You… and Me - Tome 1 E-Book

Adams Emilia

• Herausgeber: So Romance - INT
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: You… and Me
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 372

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

For Zoé, one thing is certain: she won’t let herself get played by a guy ever again!

Zoé’s passions can be counted on one hand: dancing, music, her cat, and cozy Netflix nights on her couch. There’s no way she’s letting herself get hit on every night by guys who only want one thing!
To get over his heartbreak, Adrian has decided not to get attached to any woman he meets at parties. Crazy one-night stands with no strings attached—that’s all he’s after now!
Their encounter will be explosive… But their chemistry is undeniable. Will they manage to tame each other?

Discover the first volume of Emilia Adams’s bold new saga, taking us on a journey through Paris alongside Zoé and Adrian—two characters you can’t help but fall for within just a few chapters.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY

“If you love characters who drive each other crazy, twists and turns, unlikely couples, and watching them grow together, don’t hesitate to dive into this story. Personally, I’m off to read the next one!” – Lou, Lou des bois

“The author didn’t lie—this story really is explosive! Can’t wait for the next volumes, there will be four! […] A book I definitely recommend.” – Cy_die, Babelio

“This first book sets the tone: a lively romance with colorful characters! […] I was carried away by the pace and flow of the story. I can’t wait to read more about their adventures!” – Charlotte-183, Booknode

“I absolutely loved it. The author’s writing style is so light and fluid—you turn the pages without even noticing, and in the end, you’ve just had an amazing time!” – C4ll1st4, Booknode

“I started the book and didn’t put it down until I was done! The characters are great, the humor is spot-on. Oh yes, I laughed a lot—and it felt so good.” – Carine s, Livraddict

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mother of three, Emilia Adams is a huge fan of The Strokes. A dreamy young woman with a hint of madness, she loves writing and enjoying life over a good cappuccino and a pastry! After Hate me! That’s the game!, she begins a brand-new saga with So Romance: You... and me.

Leseprobe

Cover

Title page

Chapter 1

«Uprising»

(Muse)

Adrian

“Damn! I just got dumped! That bitch!”

Vanessa (Friday, June 12, 7:10 PM):

Thanks for making me believe I was the best lay of the century, but between us, it’s over. Well, I don’t even know if there was really a beginning since apparently, I was just a hookup. But the hookup can go screw itself. I’m sure it won’t be too hard for you to find a Samantha, a Chloé, or even a Vanessa. Unless you’ve slept with all the girls in Paris. In that case, I suggest you change cities immediately. Next time, do your research and try not to sleep with a friend of one of your exes; it might save you from an awkward message.

Damn it! It’s the world upside down! I was planning to send her a message this morning, but she was quicker than me. Good grief! What have I done? The only thing that kept me with this girl was her dream body. I need to stop my nonsense.

I delete the message, block her number, and then angrily shove my phone into the pocket of my leather jacket. I take a deep breath. No use! She’s got me on edge. I admit I should have seen this coming. I played with fire.

For several months, I’ve been collecting the most beautiful women I can find in Paris: eccentric, rebellious, wild, with dream bodies. I’m not into romance; I’m just looking to please myself. Long-term relationships aren’t for me. I’ve done that once, and it ended up a wreck. Since that breakup, I’ve been exploring and having fun.

Vanessa is right; I’ve lost count of the number of girls I’ve slept with. My life is a complete mess. Usually, I find a little gem to satisfy my nights, and I don’t know what I was thinking with this girl, but she managed to break the world record for my longest relationship in six months. One week! Between us, there were no feelings. I was simply captivated by her body, a lovely 90D that drove me crazy for seven days. I really messed up!

“Looks like you just got dumped, Seb chuckles, pulling a pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket of his leather jacket.”

“Yeah… I got played beautifully!”

His eyes widen. Of course, he has a hard time believing me.

I close my eyes for a few seconds and try to stay calm.

“Ah, so that bimbo Vanessa dumped you?”

I shoot him a glare, which makes him laugh. He warned me. I don’t replay his words in my head, but he often told me it would eventually come back to bite me.

Well done, Seb! You score a point!

Seb is the opposite of me. Respectful, honest, grounded. But the worst part is that I was like him before I discovered my future wife was sleeping with her boss in our bed. But damn! In my bed! That old pig put his ass where I chill for eight hours a day to relax, sleep, and have sex. In a way, it allowed me to see the truth before I committed to that woman. A bitch I loved for two years, devoting myself to her beautiful eyes. Result: her infidelity destroyed me. I don’t even know what the word «love» means anymore.

“No comment! It’s better not to bring it up. And don’t tell me you warned me. I know… I played the fool again, and for once, I messed up.”

“I wasn’t going to lecture you, but it makes me laugh. Maybe this Vanessa has put you back on the right path and…”

I cut him off before he can say too much:

“Blablabla, I mutter, giving him the finger. She’s not going to stop me.”

