Make Me Bad(Private Lessons)

Chapter Sixteen




Luc





I spend the rest of Friday night alone in my apartment, and honestly, I don’t mind it. I play some music and get caught up writing a new piece for a couple hours. I hate to admit it, but Madison's on my mind the entire time, and I realize that being with her might be good for my music too. She’s inspired a piece that I feel really proud of, and I have a feeling this might just be the beginning of her influence on my life.

When I’m satisfied enough with the piece, I make myself some dinner. I’ll go back to a new composition multiple times, but after I first compose something, I need to walk away and let it sit for a few days before I go back to it.

I’m not usually one for entertaining but I'm excited the prospect of having the study abroad students over. Though, I wonder if it’s the right thing to do. I’m not a social person by nature, but I imagine that other study abroad advisors probably hosted events for their students. I, on the other hand, have met my students out at bars. Maybe I should be organizing some trips around Paris or outside of the city on weekends?

Shit. I’m a terrible advisor. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure that I am supposed to be organizing events for the group. I’m going to need to get on that.

I decide to have the students over tomorrow night, if they don’t have plans, and I’ll come up with a couple of ideas for some activities around the city for the next few weeks. Once I have Madison alone again, I’ll ask her to help me plan a few.

I send her a quick text around nine in the evening.

Going to have all the students over for a “Welcome to Paris” night tomorrow evening. I’ll send out an email, but can you and Cleo spread the word?

She texts back almost instantly.

Sure! That sounds great! Cleo is excited too. What time? And I will need your address ;)

Hmm. I wonder if she’s told Cleo about us yet. And she’s right; I need to give her a time. And what the hell is that weird smiley face? Is it winking at me? She knows my address, but I guess she’s playing as if she doesn’t know.

Let’s say 7:30. I’ll have wine, beer and food.

I text her my address since technically, she shouldn’t know it and shift my focus to tomorrow night.

I look around my apartment and realize that it doesn’t really need to be cleaned; it feels hardly lived in. I make a plan for the day and then go to sleep, unable to stop thinking about Madison.



I wake somewhat early the next morning, and feel more rested than I have since arriving in Paris. I shower, get dressed, head out for coffee and buy groceries for the evening. I am by no means a chef, so I stick to simple things such as bread, bakery goods, meats, olives and some fruits and vegetables. I drop the food off at the apartment and head back out to pick up alcohol and a few other drinks. That should be good enough.


I hear from Madison later in the morning. She informs me that she and Cleo contacted everyone and most were coming.

As I finish wiping my counters down, my phone rings. I see that it’s Juliette calling and I don’t answer. It can’t be a good sign that she is calling only twenty-four hours after our lunch. I wasn’t expecting such immediate contact from her; I hoped that I could push her off longer.

I’m more concerned after listening to her voicemail. She chirps about how lovely it was to see me, and that she could easily make an extra trip to Paris this week so we could get together again. She then says that her ex-husband has the girls this coming weekend, but if I'm able to make it out on Thursday evening, she could make dinner for all of us. She also lets it slip that I’m more than welcome to come visit over the weekend while she has the place to herself.

Right.

I decide not to respond for a few days. I would prefer to just ignore it, but I know that would make me look like a complete a*shole.

The rest of the day passes quickly and soon, it’s almost time for the students to arrive. I have a trip idea for next weekend, and decide to worry about subsequent trips later.

The first to arrive are Ava and Grace.

“Hi!” Grace says cheerfully as they enter. She’s carrying a bottle of white wine and seems completely at ease. Ava checks me out, and I try not to pay notice to ways she’s looking me up and down. I’ve gotten a weird vibe from Ava before but I’ve just ignored it.

“Cleo and Maddie told us that you would have wine, but we thought we would still bring a bottle just in case,” Grace says, slinging her bag and coat down on one of the chairs and putting the bottle next to the others.

“No, that’s fine,” I say, “Thanks for bringing it.”

“This is really nice of you,” Ava remarks, looking around.

I shrug modestly. “I probably should have done this earlier. I haven’t been the best advisor.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” Ava says somewhat coyly.

A few moments later there’s another knock at the door and three more students show up. They begin chatting with Ava and Grace and I slip back into the kitchen to get out the wine glasses.

I hear more voices enter through the front door and when I turn around I see Madison standing in the center of the room, smiling happily at me. She’s dressed in a long plum shirt with leggings and boots and her hair is hanging down her back.

I smile back at her and go over to say hi to her and Cleo. I take their coats and come back to find her looking out the window, craning her neck to see the Eiffel Tower.

“I love the Eiffel Tower,” she sighs as I come closer. “Is that cliché of me?”

“Not at all.”

I’m called away before I can say any more and soon there are ten students hanging out in my small living room. The wine is flowing and everyone seems to be in a good mood. My idea of organizing a trip to Versailles the following weekend is met with enthusiasm, and I promise to send out details at the start of the week.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Madison slip into my bedroom to use the bathroom. Everyone is listening to one of the guys, Jeff, who’s telling a funny story about trying to speak to the locals in French. I slip into the hall and enter my bedroom, softly shutting and locking the door behind me. I grab her as she comes out of the bathroom.

She gasps as I push her up against the wall.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, her eyes bright with alarm and desire.

“I can’t see you like this without touching you.”

I push her against the door and crush my lips to hers.