The Pianist

A Night Out

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"—so I told her, ma chère, if that is how you're going to be then you better have the mime makeup ready." Jennie said.

The other girls erupted into raucous laughter around the table.

"No, you really said that to her?" Rosé clasped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.

Jennie nodded, grinning devilishly and taking a sip of her champagne.

"Hey Y/N, are you even listening?" Lisa asked playfully, elbowing you in the side.

You startled, blinking to regain your bearings. "Sorry?"

That's right, you were currently seated in the Café de Flore, on a night out with the girls, drinking and catching up.

Supposedly.

Jennie rolled her eyes with a grin. "Ok, what happened? You've been completely out of it all night."

"No I haven't." You said defensively, already seeing the futility in pretending otherwise.

"Sure, and I didn't have to stop you from almost drinking out of the salt-shaker, four times." Lisa said pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed. Well, seemed like you were caught.

The truth was, your head was filled with dozens of conflicting emotions about the enigmatic young Professor. But you weren't about to admit that, or that the piano player in the corner had reminded you of him.

The girls were staring at you intently, matching barely-suppressed grins on their faces.

"So, what's occupying your thoughts? Or rather, who?" Lisa asked, resting her head atop her knuckles and grinning as she perused you intently.

You squirmed. "Nothing! No one! Really, I'm just...tired from all the excitement today."

Lisa shook her head. "You're lying. I can always tell when someone is lying. Everyone has a certain tell, tu comprends?"

You laughed nervously, taking a sip of your wine.

Actually, on second thought, the wine wouldn't help.

You put down the glass.

Jennie leaned over, raising her eyebrows with a mischievous grin. "Is it a man?"

You twitched. "No, it—"

"—It IS a man!" Jennie gasped.

"No it is not!" You protested heatedly, feeling your cheeks burn.

Merde.

"Ton visage est rouge." Rosé whispered to you from your other side. Your face is red.

You sighed. "Yes, thank you Rosé, I know."

"So? What's he like?"

"Is he in your class?"

"When can we meet him?"

The questions flowed in unceasingly from all sides, making your head spin. You could already feel a headache coming on.

"Ok! STOP."

You slammed your hands down on the hardwood table, making the drinks shiver. The girls stared silently at you, while the gentle wash of surrounding conversations in the busy café slowly soothed you. You sighed.

"Listen, no, I am not an item with anybody, there is no one to meet, and I have nothing to tell."

The others' protests filled the air, while you decided, yes, the wine was looking more attractive by the minute, and drained the remainder of the blood-red liquid in your glass in seconds flat.