Moving On - 17. Chapter 17

“Ben! Réveille-toé!” Adrien knocked on the door.

“Hmm…hmmm…” Ben grumbled with his eyes still closed. He got up and stretched.

“Ben!” Adrien said again.

“Je me réveille, câlisse!” Ben shouted. (I’m waking up, fucking goddammit!) He took off his undies, scratched his balls, and walked to the door.

“Ben…” Adrien began to knock again, but stopped himself when Ben opened the door right in front of him. Adrien looked shocked that Ben stood there naked in front of him. Adrien was, as usual, shirtless and in jammies, allowing his pecs to stare at me and Ben.

“Allôôô, cher frère…hmmm…hmmm…” Ben mumbled, rubbed his chest and crotch against Adrien, and let out a light moan.

“Ben, crisse de tabarnak!” Adrien pushed him off, “Quessé que tu fais?” (Ben, holy shit! What are you doing?)

“Rien… M’a aller à la douche,” he lightly grinned at him, and disappeared into the bathroom. Adrien stood there staring cluelessly after Ben then came in the room to ask me. (Nothing…I’m going to take a shower)

“Did you fuck last night?” he bluntly asked.

“No…” I blushed, “I think he did that on purpose to tease you,” I shrugged at him.

“Then I don’t wanna know,” Adrien left the room, “Oh…get ready to leave…” he called out from the hallway.

I went to the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain, surprising Ben.

“Lemme in,” I told him, as I took off my undies, and jumped in.

“And no funny stuff in there!” Adrien called out again.

“Hey, babe! Missed you all night, even in my wild dreams,” Ben pressed his wet body against my chest, “I need some relief,” he started stroking his semi-hard dick.

I turned him around, putting his back to my chest, and my crotch against his butt. I took a bar of soap and kissed his neck while rubbing the soap all over his chest. After a good job of soaping, I put the soap back on the holder and rubbed his chest with my hand. Ben stroked steadily, and I rubbed my chest against his back.

“Hmmm, keep going…” Ben hummed and I then rubbed my boner on his butt crack.

“Ahhh…” Ben slowed down his stroking as he stiffened up when he shot all over the shower titles. He sighed happily at me.

“Thanks, dear,” Ben kissed me and reached for the shampoo. I went to soap myself up, and used Ben’s shampoo to do my hair. Ten minutes later, we were done.

Adrien came in the bathroom already dressed when we each had a towel around our waist.

“C’mon…ten minutes left…” he brushed his hair.

We walked out the back door and down the spiral staircase to the garage. Adrien gave Ben the key to a light green 2005 Ford Focus.

“Ok, une chose à faire. Faut que tu te pratiques le créneau pis on peut aller à la SAAQ pour prendre le test,” Adrien told Ben. (Ok, one thing to do. You need to practice your parallel parking and we can go to SAAQ to take the test)

“Ok…” Ben tried to start the car, but it failed to start after five seconds of cranking. He had to stop and give it a little time because it was quite cold out and the car hadn’t been used for weeks. After the second try, it started without much effort. Ben turned on the heater, blowing cold air at us on high, but it will get warm eventually.

Ben pulled out of the ‘ruelle’ (backstreet) to the main street to find a spot to practice his parallel parking.

“Ok…essaie-le là-bas,” (Ok…try it over there) Adrien pointed at an empty space. Ben stopped and parked in just ten seconds without any mistakes, and that surprised Adrien.

“Bon! Désolé mais c’était m’man qui m’a dit à te faire ça,” Adrien smiled, “Vas-y!” (Good! Sorry, it was mum who told me to make you do that. Go on!)

Ben navigated through the rush-hour traffic on avenue Mont-Royal. I observed some drivers that were just plain crazy, making quick turns and bitching when they had to stop at a stop light or sign. Ben had to make a couple of sharp turns to avoid other cars, causing him to curse insults at them.

“Crisse de tapette! Accouche!!!” Ben growled. (Fucking fag! Move it!)