He sighs exaggeratedly.

I feel like Seb sometimes thinks he’s my mother, lecturing me. It’s true that I don’t make his life easy. My nights don’t always go as I want, and I think he’s a bit tired of me calling him in the middle of the night to come pick me up. Most of the time, alcohol has taken over my body, and I can’t make it back to the apartment straight. When a pretty woman welcomes me to sleep with her, I tell myself I’ll never wake up in an unknown place. It’s not my thing to wake up with a sexy creature in the morning. I prefer to slip away to avoid getting attached to someone again.

Why did I spend so much time with Vanessa? Did she drug me?

He pats my shoulder.

“Come on, don’t sulk, let’s go grab a drink, and you can relax.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“A little bit, though,” he says, making a pinching gesture with his thumb and index finger.

I roll my eyes.

“This is the first and last time someone does this to me! Next time, I’ll refrain from fantasizing too much about big breasts.”

He chuckles as he closes the studio door. Okay, he doesn’t believe me… and he’s right. I’m a hopeless case.

He slips a cigarette between his lips and offers me one, which I accept without hesitation.

Smoking should help me relax a bit, even though I know I should seriously consider cutting back.

I try to calm down as I walk leisurely with Seb through Montmartre. The street lined with restaurants and shops is packed with people. I gaze at the sky, which has just been covered with dark gray cumulus clouds. It looks like it’s going to rain. I’m crossing my fingers that it’s just temporary. Tomorrow, I have a photo shoot for an outdoor wedding at Trocadéro Square.

For seven years, I’ve worked with Seb as a professional photographer. I love my job. Photography has always been my passion, and I’m happy to make it my career. Every Saturday, we capture the joyful day of future brides and grooms. I chuckle to myself because the word «marriage» no longer holds any meaning for me. One in two is doomed to fail, often due to infidelity. It seems I was lucky to see it before, which saved me from spending a fortune on a divorce.

We cross the street. I crush my cigarette on the ground while Seb pushes open the glass door of the Hard Rock Café. Immediately, aggressive music pierces my eardrums. It’s packed with young people, but mostly with delicious creatures. I smile, amused. It was enough for me to come here to loosen up a bit. A lovely brunette with long hair looks at me and stands tall to accentuate her chest. Teasing! But I like it. I wink at her.

“Damn, you really can’t help yourself,” Seb exclaims, elbowing me. “Can’t you just sit back and enjoy a night out with the guys?”

I smile widely and jokingly reply:

“Okay, just long enough to have a beer.”

He raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t seem convinced, and he has every right not to be. I don’t plan to spend the evening just staring into the eyes of these tempting girls. I need to forget Vanessa.

Not a funny guy!

“There’s a spot over there.”

Seb points with his index finger ahead. I nod and venture toward the spot where a metal band is playing on stage. A bit too loud for my taste.

“Same order as usual?” my friend shouts as he takes off his jacket.

“Yes, same as usual. A beer and a burger.”

While Seb places our order with the waiter, I take off my leather jacket and settle onto a stool. I admire the room. I like this place. The pub has a festive atmosphere, decorated in a musical style with items that belonged to great stars, such as vinyl records, signed t-shirts, and posters.

“There we go, I placed the order. Well… we need to talk.”

“Talk?”

I look at him, intrigued.

“Yeah… When are you going to calm down? Aren’t you tired of spending your evenings with a different girl?”

Seriously? Is he kidding me?

“No… I’m having fun. And why are you bringing this up? I thought we came to grab a drink to relax.”

His lips part, but no words come out. I fix my gaze where his is set. The metal band has just made way for two bombshells. Two goddesses. Holy hell!

“Oh! Damn! I exclaim, almost drooling over these two stunning creatures. Too hot!”

Seb is left speechless.

“Close your mouth; you’ll catch a fly,” I say, elbowing him.

He jumps, which makes me laugh.

— “I’m glad to have such a good spot to watch them,” I exclaim, tousling my hair slightly.

In the end, I think the evening is going to go well.

The waiter sets my beer in front of me, but I don’t take my eyes off these two girls ready to put on a show. One of them completely fascinates me. My heart races like crazy in my chest. Uh? Am I sick?

I try to pull myself together by closing my eyes for a few seconds, but when I open them again, I feel like I see little hearts around this sublime figure. The hairs on my forearms stand on end. It gives me the same feeling when a song enchants me and grips my gut. This girl is my ideal woman. A redhead. I love redheads! I could do all sorts of fun things with her, like tugging on her long braid while I spank her.

“Hey! Are you okay?” Seb asks, tapping my shoulder. “You should close your mouth now.”

I shake my head to regain my composure. I still have little hearts swimming in my pupils.

No, but dude! Get a grip, damn it!

