Chapter 15
Lucas pushesthe door of the small Italian restaurant nestled in a quiet alley in Paris. The stone walls are adorned with pictures of Venice and Florence, reminding of the origin of this place. Dark wooden tables are covered with red and white checkered tablecloths, creating a rustic and welcoming atmosphere. Candles flicker gently on each table, casting a dim light adding a romantic touch to the place. The cheerful voices and discreet laughter of the guests blend into a sweet symphony, creating a friendly and lively ambiance. A delightful smell envelops me. The scents of fresh basil, ripe tomatoes, and melting cheese mingle in the air, creating an enchanting fragrance tickling my nostrils. It”s as if Italy has been captured in a bottle and released in this little corner of Paris.
Lucas chooses a table by the window, offering a charming view of the cobbled street outside. I peruse the menu with interest, the descriptions of the dishes so tantalizing, I”m almost salivating with anticipation. I finally order a seafood pasta dish, accompanied by a rich, generous sauce. After the waiter has taken our orders, I struggle to concentrate on the man in front of me. I try to immerse myself in the conversation with Lucas, but my responses are automatic, as if I were physically present but not mentally. My mind is focused on Corentin and the unexpected kiss.
The truth is, I can”t decide what bothers me most about this story. The kiss or his reaction right afterwards? Nor do I understand why my body is reacting like this to this man. We”ve already crossed certain boundaries. Last Friday was a mistake, an incident not to be replicated. In fact, I”m relieved the subject hasn”t come up. As far as I”m concerned, it was a weakness brought on by alcohol and the excitement of élise”s news.
Is this true?
I don”t know, and I don”t want to know. But there was no alcohol, at least not enough to impair our control over our movements. Our bodies and minds behaved like ancient lovers. He instinctively knew how and where to touch me. My body responded accordingly. I wonder what would have happened if Lucas hadn”t intervened.
Speaking of him, I should be happy to finally have a date and chat with a man other than my friend, but I”m not. My attention is entirely on the lawyer. Once again, he”s the only man who can take control of my soul. He disturbs me to the core, upsetting everything in his path. I should be thrilled to spend time with Lucas. He”s everything I should dream of: smiling, kind, warm. With him, there”s no point in asking questions.
The opposite of Corentin! He”s an unsociable man who shows no emotion and rarely displays a smile. The choice should be obvious, but it”s not. My neighbor isn”t easy to get along with, yet he”s the one who understands me best. So why did he act as if this moment were insignificant? As if I were a toy to be used before being discarded like a rag.
The memory of his lips on mine haunts me, and I wonder how we ever got here. Him, the charming lawyer who rarely smiles, and me, the Florence who panics about everything. We”re friends, and what we shared should not have happened. Our relationship isn”t characterized by such events, none of this is like us!
How did we get here?
You simply succumbed to the passion burning between you, my conscience whispers insidiously.
It pains me to admit it, but it”s true. Since our unexpected yet intense connection at the bar, there has been a shift. I believed ignoring the tension between us would be the optimal solution. I didn”t foresee it progressing to this point, with him kissing me and me reciprocating.
And what a kiss it was.
I got angry because I felt like an idiot. This exchange disturbed me, and he proceeded as if nothing had happened. It didn”t matter to him, even though he gave me the best kiss of my life. That”s what I thought before I left, but the anger dissipated on the way to the restaurant, and now I don”t know what to think. I”m completely confused.
And what did he want to tell me before I left? Why the glint of sadness in his eyes?
I run my tongue over my lips, as if I can feel his mouth again. His tongue dancing with mine in a fiery waltz. An electric shiver runs down my back, and a sweet wetness emanates from my lower abdomen at the thought of his firm hands on my buttocks. I shouldn”t, but I”d love to feel the warmth and firmness of his body against mine again. His hands caressing me and holding me close.
I”m startled back to reality when the waiter brings our food. As I”m about to dive into my plate, Lucas”s words hit me like a thunderclap.
“Wedding.”
I”m so taken aback, I can”t move, and it takes me a few seconds to refocus. “I beg your pardon?”
“To propose marriage.”
My eyes widen in surprise.
“Lucas, you”re going to have to explain yourself because right now, I”m lost.”
Confusion and doubt seize me. I scrutinize Lucas” features, trying to understand what he means. My heart beats faster in my chest, and a dull anguish rises inside me. hope he”s not proposing to me. In addition to being crazy and hasty, it will be a definite no. I like him, it”s true, but not that much!
“I”d like to propose to my girlfriend.”
