It was so very wrong to feel this way toward your own sibling, but the more I tried to ignore that feeling, the stronger it became. The first few weeks were tough for me. It was emotionally straining that I found it hard to even look at Darryl. I resented the feeling as I thought my awkward behavior might somehow or another, hurt Darryl. But the resentment I felt about the feeling soon grew into acceptance. I never once acted on my feelings, but was just glad that Darryl and I were close. In fact, we got closer as time passed."Well, we're here!" Darryl chirped as he pulled up at a parking lot and we got into the café. It was a rather casual, yet classy café, I would say. We placed orders on steaks, and chatted through dinner, mostly about football, the recent exams, girls, and so on.After we were done, we went to a bar we frequent and ordered some scotch. We talked some more, and soon, the booze took effect. He was soon talking about some stupid stunt a friend of his pulled and. Often the pretty girl would come back to her table in fifteen or twenty minutes, and resume her drink. I had a number of men ask me to go with them too, but as I hadn't eaten yet I refused politely. But it was charming to think that these locals would go out of their way to make a stranger feel at home - and Parisians have a reputation for arrogance! My dinner consisted of a wonderful steak with french fries (bisteck avec frites, pronounced "freets") and a glass of Beaujolais. When I was finished, a nice looking gentleman came over and struck up a conversation with me. "C'est combien?" Say combee-en?) he asked me, which means, "how much?" I glanced at the bill in surprise, and replied, "Twenty three euros". He seemed amazed, slapped the note into my hand, and pulled me up from the table. It seemed inexpensive to me too, but I had barely enough time to drop the note on the table before he had me out the door.He was very disappointed to find that I didn't live nearby, and before long.
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