Chapter Two

Sophie woke up the next morning to the sound of her phone buzzing incessantly on her nightstand. With a groan, she reached for it, squinting at the screen. Camille's name flashed, accompanied by a flurry of messages.

"Sophie! Wake up!"

"Sleepy head!"

"Croissants at Café Belle at 9?"

She glanced at the time—8:47 AM. Of course, Camille didn't believe in giving people advanced notice. Sophie tossed the covers aside and shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to shake off the lingering memories of last night.

By the time she arrived at Café Belle, Camille was already seated at their usual table, her coffee halfway gone and a plate of flaky pastries sitting between them. "Finally!" Camille exclaimed, waving Sophie over. "I was beginning to think Pierre had kidnapped you."

Sophie collapsed into the chair with a sigh. "Honestly? It might've been preferable."

Camille's eyes widened with glee. "That bad?"

Sophie grabbed a croissant and tore off a piece. "Let's just say he started talking about 'spiritual wine energy' and didn't stop for the next ten minutes."

Camille burst into laughter, nearly spilling her coffee. "I told you! It's a numbers game! One bad date doesn't mean they're all bad."

"Camille, he called himself my soulmate," Sophie deadpanned.

Camille doubled over, clutching her stomach. "Okay, okay. Maybe Pierre was a dud. But you have to admit, you enjoyed his company!"

Sophie couldn't help but chuckle, her frustration giving way to amusement. "Fine. But next time, I'm screening the profiles myself."

"Deal," Camille said, raising her coffee cup in a toast. "To the next date."

Sophie raised her croissant in mock solidarity. If nothing else, she figured, her journey through Paris's dating scene would at least provide some comic relief.

Camille wasn't done with her matchmaking crusade. Later that evening, Sophie was scrolling reluctantly through AmourApp's profiles, Camille leaning over her shoulder.

"What about him?" Camille pointed at a smiling man holding a golden retriever in his profile photo.

"Too perfect. Feels staged," Sophie replied, swiping left.

"Okay, what about him? Glasses, cute smile... He's a bookshop owner!" Camille's voice pitched higher with excitement. 

Sophie tilted her head, going through the profile. "Okay, that's… mildly intriguing. But what if he talks about books the way Pierre talks about wine?"

Camille groaned dramatically. "Books are charming! Wine ramblings are pretentious. Big difference."

Sophie's sigh was part amusement, part exhaustion. Camille's enthusiasm was like a train that wouldn't stop, no matter how much she tried to derail it. She glanced at the profile of the supposed bookshop owner, Julien, his warm smile framed by rows of books.

"Fine," Sophie said, swiping right. Almost instantly, a match notification appeared. Camille squealed like a child on Christmas morning.

"See? It's a sign! Say something clever," Camille urged, her eyes glued to the screen.

Before Sophie could respond, Julien sent the first message: "Bonjour, Sophie! A fellow lover of pastries, should we start planning our bakery gallery store now or later?"

Sophie smirked, unable to help herself. "At least he's creative," she murmured, typing a reply.

"Bonjour, Julien. Tempting offer, but only if I get to name the éclairs."

Camille gasped dramatically. "You flirt! I'm so proud."

The banter continued for hours, with Julien's quick wit keeping Sophie on her toes. However, by the time they agreed to meet at Shakespeare & Co. for coffee the next afternoon, Sophie's feelings was different this time, she genuinely looking forward to it—a rare feeling after the Pierre debacle.

The next day, Sophie stood outside the iconic bookshop, nerves bubbling in her chest. She adjusted her scarf and glanced through the window, spotting Julien easily. He was taller than she'd expected, with a slightly tousled look that felt effortless. His dark-rimmed glasses gave him a studious charm, but his easy smile as he noticed her erased any sense of pretense.

"Bonjour, Sophie," Julien greeted warmly as she walked in. "Right on time. I like punctuality."

"Bonjour," Sophie replied, shaking his hand. "And I like coffee, so we're already off to a good start. That's nice"

Julien laughed, his laughter sounded rich and genuine. "Coffee first, then books.

They settled into a cozy corner of the café adjoining the bookshop, steaming cappuccinos in hand. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything from Sophie's favorite pastries to Julien's childhood love of mystery novels.

"You know," Julien said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "I once tried baking. It did not go so well."

"Oh?" Sophie raised an eyebrow. "How bad are we talking?"

"Let's just say my soufflé had the density of a brick," Julien admitted, grinning sheepishly.

Sophie laughed, her tension melting away. "Well, if we ever launch that bakery-gallery empire, I'll handle the baking. You stick to the books."

"Deal," Julien said, lifting his cup in a toast.

"So, you own a bookshop?" Sophie asked, dipping her spoon into the foam of her cappuccino.

Julien nodded. "It was my grandfather's. He always said books are like mirrors—they reflect parts of ourselves we don't always see." He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "What about you? Pastry chef, right?"

"Trying to be," Sophie corrected. "Right now, I'm just freelancing and experimenting with recipes in my tiny apartment kitchen."

"I'd argue that's where the magic happens," Julien said. "Great things start small."

Sophie smiled, surprised by how at ease she felt. Julien wasn't like Pierre; there was no over-the-top flair, no talk of soul mates or energy. Just genuine curiosity and warmth.

The afternoon stretched into early evening as they wandered through the shelves of Shakespeare & Co., exchanging favorite titles and laughing over the eccentricities of the shop's organization. Sophie couldn't remember the last time she felt so at ease, her usual guard slipping away with every witty remark Julien made.

However, their date ended with a stroll along the Seine, the city glowing under the golden hues of the setting sun. Julien insisted on walking Sophie to the Métro station, and as they reached the steps, he turned to her with an almost shy smile.

"This was lovely," he said. "I hope we can do it again."

Sophie hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. "I'd like that."

As she took the first steps, Julien's voice stopped her. "Oh, and Sophie?"

She turned.

"Next time, bring one of your pastries. I have a feeling they'll be as charming as you are."

Sophie laughed, her cheeks warming. "We'll see."

Later that night, back at her apartment, Sophie recounted the date to Camille over a bottle of wine.

"So?" Camille pressed, her eyes sparkled with curiosity. "How was Julien?"

"He was…" Sophie trailed off, searching for the right word. "Normal."

Camille frowned. "Normal?"

"In the best way," Sophie clarified. "No grand declarations, no weird talks about spiritual energy nonsense. Just… normal. Refreshing too..."

Camille grinned. "Sounds like a win to me. And you agreed to a second date?"

"I did." Sophie poured herself another glass of wine. "Let's hope this one goes just as smoothly."

"Smooth is boring," Camille teased. "Let's hope for sparks."

Sophie laughed, shaking her head. "With my luck? Sparks usually mean fire. But we'll see."

She wasn't sure what would come of her budding connection with Julien, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a spark of hope. And in Paris, hope was a powerful thing.