Relief washes over me as I realize what”s happening. A flicker of disappointment appears. My lips part to express my surprise and incomprehension.
“Are you in a relationship?”
But what”s wrong with me? Why do I have such bad luck with men? The first one is my neighbor, and the second one is in a relationship. I”ll always struggle to find someone, even for show.
“Yes, for five years,” Lucas responds with a wide smile.
I can”t hide my disappointment, despite my attempts to maintain an impassive expression. A strange sense of sadness fills me. This story, more an unfolding than a true narrative, concludes before it could even begin.
“I admit I didn”t expect this. I thought—What a fool!”
Lucas” lips curl into a sympathetic smile, his eyes reflecting understanding as he nods gently, comprehending where I”m coming from. I feel much more uncomfortable about this misunderstanding as he runs his hand through his hair.
“I like you, Florence. You”re a nice and attractive woman, but?—”
“Lucas, please. No need, it”s even more awkward.”
He tries to reassure me, but it only intensifies my embarrassment. In the end, I”m almost relieved he”s leaving for Angers, so I don”t have to dwell on this uncomfortable moment.
“Listen, I”m sorry for sending you the wrong signals. That”s not what I intended.”
Now I feel bad. He”s not at all responsible for the tumult of my overactive imagination. I thought he was hitting on me when he was being kind and friendly.
Pathetic!
“Don”t apologize. When you suggested we go out, I got the wrong idea, and it”s my fault. I think it”s best if I go home. Have a nice evening.”
I gather my belongings to search for a ticket and stand up, but Lucas intervenes.
“Please, Florence, don”t go. I need your help.”
The pleading tone of his voice intrigues me, and I sit down. Curious, I stare at him. What could possibly make him want to keep talking to me? I don”t see how I can help him, but I”m listening. I”m here to support him, even if I doubt I”m doing him any favors. Or even have the necessary skills.
“I”m listening.”
“You told me you were a wedding planner, didn”t you?”
Perplexed, I nod, encouraging him to continue.
“I would like to marry my girlfriend. I”d like to propose in an original and romantic way. The problem is, I don”t know anything about it, and since you”re a wedding planner, I thought you might be able to help me.”
I furrow my brows, surprised and intrigued by his request. Lucas scrutinizes me intently, waiting for a reaction from me. I”m so shocked I can”t react, or even speak. Contrary to popular belief, a wedding planner can also prepare a proposal and help to imagine and design this emotionally rich romantic moment. It”s not something I”ve seen often, but Cécile has done it before.
“I understand if, after tonight”s misunderstanding, you don”t feel like doing it. I don”t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way.”
Lucas smiles back at me, not noticing my turmoil or the sadness filling me, and opens the door to his car. Now, far from Corentin, a question comes to mind.
Did I make a mistake about the nature of our relationship?
“Yes,” I exclaimed hastily. “I accept Lucas.”
I”m surprised by my own reaction. Despite the embarrassment and confusion I felt, I find it intriguing how the idea of planning a marriage proposal appeals to me. And if he”s pleased with my assistance, it might open up other opportunities for me.
Even in this awkward situation, the business mindset kicks in. Maybe I”m not lucky in love, but at least I can help out a friend in need.
“On one condition,” I tease. “If she says yes, I want exclusive rights to plan your wedding.”
“Sold! I”ll leave you in charge.”
A smile spreads across my lips, mixing a hint of mischief with genuine enthusiasm. We shake hands and the rest of the meal is spent preparing Lucas”s proposal. I let him tell me all about how they met and the little things she likes. He informs me their first date took place here, at the same table where we are. A piece of information I take careful note of. I can”t say how my ego feels after what”s happened, but I”m happy with how it turned out.
I love my job, and I”m happy to know I”ll be able to continue doing it. Lucas asked for my help because he trusts me, boosting my ego and my good mood. The rest doesn”t matter anymore to me.
When we say goodbye after two hours, I”m as happy as I am sad. Because I”m going to go home and find everything I left behind. I walk through the door of my apartment, letting my feet drag on the floor as I collapse onto my bed. My face buries into the pillow, and memories of the kiss with Corentin overwhelm me. Not hard, considering it happened a few hours ago.
My lower abdomen ignites, and I sit up, panting. A stifling heat envelops me. I rush to the bathroom, locking the door before taking a shower. The water runs down my skin, but even in this moment, the sudden thrill of desire for my friend doesn”t fade. It”s a new sensation for me, intense and unsettling. I”ve experienced something like this for a man before. My only past relationship was rather bland, without real pleasure or attraction. We had our intimate moments, but nothing memorable. Honestly, I found neither pleasure nor allure in it. It was a mechanical experience, devoid of emotion, while he seemed to derive some pleasure from it, unlike me.
