Chapter 21 #3
Impulsively, Celine reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together.
He had been there holding hers through every nerve-wrecking round at Maison Baudelaire; she wanted to return the favour.
“We will win and you will pay him back,” she assured.
Then, to cheer him up, she added, “If you promise to be a good boy.”
Bastien did not indulge her with banter. But he didn’t withdraw his hand. “And you?” he asked gravely. “Are you doing alright? That kiss…”
“Let’s not talk about that.”
“But—”
“Look, Bas, you don’t have to care.”
“But I do,” he insisted. “I care. I care about the competition…I care about you, too.” Taking a deep, painful-looking breath, he said: “I remember what I did at the party. I need you to know that no matter how drunk I was, I would never—”
“I know,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t what you did, rather than what you said.”
What’s one girl for another? You’re too much work, Celine. It’s not worth my time.
He stared down at his hands, his fingers still tangled with hers.
“I didn’t mean those words, either. To be honest, you are one of the few people I enjoy spending my daytime hours with.
Even if it is standing still and being poked with needles.
” He glanced at her sideways, hoping to catch the little smile that started to spread on her lips.
“That does not mean you should keep doing it.”
Celine permitted a chuckle. But she could see that whatever was weighing on his mood hadn’t lifted. “Bas…” she ventured. “If you need anything…”
“I’m good, baby vamp.”
“I didn’t mean money.”
“Yeah?”
Celine gave his chest a gentle shove. “Not that, either, you rake. I'm sure Elana has that part covered,” she said, a little irritated. She was even more irritated that she could hear the vexation in her voice. That Bastien could probably hear it too.
And apparently he had. “No need to be jealous. With all these lessons going on, Elana should be the one envying you.”
“The lesson was a one-time thing—which shall never be brought up again, understood?” Bastien nodded, even though his smile widened. “What I meant was, if you wanted to talk, and I know I'm probably the last person you would go to, but if there was no one else available, I’m here.”
“Even after everything?”
“Everyone deserves a second chance, Bas. Everyone deserves forgiveness, at least once.”
She wound her finger around Milady’s tail, avoiding his stare. Maybe she was projecting, hoping everyone she'd been lying to would feel the same and forgive her too, but she trusted Bastien. Vile as he wanted to appear, he had a few cracks showing a soft underside.
“Besides, we're friends,” she added. “Aren't we?”
“Yes. Friends.”
“What? You don’t want to be my friend anymore? You threw a tantrum two weeks ago.”
“Well,” Bastien chewed on his lip, “friends with benefits would be better, no?”
Celine plucked one of her pillows and smacked him with it until he was flush with the bed. “The only benefit you're getting is those ten thousand francs when we win.”
Bastien was grinning when he raised his head. His eyes fell to her lips, his own parting to suck in a breath. “I knew you couldn’t be angry with me for too long. I’m charming like that.”
He was looking at her like she had been looking at the cake earlier. Celine straightened her spine.
“Okay.” She grabbed his arm, pulling him up. “You can leave now.”
Frowning, he dug his heels in. “I wasn’t aware your empathy had a short leash, baby vamp.”
“My mother can come up here any minute now,” Celine said promptly. She didn’t trust herself a second longer with Bastien in her room. “Thank you for bringing back my sketchbook, but I’d rather you’d be on your way.”
“Does this mean we can go back to normal now?” he asked, pausing in the middle of the room. “Because as much as I enjoy annoying you, I don’t like it when you are actually mad at me. I prefer the bickering and the flirting better.”
“I have never flirted with you, Bastien,” Celine returned flatly.
“Mhm. Sure you haven’t.”
“I ha—” She pinched the bridge of her nose, reeling her annoyance in. “Can’t you just leave?”
“Not until you to say it. Spell it, preferably.”
“You are stalling.”
“Wrong sentence.”
“Goodbye, Bastien,” she insisted, palms on his back, ushering him towards the window.
“Wrong again.”
Bastien dug his heels in, making it impossible for her to push him. “See…you…tomorrow,” Celine grunted under his weight.
“Tomorrow,” he said, jumping suddenly on the windowsill. “Juliet.”
Before he could climb down, Celine took his jaw between her fingers and directed his gaze to hers.
Stars glittered behind him like millions of tiny champagne bubbles popping and sparkling in a liquid of the darkest blue.
And underneath long, dark eyelashes, each of them reflected in his grey eyes.
Just then, Celine thought him devastatingly beautiful.
“Just because I asked for a kiss, doesn’t mean I’m your Juliet.”
“Even better if you are my Celine,” Bastien returned, grinning. He didn’t wait for her to respond. He scaled the drainpipe down half-way, then jumped into the jasmine bushes planted below.
Celine cut him one final glance, as he shook leaves from his suit and hurried down the moonlit driveway. Then she drew the curtains closed.