“Erm, you know…we’re Québécois and crazy driving is in our blood, so relax and it’ll be ok. You’ll get used to it…” Adrien told me in order to calm me down.

Ben took us to the Ville-Marie expressway through the tunnel under downtown. He calmed down a little then since the highways were easier for him, despite some cars zipping by him quite over the speed limit of 80km/h (50mph).

After several miles of driving across the island to the western end, Ben pulled over at a SAAQ building. SAAQ is a provincial government department that issues driver’s licenses and car registrations. Ben looked a little nervous when he approached the desk where he presented his driver’s permit and appointment card to an old lady. She typed all of his information and told us to be seated until she gets the examiner. After waiting for ten minutes in a big, white room with chairs, a middle-aged lady came over and greeted Ben.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Lemoureaux. Êtes-vous prêt?” She smiled warmly at Ben and shook his hand. (Hello, Mr. Lemoureaux. Are you ready?)

“Euh, ben oui… Je suis prêt,” Ben shook her hand back. (Of course, I’m ready)

“Bon, allons à votre auto, donc !” She walked to the door with Ben. Adrien and I gave him a thumb’s up for good luck, and he disappeared. Adrien and I sat down again, sighing. (Good, let’s go to your car then!)

“Three in 4 chances he’ll pass. The lady looked to be in a good mood, so that’s a good sign,” Adrien broke the silence.

“Hopefully…” I replied.

“Eh, having fun in Montreal so far?” He tried to keep the conservation alive.

“Yeah, it’s been great so far,” I nodded, “Somehow a week doesn’t seem enough.”

“Eh, you’ll have plenty of chances if you stick with Ben,” Adrien stared at me, face expression neutral. He seemed to snap out of a trance, and he chuckled, “Sorry.”

“No…what is it?” I was curious, “Tell me…”

“Eh, don’t tell this to anyone, you look similar to an old friend that I used to know,” Adrien sighed, “Blue eyes, black hair, and similar facial features…he was beautiful.”

“It’s ok…” I patted his leg, “Beautiful?”

“Yeah, I liked him…a lot. Sadly he didn’t feel the same. Well, as Ben said to me once, you can’t expect everyone to feel the same,” Adrien smiled, staring at me again.

“True… Did Ben know beforehand?”

“He had some suspicions before it was confirmed yesterday morning,” Adrien rolled his eyes, “Oh, I won’t touch you. I’m not often attracted to guys as much as you and Ben, but lately, the hormones are taking me over. You’re just as hot as Loïc. Sorry if that was blunt.”

“Naw…” I was surprised, “I’m honored actually. Same for you. Walking around every morning without a shirt is a torture to me,” I smirked. Adrien laughed.

“Sorry, but I won’t stop,” Adrien grinned.

“Don’t…” I glared at him.

“I guess I should try out a boyfriend and see what it’s like. I’m tired of girls right now, especially after Rebecka.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing really. We weren’t really as drawn to each other as we thought. Women…are complicated… So I thought guys could be easier since I know how a guy thinks,” Adrien leaned over to whisper, “And they know how to do extremely good blowjobs.” I snorted giggling.

“I never went out with a girl… So I’ll never know,” I said, “I’ll never know what it’s like, getting a bj from them.”

“Stick to the guys…” Adrien winked.

“Oh I will… I don’t want to see a girl at all like that,” I replied, “But good luck finding one for yourself.”

“Thanks!” Adrien grinned, “You’re a good guy. Stick with Ben… It’ll be great getting to know you more,” Adrien moved an inch closer to my face, but stopped and backed away, chuckling and blushing a little. It seemed he nearly gave me a kiss on the cheek.

After twenty or thirty minutes of waiting after Ben left for the test, he still hadn’t returned. I sighed while watching the clock. Adrien managed to get a copy of La Presse to read. Then after a total of forty minutes, Ben showed up in the room, looking disappointed. Adrien was able to read his mind by his facial expression.

“Shit, t’as-tu échoué?” Adrien asked. (Shit, have you failed?)

“Ouin…j’ai…” Ben’s face lit up, “R…USSI!” he flashed his new driver’s license. (Yeah…I…PASSED!)

