Make Me Bad(Private Lessons)

Chapter Twenty-Three




Madison





Cleo tries to cheer me up the entire way home, but it just doesn’t work. Because I’m sick of her pestering me, I finally agree to head out to the Champs Elysées to walk around and get hot chocolate.

“Be practical, Maddie,” she implores, cupping her mug of cocoa and looking at me. “Where was this thing with Luc going to go? Really? Did you think it was going to continue beyond Paris?”

I jut my chin out stubbornly and look away. I don’t want to admit it, but yes, I did think that. It was more than just sex.

“Maddie,” she says softly, realizing that I did in fact think that. “It never could have worked. Come on. He’s your teacher. Even I would have known better.”

I still don’t answer her, stewing in my own foolish hopes.

“I mean, look at me and Philippe,” she says, still trying. “I really like him, and we have a great time together. But I know it can’t continue beyond this trip. I live in New York and Philippe lives in France. It just doesn’t work. We are both okay with having a great time and enjoying each other’s company while I’m here. Why can’t you look at it that way?”

“Because it’s different with Luc,” I insist, “and besides, we both live in New York! We’ll be in the same city!”

“Okay, but still! He’s your teacher!”

“For now! In May he will no longer be my teacher and who says we have to make our relationship public.”

Cleo gives me a dubious look. “So, you’re going to continue a secret relationship? How is that going to work?”

“It could work.”

Cleo shakes her head. “Well, I tried. I don’t know what else to tell you Maddie. I feel for you, and I’m really sorry you’re hurting. I just wish there was an easier way for you.”

I sigh. I wish there was an easier way too. I just can’t find any way around it. I know I should just suck it up and accept the relationship for what it was, but I can’t. I just can’t let go for some reason.

I know that Luc isn’t the best choice for me on paper. Sure, I could be with someone younger, who isn’t my teacher. But Luc and I have a connection that I know is rare. I can’t walk away from it. I don’t know much about love or fate, but I know I can’t walk away from things with Luc.

But I can’t keep being this pathetic, lovesick girl chasing after a man who has made it clear that he isn’t interested.

Even though I don’t want to walk away, I have to walk away. I have too much pride for this. I have to keep telling myself this.

I have too much pride.

“Okay. I’m over it.”

Cleo looks at me as if I’m crazy.

“I mean it. I’m over it. I’m just going to let it go. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to hear Luc’s name unless we’re discussing school, and I definitely don’t want to see him unless I have to.”

Cleo nods slowly, catching on to my lightning fast mood change. “Ooohkay,” she says slowly, “We can do that.”

We sit in silence for a minute, sipping our cocoa, each lost in our own thoughts.

“Shit!” she exclaims, “but what about Saturday?”

I stare at her blankly.

“London,” she emphasizes.

“Crap!” I completely forgot that Saturday was the group trip to London. Everyone was excited about it, and we all had tickets for the same train. “I really want to go to London! I love London!”

“Well, go! Who cares if Luc will be there! The group will be big enough that you can ignore him. It’s not fair that you shouldn’t go because of this.”

I drop my head on the table dramatically. “But I don’t want to see him,” I moan. “I made a big deal out of how it would be so great for us to be there together.”

“What? It’s not like you two were going to hold hands and stroll through Trafalgar Square!”

“I know! But still! We would have had our little moments.”

“Suck it up, Maddie!” she says, annoyed.

“You’re right! Screw him! And you know what? If anyone shouldn’t go – it should be him! It’s not like he has to be our tour guide or something!”

Cleo grins. “Exactly!”

“Hell! I can show us around London if I need to! It’s an easy city to get around!”

“That’s right! Tell him to go to hell!”

I jump up. “Maybe I will!”

Cleo giggles. “Maddie, sit down,” she whispers, “People are staring.”

“Oh. Right.” I sit back down.

“I’m not saying to not tell him to go to hell, but maybe not right now.”

