forefront of your mind. How could you have been so stupid?  Not that you meant for him to overhear your conversation, you absolutely did not. I guess it just felt easier to push it aside like it was nothing. You knew you were developing feelings and that scared you. You've never been in love before, not truly. Not to say that you were in love now, but it definitely was beginning to head in that direction. Spencer was so kind and caring, and damn was he good in bed. You'd been friends for a while but only recently did you realize that he was perfect for you. Two halves of a whole who have always been missing their other half. You think he knew it too, and that's why it hurt him so bad to hear you say it was nothing. Or more specifically, you said "ew" and you will regret it for the rest of your living days. 

Someone clearing their throat to your right catches your attention.

"Is this seat taken?" an older gentleman motions to the empty seat across from you, eyebrows raised in a question. He looks to be maybe sixty, with salt and pepper hair and a scruffy beard to match. He wears a beautiful suit, likely designer and very expensive. He has a slight accent but speaks English very well. 

"Uh - no, I suppose it's not." you say, utterly confused at why a stranger is asking to sit with you. Perhaps this is just French culture? In America we stay far away from randoms on the street. 

"I don't mean to bother you, but I can tell just from looking at you that something is on your mind." He says moving to sit down, unbuttoning his jacket so that it lay flat against him rather than bunch up. 

You sit for a moment, gaze holding on his face, giving him a look of bewilderment. He must be able to read you well as he explains,

"I am a psychologist, my office is across the street. I come here frequently to observe others and I can't help myself when I see someone who needs to talk, it's my fatal flaw." he continues you, watching your head slowly nod to his reasoning "My name is Gabriel."