Champagne Problems

T W O

It was Saturday morning, and the sun was already high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the sleepy town of Nice. In the midst of this picturesque scene, four young men were slowly stirring awake in a small shed at the back of Jérome's house. The shed wasn't just any old shed—it had been lovingly renovated by Jérome himself into a personal hangout spot, complete with mismatched furniture, posters of their favorite bands, and an assortment of musical instruments scattered around. This was where they spent most of their free time, a sanctuary where they could be themselves, away from the pressures of school, family, and everything else.

Jérome, Riley, Yves, and Levi had become inseparable since they had started their band, Divergent, a year ago. It had all begun when Riley and Levi immigrated from Sydney to Nice, bringing with them a love for music that matched that of Jérome and Yves. The bond they formed through their shared passion was instantaneous, and Divergent quickly became the center of their lives.

That morning, the shed was filled with the soft sounds of breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets as the boys slowly woke up from their sleepover. Riley was the first to stir, rolling off his now-deflated inflatable bed with a groan. He rubbed his eyes and looked around at his sleeping friends. Yves was snoring lightly in a corner, his bass guitar still leaning against the wall next to him, and Levi was sprawled out on the bed, his face half-buried in a pillow. Jérome, the last to wake up, was already reaching for his phone, checking for messages.

The shed smelled faintly of sweat, stale beer, and something else—perhaps the remnants of the grilled cheese sandwiches they had devoured late last night. They had spent most of the night jamming, drinking, and talking about anything and everything, from music to life to their plans for the future. It was one of those nights where nothing seemed to matter except the music and the friendship that had brought them together.

Jérome's mother, always attuned to the needs of her son and his friends, entered the shed with a cheerful "Bonjour!" She was carrying a plate filled with 'croque monsieurs,' a French twist on the classic grilled cheese sandwich, and the boys, even in their groggy state, immediately perked up at the sight.

"I made you some breakfast," she announced, setting the plate down on the table with a warm smile. She took a moment to look around at the sleepy faces of the boys, her heart swelling with affection. Seeing Jérome and his friends enjoying themselves always brought back memories of her own youth, of nights spent with friends in much the same way.

"Merci, maman," Jérome said, flashing her a grin as he reached for one of the sandwiches. His mother smiled back at him, then turned and left the shed, the same smile still on her face.

Riley, his stomach growling, stumbled over to the table and grabbed a sandwich as well. "Jérome," he said between bites, "what were you talking about last night when you were absolutely wasted?"

Jérome paused mid-bite, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

"Come on, you were going on about some German student," Riley pressed, clearly intrigued.

Jérome's grin widened as he remembered. "Oh, that," he said, unable to suppress a smirk. "I was out in Monaco the other day, and I met this Belgian student. The next morning, I woke up lying next to her in that bed," he explained, pointing casually to the bed where Levi had slept the night before.

Levi, who had just taken a bite of his sandwich, looked up with a serious expression. "You better have changed the sheets," he said, his tone only half-joking.

Jérome laughed. "My mom hasn't been in here for a week until today," he replied with a grin, knowing full well that he never changed the sheets himself. It was just another one of those things his mother still did for him.