I raised my brows.
“You’re a fan of Jazz?” I asked him.
He opened one eye to look at me, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Yes,” he answered. “I listen to it often back in France. It reminds me so much of home.”
“I know you’ve only been gone for a few days, but do you miss it?”
He shrugged.
“Yes, and no,” he answered. “I miss my company and my friends. But there’s something here that I can’t find there.”
I watched him as he continued to sway around to the music, humming along with the instruments.
“And what would that be?” I asked him.
He looked at me thoughtfully as he held out his hand for me to take. I stared at it, hesitantly, not sure if I should take it or not. He gave me a wide and boyish grin that made me smile in return, so I took his hand and allowed him to pull me
