CHAPTER 9
SEBASTIAN
Remi’s message caught me a little off guard.
I’d planned on heading straight to the Blackbird after rehearsals at the conservatoire, but the idea of hitting a club afterward is way too tempting to pass up, even if it means making a detour home to change.
This morning I left in a plain white T-shirt and ripped black jeans, fine for the pub, maybe, but definitely not club wear.
I can’t even remember the last time I went out in Paris... yeah, tonight I definitely need the distraction.
My hot pink suitcase, the one that sent Remi into a minor meltdown when I first arrived, is long since unpacked and now tucked neatly under the bed.
Everything else is folded precisely where it belongs: clothes in the wardrobe, underwear in the drawers.
Exactly the way I like it.
After weighing a few options, I settle on the tight black leather trousers, the ones that hug me in all the right places, and a sleeveless black top.
Simple enough… until you see the back.
A delicate mesh panel runs from shoulder to waist, just sheer enough to reveal the tattoos inked across my skin: a tangle of flowers and vines that curls over my back, winds across my chest, and trails down both arms almost to my wrists.
Neck, wrists, and hands are all clean, per the agreement I made with my parents and with May, my agent. That way, when I perform in concert dress, no one sees what’s beneath.
After a brief hesitation, I pull out a pair of black lace briefs from my drawer.
They go perfectly with the outfit.
No one’s going to see them, probably, but wearing something sexy makes me feel more confident, always has.
Since moving in, I’ve been a little hesitant to wear pieces like this around the flat.
Remi and I take turns with the laundry, and the idea of him pulling out one of my more delicate items makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.
But now that he knows I’m gay, maybe it won’t scandalise him quite as much. God, I hope not.
The last thing I need is to make things even more complicated between us.
A swipe of eyeliner, a glance at the clock, perfect timing if I want to make it on time.
I throw on my black leather jacket and lace up my Converse.
On the way out, I catch myself in the hallway mirror and pause for a quick once-over.
Hair’s a bit wild, but there’s no time to fuss.
I grab the elastic from around my wrist and pull the sides back into a loose, messy bun.
Done.
I lock the door and fly down the narrow stairs so fast I nearly face-plant, but even that doesn’t wipe the grin off my face.
With any luck, tonight might actually be fun.