#adribri

“Yup!  That assignment wasn’t as difficult as I’d expected.”  When Theo had mentioned meeting up at the Forester Club that night, Marinette hadn’t been sure she’d be able to go.  Her Art and Spirituality professor had hit the ground running, Day One.  She flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink, then turned back to Theo. “How are your classes going so far?”

He winced, and set his drink back on the bar.  “You were pretty spot on about the teachers.  Especially Mendeliev.”

“Yeah, the rumors about her are pretty consistent.”  Marinette grimaced sympathetically.  “I’m not looking forward to my turn in her class.”

“She’s brutal.” He shuddered theatrically, then nudged Marinette’s arm with his elbow.  “How about you?”  

“Great!”  The bartender returned with her drink; she accepted it and paid with a murmured thanks.  “I think I’m really going to enjoy this semester, even if I am going to have to work my butt off to get through it.”

Theo cocked his head.  “You like a challenge, then?” At her nod, a roguish smile curled one corner of his mouth.  “So maybe I shouldn’t be making things so easy for you?”

Marinette laughed.  “You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”

“I think a lot of you,” he said.  He’d leaned in toward her, how voice low and warm and his eyes sparking.  “Is it working?”

She pushed him back with a finger on his nose.  “Alright Casanova, I haven’t had enough alcohol for bad pick up lines.  Let’s finish our drinks, and then you can show me whether you can dance as well as you say you can.”

“Yes ma’am,” he drawled in English, making her laugh again.  

They chatted for several more minutes as they each finished their drinks, then she took him by the hand and led him to where Alya and Nino were dancing nearby. 

As they moved through the dancers, she threw a glance at her sister, who was dancing happily with Adrien on the other side of the club, and smiled.  Behind them, Felix stood with the Bourgeois girls, staring moodily out at the dance floor.  Then his eyes suddenly locked with hers and she resisted the impulse to look away.  Instead, she raised an eyebrow and smiled in challenge.  Felix’s scowl deeped and she allowed her smile to widen.

Theo followed her gaze and frowned. “It’s too bad that you and your sister have been forced to part ways for the evening,” he said, leaning forward to speak close to her ear.  “I hate to think that Felix’s beef with me might come between you.”

Marinette stopped walking to turn and frown at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you can’t hang out with your sister, because of this feud?”

Marinette shook her head.  “We hang out all the time, but we’re not joined at the hip.  This isn’t the first time that we’ve had friends who didn’t get along, and it won’t be the last.”  She shrugged.  “I’m just sorry that his presence might make things harder for you.”

He smiled.  “Don’t worry about me.  It’s not for me to be put off by him.”

She smiled back, and they went back to wading through the crowd.

“Took you long enough!” Alya said when they got close enough, shouting to be heard over the music.

“Hush,” Marinette shouted back, falling into the rhythm of the music.  “Not all of us have such easy classes this semester.”

Alya scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because not all of us are insane.”

Theo chuckled as he moved in behind her, his hands on her hips, and proceeded to demonstrate that he was, indeed, just as good a dancer as he’d said.  They moved together in perfect sync.  Marinette felt herself relaxing.  She tipped her head back to speak into his ear, so that he would hear her over the throbbing music.  “I’m glad you suggested this,” she said.  “I hadn’t realized that I needed a break so badly until just now.”

“Of course,” he answered.  “You spent all week either buried in books, or slaving at your parents’ bakery.  “I’m glad you came out.”  She hummed her agreement and for a long time, no one said anything.  The four of them shifted as they danced, sometimes moving in a group and sometimes dancing in pairs.

When Alya tilted her head towards the bar sometime later, then began moving in that direction, Marinette and the guys followed.  She was surprised to discover that more than an hour had passed while they danced.  

“Are you going to the Agreste party next weekend?” Alya asked while they waited for their drinks.

“You think Bri would let me skip it?” Marinette said, smiling wryly.  “You guys are going right?”

Both Nino and Alya nodded, but Theo frowned.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go.  I doubt I’m invited.”

