Spring Kisses

Chapter 13

“Willyou stop yelling and calm down, Manille?” I asked, without taking my eyes off my screen.

In the company of Manille and Charlotte, my roommate decided to redecorate my office with the bookseller to help her overhaul everything. According to Manille, she couldn”t stand the filth in my space any longer. She has to make a fuss. Sure, it”s not as incredible as hers, but it”s not as horrible as she wants people to think.

“I can”t calm down. See what you bought, Florence?”

No, she won”t do it again.

We”ve had this conversation before, and I don”t intend to change my mind. I bought a dog-shaped diffuser and put it in my office. I couldn”t resist, it reminded me of Lola. In fact, whenever I see something in the shape of a dog, I think of mine. Her presence is omnipresent in my heart, and it has to be the same in my workspace.

Am I gaga over my dog? Absolutely, and I take full responsibility for it.

“What are you talking about? That”s so sweet.”

“It”s ugly!”

“You”re exaggerating,” says Charlotte, grabbing a metal bar from the floor and sliding the curtain over it. “He”s not bad, I think he”s adorable. He reminds me a little of Lola.”

“Yes, that”s why I took it. Glad to know I”m not the only one visualizing our fur ball.”

Charlotte flashes me a smile. With a confident gesture, the bookseller climbs the stepladder and hangs the bar from the ceiling. The beige tulle curtain falls perfectly, hiding my world from view. I thank them, but Manille still hasn”t moved on. When it comes to decorating, Madame doesn”t pay attention to anything.

“Are you pulling an April Fools” joke on me? You can”t expect me to believe it resembles Lola,” she says in disgust. “It”s a dog. Don”t belittle our princess by comparing her to an object. It”s offensive. And besides, it doesn”t go at all with the decor I had planned for you. It”s kitsch, Florence. And the color, let”s not even talk about it; it”s stinging my eyes.”

Of course, more and more.

“Manille!” scolds Charlotte. “This isn”t your office, and you need to learn to respect certain limits here. If Florence loves, isn”t love all should matter?”

When Manille offered to redecorate my workspace, I gladly accepted. However, she mustn”t forget I”ll be spending most of my time in this room. In our bedroom, her choices don”t concern me much, as we each have our own side. But this is my space. She can”t impose her ideas because my vision differs from hers. It”s not a dictatorship!

“Sorry, I get carried away.”

“Reassure me, Manille, you”re not like this with your customers? Forcing your choices on them the way you do with Florence?”

“Never in my life. Florence and you are my only exceptions.”

“I can”t tell if I”m flattered or not, but in doubt, thank you.”

“You can Florence, because if you didn”t, I”d charge you for my services and you can”t afford that, honey,” she jokes.

I laugh before we get back to our own business. It”s been almost a week since I signed my first contract, and since then my days have been filled with gallons of coffee, emails to suppliers, and ideas to please the couple. Their wedding is on June 20, perfectly in time for the end of spring. This leaves me two months to get everything ready, and it isn”t impossible. But I”m not going to rest on my laurels, simply because I don”t have any. There”s no way I”m going to ruin this opportunity, because if I succeed, élise will leave me more files. I”m not crazy enough to think I”ll do thousands, but two or three weddings would be perfect.

It”s not only to please my customers and my boss I want it to be impeccable. Corentin is also part of the equation, proving to élise she was right to have trusted me. I have to do the same with my neighbor. He, who continuously believes in my abilities, will be disappointed if I fail. And his father, being famous and the way my friend talks about him, is not the kind of man you can disappoint without repercussions. He refuses the slightest imperfection, ironic since I”m the definition of the word. My work will have to meet his expectations. Otherwise, he”s liable to cut me out of his son”s life. Well, I”m probably exaggerating because Corentin would not take such a step.

Are you sure?

Of course! I try to concentrate, but the idea doesn”t leave me, and when I glance down at my bracelet, the anxiety grows. I take advantage of the fact the girls are busy putting fluorescent stars on the ceiling to take out my phone and contact Corentin.

It”s enough to be sure, once and for all. Corentin answers at the first tone. I don”t let him get a word in and start.