After our breakup, it took me some time to rediscover myself. My first solo attempt was awkward and embarrassing, as if the whole world could see me. It”s strange I”m more uncomfortable with my own intimacy than with a partner. The next times were as shy, but the fifth was different, marked by a certain confidence.
And damn, I liked it.
The next time as well, along with all the ones following. In addition to providing pleasure, it allowed me to reconnect with my body, to learn to discover it, understand it, know it. To know where to touch myself to intensify my excitement. Pleasure erased the embarrassment. The sounds I made overshadowed my fears and uncertainties about desire, and I discovered how to bring myself pleasure without encountering any discomfort. Climaxing wasn”t a consistent outcome, perhaps because it required not just the release of the body but also the release of my mind. It”s an encounter I seldom allow myself to embrace.
Tonight, my body demands, eager for exhilaration. A craving born of a man who is supposed to be forbidden to me but who still makes me feel intense sensations. Memories of Friday assail me. Corentin. Our dance. His lips on my neck. His hands on my skin. His body against mine. His erection against my buttocks.
I inhale sharply while letting my hands slide from my breasts to my hips. But what”s happening to me?
For long seconds, I remain still under the water, hoping my bubble bursts so I can regain control. My reason takes over. My conscience reprimands my lack of decency toward the lawyer, my neighbor, my friend.
I need to wash. Now. And put an end to these absurd thoughts.
If my reason and conscience decide to turn a deaf ear, then I”ll put an end to all this nonsense. I take the soap and clean my body, hoping all of this will wash away as the water glides over my skin. My nails rub my skin, the senses still on alert. They beg me to listen to them, to take their opinion into account, and to let them feel the desire devouring me. I place my hands on my breasts and gently massage them. I”m boiling, as if a fever had suddenly seized me. This fervent warmth makes my breath heavy.
I let myself slide into the bathtub, lying down as the water continues to flow. I”m aware it”s not the most environmentally friendly choice, but I need it to dispel these lascivious thoughts and to accompany me in what I”m about to do.
With my brain on pause, I let myself be guided by my sexual appetite. I”m alone in the apartment, nothing can disturb me or disrupt this moment. A sigh of pleasure escapes me as my hand descends along my belly and slips between my thighs. My index finger grazes my lips, then slips between them. It reaches my clitoris, and I sigh vigorously, all while caressing my chest with my free hand. It”s exactly what I needed, what my body demanded. With closed eyes, I visualize Corentin”s face. The touch of his large hands on me. My index finger circles around my clitoris before stimulating it.
“Corentin,” I breathe out, struggling.
I connect with my body, guide it, master it, and become the queen of my senses. I bite my lip as moisture accumulates between my thighs. I don”t seek penetration, contenting myself with caressing.
Images of Corentin haunt my mind, one in particular. I see two green eyes on me, undressing me with a gaze, pulling me close. The memory of his erection against my backside. The imagination of him watching me enjoy myself. Pressing his body against mine, encouraging me to quicken the movements.
Corentin. Why do you obsess me so much?
A moan escapes me, and I close my eyes.
I could think of Henry Cavill. At least with him, I wouldn”t feel guilty about experiencing pleasure. But no, it”s not Superman taking over, but the lawyer residing two floors above mine. I need release, to dispel all this tension consuming me. My finger speeds up the pace, stimulates me, makes me let go of all inhibitions blocking me. I feel the orgasm rising in the small of my back; I rub my clitoris faster. My hand tightens around my breast, my finger playing with my nipple. My feet tap against the bathtub wall, unable to stay still in the face of this fire igniting within me. I moan, my skin shivers intensely, desperately seeking contact. I need to be touched, to feel another skin against mine. My head brushes against the wall as I savor this ecstasy, the image of Corentin fading away.
Suddenly, there”s a knock on the door.
“Florence, are you almost finished? I need to brush my teeth.”
My heart skips a beat, and I sit up at the sound of Charlotte”s voice. I hadn”t heard them come back. After all, I was a bit in another world, masturbating while thinking about my friend.
“Damn,” I mutter as I sit up.
The water carries away the moment I experienced. The orgasm my friend unwittingly gave me gradually fades. Everything disappears down the bathtub drain. I turn off the water, wrap a towel around my body, still marked by what I”ve felt. I open the door, and Charlotte enters the room.