“But it’s a university sponsored event, dude.  Everyone is invited.”

Theo shook his head at Nino as the bartender returned with four draft beers.   “Felix hates me, which means that Adrien and his sisters do, too.  They won’t let me through the door.” He pushed his credit card across the bar, and waved the others away when they tried to pay for their own.  “I got this round,” he said.  “I want to thank you guys for making me feel so welcome here.”

 “No worries, man.” Nino clapped him on the back with a grin.  “Just let one of us get the next round, alright?”

“I think you should go, Theo,” Marinette said decisively.  “It is an open event for students, and you are a student.  Besides,” she added a bit wickedly, they won’t dare make you leave if you’re there as my date.”

Theo lowered his drink, staring at her.  “You’d stick your neck out for me?  Even knowing what Felix is capable of?”

Alya chuckled.  “Clearly, you don’t know Marinette very well yet.”

Theo grinned at her.  “I think I’m starting to,” he said.  Then he lifted his glass.  “To Marinette!” he said.  “Santé!”

Felix watched as Marinette began dancing with Theo, feeling something acidic roil in his gut.  Her arch smile had cut him from clear across the room and now, the sight of her head leaning back on his shoulder, laughing at something he said as they moved together had his hands curling into fists.  

He wanted to pull her away from that deceitful bastard, to shake her and tell her what a fool she was, to kiss her senseless.

Then he wanted to punch Theo right in lying mouth.

“Still admiring her ‘fine eyes’, Felix?  Or has her abominable taste finally shown you what trash she is?”

Felix glanced from Chloe’s smug face to Sabrina’s, then turned his back on the dancing crowd and the woman who’d just put him in his place without saying a word. He ground his teeth.  “Her lack of judgement is irrelevant,” he said.  Apparently he had a masochistic streak, because he found himself adding, “it makes her no less beautiful.”  He muttered it into his glass, the words meant for no one else, but both of the girls heard him.

Sabrina snickered, and Chloe’s smug expression wilted and turned sulky. 

Sabrina, who was already halfway drunk, rolled her eyes at him.  “Would you just fuck her already, and get her out of your system?”

“Sabrina!” Chloe gasped.  “He would never!”

He felt his cheeks heat, but he ignored them both.  That barb was entirely too close to the mark.

Instead he watched Adrien’s conversation with Bridgette.  The music was far too loud to hear what they were saying to one another, but it was a perfect opportunity to observe them.  Adrien was clearly smitten; even if he hadn’t said as much, Felix could tell just by looking at the man.  Bright eyes, flushed cheeks, leaning toward her ever so slightly, as if he wanted to be closer but didn’t want to invade her space.  Yeah, Adrien was a goner.

But the girl?  She was much harder to read.  She liked Adrien, at least, but Felix didn’t think that her feelings were engaged.  Her expression was far too composed, her behaviour around Adrien far too controlled.  They were so different, their backgrounds markedly so; nothing less than love would keep them together.  Even then, he doubted Bridgette DuPain-Cheng could possibly stand up to the cruel, haughty Audrey Bourgeois.

Felix shuddered.  He had never been at odds with Adrien’s mother, and hoped he never would be.  The woman was a dragon.

“Felix?” An arm slipped through his, but he didn’t notice.  “Are you alright?”

If he was right about Bridgette, Adrien was going to end up getting hurt.  Badly.

The hand on his arm jerked him around so that he was no longer facing Adrien.  “Felix!” 

“What!” he snapped at last, glaring at Chloe.

She glared back, and flipped her smooth blond hair over her bare shoulder.  “You know we can’t let them get too close.”

He blinked.  That was not at all what he’d expected, and uncomfortably close to what he’d been thinking.

She rolled her eyes.  “You know it’ll never work.  He’s the Bourgeois heir, and she’s a bakery girl.  He’s wealthy and cultured and well traveled, and she thinks that visiting Marseilles is an adventure.  It’s ridiculous.  What could they possibly have in common?”

It sounded so snobby, put that way, but Felix still had to agree.  “Maybe it would be better if they didn’t spend so much time together,” he allowed.

