𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 | 𝙅𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙨

13: and if I had the chance, I'd never let you go

It was late when we got most of it done, and Mrs. Descamps even offered me to have dinner there. I declined her as politely as I could, though.

I couldn't, not when there was that awkward... incident.

As I biked in the night, the scene replayed in my head. The music, the atmosphere, the warmth of his hand on my cheek... My face burns up again, and I'm kind of happy that we didn't actually get to kiss.

That would've been too awkward.

I park my bike inside the shed, entering through the back door. The wind hits against my skin, but god, I was as far away from freezing as possible.

I walk in the backdoor, trying to bite down the urge to smile at the afternoon that had just unfolded before my eyes. Oh my God, I am being so cheesy...

"Madeline, there you are," Papa's voice beams and I look up with a smile, going over to hug him. "Hi Papa," I murmur, pressing a kiss onto his cheek. "How was work?"

He looks up at me and sighs, acting like he always does after a long day at work. I chuckle and stick my head in the kitchen to see Maman making some type of soup. She's also running some television drama in the background, so I let her be.

Picking up some plates and appropriate cutlery for our dinner, I start to set the table as Papa lights a cigar on. He looks over at me again, and suddenly, his eyes squint as if he was analyzing me.

"I've been told by your mother that you were over at the Descamps's house after school today," He drawls out, and I nod. I know Papa always had some type of disdain for Joseph, but he's never openly shown it in front of me. "How are you feeling about the new co-ed classes? Do I need to take a talk with the teachers and let you change partners?"

I shake my head, a slight feeling of suspicion washing over me. He was the one who decided to let me go to lycée Voltaire, instead of my original plan of attending the all-girls Catholic boarding school. "No, I thinks it's been great,"

Papa purses his lips, and I can see his jaw clenching in deep thought as he takes a drag of the cigar.

"Make sure not to get too close to the boys," He suddenly warns, looking at me with utmost seriousness. "You never know what they really want, and you're starting to suspiciously smell a lot like male cologne."

Was he really accusing me of something? Maman must've been eavesdropping, because she comes out of the kitchen, still in her apron, and sticks her nose in my neck. "Now that you've mentioned it Jacques, our daughter does smell of cologne and cigarettes..."

I roll my eyes at my parents, crossing my arms. "No Maman, it must've been like... The wind or something. You know I can't stand the smell of cigarettes," I hissed, lying about the cigarette smell thing. If I did, I would've never survived in France.

Papa chuckles as if he didn't believe what I was saying, slapping his thigh at the same time. "Madeline, only prostitutes smell like smoke and cologne,"

Mamans eyes widen, as if she had just realized that. She stares at me, analyzing my clothes and makeup as if she could tell if I was on the way of becoming a prostitute by how my hair sat. When she doesn't find anything, she backs off slightly.

"I won't have my daughter be some prostitute." She says sharply, pointing her ladle at me threateningly. "Smoking is bad, but you know what's worse? Losing your purity." She chides, and I roll my eyes at her words.

God, it was only 18:30. There was no reason for them both to be so cautious, and yet, here they are.

I start taking small steps backwards, making my way up my room. "I don't even know why you guys reacting like this, I'm seventeen! I can take care of myself," I mutter angrily, stomping up the stairs. I hear Maman faintly yelling about dinner and all, but I shut my door and sigh.