“Woot! Yeah!” Adrien took it out of his hand to look it over.

“Congrats…” I said.

“Ha! Ta photo est hot…” Adrien laughed. (Ha! Your photo is hot…)

“Lemme see…” I took the license. It had a blue background with the geographic outline of the province in blue-white. In Ben’s photo, he had a neutral facial expression that made him look like he was ready to kill someone. The card was better in quality than PA licenses because it was made of plastic that is very bendable and wear-resistant.

“I seriously need to get one,” I remembered, “Would you help me practice?”

“Sure, if you pass the test,” Ben kissed me on the cheek.

“Ok! Ben, let’s head downtown. I have to go to school soon,” Adrien looked at the clock.

So we went back toward downtown with Ben driving again. Adrien was on the phone telling his mom the news, and passed the phone to Ben.

“Oui! Je l’ai obtenu, M’man!” (Yes! I got it!) He cheerfully told her, and then I heard some shouting from the cell phone that made Ben throw the phone back to Adrien like it was some kind of hot potato. He snickered.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. She just yelled at me for talking while driving,” Ben grinned in the rearview mirror.

“Here, she wants to talk to you,” Adrien handed me the phone.

“Steph! Ça va?” she asked. (How are you?)

“Eh bien, merci et toi?” I replied. (Eh good, thanks and you?)

“Bon, tu aimes Montréal, non?” She continued. (Good, do you like Montreal, no?)

“Eh…oui…je l’aime bien,” I nodded. (Eh…yes…I like it a lot)

“Ok, je dirai à ta mère que tout se passe bien pour toi, ok? Passe le cell à Adrien, s’il te plaît,” she said good-bye. (Ok, I’ll tell your mother everything is ok with you. Give the phone to Adrien, please)

“No…I’ll call her myself, ok?” I stopped her.

“Ok, bye-bye… Désolée d'interrompre l’appel si vite. Je dois aller travailler,” she said and I gave the phone to Adrien. He said ‘bye’ and hung up. (Sorry for keeping the call short. I have to work)

“Can I call Mom?” I asked Adrien, “She’s probably eating lunch now.”

“Sure,” he gave me the phone. I dialed the number to her hospital. We spoke for a while, and I told her about all of the things I saw… the Old Port, downtown, the tunnels, the malls, cultural differences, and meeting a couple new friends. Of course, I left out the sex parts…who would ever mention that to his own mother?! Then mom had to go when her lunch time was up.

We reached downtown and Ben pulled near metro Berri-UQAM.

“Ok…out!” Adrien told us, “I need to be at school in twenty minutes!” So we listened to him, got out in a snap, and waved him bye as he zoomed out to disappear in the busy street. Ben wanted to take me to rue St-Denis next to the Bibliothèque nationale (national library). He said it was full of bistros, restos, and cafés, plus some shops here and there. Ben took me to ‘Frites Alors!’, a fries café, for some lunch. A college-aged black guy came over to us to take our drink order.

“Eh, un thé glace,” Ben told him. (Iced tea)

“Hmmm, moi, un jus d’orange,” (Me, an orange juice)

“Êtes-vous prêts à commander les frites?” He asked. (Are you ready to order the fries?)

“Ouais, un large avec la sauce Bernaise,” Ben handled over the menu. (Yeah, a large with Bernaise sauce)

“Un large avec la sauce Américaine,” I pointed at the menu so he would understand better. (A large with Américaine sauce)

“This place is really Belgian. And full of Tintin stuff,” Ben pointed out to the blond guy with the black-bearded captain in a blue sweater, on the windows, “He’s always with the captain, and never with a girl. So I bet they’re lovers,” Ben giggled.

The waiter brought our drinks, and they were…small…

“Two dollars and fifty cents for a small bottle of juice? That’s robbery!” I groaned at the bottle which was almost as small as a can.

“The owner must be Belgian too…and probably cheap,” Ben rolled his eyes at a can of iced tea also for $2.50.

