“You brushed her off?” Isa nudged Sylvie.
“The stranger? There was nothing to brush off. We were simply stood together at a table full of questionable antiques.”
Isa pursed her lips. “I’ve told you before, Sylvie: your dream woman is not going to fall at your feet, however beautiful your shoes are.”
“That may be. But she wasn’t the one.” Sylvie shrugged. “And I came to spend time with you, not some stranger.”
Isa huffed. “Shall we go?”
“Let me just buy this card.” Sylvie passed over a euro in exchange for the tatty postcard. A thread of connection was weaving its way between her and Ade. She couldn’t describe it in words, but the anticipation filling her chest when she safely pocketed her postcardwas undeniable.
“So you went out with them all to a bar?” Sylvie shook her head, horrified that Ade would hit the town with her students.
“You don’t approve?” Ade asked.
“It’s never wise to mix with the…” Sylvie hesitated. Who was she to dictate who Ade should socialize with? “Students.”
“Hey, I’d prefer a hard and fast rule around it all. I like a firm boundary. But in this case I’m getting paid to see them through this year, and part of that involves organizing a social once per semester. It’s kind of a gray area, don’t you think?” Ade licked the remnants of her sticky pastry from her fingers, sending a flutter of interest through Sylvie’s ribcage.
“You’re somewhat of an anomaly when it comes to student and staff relations, yes.”
Ade didn’t fit in any of the boxes, and that wasn’t helping Sylvie stick to her own ethics when it came to thinking about her.
Colette approached with a hand towel thrown over her shoulder. “Do you need any more coffee over here?”
Sylvie raised her eyebrow in Ade’s direction, allowing her to take the lead.
“I’d like another one. How about you?”
Sylvie relaxed a little further under Ade’s watchful gaze. The afternoon light was falling, and Colette’s low lamps illuminated Ade’s handsome features.
“Sylvie?” Colette said.
“Oh, yes, please.” She giggled, caught out in her daydream. “Thank you, Colette. You look extra busy this afternoon.”
“It’s been steady all week. I’m grateful for the business, to be honest.” She strode to the counter to ring up their drinks.
Sylvie turned to Ade, and the crowded room almost disappeared from view. Ade leaned her chin against the palm ofher hand, and the hint of a smile played at her lips.
“What’s funny?” Sylvie asked, a shyness prompting her to cover her cheeks with her palms. However much she indulged her enjoyment of Ade as a spectacle, the prospect of Ade staring back was too much.
“Nothing. I like seeing you in this space, that’s all.” Ade reclined. “You look so comfortable and relaxed.”
“And I usually look like I have a stick up my ass, as you Americans might say?” Sylvie frowned with mock indignation.
“No. You’re a little different on campus is all. Professor Boucher is revered and respected.” Ade scratched her ear. “Sylvie is humble and loved by her neighbors.”
It had been such a long time since anyone had seen past Sylvie’s work wardrobe and persona that she was taken aback by Ade’s insights. It revealed a deeper understanding than she’d given Ade credit for. Sylvie drew her cardigan closed in a moment of vulnerability. Not wishing to shut Ade down completely, she met her eye contact and mirrored her softened gaze across the table.
Colette returned. “Two more coffees. Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” Sylvie said. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have a something for you.” She pulled out the postcard from her bag and passed it to Ade.
“Really?” Ade’s eyes widened, and a faint blush crept up her neck. “La Nouvelle Vague.” She traced the bright block of color with her finger, outlining the monochrome image of the short-haired woman smoking a cigarette. “She’s beautiful.”
“Is she?” Sylvie touched the tattered card, strangely a little embarrassed by the gift.
“She has stunning eyelashes and lips,” Ade said, pointing at the card.