“Blah blah blah. Leave me alone. I want to enjoy this show without being disturbed. Look at the pretty redhead. Damn! What a bomb! I wouldn’t even be able to hold one of her breasts in my hands.”

I’ve never seen a chest like that! I’d need to touch it to see if it’s real.

I admit I’m obsessed with big breasts! But who wouldn’t be in front of such a wonder?

He takes a sip of his beer before responding:

“I prefer the blonde.”

“Perfect! You go for the blonde; I’ll take the little redhead.”

He chuckles as he sets his glass back on the table.

“You’re dreaming, dude! Trust me, those two girls are probably not available.”

“Nothing will stop me. She’s mine tonight. I’ll go see her after her performance.”

He slaps his forehead. No matter what he thinks, he’s not the one to tell me what to do.

I fix my eyes back on the stage where the two pretty devils start dancing to Uprising by Muse. The redhead is built like Lara Croft, a pure marvel. I feel like I can only see her breasts moving as she sways to the music. Her face is fair, sprinkled with freckles. She’s neither fat nor thin. Her red top and black mini shorts accentuate her figure. The way she writhes makes my heart race. Her movements are perfect, sexy, provocative as she shakes her booty. Oh! My God! I imagine her doing the same on top of me.

The waiter brings our burgers. I thank him and take a bite without losing sight of the performance. They’re blowing my mind. They’re dynamic, flexible, and in sync. And just by doing an incredible dance, they’ve managed to make me hard as a rock. Usually, it takes a lot more to wake what’s under my belt. This red-haired girl just cast a spell on me. She’s making me hot.

“I want her to invite me to her place tonight.”

Seb starts laughing.

“Bet you’ll get rejected?”

I point my index finger at my chest:

“Me? Get rejected?”

“I don’t know, but my little finger tells me you’re not going to make it this time.”

“Yeah… Well, I’m telling you she’s going to invite me to her bed, and I feel like I’m going to have a great time.”

“You’re incredible.”

“I know.”

The show continues with another Muse song. Inside the pub, it’s euphoric. Whistles and screams erupt to cheer on the girls. My cock is still throbbing, and I don’t think it’s ready to calm down. I’ve never slept with dancers, and I imagine it could be interesting to spend the night with this pretty redhead who would sway on my body, driving me crazy.

Generally, the girls I date are bold and not shy. I banish all the girls who want romance. You can tell by their rather classic and discreet way of dressing. But sometimes, appearances can be deceiving.

A month ago, I ran into a certain Lolita who seemed to care nothing about serious relationships. I met her in a pub. She was dressed in a very sexy style, a tight black leather dress. She had deliberately forgotten to wear panties under that provocative outfit. We were both tipsy, and I thought she just wanted a night of sex. She begged me to stay at her place for the weekend. I don’t know if it was the alcohol that made her say she felt chemistry between us and wanted much more than just sex, but I quickly took off. Two days later, she came to the photo studio, and I thought she would never let me go. I made up a story about being bisexual. She ran off. That said, to get back to the point, I hope the girl in front of me will be a new distraction for the rest of my evening. Just a few hours; I’m not asking for much, right?

The two bombshells finish their performance three songs later. I hurry to get up and head toward the one who managed to charm me. Excited like never before!

“You really want to get rejected,” Seb says before bringing his glass to his lips.

“Not even scared. I’m going to win,” I retort, raising my eyebrows.

He rolls his eyes.

“The pretty blonde doesn’t interest you anymore?”

“I’m not even trying to make a move. You’re going to waste your time,” I chuckle.

“Too bad for you if you spend the rest of the evening alone. I plan to have some fun.”

This guy is too serious!

Smiling, I quickly weave between the tables and stand in front of her. I undress her with my eyes. She has beautiful emerald green eyes that are almond-shaped. Her hair is more auburn than red, but under the spotlight, it has some lighter highlights. Her lips are plump, enhanced by a touch of sparkly pink gloss, and her breasts… damn! I already love them.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than stare at my chest?” she barks, placing her hands on her hips.

I jump.

“Uh… sorry.”

I look up and dive my gaze into hers, which is shooting daggers at me.

Focus, damn it!

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me? What do you say?”

She turns her face toward her friend and bursts into laughter. The only response she gives me is a middle finger. It’s the first time someone has done something like that to me. But that’s not going to stop me.

“Nice response. I take it that’s a yes?”

“Find someone else, loser! I don’t hang out with hotshots like you!”

I shoot back:

“Oh yeah? And who says I’m a hotshot? You’re quite cheeky.”

She sighs and walks away. Damn! What a nasty attitude! I’ve never seen a girl so tough and cold. I’m not going to let her get away with it. Seb won’t be right. I never get rejected. I’m not saying I’m the most wonderful guy on the planet, but I’m not complaining. I have a physique that generally pleases the ladies.