“Will you stop talking to me if your father doesn”t like me?”

“What?”

“Answer my question.”

“Of course not, Florence. He can think whatever he wants about you; I don”t care. I”ve already made my choice. You are in my life, and I don”t want to change it.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, you reassure me. Goodbye.”

I”m about to hang up, but Corentin”s deep voice rings out.

“Uh, you want to tell me what”s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I needed to make sure if I screwed up your sister”s wedding, you wouldn”t cut me out of your life.”

“Okay, I see.”

I think he”s so accustomed to my anxieties, sometimes he doesn”t know what to say. I hang up, my heart lighter. Corentin isn”t going to stop talking to me. But it doesn”t mean his father won”t make me pay if I don”t measure up. He could close the agency and put us out of business. Or worse?—

No, the idea we”d end up unemployed was the worst fear from the start. Ironically, this marriage, which was supposed to alleviate my professional doubts, only exacerbated my anxieties. In fact, I”m surprised I”m not crying in my room, subjecting myself to a myriad of self-inflicted horrors.

I have phases.

Sometimes I can stay in control of my emotions. And other times, I”ll lose it at the drop of a hat. Tears, panic attacks, mixed with asthma attacks. Thinking about it makes me want to cry. I bite my lip to keep from letting this wave of stress engulf me. The thought of it sends my brain into overdrive.

I take a deep breath and focus on the girls.

“Are you going to change everything today?” I ask, biting my nails.

“I”d love to, but I”m not Flash. I”ll take advantage of the weekend to finish, if possible.”

Charlotte and I exchange astonished glances.

“What happened to party Manille?”

“I”m taking a break from parties and guys.”

This time, all my attention is exclusively focused on the decorator. I observe her, eyebrows slightly furrowed, unsure how to react. Words fail me to express how bewildering this news is coming from her. Manille is not one to play the seductress, instead, she seizes each moment of life with gusto, fueled by the desire to have fun. She knows narrow minds will judge her, but their opinions leave her indifferent. After all, why should a man have the right to collect conquests without being pointed at, while a woman would be labeled as a slut or an easy woman? One thing is certain: Manille will persist in her mindset despite societal expectations.

“What happened? Who did something to you? So I can crush their balls.”

If Charlotte is the sweetest and brightest of the three of us, she”s the toughest when it comes to our hearts. She wants us to protect our vital organ, in the same way she protects hers. She understands the world isn”t like Disney, even in real life, they can be dark when they want to be.

“Calm down, Mama Charlotte. I”ve had enough of these fuck-ups. The last one gave me a bruise,” she adds, touching her shoulder.

As she rolls up the sleeve of her T-shirt to show me her bruise, a shiver runs through me. Images of the worst are racing through my mind: my friend with her torn T-shirt, drops of blood. Manille is a master at hiding her emotions, a lesson I learned the day after she was attacked. She spoke to me as if nothing had happened, picking up her life where she”d left off. So, at the sight of the bruise on her skin, I”m instantly drawn back to this stranger living his life in general indifference. It irritates me as much as it frightens me. I”ve often begged Corentin to show me the justice he talks so much about, to put this man behind bars, but he”s powerless. Until Manille decides to press charges, his hands are tied.

As if sensing my concern, Manille gives me a reassuring smile.

“So what happened?” asks a puzzled Charlotte.

“We wanted to have sex in the shower, and we slipped. According to him, it was my fault,” she grumbles annoyed. “Anyway, the time for good lays is over for me.”

She displays a contrite pout, continuing her lamentations.

“But no, it”s a matter of time,” I try to reassure her.

She rolls her eyes and picks up a plastic plant, which she puts in the corner near the window. Since what happened with Corentin and his dead plants, my roommate has opted for the plastic option. We”re going to avoid the real thing for the time being. I couldn”t handle it. It”s something to keep alive, and I”m already having trouble keeping my brain clear of negative ideas, so I might as well not add another burden.

