He did? “You did?”
“Oh, I want to see!” Dani was like a kid sometimes.
Jean-Luc took his phone out of his pocket and scrolled to the photo, then handed it to Craig. It went all the way around the table before I got to see it. It was actually a nice photo of me. I looked at Jean-Luc over the top of the phone. “You like it?” he asked.
“I do, yes.”
“I will put it on Facebook?” I’d seen his Facebook feed. He hardly ever went on Facebook and now he was going to post a photo of me to it.
“Uh, sure.” He smiled.
“And, there is one more thing,” he said to the table, taking the phone from me. “Catherine, she is quite the singer.” He was scrolling on his phone again and I frowned at him.
“You didn’t.”
“But, yes, I did.” He tapped the phone, then laid it in the middle of the table. My terrible singing erupted from the phone and everyone leant in to watch the video. My frown was met with a grin, and when I looked around the table the expressions ranged from amused—Jaelee and Craig—to outright delighted—Dani and Lou. When I took a bow on the screen—how had I missed that he was filming me?—Lou clapped.
Jean-Luc took his phone off the table and pocketed it. He reached around my shoulders and pulled me towards him so he could kiss the top of my head.
Like a boyfriend would.
Just friends. Madly in lust. Do not let him fall in love with you.
At my next thought, however, the wurst hardened into a knot in my stomach.
Whatever this is, I want it. Want, want, want.
***
“So, are you coming?” Lou pressed. She and the others had invited us to the chalet for a party—a “what were you doing when the cops knocked on the door?” party.
“But what does that even mean?” I asked.
Jaelee butted in. “Exactly what it says. That’s how you dress. Say the cops are knocking on your door—what are you doing at that exact moment? And you wear that.”
“I think it’s clever,” added Dani.
“Yeah, it’s so we can dress up from whatever we have in our suitcases,” said Lou. The three of them were fully drinking the Kool-Aid.
I looked at Jean-Luc. “Do you want to go?”
He shrugged, smiling. “Sure. We have drink, some dancing, oui? Sounds fun.”
What sounded fun to me was going back to our apartment, cracking open the third bottle of wine and giving the bathtub another go. I looked at the expectant pairs of eyes. Even Craig was ganging up on me.
“Sure,” I said, resigned.
“Geez, don’t go out of your way to hang out with us or anything,” said Jaelee. It was a little snarky, but maybe I was being selfish wanting to spend the rest of the evening with Jean-Luc, just the two of us.
He and I returned to our apartment, promising to meet Lou in the chalet’s lobby before going to the party. It was being held in the basement and I wondered if that was a Ventureseek thing, the subterranean dance parties.
Jean-Luc and I couldn’t walk through town in just our costumes. We donned enough clothing to be appropriate and when we got to the chalet, Lou took us up to the room she was sharing with Jaelee, Dani, and three others, so could we put the finishing touches on our costumes.
And by “finishing touches” I mean we took off some of what we’d worn to traverse the town.
What we were doing when the cops knocked on the door was making love. I was wearing one of Jean-Luc’s dress shirts and nothing else and he was wearing jeans and nothing else. Undressed in our costumes, we needed to make a couple of tweaks before we were ready—I mussed up my hair, planted some lipstick kisses all over Jean-Luc’s face, then smeared my own lipstick.
“Wow. You guys look hot!” said Lou.
“Thanks, Lou. You too.” She was half-dressed, and she’d taken it literally. One half of her was dressed, and the other half was in a bra and undies. It was an impressive feat of engineering, and at least I wasn’t the only woman showing some flesh.
We met the others in the lobby. Dani was dressed all in black—black leggings, black turtleneck T-shirt and black ballet flats. “I’m a cat burglar,” she said. Cop out, I thought. Jaelee, in a shocking lack of vanity, had rollers in her hair—she brought rollers?—and some sort of goopy green mask on her face, and she was wearing pyjamas. I applauded her creativity and her willingness to look so ordinary—definitely off-brand for her.
Craig was in drag. “Oh, my God, you look amazing!” I laughed.
“Dani and Jaelee helped with the makeup, and Louise with the outfit.”
“Amazing,” I said again, genuinely in shock. At eighteen, I would have been far too self-conscious to wear something that outrageous. I just adored our baby bro. When we got to the bar downstairs, the Kiwi boys were also in drag. I gave Jason a hug. “You look great,” I said over the music. “You’re a very pretty guy!”
He shook his head. “Stop it.”
“No, really!”
“Really?” He genuinely seemed to care.
“Yes! You look great!” He beamed. I waved to the other guys and gave them the thumbs up. Lachie looked me up and down and gave me one in return. I was fine with that; I knew I looked good.
“Drink?” asked Jean-Luc in my ear.
“Yes, please!” He kissed my neck and I nuzzled against his lips. When I watched him walk to the bar, I saw many sets of eyes following him. The tour’s ratio of women-to-men was not in our favour, and Jean-Luc wearing only jeans was a sight to behold. I was looking forward to beholding him all over our apartment later.
“So, things are going well with Jean-Luc?” asked Lou.
“Yes. It’s been lovely.”
She looked at me, dubious. “Lovely?”
“Fine. It’s screaming bloody hot. Oh, my God, Lou, it’s the best sex I’ve ever had!”
She held up a hand, wanting a high-five. I gave her one. “I’m living vicariously through you, you know.”
“That’s what Jaelee said at dinner,” I replied, laughing. “No pressure.”
She smiled at me. “I’m gonna go dance, okay?”
“I’ll see you out there in a little bit.”
I looked out over the venue. It was dimly lit, but much bigger than the converted wine cellar under the château. There was a mirror ball—of course there was—and a DJ, who was playing a decent mix of noughties dance music.
With the energy in the room—the music, the costumes, my friends—I was already glad we were there. I saw Jean-Luc heading back to me from the bar, two tumblers in hand.
“Vodka tonic,” he said into my ear.
“Great, thank you.” We clinked our glasses against each other and I took a sip.
“You look magnifique, Catherine,” he said, his breath warm on my ear. I wondered if we were going to last long at the party. “Very sexy.”
I threw him a coy look and shook my mussed-up hair. “Even with my bed hair?”
“I think especially with your bed hair.”
“You look pretty damned hot yourself, Monsieur Caron.” I lifted my chin to him and pursed my lips. He rewarded me with a kiss.
“We could finish these and go back to the apartment,” I said.