Then there came the baskets of fries, but the sauce was in a small cup, not even enough to last the whole basket. I was getting to the point where I believed that the owner was indeed Belgian and cheap, but the fries were good enough to barely justify paying it at least.

“C’mon Steph! You can sleep in the car… We should be going now,” Ben woke me up. I lazily lifted myself out of the bed, grumbling my way to the bathroom like a zombie. Ben was already there in his towel.

“Mon tigre!” he grinned in the mirror when I went to get his toothpaste to use on my toothbrush.

A few seconds after I started brushing my teeth, Ben snuck up behind me and ticked the sides of my belly. I literally spat out all of the toothpaste onto the mirror. Ben laughed like hell.

“Ben!” I grabbed his towel off his waist to clean up the mirror. Ben didn’t even bother to hide himself, instead…he just danced around, shaking his dick all over the place, and danced his way out of the bathroom, like some stripper, to his room to get dressed.

We jumped the car in idle so it would be heated up when we were ready. Ben drove down the avenue heading north for some reason, and he now told me we were in Outremont and warned me it’s full of conservative Jews with black coats and donut-shaped hats that give chills to anyone that see them. And then I saw a group of them walking down the sidewalk, and felt a little weird. Ben pulled into a quiet street with barren maple trees, and the apartments looked a little different due to the lack of staircases sprouting up to the second and third floors that we would see on the Plateau. Ben stopped in front of a grey stone two-story duplex.

“Julien! Chui icitte!” (I’m here!) Ben said on his mobile. In a minute, Julien and Loïc came out of the wooden door with Julien’s mom waving at Ben before closing the door. They got in the car and Ben drove toward the Metropolitan, also known as Autoroute 40, which is a highway crossing the island west to east. Ben sped up past the limit of 100km/h (60mph) to 130km/h (80mph). Funny, there were enough drivers still passing him even at that speed. Ben shrugged his shoulders saying that it’s a Québécois habit.

“You guys must’ve got it from the French people,” I rolled my eyes.

“But I’m not French…” he grinned.

“Then what are you? I thought you all are from French people,” I was a little confused.

“Ok, we’re Québécois…a unique group of people. We may be descended from the several thousand original French colonists, but we’re different from the French people,” Ben said like he had said this before over and over, “Ok…ok…I’m part-French too. M’man was born in Provence, a region in southern France. I’m also part-Irish because her father was from Ireland. He met her mother in France after WWII and they got married. Part-Québécois and part-Acadian from my p’pa’s side. I’m like a bowl of vegetable soup,” Ben said, still focusing on the highway.

“Acadian? Who are they?” I asked him.

“French-speaking people from New Brunswick. P’pa was born and grew up there,” Ben added.

“Interesting family history…” I nodded, “I’m part-Irish and part-French too, so we must be related and practicing incest,” I grinned at him. Ben snorted.

“At least we can’t make mutant babies,” he remarked.

“You’re crazy, Benoît,” Julien said from the back of the seat, “Seriously, it’s the last thing the world would need, little Bens causing havoc.”

Loïc was already asleep, so Julien pulled a blanket over the two of them and they cuddled to sleep together. The St Lawrence River ran close to the highway, giving us a beautiful view of farms, forests, and, on the horizon, mountains. I did take some pictures on the way. We passed through Trois-Rivières, a mid-sized city between Montreal and Quebec City.

After two and half hours of driving, a sign passed by welcoming us to the ‘Capitale Nationale’ region and the skyline of Quebec City appeared far away in our view. Ben drove through downtown on the main street which was called rue St-Jean. The old city appeared when a tall stonewall and a gate came between it and downtown. The gate had a real medieval touch to it with a watchtower on it. Instead of going through the gate, Ben turned onto a driveway to an underground parking lot. He parked the car and threw a water bottle at Julien and Loïc to wake them up.

“Crisse, Ben” Loïc groaned. (Fuck, Ben)

“Allez-y… On est au Vieux-Québec,” (Let’s go, we’re at Old Quebec) Ben got out of the car. We all followed him and Ben had to tell me something.

