Make Me Bad: Private Lessons (26 page)

“You’re crazy.”

She grins. “I know. Now go put on
something sexy!”

Two hours later, Cleo and I are
perched at a high top table in a new restaurant we’ve discovered, already onto
our second bottle of wine. We are also having dinner in the hopes that the food
will balance out the effects of our first bottle of wine.

“This is sooo good,” Cleo moans,
stuffing another forkful of food in her mouth.

I giggle. “I think it’s so good
because you’ve been drinking.”

“Bull shit. It’s so good because
it’s…good.” She laughs again, realizing that she’s making no sense. “Maybe I
should call Philippe,” she says suddenly.

“What? I thought this was girls
night!”

“Don’t you want to call Luc?” she
teases.

“Not if it’s girls night.”

“Well, I could call Luc and you
could call Philippe.”

“And how would that work, since
you’re the only person that’s allowed to know that Luc and I are dating.”

“Please! Philippe isn’t going to
tell anyone.”

“Nope. Can’t do it. Why don’t we
just have fun by ourselves?”

“Fine. Party pooper.”

Cleo soon forgets about Philippe,
and after we finish our dinner, we head out onto the street looking for a new
bar to pop into. We’re in one of the hip sections of Paris, and we stumble upon
a block that is filled with trendy, Parisian bars.

“Jackpot!” Cleo crows and we slip
into the first bar, Rouge. We’d been drinking wine, but Rouge’s menu was filled
with unique shot creations. We try a few, and before I know it, we’re at a
different club, gyrating on the dance floor with a bunch of people.

I feel dizzy and light-headed, but
completely in control at the same time. In reality, I have very little control.

I toss my head back and laugh,
feeling freer than I’ve felt in a long time. “How did we get here?” I yell over
to Cleo.

She gives me a funny look as she
shimmies next to a tall guy with dark hair.

“I don’t remember coming here,” I
explain.

Cleo laughs, leaving the guy behind
her and throwing her arms around my neck. “It was those shots,” she insists.
“They were strong! We’ve been here for over an hour!”

“What? No way!”

“Yes, way!

A guy comes up behind me and begins
dancing. I dance with him until he wraps his hands around my waist.

“No thanks!” I say, scooting away
and dancing with Cleo again. A small circle gathers around us and a few guys
hoot and holler as we shimmy against each other and toss our hair back and
forth. We continue to dance with each other, giggling like lunatics, until I
hear someone call out Cleo’s name.

Cleo suddenly throws herself at the
person, kissing them passionately and I stare at her in confusion. What the
hell? After a moment, I realize that the person Cleo has wrapped herself around
is Philippe.

Unbelievable.

Out of all the bars in Paris, he
happens to be in the same one as us! Though something tells me Cleo called or
sent him a text.

“Cleo!” I drag her away, and
Philippe waves at me. “Did you tell Philippe you were here?” I demand.

“No! Why? How amazing is it that he
just happened to be here too?”

I’m not sure if I believe her.
“Yeah, it’s really amazing. Such a coincidence, too… I just thought this was
our night.”

“I didn’t plan this, Maddie,
really. Let’s just all hang out! It will be fun!” She slurs the last few words
and I reach out to steady her as she falls to the side a bit.

“Okay, sure.” I’m still feeling
pretty happy from the alcohol, and I like Philippe. I was just hoping that it
would only be Cleo and I.

I follow Cleo off the dance floor and
we cram into a small booth with Philippe. We start talking about the people at
the club, and we each order a glass of wine. I think it’s best for me to stay
away from the shots, though I’m not ready to switch to water or soda yet.

“Maddie and I have been having a
great night,” Cleo says, practically sitting in Philippe’s lap. Philippe, who
doesn’t seem quite as drunk, nods.

“Where have you ladies been
tonight?”

Cleo starts rattling off the names
of the bars and restaurants and I’m impressed that she has remembered them all.