“I”m serious, girls. Last time, it was the guy who meowed while penetrating me. Before him, the one who wanted to stick his seed in and drink my milk. Then there was the guy who not only didn”t want to wear a condom but didn”t know how to put his thingy in the right hole. And before that?—”

“It”s all right, we get it,” insists Charlotte, her hands over her ears to stop hearing her stories. “Where do you find these oddballs? You see, Florence, that”s why I prefer guys in books. They”re good and not annoying.”

“Depends on which ones. But clearly Manille, I feel sorry for you.”

I shudder. I had no idea her sex life was so—I can”t even find the words to describe what she”s telling me.

“Before, I had a knack for spotting the bad lays.”

“Maybe you”ve got a stuffy nose,” I swing without paying attention.

Manille turns to me and lets out a little laugh. At least I managed to put a smile back on her face.

“If I understand correctly, you didn”t close the deal?”

“No, I wouldn”t. I value myself and refuse to engage in intimacy with a guy who asked me to go on a diet because he couldn”t carry me. I miss sex, clearly. But I don”t reach a level of desperation to such an extent, anyway.”

“Did he suggest you go on a diet? No, but what a scumbag! Frankly, when a man”s ego gets bruised, he”s either a baby or a piece of shit. So nothing constructive,” rants Charlotte.

“You were right to walk away, Manille, that guy wasn”t worth a second of your time.”

It”s possible he didn”t have the strength to lift her, which is fine. Instead of accepting this reality, he chose to attack her on her appearance. That”s petty. It doesn”t matter if Manille is tall or short, thin or fat, the most important thing is she feels good about herself. And the people who keep commenting on her appearance should take a glance in the mirror. Spilling their own insecurities on others won”t make them better.

The next few minutes are more soothing. We chat about everything and anything, while they arrange the items we”ve bought in my office. The atmosphere gradually becomes warmer and more welcoming. Plants have been placed here and there in the room. A beige curtain has been installed to give me some privacy. I wanted to join in, but they formally forbade me to move. They wanted me to stay focused on my work and not let myself get distracted. Their best efforts to keep me on track were unsuccessful. According to Manille, there are still a few things to be added, even though, in my eyes, everything is already perfect. On my desk sits a white vase containing Corentin”s tulips.

Which reminds me, it”s Thursday, means movie night with my neighbor. We haven”t decided what movie to watch yet. I”m wondering if I should ask the girls to join us. For once, everyone”s there, so I might as well make the most of it. What”s more, Corentin will slowly become part of our trio. He seems more at ease with them than before. We might as well keep the momentum going.

“Would you like to join Corentin and me for a movie night?”

Manille was about to reply when Charlotte intervened. “Aren”t you supposed to be on a date tonight?”

My eyebrows furrowed, I”m about to answer, but then change my mind. There”s a silence as I realize what she”s referring to. Running a hand through my hair, I pull out a few strands and rest my head against my desk.

God, what an idiot!

I acted like an arrogant seductress in front of Corentin, but the truth is riding the elevator, patiently waiting for its floor to open its doors and expose my lie to everyone. These past few days, I”ve been too busy with work to find a date. It completely slipped my mind. I want to tear my hair out; I think I”m doing it. I can”t turn back now, Corentin would be too pleased to see me fail and admit my lie.

“Florence, you have a date, and you don”t tell Auntie Manille? That”s not right. Who”s the lucky guy? Bernard?”

“Bernard? Is going out with him what you”re doing?” asks Charlotte, squinting.

No, it”s with the invisible man.

Mamma Mia! Why did I have to open it? Yes, my ego suffered from his comments, but it”s not as if it”s the first time it”s taken uppercuts! So why did the fact it was Corentin make me open it?

Because it hurts when it comes from him.

I do a little research to save myself. Worryingly, Charlotte sneaks up behind me and before I can hide my screen, she puts her hand over her mouth.

“Are you on an escort site?” she exclaims in shock.

With her mouth wide open, she alternates her gaze between my screen and me. A mischievous smile gradually takes shape on her angelic face, creating a gentle contrast.

“Searching for someone for your fake date tonight?”

“What?” exclaims Manille, her eyes bulging.

I want to tell her to tone it down when it comes back to me. My eyebrows furrowed, I turn to the bookseller, my gaze suspicious.