“Ok, remember, Montreal may be bilingual, but outside the city area, it’s a different story. There are way more monolingual French speakers all over the province including Quebec City. So try to speak French often and they’ll be happy that you’re just trying hard.”

We walked out of the parking lot to the Parliament Building, called the Assemblé Nationale, where the government of Quebec is seated. I took some photos of the grey neo-gothic building before heading to St-Jean Gate into the old city. To the left of the gate, we checked out the old garrisons and redoubts from the French regime. I got a guidebook from the tourist office there. There were outlines of the older walls inside the current one, showing a century of wall buildings and evolution. According to the guidebook, the walls were almost impossible to penetrate because the old city was on the top of a high cliff surrounded by the wall, giving the French a wide berth to bombard invading ships and armies. Quebec City was once called the Gibraltar of the Americas.

We followed along next to the wall where there were some cannons from the British regime flanking the side overlooking the lower city and the St Lawrence River. We enjoyed the narrow, crooked streets filled with two or three storied houses, many of which were from the 18th and 19th centuries.

“This is Hôtel Dieu, North America’s oldest hospital from the early 1600s,” Ben pointed to a tall art deco building, “This is where me and Adrien were born.”

“You lived here?” I was surprised.

“Yeah, down in the lower city. We moved to Montreal when P’pa got a job from La Presse…right before Matt was born. Before then, my parents studied, lived, and met in Quebec City.”

We arrived at the Terrace Dufferin, a long boardwalk along the cliff edge facing the vast river. There is an orange-red hotel with copper green roof towers high over the old city, and it is called ‘Château Frontenac’ owned by Fairmont. We passed the large black statue of Samuel Champlain, the man who founded Quebec City in 1608 and was the seeder of the French civilization in Canada as well as in the Americas. We checked out a complex of buildings from three different centuries that house Université de Laval, the oldest French-language university in the Americas, and second oldest after Havard.

There are a lot of differences between Vieux-Québec and Vieux-Montréal because Vieux-Québec looks so ancient because so many buildings from the French regime were well preserved and still standing after a few centuries. The walls still stand as the only walled city north of Mexico. It just impressed me so much because I really feel more like I’m in Europe here than in Montreal.

We went inside the Notre-Dame Cathedral, a stone church that marked the Catholic domination of Quebec since its construction in the 1600s (although the church was destroyed several times due to fires and bombings). We took a break in a small square near the church near the Grande Allée. That alley was known for colonial inns and restaurants. Then there is the oldest building in the city, the Kent House, built in 1650, and is now a French consulate.

We walked down St Louis past a white-painted inn-restaurant with red roofs from 1675. Ben stopped there to tell Julien and Loïc something.

“Hey, on veut marcher seuls. Peut-on se retrouver à 5h à ce restaurant italien là-bas?” (Hey, we want to go alone. Can we meet again at 5 o’clock at this Italian restaurant over there?)

“Sûr! Ayez du fun, hein?” Julien replied and walked away. Loïc waved bye. (Sure! Have some fun, eh?)

“There, now it’s just me and you,” Ben reached up to kiss my cold lips warm, “I’m taking you to my most favorite place in the world.” Ben reached out his hand. I smiled and took it, and then he led me to his special spot.

We walked through a gate down a steep street going down the cliff to the lower city. I saw a couple of amusing shops selling t-shirts with logos that no one would dare to wear to school or work, as well as bongs. We stopped at the top of a steep staircase leading down to a narrow, cobble stoned street filled with small shops.

“This is the Casse-Cou, literally meaning Break-Neck, leading to Petit Champlain, which was once the main street of the old city,” Ben explained while we carefully went down the wooden-steel stairs. The buildings suddenly looked even older because of their rough stone façades. The shops were mostly adapted for tourists, so there wasn’t much for me to see.

“This is your favorite place?” I asked while looking up the steep cliff to see the Terrace Dufferin above.

“No, but we’re close,” Ben replied, looking at a lunch menu of a café, “C’mon, we’re going to Place Royale.”