I run after her and catch her by grabbing her wrist. She slaps me across the face, which makes half the pub’s patrons laugh. What an embarrassment! This is definitely not my day.

“I told you to leave me alone. Didn’t you understand?”

She glares at me coldly. She’s ready to explode like dynamite. Strangely, I love it. She has a fiery temperament. Everything to please me.

I burst into nervous laughter, placing my hand on my cheek:

“Keep resisting me; it excites me even more.”

Her jaw tightens. If I stay in front of her for another second, I feel like I’m going to get slapped again. I take a step back to avoid a second humiliation and don’t take my eyes off her. She shakes her head, laughing nervously, then gives me a second middle finger. Great!

“I have a boyfriend! Get out of my way.”

“Oh yeah? And where is your boyfriend?”

I pretend to look around, then fix my gaze back on this sexy devil. A silence falls, which seems to make her uncomfortable. She’s lying; it’s obvious. Her cheeks have turned all pink.

“Jerks like you, I see every day. You all have the same thing on your mind. Sex, sex, sex.”

On this point, she’s not wrong, but how can I resist such a gem? Her body is a dream.

“In reality, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Listen… you should stop bothering me,” she says, leaning her face closer to mine. “If you don’t want to see your pretty face disfigured, you’d better move along. My boyfriend might not miss it.”

And she insists on having a boyfriend!

“Too bad… we could have had a good evening.”

I throw her a little smile before she turns on her heels. No reaction. Damn it! Shit! I know someone who’s going to make fun of me.

I join Seb, who is holding back his laughter. I gulp down the rest of my beer and put on my leather jacket.

“I told you so…”

“Oh, come on! Don’t start, Seb. Let’s get out of here.”

All eyes are still on me. My bad mood has resurfaced. I really had bad luck today. Vanessa dumped me, and this girl didn’t take the time to know my sexual exploits. I think it’s time to go to bed. Anyway, my erection has melted like ice cream left out in the sun. I have nothing left to do here.

Chapter 2

«She Tells Me»

(Mika)

Zoe

Since my teenage years, I knew that my chest would be the number one attraction for men.

At eight years old, doctors diagnosed me with precocious puberty, which forced me to follow a specific diet to limit my exposure to endocrine disruptors.

A year later, I received hormone injections to block my puberty. Alongside that, I always had to be careful about what I ate. I deprived myself of sweets, which wasn’t always easy, especially since my sister would purposely taunt me by indulging in chocolate bars all day long.

At eleven, after the injections stopped, I got my period, and little by little, my breasts swelled visibly. At one point, I thought they were going to explode. My sister always told me that I had this advantage to make men fall at my feet, but it was quite the opposite. It brought me trouble instead. Back pain, difficulty running, no bra that fit, and lewd comments from fat jerks.

At seventeen, I had my first sexual encounter. I had been crazy about a boy for a year, believing he had feelings for me. In reality, he was infatuated with my chest. My love life is a total failure. Several times, I considered getting surgery to reduce my cup size. It may be a pleasure for men, but not for me.

I storm out of the Hard Rock Café, my steps brisk. That jerk has driven me mad. Have a drink with me! Oh, sure! All he wanted was to play with my precious assets, like all the guys who try to hit on me. Sure, he was really attractive, but written on his forehead was “Parisian Player.” Light blue eyes like a sunny day, a dream body sculpted to make all the girls swoon, average height, and messy brown hair that makes you want to dive your hands into it. The perfect guy, especially for a one-night stand. But stop! This guy is not for me. He just wanted to toy with my breasts. I’m done with types like him!

Jerk!

“Zoe! Wait for me!” my sister shouts, running after me.

“No! I don’t want to run into that jerk again!”

I cross Boulevard Montmartre under a torrential downpour and sprint down to the subway entrance.

“Stop reacting like this!”

I halt at the bottom of the stairs and turn my head toward her, completely furious. She’s out of breath and bright red.

“So, what should I do? Sleep with every guy who dreams of spending time with my chest?”

She positions herself in front of me and places her hands on my shoulders.

“Why are you wasting your life like this? That guy probably wasn’t thinking about…”

“About sleeping with me? Of course, he was!”

“Come out of your shell!” she raises her voice. “You know…”

I cut her off:

“Stop! I don’t want to hear it anymore. I know your speech by heart. There’s no point in repeating it.”

My throat burns from shouting. I shrug her hands off my shoulders. My heart is raw. I know she wants me to be happy in love. She’s tried many times to pull me out of my bubble, but it’s never worked. She often tells me that if I don’t open up, I might end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel like that’s my fate.

I head to the subway platform and sit on a bench, swinging my legs back and forth. Alicia sits down next to me with an exaggerated sigh.