“How do you know all this?”

“Corentin,” she replies with a shrug. “We bumped into each other in the elevator this morning, and I asked him if he was going to stop by the apartment for your session or if you were going to go to his place. And that”s when he told me you weren”t supposed to see each other because you were going to have dinner with your imaginary boyfriend. I might as well tell you I was surprised, but I pretended to be informed and I”d forgotten it was today.”

She smiles, amused by the situation, and she”s not the only one. Manille bursts out laughing. As for me, my outraged pout hasn”t left my face. I”m even more eager to nail him by bringing a guy to his sister”s wedding, if only to punish him for his arrogance.

“What an idiot! He”s so sure of himself he”s pretentious.”

“At the same time,” begins Manille, before bursting into a fit of laughter and calming down after a few seconds. “He”s got a point. You”ve got no one to go with, the proof is in the pudding,” she affirms with a wave of her hand, pointing at my computer.

“I know,” I huffed in annoyance. “I”d forgotten all about it. Do you think I could ask Jason to?—”

I don”t have time to finish my sentence before they explode with laughter. Their bodies folded in two, tears streaming down their cheeks, they”re literally laughing at my face.

That”s great!

“Don”t count on him,” Manille adds, catching her breath. “He can”t keep a secret, and he adores Mr. Thomas too much. He wouldn”t engage in dishonesty to cover for you.”

“Great.” I muttered under my breath.

I collapse onto the sofa and press a cushion against my face to let out a muffled but liberating scream. I can already imagine how superior Corentin will appear when he sees me alone at the ceremony, and it irritates me even more.

I get up to collapse on the sofa, making way for the girls.

“Have you spotted anyone interesting on the site?”

I pull the cushion away from my face and turn to Manille, now seated in my office chair.

“No. All the men who could potentially be suitable are not available.”

They shift their eyes back to the screen, and a smile graces their lips, tinted with fuchsia for Manille and glossy for Charlotte.

“This one isn”t bad, what do you think? Plus, he”s free tonight.”

Intrigued, I stand up and walk around my desk to join Manille. Sitting on her lap, I lean my head to the side as I scrutinize the person in question, with slightly furrowed eyebrows forming a crease on my forehead. I gaze at this man who, despite a pleasant face, comes with a price clearly above what I can afford. Okay, I want to shut Corentin up, but there”s no need to bankrupt myself for it.

“Did you see how much he costs for an evening? I hope at this price, he”ll take me for a carriage ride and introduce me to Henry Cavill so I have a memorable night getting laid.”

“Are you sure your Henry Cavill is as good as you think?” Manille dares to say.

I narrow my eyes at her, conveying my disapproval without a word. Don”t mess with Super Cavill.

“Of course, but that”s not the point. I don”t want to be difficult, but I think it”s a bit high, two hundred and fifty euros.”

“Maybe it”s a luxury escort,” Charlotte suggests with a shrug.

“Well, the luxury escort can scratch himself, Florence won”t give him any money.”

I nod.

“Flo, I”d like to understand why and especially how you got yourself into this situation. I mean, Corentin knows you”re single.”

“It”s clear,” adds Manille. “It doesn”t make sense.”

I sigh heavily, then tell them the whole story in detail. I see several expressions pass through their brown eyes as I explain how hurt I was by our neighbor”s crude words. Dread, anger, then reflection and understanding. All these feelings collide freely within them.

“I feel like he was making fun of me, as if, in his eyes, I would be unable to date someone because I”m unattractive or something.”

“My Flo,” Charlotte whispers, walking over to me and giving me a hug.

“I hear you, but I”m sure that”s not what he meant.”

My eyebrows dart in the direction of Manille. “Yet that”s what he did.”

Manille makes a little pout, while Charlotte strokes my hair.

“To be sure, truth isn”t an option?”

I shake my head, and the pointed stare I make at her makes her understand I won”t change my mind. I”m well aware Corentin will mock me for weeks, assuming I”m fortunate. He”ll cling to this tale, daily reminding me of the foolish notion I could deceive him so effortlessly.