Passing by the small buildings, I noticed many had a little ceramic plaque marking its construction date. Almost all were from the late 17th century. Ben took me into another cobble stoned street to a small square with a stone church in the center. So we stood next to the church build in 1688, according to the plaque located near its doors.

“Here we are, Place Royale, the spot where Champlain founded Quebec and started the settlement,” Ben revealed. All around us were stone houses from the 17th century and the streets were all cobble stoned and void of cars. Another plaque on the church marked the spot where Champlain founded the city.

“Wow…it’s like we stepped back in time,” I whispered, observing our surrounding.

“Exactement, le lieu où le temps s'est arrêté,” Bebn said, “When I was a boy, M’man used to take me here all of the time. I would just imagine all of the early settlers…average farmers, coureurs-des-bois, fur traders, and so on.”

“Amazing…” I pushed him against the church wall, giving him a long kiss. I know the Catholic Church would scream sin for practicing such an unholy act on its building.

“C’mon, let’s get lost in the narrow streets,” Ben took my hand.

“You seem to love history, huh?” I asked Ben, who blushed a little. I had no idea if it was the cold or not.

“Ouais, les cours d’histoire sont parmi mes cours préférés à l’école,” Ben replied in French. (Yeah, history classes are among my best classes at school)

“Moi aussi…” I replied in French this time. (Me too)

“T’sais, ton français s'améliore depuis que t’es arrivé au Québec,” Ben smiled. (You know, your French is becoming better since you arrived in Quebec)

“Oui…eh, j’essaie mon mieux. …coutant au français est…facile. Mais…parlant le français est plus…hard…pour moi,” I managed to construct slowly. (Yes…eh, I try my best. Listening to French is…easy. But…speaking it is…harder…for me)

“Plus difficile…” Ben clapped, “Pratique-toi fort et tu réussiras! Ben, effectivement, t’as déjà bien réussi…” he gave me a kiss on the cheek. (Harder… Practice a lot and you’ll succeed. Well, in fact, you already have succeeded…)

“Merci…” I answered.

We walked up the street through the gate again to Terrace Dufferin, and past the Château to the narrow streets. We were walking up a long hill where a huge fortress is. It was made of huge stones and earth acting as a shock absorber against cannons from that time. Right between me and the fortress were two large ditches, so I couldn’t walk any further. I turned around to see Ben sitting on the beach. I joined him there.

“C’est-tu beau, non?” (Is it beautiful, no?) Ben asked me about the wide view of the St Lawrence, the city below, and the snow-covered countryside and mountains beyond. I nodded in agreement.

“Oui…”

The bench also overlooked the Plain d’Abraham, where the the French and British troops met to decide the fate of the French’s future in the Americas in 1759. In that battle, Quebec City once thought of as almost impossible to take because of its position on a cliff and strong wall around it, fell. The French were defeated and lost almost everything in the Americas.

After a half hour of sitting to enjoy the view, we agreed to find a place to stay inside because our feet and hands were getting numb from being out in the cold for the past few hours. We found a café near the Château and we decided to just have some coffee since dinnertime was getting close anyway.

We did a quick shopping spin on Ste-Anne, which included the first Simons store in a 19th century Victorian building. I saw a post office there, so I decided to send some postcards to my friends.

The shops started to close, that meant it was past 5, and we should meet Julien and Loïc at the Italian restaurant.

“Crisse, enfin vous êtes là! J’ai frette aux pieds ainsi qu’aux gosses…” (Shit, finally you’re here. My feet and as well as my balls are cold…) Loïc mumbled when we went inside. The restaurant was mostly empty since it had just opened. A lady in formal waitress clothing greeted us.

“Bonjour! Combien?” she warmly greeted us. (Hello! How many?)

“Quatre…” I replied (Four)

“Fumeurs ou non-fumeurs?” she asked. (Smoking or non-smoking?)

“Eh, fume…” (Smoking) Julien said before me. I almost forgot he wanted to smoke eventually.

“Bon… Donc, vous pouvez vous asseoir auprès de la fenêtre pour que vous profitiez du beau paysage de la rue ancienne. Ça vous plaît?” She set the menus on the table. (Good… Well, you can sit next to the window so that you may enjoy the beautiful views of the old street. Does that please you?)