I nod. We change the subject and spend the rest of the afternoon talking about our holiday plans. Cleo’s family lives outside of Philadelphia, so she will take the train home for our winter break. She still isn’t sure whether she wants to stay on in the city after graduation, or move back to Philly.

We finally wind ourselves back home, walking past famous landmarks and just enjoying the city. It’s hard to believe in a few weeks time we won’t be living here anymore. I’ve started to grow accustomed to the beautiful buildings and architecture of Paris.

We make it back to our apartment, and we both go off and do our own thing. Cleo disappears into her room, and I pull out my laptop and lay across the floor. After responding to some emails, and looking at some photos, I pull up one of my favorite composition programs. It’s not the same as composing with my guitar in hand, but it’s fun to manipulate other instruments and build on top of melodies for an immediate result. I get lost in creating a new piece, and when I look up, Cleo is standing over me, smiling and shaking her head.

“What?” I ask, defensively. My neck is incredibly stiff from not moving.

“I’m seriously jealous. How the hell do you do that? Did you just start that piece after we got back?”

I nod sheepishly.

Cleo sighs. “If only we could all be as talented as you.”

It’s then that I notice that Cleo is dressed up in a mini-dress and heels.

“Philippe?” I tease.

She laughs. “Yes. I only have a few more weeks to continue our Paris love affair, so I better get on it!”

I laugh. “Will you be coming home tonight, or can I lock the deadbolt?”

She gives me a sly smile. “Lock the deadbolt.” She sashays over to her purse. “I won’t be home.”

“You crazy kids have fun,” I tease.

Cleo’s face turns serious and she walks back towards me. “Are you going to be okay? I know you have had a crappy few days. I can stay home if you want me to.”

“No, don’t be silly! Go out and have fun! Honestly, all this emotional turmoil and back and forth nonsense has exhausted me. I’ll probably go to bed early.”

Cleo nods, still looking unsure.

“Really, Cleo! Go! I know you would stay if I needed you too, but I promise, I’m fine. Go have fun. Tell Philippe I said hello.”

She goes back to her bag and picks it up. “If you need anything, text me. I can come home.”

“I know. Have fun!”

She blows me a kiss and then heads out the door.

I sigh and stretch, suddenly tired of the piece I’m working on. I drag myself into the kitchen and make a sandwich. I look at my phone, almost willing Luc to call or text me. I don’t know what I would want him to say. We seem to have said everything, and I know he’s right in a practical kind of way. It doesn’t mean that I like it, but I’m going to accept it.

I finish eating, and decide to treat myself to a glass of red wine. I’ve had more wine in Paris than I think I’ve had in my entire life. I take a sip, and manage to spill half the glass down my shirt.

“Crap!” I yelp. I quickly take the shirt off and hurry to the sink, running the shirt under cold water. How the hell did I do that? I head into our teeny laundry closet, pull out the stain remover, drench the spot on my shirt, and leave it over the washer to set before I wash it.

At the same time, I hear a knock on the door.

Seriously?

Not thinking, I go to the door and pull it open.

There stands Luc and his eyes bulge out of his head as he sees me in my pants and bustier style bra.

“Oh my god!” I gasp, quickly covering myself up. How did I forget that I was only half dressed? And not only that, but that this morning I had put on my trashiest bra in the vain hope that Luc and I may have reconciled after class.

A myriad of emotions cross Luc’s face: pleasure, surprise, lust, and then finally, embarrassment.

“I’m – I’m sorry!” he stutters, and starts to back away. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“What?”

“You must have company.”

He starts down the hallway.

Wait. What?

Oh my god! He thinks there is another man in my house!

“Luc! No! No, no, no! I don’t have company! My god! I spilled wine on my shirt right before you knocked and I was running back and forth between the laundry room trying to get the stain out!”

Luc stops and gives me a puzzled look. “Wine?”

“Yes!” I say with exasperation. “Would you like to come in? I just need to get a shirt.” I don’t know why I’m covering up in front of Luc when he’s already seen every inch of me.