“You scare me sometimes,” she says, a hint of worry in her voice. “You’re always alone, you never go out except to perform, and it’s been ages since I’ve seen you happy.”

Her gaze is anxious. I’m ready to tell her to be quiet, but suddenly my lips start to tremble. Tears blur my vision. I know all this. I feel like a bear hibernating in its cave all year round. Aside from dancing, I have no other hobbies. To pay for our apartment, I work as a waitress in a café in the seventh arrondissement of Paris, and the rest of my time is spent in front of the television binge-watching all the series Netflix has to offer.

Alicia wraps her arms around me and kisses my forehead. I realize that she has always supported me, and I’ve never been grateful for her warm gestures.

With tears welling in my eyes, I whisper to her:

“I can’t trust guys.”

I admit that I’m stubborn and insist on staying alone. But after several romantic disappointments, how do you get back up?

She dives her worried eyes into mine:

“Please, do me a favor. Move a little. Open up to others, and you’ll see that they’re not all the same.”

“But…”

She places her finger on my lips and calmly adds:

“I don’t want to see sadness on your pretty face anymore. From now on, I’m taking charge of your life, and you won’t see it the same way again.”

I shake my head, crying and laughing at the same time. I try to swallow my sorrow. This girl is a gem, even if she can be annoying by playing the role of our mother.

Alicia is my older sister by two years. Unlike me, she is much more determined and self-assured. She doesn’t resemble me at all, which is normal since I was adopted at the age of three by her family. Her looks are akin to that of a model. She has long blonde hair. Her figure is slender and svelte. She’s very pretty and makes many guys swoon with her beautiful light blue eyes.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the subway arrives at that moment. We get up and step inside, which is packed with people.

“We’ll talk about this very soon,” she whispers in my ear.

In response, I smile at her.

I’m not sure I can promise to change right now. Not overnight. Alicia easily trusts strangers, but I’m different from her. I always stay on guard. And yet, I dream so much of being like her, of opening up to the world, and making friends. I have very few. I can count them on one hand.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrive home. Alicia inserts the key into the lock, flips the hallway switch to turn on the light, and screams like a hysteric:

“Oh! My God! Someone has broken into our apartment!”

My heart leaps in my chest. Broken in? But that can’t be possible since the door hasn’t been forced.

We venture into the main room, and suddenly I burst out laughing. Okay, I admit it’s not funny because we’ll have to clean up all the mess made by Stitch, the kitten I rescued a month ago. A garbage bag has been ripped open, and all the trash has fallen to the floor.

“It’s your cat,” my sister shoots at me with a glare. “You deal with it!”

“I’d like to remind you that you love him just as much as I do.”

I stick my tongue out at her and look for Stitch.

One evening after work, I found a little black kitten without a family, skinny as a rail. I felt sorry for this hungry little creature. Alicia wasn’t too happy at first, but she quickly got used to the idea that I needed company.

“Ah! There he is!” I exclaim as I spot his little head.

I grimace as I pick him up. He just peed in the sink.

“Yuck. It smells bad.”

Alicia also makes a disgusted face.

“You’re not being nice! Peeing is over there,” I say to Stitch, pointing to his litter box.

I set him down and grab a broom to clean up the mess. And of course, my sister has already disappeared into the bathroom. I mutter some curses under my breath about her and bend down, taking on the role of Cinderella.

“I heard you,” she yells. “That’s what you get for adopting a wild cat!”

I roll my eyes. Clearly, there’s no point in replying. Alicia loves Stitch, but only to cuddle him.

After cleaning the floor and the sink, I head to my room and change out of my stage clothes. I slip into a gray cotton nightgown, undo my long braid, and style my curly hair. Alicia is right. When I look at myself in the full-length mirror, my face has lost all its glow. It’s dull and sad.

I haven’t always been like this. My adoptive family did everything they could to ensure my happiness. At ten years old, they confessed to me that my parents had been in a car accident and died on the spot. I was ten months old when that tragedy occurred. Alicia’s parents have always treated me like their own daughter. I love them dearly. I miss them. They moved over 800 kilometers away from Paris. That said, I try to overcome the melancholy that has seeped into me by telling myself that I will see them again soon. Yes, in a month and a half, I’ll be spending my vacation in the South. I’ll be able to hug my dad again and chat with my mom.

I grab Stitch, who has just climbed onto the bed, and leave the room. Alicia has her head in the fridge. She’s wearing black mini shorts and a matching tank top.

“There’s one pizza and two beers left. Want some?”

“Perfect.”

I settle on the couch, Stitch on my lap. I turn on the television. I know what I need to do to unwind: watch a new episode of my favorite series.

“Here’s your beer.”

“Thanks.”

“And I’m not done with you yet, she exclaims, heading back to the kitchen. There’s a good chance we’ll spot some handsome single guys tomorrow, and believe me, we’re not going to hold back.”

I sigh.

