“Anything for you, Celine,” he murmured. His lashes fluttered then, and he met her stare.
“Really?” she teased. “Anything?”
“Within reason,” he added. “I would never agree to wearing yellow for you,never, except for a ribbon maybe, but I wouldn’t object to your other, tamer requests.”
“Mon Dieu, you and your nonsense.” They were still swaying slowly, even as the music coming from below hadpicked up the pace, content to remain in that haze of lazy smiles. Celine bit down on her lip. “You like me that much, huh?”
“I don’t kiss people I don’t like,” Bastien said.
“Yes, but you do kiss a lot of people. Like Jeanne…” she trailed off. Bastien inclined his head at her level, nudging her neck with the tip of his nose. “…and Elana,” Celine continued, suddenly finding it difficult to string three words together.
“I don’t feel half the things about Elana that I feel about you, Celine.”
They were standing close enough for her to feel his heartbeat like a ticking clock between them. It was racing wildly. Hers was doing the same tricks in her chest, thumping at a clamorous staccato.
“And what is it that you feel about me?”
Celine looked at him under the flashing neon lights of the cabarets all around them. They reflected in his eyes like colourful fireworks, stark against the night sky. Bewitched, she leaned closer, lips only a few inches from grazing his.
“Bas?” she prompted.
He only said, “Don’t do this, Cel,” and looked away.
“Do what?”
“I want you, you want me. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”
Celine reared back, cutting him an icy glare. “No, it’s not okay.”
“Celine—” He extended his arm. “Come on.”
“No, there’s nocome on.” Her face contorted into a pained expression. “I just left a whole party back there,” she bellowed. “A party, mind you, that my mother spent months terrorising employees over it.” Suddenly, she clutched at the sides of her head as though the realisation had just settled in. “I just leftJacquesso that I could come here. With you.”
How could Bastien take the matter this lightly?
“And?” he put forth.
“And?” she echoed, bewildered.
He lifted his hand as though he might reach for her, then thought better when he noted the anger in the scrunch of her brows. His hand dropped. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You know,” Celine huffed a sort of manic chuckle, “I was considering telling Jacques no, mainly because I couldn’t fathom us being happy in a marriage where everything is one-sided. But now, to disappoint everyone? And for what, yet another one-sided love?” She broke off before he could detect the crack in her voice. “I don’t even know why I came here.”
“You don’t love him,” Bastien stated. “That’s why you came.”
“He lovesme,” Celine returned obstinately. “And I was just about to fall for him, too, when you ruined everything.”
“You were the one who asked me to kiss you, Celine. Not the other way around.”
“So what? Maybe I had a stroke that day and got it in my head to kiss you. You think I wanted to ruin my relationship because I couldn’t stop thinking about you?”
She was shouting now; louder than the music from below; louder than the roar from the street; louder than Celine should be shouting such confessions. But she desperately wanted to urge a confession out of him too, even an angry one, as long as he said the words.
Bastien drew closer, utterly unaffected by her anger. “You couldn’t stop thinking about me?”
That’s what he was focusing on!
“Do not smile at me like that,” Celine warned.
