TEMPTRESS

XXVII.

ANGÈLE JOSÉPHINE MONET LAURENT CHASTIN - PARIS, FRANCE 1968

Angele rested in her Parisian apartment, six days after arriving, she sat down on her couch observing the apartment. She knew Julien had been in here while she was away. She could tell by the scent of the room that screamed Julien, the recent vinyl on the record player and the way Julien would shift the seats in the living room when he'd be cleaning his cameras. All she could feel was numb, she wanted to be with Julien, in his arms at the moment. You miss someone more upon realizing you might've lost them, she pondered. Though, she felt as if being in Toulouse brought a side of her she did not like, she missed it. Suddenly, the Parisian apartment felt lonely and cold. She missed being surrounded by people and the feeling of love from her brothers. She even missed Ethan, who was currently residing with Adrien.

Ethan and Alexandre had slowly begun to patch things up. After the fight, Alexandre and Ethan began talking about what had happened and the reasons as to why the Chastin's would do such things. Ethan decided to stay with Alexandre allowing them to slowly step over the hurdle of what would be their first roadblock in building their relationship. Angele, on the other hand, was worried Julien would leave her for good. She couldn't bare the thought of it.

Sitting around the apartment was beginning to drive her crazy. She didn't know what to do, except either cry with whatever tears she had left or leave the house. She chose the latter. She simply decided dwelling in the house would do her no good, rather she should get up and clear her head in order to feel refreshed. Actually, that advice came from her older brother. She hadn't even spoken to Alexandre ever since she told him she hated him. She didn't she knew her, and her brother had a vastly different childhood from others one where they didn't know what was appropriate and what wasn't: their relationship was one of those things.

She felt like getting dolled up and looking like a princess. She dressed herself into a white silk slip dress that carefully hugged her features. She allowed her blonde hair to freely fall over her shoulders. Angele stared at herself in the mirror as she lapped red lipstick over her pink lips. She loved the idea of feeling pretty and the thought of making a first impression through beauty. She wished Julien was there to kiss her down her neck, shower her with compliments and make her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

Angele sat down at a cafe on the corner of La Méditerranée, people-watching. She ran her hands through her hair, arranging it in the process. She could already feel the eyes of the male gaze resting on top of her ethereal figure. She simply ignored it. That wasn't enough for her. She didn't want those looks, she only wanted one person to look at her. "Can I take your order?" A brunette waitress appeared with a writing pad and pen at hand.

"Oui, merci." Angele cleared her throat. "Could I get a bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild?" She ordered the most expensive wine in the menu.

The waitress, on the other hand, did not bat an eye. She knew the type of customers who walked in here were not poor and did not care to show off their wealth. What she was most concerned about was how was this dainty, brown-eyed girl was going to finish a whole bottle of red wine by herself. Angele looked across the table spotting a used newspaper, she grabbed a hold of it and read through the pages, the cover discussing the current world politics: Egypt attacks Israel. At the moment, she couldn't care less about what was going on in the world. Her sole focus was what was going on in her life, funny how first world problems work.