𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 ─────⋆⋅★𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩é𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘵

𝟎𝟐 | 𝐢 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝟒 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨

𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬

On the first day of Autumn, I found myself in a beautiful and strange city, surrounded by beautiful and strange people. I had been in Paris for a month, wandering through its streets, trying to find the rhythm of it.

I had come here to study English and French Romanticism at the Sorbonne, hoping for something profound, but Paris had other plans. 

Thankfully, my roommate, Elodie—or Ell, as she insisted I call her—took me in like a lost kitten. 

She was one of those girls who lived fast, with sharp movements and an even sharper wit. She made everything seem so easy. From lugging my three oversized suitcases up to our eighth-floor walk-up to opening a bottle of wine with just a flick of her wrist. 

By the end of that first night, we'd sprawled across her sofa, passing a cigarette back and forth, our laughter spilling out into the streets below.

That morning, we spent hours over espresso and Vogue cigarettes at a small brasserie in the eleventh arrondissement. Ell talked fast, eyes flashing, always onto the next thing. She leaned across the table, a smirk curling her lips. "We're near Adéle's studio." Like it was an accident. It wasn't. Nothing with her ever was.

I didn't know it then, but I was about to see the face of the man who would change my life. But then, you never do, do you?

As we walked, I could feel the pulse of the city beneath my feet. The buildings crowded in on us, leaning down like old lovers, whispering secrets.

 When we reached Adéle's studio, the door was flung open, and a girl with a blue pixie cut and paint-splattered clothes was wiping her hands on her jeans. Her smile was wide and wild, as if she was in on some joke the rest of us hadn't heard yet.

"Ell!" she shouted, pulling her into a tight embrace, paint smearing on her jacket. "And you must be Cara." She turned to me, her eyes glittering with a frenetic energy. "God, it's such a mess in here. I'm Adéle. Welcome to my chaos."

Before I could reply, she hugged me too, her thin frame almost vibrating with life. 

The sunlight spilled in through the studio's high windows, making everything seem golden, dust dancing in the air. The canvases scattered around the room screamed for attention, half-finished, like they had more to say if only she'd give them time.

"This place is beautiful," I whispered, my eyes soaking it in. Too much to see at once. What a waste that eyes can only see.

Adéle turned to me, her gaze lingering. "Cara is such a pretty name," she said, setting an ashtray and a French press filled with black coffee on the table, along with her cigarettes and lighter.

"Thank you." Compliments always made me feel awkward.

As we settled in, my eyes fell on an open sketchpad left on the table. A sketch of a young man stared back at me, his cheekbones and jawline so striking they looked carved. He seemed free, almost alive on the page. I brushed a finger gently over his face, unable to look away.

"He looks so familiar," Ell mused, frowning as she tried to place him.

"That's a family friend. He's sweet. He's in town—you'll have to meet him. He'll love you," Adéle said, her eyes running over me as if sizing me up. "You ever think about modelling?"

I laughed. "No."

"You should. I need a face for my class project." She exhaled smoke, grinning. "You've got one of those faces."

Before I could answer, Ell chimed in. "She'll do it."

I didn't protest. Not with them, not then.

As they continued talking, their knees brushing against each other, Adéle gestured wildly with her hands, her movements as untamed as a hurricane. I walked through her studio, my hands folded behind my back, scared to touch anything.

"You'll come out tonight with us, won't you?" Ell called out to me, her eyes pleading.

"Sure," I replied, unable to resist her hopeful expression.

"Wonderful," Adéle grinned, kissing Ell's cheek.

That evening, my feet ached from traipsing through all the galleries Ell had shown me. She, on the other hand, was practically jumping as we hopped off the metro.

We arrived at the bar to hear a voice calling us over. "Filles!"

Adéle had spotted us from outside, grinning so widely you could tell she was tipsy, a lit cigarette dangling from her fingers as she waved at us wildly.

"You look like a painting waiting to be on one of my canvases," she winked at me coyly. I shook my head.

"She's just like a Godard Girl, isn't she?" Ell added with a laugh.

"Everyone, this is Cara and Ell. Ell and Cara, this is everyone," Adéle cooed, introducing us.

A girl with long flowing dreadlocks, dyed a red-wine tint, sat down and smiled at me. Freckles bounced over her cheeks, and with a flick of a smirk and a tilt of her oversized seventies sunglasses, I knew I was in the presence of an icon in the making.

"I'm Vivienne, and this is Lorenzo," she introduced herself. "I love your outfit, by the way. You look like you've arrived from the sixties. I love it," she said, thumbing the fabric of my jacket.

"Thank you, I mean you're gorgeous," I replied, and Vivienne smiled like she heard that all the time.

"How come you guys all know Ell?" I asked.

Lorenzo leaned forward, a smile playing on his lips. "Adéle has a crush on her. She won't stop talking about her." He rolled his eyes. "She spoke about you as well, though."

I frowned, and Vivienne nodded.

"What's she said?" I asked.

"The obvious," they replied, and Lorenzo poured me a glass of wine.

"Spill," I said, taking a sip.

They shared a look but stopped themselves.

Ell and I got up to get her a drink at the bar. Walking away, I overheard snippets of conversations, trying to pick apart their words in a different language.

"Where is he? Why is he always late?" Adéle asked Lorenzo. "I want to introduce him to her."

"Are you alright?" Ell asked.

I nodded. She caught the bartender's attention. "Hi, could I get two rum and cokes, please?" She turned to me. Adéle called her back to the table.

"Go! Go!" I shooed her with a wink.

"You sure?" she asked.

"Yes, of course. Go, I'll bring them over. Ask someone if they have some playing cards, will you? It always helps me focus on something when I'm anxious," I smiled.

She kissed my cheek as I turned back to the bar.

"Do you have any cards?" I asked the bartender.

"I do," a voice behind me answered.

A voice so close it sent goosebumps down my neck. I turned, and there he was. The boy from the sketch. 

I stared, unsure if I should speak. He smiled, effortlessly, like we had all the time in the world.

"I've been waiting to meet you," he said, his voice soft but clear.

And just like that, the world shifted. A beat skipped.

I didn't know it then, but everything had already begun.