“There”s got to be someone you know who”s free tonight. It can”t be only Corentin in your life, can it? Manille, can”t you call your brother to the rescue? Teddy could play pretend boyfriend for an evening.”

Manille is about to answer when a face appears before my closed eyes.

“Lucas!”

Why didn”t I think of him sooner!

“Who is it?”

With a burst of energy, I leap to my feet and swiftly gather my belongings, leaving my friends stunned by my sudden burst of activity.

“But Florence, where are you going?”

“Find Lucas! I”ll explain everything later. Thank you so much!”

With these words, I place tender kisses on their cheeks and quickly escape the building. My footsteps echo on the damp cobblestones of Parisian streets, enveloping me in the city”s unique atmosphere. The subdued lights of the streetlamps dance with the reflections of the puddles, the sound of the city in the background, an urban melody remaining continuous.

Moments later, panting, I reach the gym. I push open the door with determination and enter, greeted by the familiar smell of sweat. The sounds of clattering weights and moving treadmills echo in the air.

My breathing gradually calms down, synchronizing its rhythm with the dynamic atmosphere here. I immediately search for my coach, who is currently engaged in a conversation. My legs bring me to him on their own as I gnaw my bottom lip, unsure of what to say.

I reach his height and swing from one foot to the other, waiting for him to finish with his customer. He turns around and is startled to see me standing straight as an ”Hi!” right behind him.

“Florence, you scared the hell out of me,” he exclaims under his breath.

I set my irises against the ocean blue of his and fidget with my fingers, embarrassed.

“I”m sorry it wasn”t deliberate,” I stammer, uncomfortably.

His warm smile makes me feel good, but it”s not enough to relieve my stress. Sweat beads down my back as my heart races.

“I wasn”t expecting to see you, that”s all. So to what do I owe the pleasure? Don”t tell me you plan to exercise in that outfit? I”ve got nothing against it, mind you, but I doubt it”s practical or comfortable.”

I glance down at my clothes. Dressed in an oversized black sweater tucked into skinny jeans and stilettos to complete the ensemble, I have to admit when it comes to sports, it”s going to be complicated. His joke at least has the merit of lightening the mood, but not enough to put my neurons back in place. Not wanting to appear too suspicious, I come up with the first excuse that comes along.

“I lost a necklace and came to see if it was here.”

One more lie! Well done, Florence!

Lucas, looking apologetic, scratches the back of his head and thinks for a second.

“I”ll ask the cleaning crew tomorrow, but they haven”t reported anything. What”s the situation?” Lucas”s concern makes me feel even guiltier.

Crap!What am I supposed to do now? I can”t keep deceiving all the men I know!

“Silver—with a butterfly but maybe it”s at my place since I”m so absent-minded. Anyway since I”m here?—”

With my head down, I”m aware I have to take the plunge, but my mouth remains shut. I thought my determination would be enough, but it”s not. I can”t utter a word, too anxious, and the pain in my stomach makes it even harder.

“Since you”re here?”

I know he”s asking me to continue, but I”m stumped. I can”t concentrate or string together a sentence with a verb, subject and complement. Defeated, I choose the escape option.

“I”ll be off. Have a nice evening.”

I turn to leave, but Lucas holds me by the arm. At a glance, I can see he”s even more embarrassed than I am, which raises a lot of questions.

“Um—I was wondering if you”d be available for dinner and a chat?” he blurts out.

My eyes widen in surprise. Was I expecting this? This is my chance! I couldn”t have dreamed of anything better. Gathering my courage, I take advantage of the opportunity he gives me.

“I”m free tonight if you want?”

A radiant smile spreads across Lucas”s face as he nods.

“You can pick me up at eight o”clock sharp, and be on time,” I added with a mischievous air, happy to get out of it.

“All right! You”re catching me off guard, but I”m going to free myself. All I need is your address.”

I retrieve a piece of paper from my handbag, along with my lucky pen. I scribble down my contact details and happily give them to him.

“See you tonight, Lucas, and don”t be late!” I exclaim, much lighter now.

“Noted, ma”am, you can count on me!”

I send him another, hopefully charming, smile and skip away.

Take that, Corentin!