Before Cleo is finished speaking,
Philippe kisses her. Cleo gasps and then kisses him back. Embarrassed, I look
away. It’s more than a little kiss. It’s a full on make out session, and they
should really get a room.

“Okay, guys. That’s enough,” I
chuckle, hoping they break apart.

Instead, their kiss deepens, and I
flush bright red.

“Cleo,” I hiss, but she waves her
hand at me to stop talking.

I wait another few seconds, but
then I swear I see Philippe’s hand under Cleo’s skirt.

“That’s it!” I fume, jumping out of
the booth. I’m not going to sit here and watch Cleo and Philippe practically
have sex. I storm to the bathroom, and spend extra time there, adjusting my
clothes and touching up my hair. Unlike Cleo, I’ve worn pants since it’s
December and freezing outside. They are leather leggings, and still very sexy.
I’ve paired the leggings with spiky black heels, and a deep red, plunging
blouse.

After I’ve finished fluffing my
hair, wiping my smudged eyeliner, and reapplying my lip-gloss, I head back out
into the club. It seems that the lights have been dimmed even more, and it
takes me a minute to find the booths where we were sitting. Hopefully, Cleo and
Philippe have finished trying to suck each other’s face off.

I circle the booths, but can’t seem
to find them. I circle one more time, and then realize there’s another group of
people in the booth we shared. Annoyed, I walk through the club, checking out
the dance floor and bar, looking for Cleo and Philippe, but they are nowhere to
be found.

They couldn’t possibly have left
without me.

Or could they?

Feeling a rush of anger, I move
into the corner, hold my hand over one ear and try calling Cleo. It rings and
rings but she doesn’t pick up. Taking a deep breath, I try two more times.

“Cleo, it’s me,” I bite out,
leaving her a voicemail on the third try. “Where the hell did you go? I went to
the bathroom and when I came back, you two were gone!”

I hang up and toss my phone in my
purse, too pissed off to even wait and see if she calls back. I stumble out of
the bar and the cold air hits me like a tidal wave, stinging my face.

“Fuck!” I cry. I’m still drunk, but
now I’m mad and drunk and I don’t remember where I am. I look up and down the
street and I make out a glowing letter M signaling a Metro station. I hurry
down to the Metro. Once I get inside, I can figure out where I am, and hop on
the next train heading towards our apartment.

I make my way into the Metro,
cursing Cleo for leaving me alone while drunk. That’s a rule that we never break.
I blame it on Philippe. I get on the Metro and head towards our apartment.

I make my way to our apartment, but
outside our building, I have a change of heart.

Perhaps it’s the alcohol.

I walk past our building and hurry
around the corner. It only takes five minutes, and I’m knocking on Luc’s door.

It takes a minute for him to
answer, and it dawns on me that he might be sleeping. Hmm. I didn’t consider
that.

He pulls the door open and he’s
definitely been sleeping. His hair is sticking out at strange angles, and he’s
rubbing his eyes.

“Maddie?” he asks confused, his
voice groggy. “Are you okay?”

“Umm, hi. Crap, it’s late. I
shouldn’t have come here.” I turn on my heel to leave, but I feel Luc’s warm
hand wrap around my wrist.

“Come on, get in here. What’s going
on?”

He pulls me into the apartment, and
I hug him fiercely.

“I’m drunk,” I whisper.

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I
figured. Come on. Want me to make a pot of coffee? Do you need to sober up?”

I pull back and stare up at him.
“Yes, please.”

“Okay, sit down.”

I flop down on the couch, and Luc
flips on a couple lights and pads into the kitchen. He starts a pot of coffee
and comes back to me, looking slightly more alert.

“So, explain to me why you’re
dressed sexily and showing up drunk on my doorstep?”

I sigh. “Stupid, Cleo.”  I curl up
on Luc’s lap.

“What happened with Cleo?”

I launch into how Cleo and I
planned a girl’s night out at the last minute, and how we were having a great
time until we ran into Philippe. I explain how they began making out, and then
when I got back from the bathroom they were gone.