“There’s no need to sigh. I said I was going to change your life.”

I shake my head while petting Stitch. Change my life! As if she’s the one who’s going to find my happiness.

I tell her as I start Netflix:

“Just so you know, we have to entertain the guests solely with our performance. We’re not there to flirt.”

She sits on the couch and flashes a wide smile.

“There are over five hundred people. There must be some singles in the mix… unless the groom catches my eye.”

I give her a disapproving look. Seriously, is she joking?

“I’m just kidding,” she chuckles, elbowing me in the arm. “I’m not crazy enough to get into a ridiculous situation. But I have a feeling we’re going to find the right fit.”

She drinks her beer straight from the bottle and sets it down on the coffee table.

“Stop saying nonsense.”

“But I’m not saying nonsense!”

I roll my eyes.

“Yeah… sure. Now, be quiet! I want to watch my show.”

“You’re driving me crazy. I promise I’ll find you a guy tomorrow.”

She kisses my cheek and quickly gets up from the couch. I don’t even feel like replying. She’s going to waste her time. Too bad for her; I warned her.

I start the series You and immediately immerse myself in the fiction. Nothing like it to help me relax. I love the character Joe Goldberg. A sexy psychopath. I wouldn’t want to come face to face with that man, but he’s much more interesting than that “Parisian Player.” At least he won’t come to bother me since he’s a fictional character.

Jerk of a “Parisian Player.”

Chapter 3

«Talk to the Hand»

(Fatal Bazooka feat Yelle)

Adrian

I’m used to charming company on Friday nights, but for once, I left alone. In a way, it allowed me to enjoy a quiet night dreaming about that fiery redhead with a strong personality. If only I could have been in her bed. What a shame! I really liked her.

I don’t know why, but her resistance only exhilarated me more. I regret not pushing harder; I might have missed something. That said, we weren’t meant to walk the same path. A guy! Okay, she’s not single, but why do I have this nagging feeling that she lied to me? And why am I still thinking about this girl I will never see again? It’s crazy! My mind is not in the right place. I think her pair of ample breasts has enchanted me. If she really told me the truth, then her boyfriend is one lucky guy. He must be having a great time. But let’s stop thinking about her. I love to fantasize, but if the dream can’t come true, it’s better to quickly let go of this twisted imagination.

I just arrived at the Trocadéro after spending fifteen minutes finding parking. The sun isn’t out, but the main thing is that it’s not raining. It’s mid-June, the perfect season to capture moments of happiness. My schedule is packed until the end of August with wedding shoots. My days are going to be overloaded.

Seb rushes to greet the happy couple. I follow, taking my time, my camera in hand. I glance around in case I spot a lovely goddess. Unfortunately, they are all accompanied, except maybe one who is gazing at the Eiffel Tower, leaning against the concrete wall. She has lovely, very slender legs and a flowery skirt that flutters slightly. Her wavy brown hair dances in the wind. She turns around. She’s pretty, but too demure for me. I don’t think today is the day I’ll find a charming lady.

“Adrian! What are you doing? Seb shouts, raising a hand in the air. We don’t have all day!”

“I’m coming!”

He gives me a cold stare. I swallow a smile and greet the newlyweds. The young woman is wearing an ivory dress that looks like it cost a fortune, adorned with a million rhinestones. An extravagant tiara crowns her brown hair, and a diamond necklace nearly covers her entire neck. The groom, on the other hand, is dressed in a rather simple light gray suit, but what strikes me are his shiny crocodile-skin shoes. Odd taste!

“Let’s go,” Seb exclaims.

He directs the couple to the parapets of the forecourt. A young brunette brings the bride a huge bouquet of red and white helium balloons. Seb takes several shots, and I do the same from another angle. The view is simply stunning. It offers a breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower and the famous Warsaw fountain, equipped with water cannons, providing a grand aquatic spectacle.

The session lasts a good thirty minutes, but we don’t linger due to the rapidly deteriorating weather.

“Perfect,” Seb says, “we’ll continue the shoot at the venue.”

The couple nods, descends the steps of the square, and enters a white Excalibur with a red leather interior. The car pulls onto the road, and the guests follow, honking their horns.

“Hurry up,” Seb sighs, watching the numerous gray clouds, before a heavy downpour hits us.

I start laughing, my gaze resting on his shoulder.

“It’s not the rain that’s just fallen on you.”

“Damn! Those filthy pigeons! Couldn’t they find a better place to poop than on my shirt?” he grumbles as he inspects himself.

“Looks like they couldn’t. It must have been lacking in color.”

He shoots me a glare, which makes me chuckle even more.

“I don’t even have time to change. Great! This looks so professional!”

“It’s just bird poop. No one died.”

“Of course! Go ahead, mock me!”

I point my finger at myself:

“Who? Me? I would never dare.”