“Oui…beaucoup et merci pour votre prévenance,” (Yes…a lot and thank you for your consideration) Ben smiled. We all smiled at her as we sat down.

“Ok, veuillez prendre bonne note des spéciaux que notre chef a choisis,” she opened Ben’s menu to point out the special paper inside, “Alors, que voudriez-vous avoir pour boire?” (Ok, please take into consideration the specials that our chef has chosen. Well, what would you like to have to drink?)

“Eh oui, avez-vous du vin d’Australie? Un shiraz, peut-être?” Ben asked. (Eh yes, do you have some wine from Australia? A shiraz perhaps?)

“Eh oui, nous avons Yellow Tail,” she pointed out the wine list to Ben, showing him the descriptions. (Eh yes, we do have Yellow Tail)

“Bon, une bouteille pour tous avec des verres d’eau, s’il vous plaît,” Ben smiled. (Good, a bottle for everyone with glasses of water, please)

“Tout ensuite,” she left. (Right away)

She came back with a bottle of wine and glasses. She had a girl to pour us the water while she popped the cork out to pour the wine. Then she set a basket of bread on the table.

“Bien, êtes-vous prêts à commander?” she took out her notebook. (Well, are you ready to order?)

We all nodded and ordered from the menu. I managed to get my French right after a couple of tries but she understood. She thanked us and took the menus.

“How long have you been with Loïc?” I asked Julien.

“Four months,” Julien answered, smiling.

“And you haven’t told me about it? I was only gone for a month!” Ben glared at him.

“Because I wanted to be sure if he’s real, not some usual sex date like in the past,” Julien sipped his wine and lit a cigarette, “I wanted this one to last because I’m tired of having one-night stands.”

“You surprise me… This is not the Julien I’ve known for years,” Ben smirked.

“Oh shut up…” Julien blew smoke at Ben’s face, “I wanted a change.”

“How long have you known each other then?” I asked Ben and Julien.

“Eh, since we were 10. Julien was new at my school then,” Ben snatched Julien’s cigarette.

“Hey!” Julien protested. Ben puffed it deeply and blew smoke back at him, and then again, Julien just smiled and breathed it in.

“Ugh…” Ben gave back the cigarette, “Not working…” he rolled his eyes, knowing that his attempt at revenge had failed.

“Erm, you smoke?” I looked at Ben, knowing it was the second time I had seen him puffing a cigarette.

“Used to, but I quit…” Ben answered, “I was in France for a month to see my grandparents a few years ago. That’s where I met a cute French boy. He smoked and I ended up being hooked. Then Julien took my habit,” he added.

“I’m jealous… This is the only time I went out of the country and you already went to France as well as Cuba and Mexico,” I groaned, “I wanna see Europe…”

“Not just that…” Ben grinned, “Also Switzerland, Germany, and Italy.”

“Fuck you…” I kicked him.

“Well, I might go back to France this summer. We’ll see, since I go to see my grandparents there once every few years. Maybe you could come with me,” Ben smiled and kissed my lips.

“Eh, les Français… Y me font chier… Au moins ceux au Québec,” Loïc grumbled. (Eh, the French people… They piss me off… At least those in Quebec)

“Ignore him. He had a couple of French boyfriends that he had bad experiences with…” Julien slapped Loïc’s leg.

“Ok! Vous voilà,” (Ok, here you go!) the waitress set our meals on the table. Julien and Ben picked cheese ravioli while I got penne rosée. Loïc opted for chicken marsala. All looking yummy and smelling so nicely.

“C’est tout? Non? Ok, bon appétit!” (Is that all? No? Ok, enjoy your meals!) She took the empty bread basket, smiling that we were pleased enough. I took Ben’s hand and kissed it.

“Thanks for taking me to Quebec,” I smiled. Julien and Loïc giggled while watching us.

“Hey! Mangez!” Ben threw his cotton napkin at them. (Hey! Eat!)