If a drink hadn't been splashed close to my feet, I would have continued to stare into Philipé's eyes, too afraid to blink, just in case it turned out to be an illusion.
"So s-sorry," the offender, a petite woman with a purple pixie cut, slurred, her eyes apologetic. In an attempt to wipe away the mess she had made, she spilt even more of her drink close to my feet, missing them only by a few inches. The splash had, however, been powerful enough to spray my toes this time. I stared at the tiny droplets with disappointment.
"It's okay," I said, putting on a smile to hide my annoyance. I tapped Elodie, who was tangled up with a stranger (no doubt playing "tongue twister"), lightly on her shoulder to let her know I needed to go and find the bathroom. I was starting to think the person whose party this was supposed to be wasn't going to show up, and that Elodie might have just wanted to throw a party, but just needed a good enough excuse to convince me to come.
Her brows knit together when she noticed my expression. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, I'll be fine. Carry on."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, positive. I know your house like the back of my hand. It's not like I'll get lost or anything," I assured her.
"Okay, but if you're not down here in the next twenty minutes, I'll come up and check on you."
"Thanks." I plastered on a smile as I turned on my heel and walked upstairs. My heart hammered against my ribcage at the thought of running into Philipé.
Getting to the bathroom was a lot easier than I'd thought it would be. Apart from two people deciding the bathroom door was the perfect spot to make out, and only moving after I cleared my throat in front of them, I hadn't had to pass any other hurdles.
I examined myself in the large gilded mirror above the sink. Four golden cherubs decorated its edges. It was one of Elodie's mother's proudest possessions and my personal favourite. I felt like a queen in her palace whenever I looked into it, and tonight was no different. Applying a coat of red lipstick to my lips, I gave myself a small pep talk to help me survive the rest of the night.
It was on my way downstairs that my eyes connected with Philipé's. He was busy talking to a woman I assumed might be one of Thomas' former colleagues or maybe classmates, but his eyes were following me. Even as he sipped from his cup, his eyes continued to follow me. The person who was talking to him seemed too invested in whatever she was telling him to notice that his attention was elsewhere.
Halfway down, I changed my mind and began walking backwards.
"Come upstairs," I mouthed before turning around and walking up the rest of the steps. I knew Elodie wouldn't mind if I borrowed her room for a few minutes, so I headed for her room and prayed a silent prayer that it wouldn't be occupied or locked. Both my prayers were answered as I opened the door and found it empty.
I could only hope that Philipé wouldn't leave me up here by myself. The house was crowded — even more people had arrived in the space of an hour — so no one would notice if he slipped away for a short moment.
I removed my heels and sat down in Elodie's bed, crossing my legs and leaning back into her bed. I smiled to myself when I heard the door open, the face I'd been waiting for peeking from behind it.
Instead of the boyish smile he had worn the very first day he'd presented himself as my teacher, Philipé walked in wearing a serious look.
"Jade, we need to talk," he began.
"Oh yeah?" I uncrossed my legs and sat upright. "About what exactly?" My tone was playful. I didn't want to let on that I knew what was coming. I was willing to drag this out for as long as possible.
He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his blonde curls. As he dropped his hands to his sides, they bounced back, a few strands falling over his brows. I bit my lip, tempted to run my hands through his hair, just as I'd done a few nights ago, when neither of us had cared about inhibitions.
I watched him perch on Elodie's bedrail, placing his hands in his pockets. He looked just like a male model on the cover of a magazine. Ignoring my inner voice's plea not to do anything stupid, I stood, ready to approach him."I'd prefer if you sat," he said quickly. I ignored him. I'd never been very keen on being told what to do. Once I was only a hair's breadth away from him, the energy between us became like static dancing around us.
"I don't mind standing," I whispered. He had no choice but to make eye contact with me.
"What happened between us — "
"I'd had quite a bit to drink that night, Jade," he interjected, knitting his brows. "I honestly can't remember much." Even though his words stung, I wasn't willing to back down so easily.
"You don't remember?" I raised an eyebrow, challenging him to tell me another lie. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his ear. "Will this help you remember?" I placed a soft kiss against his neck, then another.
He didn't protest when I led his hand under my skirt or when I pressed my lips against his jawline, every kiss leading closer to his lips. The palm of his hand felt hot against my skin. When I was just an inch away from his lips, he turned his head and let out a breath.
"I might be just a few years older than you, Jade, but I'm still your teacher, and this," he gestured between us, "can't happen again."
"Again," I echoed. "So, you do remember."
"I thought we would be able to have a conversation, but it was my mistake." He got to his feet. "I respect you a lot, Jade, and you're a bright young woman who I'm sure will find someone more suitable for you."
I scoffed. It was typical of men not to take responsibility. "I hope I'll see you in class tomorrow." I watched Philipé leave the room, the first tear making its way down my cheek only after the door had closed.