Anaïs pushed off the window sill and shuffled over to the dresser. Silently, she began rummaging through the clothes until she found what she was looking for: two sets of silk pyjamas, and tossed them on the bed.
“I was going to stay out regardless,” she said plainly. “Might as well sleep over.”
Celine’s bleary eyes lightened at that; a smile broke across her lips. She had missed talking to Anaïs. But between the challenges at Maison Baudelaire, and designing at the abandoned house, and meeting with Jacques, and going shopping with her mother, she hadn’t been able to spare a fifth of herself to her friend.
They turned the lights off, except for one Tiffany lamp beside the bed which remained on. Pink and green geometric patterns floated along the ceiling as they pushed off the extra pillows Celine kept on the bed and slid under the thin covers.
Celine told her everything that had happened after Anaïs had left her alone at Folies-Bergère that night, two months ago, holding her breath every time Anaïs just stared at her without responding. But then her friend would smack her arm, feigning hurt that Celine hadn’t told her any of this before, even though the thought of knowing in detail what her brothers did behind closed doors made her violently gag several times.
“I can’t believe he took you to Adalene’s studio,” Anaïs said at last. “That’s like sacred ground to him.”
Her hair spilled across the pillow like silk ribbons. Celine took a strand and twirled it around her finger, considering this bit of information.
“Have you ever seen it?”
Anaïs clicked her tongue.No. “I begged him once. He wouldn’t even talk to me about it. Pépé has asked him to sell it numerous times, but he never considered it.”
“He wants to reopen it now,” Celine said. “I still cannot believe it. I don’t think he knows what it means to me.”
“You sound excited about it,” Anaïs pointed out. She hoisted herself on her elbows and hovered over Celine. “Drunk-excited.”
Celine stuck her tongue out at her, pushing her friend away. “I can’t not be excited. I only ever entered Monsieur Baudelaire’s contest so that I could have my own fashion house. I never thought I could achieve something like that by myself—socialites aren’t supposed to work. And now Bastien is offering all of this…”
Anaïs hummed. “It sounds like you are more excited about Bastien.”
In the semi-darkness of the room, Celine felt a sudden warmth creep up her cheeks. She wanted to hide her face in her pillow. But Anaïs had already seen it, because a teasing smile pulled at her lips.
“It’s not that,” Celine protested. “You know I have always wanted to be a fashion designer.”
”Yes, but now you want to be a fashion designerwithBastien.”
“You are such a menace.” Celine turned around. “I’m done telling you things.Bonne nuit.”
She heard Anaïs snicker behind her and turn off the lamp. Even so, patterns continued to play across the ceiling. Outside, the city was sleepless, with neon lights flashing far off in the distance and motorcars honking at each other. One of them, she thought, was probably Bastien’s convertible, as he rushed off to the Gaîté to meet Elana.
Frustrated, Celine kicked off the covers. Good for him that he could continue his fun all night long. There was no reason forher to be bothered by that. He was known for that sort of thing, wasn’t he? All this time Celine had known and she hadn’t cared. Why did she have to care now? He could do whatever he wanted, kiss whoever he wanted, sleep with whoever he wanted. It was none of her business.
She rolled onto her back, sighing.
He had kissedhertoo.
The fact made her heart race again. Quickly, Celine placed her palm over her chest, trying to contain the rattle it was causing within her ribcage.Shhhh, she wanted to chide.Couldn’t you have beaten like this for Jacques, you stupid thing?
Despite her attempts, the warm feeling only intensified, blossoming through her fingers against her will. She couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“Anaïs?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Mhm.”
When Celine glanced over, Anaïs’s eyes were closed. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, wondering briefly if it was a good idea to even think about what she was preparing to say, much less utter it aloud. Her heart threatened to explode if she didn’t speak.
“I think I'm in love with Bastien,” she announced without preamble.
Anaïs’s eyes snapped open—wide enough to unnerve Celine. Silently, she slid the pillow from under her head and pressed it to her face, releasing the faintest scream she could muster. Once she collected herself, she said, “How do you know? Maybe it's all the excitement about the studio. Maybe you are just confused.”
“Maybe,” Celine replied vacantly. “But it wasn’t like this with Jacques. What if I really fell in love with Bastien and didn’t realise it?”
Anaïs was hesitating. “It can happen.”