“Sure,” he says slowly, coming back towards the door. My mind doesn’t even have time to process that he is here or try and figure out what he wants because I’m so focused on getting dressed.

He follows me inside and I hurry down the hall to my bedroom. “Just have a seat,” I call as I duck into my room. “What the hell?” I mutter to myself, as I throw open my chest of drawers. I’m happy that Luc is here, even though I just came to terms with Luc ending things. Was this was going to set me off on another emotional bender? What more could he have to say to me? I grab a light blue boat neck shirt and throw it over me and hurry out into the living room.

Luc isn’t on the couch and when I look up, I see him standing at the balcony doors, looking out at the Eiffel Tower, currently lit up with blue lights. At the top of every hour, an amazing light show begins and lasts for fifteen minutes. I glance at my watch and see that it’s five minutes until seven – almost time for the light show.

“There’s a light show in five minutes,” I say quietly.

He nods. “They’ve started that for the holiday season.”

I stay quiet because I don’t know what else to say. Then I can’t help what I say next. “I had been planning on telling you to go to hell.”

He turns around to look at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “Oh?”

Why does he look amused? That actually pisses me off.

“Yes,” I say indignantly. “Actually, right after class I was set to march over to your apartment to tell you, but Cleo stopped me.”

“Ah.” His brows furrow. “That was wise of Cleo.”

I cock my head to one side. He’s in a weird mood. “Yes, well she thought I should keep my distance.”

He sighs, and stares down at his hands. “It’s probably best that you didn’t stop by after class.” He pauses as if struggling with the words. “I had a visitor.”

The way he says visitor sends a surge of jealousy through my system. He hasn’t even said who visited him, but I can tell that I’m not going to like his answer.

I grit my teeth. “Who? Juliette? Is that what you’ve come here to tell me?” I can’t help all my insecurities from rising up like bile in my throat. “You’ve moved on that quickly? You and Juliette are now a couple?”

“No! No,” he says quickly, moving towards me. He reaches out like he’s going to touch me, but then he pulls back.

He looks up at me. “Vera.”

Vera? Who is Vera? Should I know that name?

He must notice my confusion, so he explains further. “My ex-wife.”

“Oh.”

I sink down on the couch. His ex-wife came to visit him. Has he come to tell me that he and his ex are back together? To give me another reason why we wouldn’t work out? One that makes more sense?

I bite my lip. I can’t argue with that kind of reason. If he doesn’t want to be with me because he doesn’t want to hurt my career, well, that’s one thing. But if he doesn’t want to be with me, because he wants someone else, well, I can’t argue with that.

He says nothing, so I speak up. “Oh, well I see. That changes things, I guess.”

“But I haven’t explained anything. I haven’t told you why.”

“It’s fine, Luc. You don’t need to. If you two are back together, I don’t need to hear the details. I understand.”

“Christ, Maddie! Hear me out before jumping to some f*cked up conclusion!”

What? I look up at him. They aren’t back together?

“My ex-wife is an awful person. I’ll spare you the details, but trust me on that. She is in town on family business regarding the death of her uncle. She actually had the nerve to ask me for a place to sleep. It had nothing to do with us getting back together.”

This story was getting stranger and stranger.

“I obviously told her she couldn’t sleep at my apartment. The point is, that seeing her and talking to her –’’ he stops speaking as if he can’t get the words right. “Her showing up in Paris and being here – it was so wrong. Everything was so wrong. Just being around her reminded me of how different you are, and I suddenly thought to myself – what the hell am I doing?”

I wait patiently; still unsure of where he is going with this.

“I came here to tell you that I screwed up. I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to be without you. I don’t know how, and I’m not going to worry about that just yet, but I want to be with you. We’ll take it day by day. Right now we are in Paris. We don’t have to worry about New York. We don’t have to worry about the spring. We don’t have to worry about graduation. Let’s take it one day at a time. One day, here in Paris, right now, this moment.”

And then he can’t say anymore because I’ve thrown myself into his arms.