“This evening was amazing! Corentin is great, and his apartment is gorgeous,” Charlotte says with her toothbrush in her mouth.
I nod, and my attention is drawn to Lola at my feet. With my furry ball in my arms, we head to the bedroom so I can slip into a gray nightgown. Since the girls came back, I”ve avoided uttering a single word, afraid of revealing what I did while they were with the man who enchants me.
Come on, Florence, stop these thoughts.
This night is the complete opposite of what I imagined, and I have no idea how to deal with it. I go into the kitchen to get a glass of water, but no sooner have I left the room than I”m greeted by two pairs of brown eyes staring intently at me.
“Well, Florence? You”re not going to keep quiet, are you? Are you gonna see him again? What”s going on? I need my gossip to sleep in peace,” says Manille.
My roommate manages a smile. I take a seat on the sofa where they join me, all overexcited. They”re going to be disappointed. Like me, or so I think. My love life is a desert. At first, I didn”t mind, but I was hoping I”d finally get the chance to meet someone.
There”s Corentin.
Everyone except Corentin.
Lucas?” scoffs my sadistic conscience.
All right, then. Excluding those two, I”m hoping to meet someone with whom I can share a part of my heart. I tell them all about my date—well, what wasn”t an actual date. Charlotte expresses contriteness as she hugs me, while Manille finds the situation amusing. I”d almost like to join her, if I weren”t so tired of leading the same life as my dog.
“I can”t believe you agreed to help him. If it were me, I would have run for the hills,” Manille says.
“What can I say, business comes first,” I retort, shrugging.
“I can see that.”
“At least, this lie had some good consequences. It gave you the courage to talk to another man. Too bad he”s in a relationship, but it”s a good start. By the way, how did Corentin react? He seemed a bit distant, didn”t he, Manille?”
She shrugs and explains she was too engrossed in the movie to notice anything about our neighbor. Avoiding eye contact with my friends, I consider the situation carefully.
Should I tell them about the kiss?
Even with them being my friends, I prefer to omit certain details. I know them well; they might scream so loudly our neighbors would wake up. I don”t want to give them all the cards to imagine there”s something between us. I don”t want them to tease us or give us suggestive glances whenever they see us. Especially since I”m afraid. Afraid they might get mad at Corentin and decide to cut ties with him. He has started to open up to my friends a bit; it”s better to keep it this way.
“He was surprised to see Lucas. He definitely didn”t expect it,” I confide, vexed by this simple memory.
“Okay, I see,” Charlotte replies with a sly smile.
Has she understood what”s going on?
“Oh really?” I ask, perplexed.
“Kind of, but I wanted to know what your reaction was to his.”
“Are you playing the therapist?”
She bursts into laughter. “No, I want to know what you feel.”
I shrug. “I was hurt. I mean, I”m pretty and can be attractive, right?”
“Of course, you”re attractive, and it”s clear Corentin thinks the same. Maybe he finds you so great he sees you as unattainable for other men, even for him?”
I turn to the bookseller, skeptical. “I think he sees me more like a little sister.”
Because we kiss our sisters now?My conscience interjects. Do we masturbate thinking about our brothers?
Shut up!
“If you say so.”
My friend raises one eyebrow, doubtful, but eventually drops the subject, not trying to learn more. I let them tell me everything they watched. I listen discreetly but don”t participate in their exchange. Fatigue takes over, and I decide to get up despite their insistent gazes.
“Is everything okay? Manille asks. You seem distant.”
I nod. “I”m a bit tired. Nothing serious. I”m going to bed.”
I don”t give them time to reply and rush into my room. I collapse under the sheets, fatigue weighing on my shoulders. Suddenly, my phone starts vibrating. I pick it up, and my heart races seeing the lawyer”s name on the screen.
Corentin: I”m sorry about earlier. I hope your dinner went well.
I put the phone down, not knowing what to reply. Annoyance joins embarrassment. I”m still irritated about what happened, falling under the idiotic desires of my brain. But also, I refuse to talk to him now; the anger is still too strong.
As I drift into sleep, I can”t shake the memory of Corentin”s sad expression, his downturned lips and furrowed brow weighing heavily on my mind. Despite the grief squeezing my heart, urging me to reach for my phone and respond to him, I resist the impulse. This time, I can”t ignore my feelings and brush them aside. He hurt me, and even though he apologized, I need time alone to process everything.
After all, he”s the one who keeps telling me what I feel is valid, and I have to believe in it.