"Yeah, I think we've arrived," Heitor nudged me, snapping me out of my reverie. I glanced out the airplane window and saw that we were already at the airport. Airport. In. France.
I stood up hurriedly.
"Elizabeth, you're going to knock people over," Marina scolded as I pushed past the other passengers. I was in France. For a moment, I forgot why. I just wanted to breathe in the air of France. For Marina, this was routine. Her family was rich, she had traveled a million times before. But I had never even left Vitória.
"We'll spend the night at the hotel, and then we'll need to take a long car trip. There's no direct transportation. That way, we'll get there faster," Heitor said as he consulted Google Maps.
"I've already booked a car for us," Marina commented.
"I want to eat something, I want to eat something French," I looked around at all the shops in the airport, marveling. I felt like a child. "Go on, Heitor, order that grilled ham and cheese with your Duolingo French."
"That's a croque monsieur," he commented proudly.
"I'll get it for us, wait here," Marina said, leaving.
"I'm going to the French bathroom real quick," I yelled so she could hear me.
Heitor sat in a chair and waited. Each of us had a little book that showed the basics of French and how to pronounce them. Marina was wearing a short skirt, a beret, and a scarf around her neck, looking like a Frenchwoman based on my own stereotype of French people.
I entered the bathroom and found it very similar to the one in the Brazilian airport. I expected something different, someone offering me a baguette at the door. But, to be honest, I don't even know what a baguette is, or if it's French.
"I can't believe you made me travel all this way to find you," Strong arms immobilized me from behind.
"What?" I struggled and turned my head, recognizing Guimarães, the investigator who was investigating Cassie's case and who tried to kill me.
"You are under arrest, anything you say can and will be used against you."
"First, you're in the women's bathroom," I replied irritably. "Second, where are your handcuffs?"
Guimarães smiled sarcastically and tightened the hold.
"I'm just doing my job, don't resist."
"Fine, you win. I won't resist, I'm not a criminal. And you're hurting me," I whimpered.
He paused to reflect for a second and seemed to agree that I was not a threat and let me go. I rubbed the area on my wrists where he had squeezed.
"I need you to come with me," Guimarães pointed to the exit.
"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" I grumbled.
"It wouldn't be very ethical to agree," he pointed to the exit again with his head. "I don't have all day, Prado."
I started to leave the bathroom slowly when I realized that he had relaxed his watch, I ran through the airport. Luckily, my sneakers were great. The airport was crowded, so I had to push some people, and he ended up being delayed in the middle of the crowd.
"Harasser," I shouted, trying to think of how to say that in French.
My bag was heavy, I considered leaving it behind to run faster, but when I looked, Guimarães was stuck among a group of ladies. I took advantage of the fact that he wasn't looking directly at me and went into a shop that was open.
"Merci," I pronounced to the cashier when he looked at me startled. I didn't know what it meant, but it was the only thing I knew how to say. My little book was in the way.
I crouched down in the corner of the shop and watched Guimarães pass by. I breathed a sigh of relief. I grabbed my cell phone while still crouching and called Mari.
"What happened? Where are you?" Mari answered.
"Hmm, ma'am?" Another tall, blond attendant, who seemed to be in his thirties, looked at me a little confused. "Do you need me to call the police?"
"Ah," I breathed a sigh of relief. "You speak Portuguese. Thank God. My God."
"Friend," Mari continued from the other end of the line. "I'll send you the address of the hotel, do you think you can make it? Where are you?"
"In a shop. What's the name of this shop?" I asked the Brazilian.
"Le suit."
"Le si," I repeated.
"Le suit," the guy repeated.
"Marina, I'm going to the hotel. I think it's safer than you guys hanging around here."
I hung up the phone and looked at the hotel's address. My heart was still racing from the run, but strangely, I wasn't afraid of Guimarães.
"Do you know where this address is?" I asked the attendant again. He was quite handsome upon closer inspection. And he was totally my type.
"Do you need a ride?" He asked, smiling, noticing my approving look.
"Aren't you at work?" 
"No, I don't work here."
In other situations, I would never accept a ride from a stranger, but I was in France and I was already in danger of losing my life.
"In that case, I'd love a ride."