And I burst out laughing again.

I narrowly dodge a kick. I often love to tease him. It’s been like this since elementary school. But that’s what has created this wonderful friendship. Twenty years of him putting up with me, and he’s not about to see me go.

*

We left Paris to head to Sarcelles, where the couple rented an extraordinary venue.

Parked in a private lot, we venture into a gigantic hall. I know it a bit since we’ve been here twice before for photo shoots. It’s inspired by the decor of Venetian palaces, equipped with spotlights and crystal chandeliers. An aisle dressed in a long red carpet welcomes the guests of the celebration, and on each side are numerous round tables, each adorned with a beautiful ivory tablecloth and luxurious tableware.

The guests head toward a massive table where the reception wine is served. I position my camera in front of my eyes to capture this moment of relaxation and joy that fills the room. This wedding is truly bourgeois. Everyone here is dressed in very elegant and chic attire.

I spot two young girls, each wearing a sparkly black dress. Damn! I feel like I’m dreaming. My heart starts racing like a blender at high speed. But no, I’m not dreaming! Even from behind, I recognize the bombshell who made me fantasize last night.

I take in her figure from head to toe. She still has that braid that gives me ideas. Her body is perfect, her lovely legs covered in sheer sparkly tights, and she’s wearing black ballet flats that shine just as much as the rest of her silhouette. What a joy to see her again!

When she turns around, I see the scene in slow motion like in a movie. Her white teeth sparkle in the light of the chandeliers, a radiant face, and a pair of breasts that excite my senses. I’m struck by her beauty. But her smile fades when she locks eyes with me. Damn! This doesn’t bode well!

“Shit! No way! Not him!” she mutters, abruptly placing her champagne flute on the table.

I look around like a fool, thinking that maybe this message isn’t for me. However, I know it’s directed at me, and once again, I’ve drawn attention to myself. All the guests are studying me strangely. I feel like my sneakers are glued to the floor. I’m stiff as a board.

“This can’t be happening! I’m cursed!” she exclaims, shooting me a murderous glance.

Great! This girl really hates me. But damn! Why so much animosity?

I’m ready to approach her, but Seb intervenes and pushes me toward the changing rooms.

“You better behave,” he warns me in a rather cold tone.

“I didn’t do anything!” She’s the one who screamed like a lunatic.

“Maybe, but I know you. You’re going to try to charm her to get what you want.”

I make a slight grimace to mock him. In reality, he knows me too well.

“Adrian,” he sighs. “Don’t be an idiot!”

“You’re exaggerating! As if I would draw attention to myself. You know that’s not my style.”

I scan the room with my eyes, hoping to spot her again. Damn. Where is she? She’s disappeared. Shit! I really want to talk to her, but I also want to provoke her. Her rebellious side is driving me crazy.

“Stop looking for her like that! Don’t you understand she doesn’t give a damn about you?” he raises his voice.

His expression is serious. I raise an eyebrow, not understanding his reaction. I think he’s overreacting a bit.

“Hey! Calm down! You’re the one drawing attention to us, just so you know.”

He grits his teeth and fists. Seriously? Who does he think he is? Okay, I’m not going to obey him, but I can be reasonable. I won’t pounce on her. Well, if she wants me to, I would be happy to oblige.

“Keep taking photos of the guests and the decor of the hall.”

I let out a heavy sigh.

“Don’t be an idiot! I don’t want us to get a bad reputation just because you want to hook up with a guest.”

I would tell him to go screw himself, but I stay silent. He’s right. I want her to invite me into her bed. It’s not my fault she’s incredibly sexy.

“Come on... stop getting distracted and do your job. Be good for once.”

I chuckle. I might as well start calling him «Mom.»

I take a deep breath and head back. I don’t know how I’m going to get her out of my head. I’ve never dealt with a tigress like her. Her sexy sway from last night has truly driven me mad. I suppose if she’s here, it’s to perform a similar act. Oh man! I’m going to go crazy!

I close my eyes for a moment to chase this tigress from my imagination and finally obey Seb by taking photos of the hall and the guests. After a while, I step outside to smoke. What a stupid decision to start again. I had managed to stay away from cigarettes for a year.

When Léa, my ex, left our apartment, I started smoking like a chimney again. I’ve often questioned myself. Why did she cheat on me? What did that guy offer her that I didn’t? Love? Money? Yet, with me, she had everything she desired. I took her on trips to majestic islands, she had jewelry galore, and let’s not even talk about her wardrobe and handbag collection. I was always attentive to her, and I don’t think she had any complaints in the bedroom. Two years of intense love, and this is the result!

A wave of melancholy suddenly washes over me. I crush my cigarette into the ground. I’ve managed to move on from her, but reminiscing about memories with that woman hurts my heart. I feel like I’ve wasted two years of my life.