“What?” he growls.

“I know,” I say a little too
loudly, and then giggle and clasp my hand over my mouth. “Sorry.”

“I can’t believe she just ditched
you like that. What the fuck is wrong with her?”

“We have a rule that we never leave
the other person. Ever. Especially, if we’ve been drinking.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he says,
but there’s anger behind his voice, and I notice he’s clenching his hands into
fists. I can see a vein bulging in his forearm.

He gets up and stalks into the
kitchen, coming back with a mug of coffee and a glass of water for himself. He
seems a little calmer.

“Can I assume you’re staying the
night?”

“Yes, please,” I singsong, reaching
for my coffee.

He laughs just a bit. “Exactly, how
much did you have to drink?”

“Umm, I’m not really sure. But I
know I had some shots that definitely sealed the deal.”

He nods knowingly, and puts his
water down. I hang over the couch and watch him disappear into the kitchen. He
comes back a few moments later with a cup of water and some Tylenol.

“Take these,” he says, handing them
to me, “This will help with your hangover tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I’m going to have
one,” I say stubbornly, but I still take the Tylenol and water.

Luc smirks. “We’ll see.” He puts
his arm around me, and pulls me close to him and we sit cuddled up on the couch
like that. I sip my coffee, and then put the mug down on the table.

I must have fallen asleep because I
wake up to the sound of Luc’s voice. At first, I’m too asleep to register what
he’s saying. Even though he’s whispering, I can tell he’s incredibly angry.

“- out of your mind?” he growls
into the phone. I missed the beginning of his sentence.

Wait. Is he on my phone?

“Is that how you treat your
friends? You leave them drunk at a bar in a foreign city?”

Another pause.

“Well, she’s here and she’s fine, no
thanks to you. I hope you had a great night,” he says scathingly.

“Hey,” I murmur, my voice thick
with sleep. “Is that Cleo? Give me the phone.”

Luc ignores me.

“She’s staying here for the night.
You can apologize tomorrow.” He hits end and hands the phone back to me.

I give him a quizzical look.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I couldn’t
help myself, and she kept calling.”

“I didn’t even hear it.”

“You were out.” He rises, and
gently pulls me up with him. “Come on,” he says softly, “Let’s go to bed.”

I stagger after him to his bedroom.
He helps me out of my clothes, and gives me an oversize t-shirt.

“Do you need bottoms?”

I shake my head, pulling back the
covers and crawling into his warm bed. Luc slides in next to me, and pulls me
to his chest. I’m asleep instantly.

The next morning I wake up alone in
Luc’s bed. It takes me a few moments to remember, and then I start putting
together the pieces. I was drunk. And judging from my headache and rolling
stomach, I am definitely hung over.

I showed up at Luc’s apartment and
he took care of me.

Cleo abandoned me for Philippe.

I feel a surge of warmth and love
for Luc and a flash with anger thinking about Cleo.

I wait for my head to stop spinning
and then I get out of bed and go to find Luc. He’s in the kitchen, dressed and
showered, drinking coffee and looking out a small window.

“Hey,” he says when he hears me
behind him. He tries to hide a smile. “It was a tough night, huh?”

Geez, I must look pretty rough. I’m
wearing one of Luc’s t-shirts, and I feel at my hair, which seems to be a mess.
I imagine I probably have raccoon eyes, too.

“Can I have some coffee?” I croak.

“Sure thing.” He hands me a cup and
waits politely for me to sit and take a sip. “How are you feeling?”

I moan. “I’ve been better.”

“Of course you have. You were
pretty drunk last night. Do you remember anything?”

I nod. “I remember pretty much
everything. It’s just a little hazy, that’s all.” I set my mug down. “Thank you
for taking care of me.”

“Of course.”

“No, I really mean it. Thank you.
I’m sorry for just showing up here. I was outside our apartment, and then I
just veered off and came here. I’m sorry I disrupted your sleep.”