I re-enter the hall. Immediately, I spot the pretty redhead near the backstage area. Our eyes meet. Even from here, I can see the hatred seeping into her gaze. She doesn’t look away. And I’ve decided that I won’t either. I think I’m going completely mad wanting to play cat and mouse with this girl. Usually, I don’t need to do this. But the fact that she rejected me pushes me to understand why she doesn’t want to spend time with me.

With the lens in front of my face, I don’t miss a single detail of her silhouette. A flash goes off. Then two... three... four... My camera is going to be overloaded. Seb is going to scold me for taking more photos of her than of the rest of the hall. Too bad. I can’t miss this opportunity. I want a keepsake of this girl in case I never see her again.

I slowly move closer to her. I capture her from every angle, not forgetting to zoom in on her chest. What a treasure, for God’s sake! The closer I get, the angrier she seems. Her nostrils flare, her eyes shoot daggers at me. She’s too cute.

“Hi,” I say, raising my eyebrows playfully.

She retorts instantly:

“Go screw yourself!”

I’m momentarily taken aback. Even with a sharp tone, I find her voice very sexy.

“Didn’t your parents teach you manners?”

She starts growling like a lioness. Her face is crimson. If she’s telling the truth, her boyfriend must be in for a wild ride.

I extend my hand to greet her:

“Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Adrian and…”

“And you’re going to do me the favor of getting out of my sight,” she cuts me off, stepping back.

Wow! Stubborn, headstrong, aggressive, nasty. Why is she reacting like this? This girl has some serious issues.

“Are you allergic to guys?”

Her pupils darken.

“I’m allergic to poor fools like you. Didn’t a slap teach you enough?”

Very well, miss! I can play your game if I have to. I’m going to be a pain.

“You can slap me as much as you want; that won’t stop me.”

“You’re really a weird guy.”

“And you, you’re incredibly... exciting.”

I raise my eyebrows, which makes her roll her eyes.

“You’re annoying! Go ahead, talk to my hand,” she snaps.

I hold back a laugh to avoid irritating her further.

“You should just walk away. I’m not interested in you!”

“Oh really? And why not? You don’t know me. You have no idea what you’re missing.”

Oh yes, pretty tigress! I think you could have a great time with me!

She’s about to turn on her heels, but her friend appears in front of us, all smiles.

“Hi! We saw each other last night, right? I’m not mistaken?” she asks, shaking my hand.

“Yes, we did. I’m Adrian, a photographer at Rebel’Photo.”

“I’m Alicia, and this is my sister Zoé.”

Zoé and Alicia. Two charming sisters. Especially the little tigress who is looking at me fiercely.

“I curse you,” Zoé whispers to Alicia, but loud enough for me to hear.

Full of anger, Zoé storms toward the changing rooms, but Alicia grabs her by the arm. She starts yelling like a fury.

“Let me go. Talk to him if you want, but I’m not interested!”

All things considered, I wonder if I should rather go for her sister. This girl has an incredible temperament. To react this way means she’s had some bad surprises in her life. Okay, her chest is tempting, but still! I just made the effort to introduce myself, and she throws me to the roses. Really not nice.

Alicia mutters something in Zoé’s ear while Seb appears in front of me. He furrows his brow.

Oh! Damn! He’s going to curse me when I haven’t said anything.

“I swear I didn’t do anything,” I exclaim to justify myself.

“You’re impossible! I told you not to hit on her, and you’re doing the exact opposite.”

“But it’s the truth!”

“Yeah, right! I’m going to believe you.”

I sigh as he turns to the girls:

“Excuse us, ladies. I don’t know what happened, but I apologize. We’re going to get back to work. Right, Adrian?”

He turns back to me, his eyes dark. I stay silent, but he must sense that I want to kill him.

“Nothing happened,” Alicia says. “It’s my sister, she…”

“Stop, Alicia! I didn’t do anything, Zoé cuts in.

“Well... okay. It’s time to go on stage anyway.”

“Now?” Seb asks, his face beaming.

Alicia nods in confirmation.

“Is it possible for me to join you to take some shots?”

“Oh... um... yes. No problem,” she replies, giving him a beautiful smile.

Alicia heads toward the changing rooms. Seb follows her. I can’t believe it! If he gets to approach these two stunning creatures, then I don’t see why I shouldn’t either.

Zoé’s face is still fuming. And as if she read my mind, she exclaims:

“Not a chance! We don’t need two photographers.”

Oh! But if you think that’s going to stop me, Zoé, you’re sorely mistaken.

I follow her, unable to resist checking out her delicious little butt swaying with her steps. I hear her mumbling words that are surely insults directed at me, then suddenly she turns around, slaps me, and slams the backstage door shut. Wow! What kind of tigress is this? She didn’t hold back. She makes me want to play this game even more. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. I love it, damn it!

Should I consult a doctor?