“Exactly!” Her smug expression had returned.  “Though if that’s what you think, then I don’t understand why you agreed to host that ridiculous party next weekend.”  

“Neither do I,” he admitted wryly.  “But it’s too late now.”

Chloe sniffed.  “Well at least you recognize your folly,” she said primly.

“Don’t act like you’re not taking full advantage, Chlo,” Sabrina said, slurring the words a bit.  She had a fresh drink in her hand, and Felix realized she must have gone to the bar to get it.

“I do seem to recall organizing a VIP room for you and your entourage,” Felix said, brow raised.  “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and XY have all announced their intentions of attending.”

Chloe certainly looked pleased with herself, and Sabrina giggled.  “To hear her talk,” she said to Felix, “you’d think it was her party!  Didn’t you tell what’s-his-name that you’re co-hosting with Felix?”

“That’s enough, Sabrina!” Chloe snapped, plucking the glass out of Sabrina’s hand.  “Clearly, you have had too much to drink, if you’re spouting nonsense like that.”  

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “What have you done, Chloe?”

“Nothing!  I only invited a few more people to the party, as you already knew.”

“Chloe--”

“This place sucks, and we’re leaving.” She tossed her hair again as she dragged Sabrina behind her.  “Honestly, I don’t know why we came back here to begin with.”

Felix shook his head.  He had a feeling that Nathalie would soon be putting down a new round of rumors about a liaison between the Agreste and Bourgeois families.  

If he didn’t strangle Chloe, he suspected that Nathalie would.

Saturday, at last.  

After another grueling week of classes, closing the bakery on Friday and opening it again that morning, Marinette was exhausted.  What she really wanted was a night in, but she’d not get that until tomorrow. 

Tomorrow would be a much needed Do Nothing Day.  Her homework was done, her back to back shifts with Bridgette had netted them three straight days off at the bakery, and after tonight’s party she had no social commitments. She didn’t have any intention of changing out of her pajamas, much less leaving the house.  

First things first, though: the party.

Marinette sat across from Bridgette at their tiled dining table, their makeup spread between them.  They were nearly finished with it when Max came out of the guest room looking stiff and awkward in a striped sweater vest over a starched while dress shirt and pleated khaki pants.  The girls shared a brief look.  His attire might have been perfect for leading a church youth group meeting, but for an upscale, all out college party?  Not so much.

“This gathering tonight,” Max began, trying and failing to sound nonchalant, “will it be like the other university functions we’ve attended?”

Bridgette paused in applying her eyeliner and shrugged.  “Yeah, for the most part.”

“There’s probably going to be a bit more drinking and general debauchery at this one than the others,” Marinette added.  “Since it’s being held at a private venue, and is only nominally associated with the university. Why?”

“Ah.”  Max shifted uncomfortably, his blush clear even on his warm cocoa skin.  “That is, yes.  That is good.”

Bridgette smiled sympathetically. “You know, Max, you don’t have to go with us if you don’t want to.”

He straightened his spine and finally met their eyes.  “Nonsense,” he said firmly.  “While such a party will be in no way edifying, I believe that mother would want me to go.  She is convinced that a thorough social education is as important to my success as clergyman as my theological studies.  How else am I to relate to my future flock?”

Bridgette blinked.  “Ah--right.  That is why she sent you to us, isn’t it?”

Marinette, who had been struggling not to laugh, thought that perhaps Aunt Catherine should have begun that education well before now. Still, she supposed, it was better late than never.   Her sister’s comment had a light bulb going off in her brain, though, and she sobered.  

“Max,” she began carefully, “do you think you’ve made any progress on that front?”

He stiffened.  “Progress?”

“Have you gotten to know anyone?  Started to feel more comfortable in social situations?”

“But, Marinette!” he spluttered.  “These things take time! I only just moved a few weeks ago!”

Marinette tossed her blending brush to the table as she stood.  “I know, but--Max, how would you feel about letting us help you?”

“Help me?” he repeated, frowning.  “Help me what?”

“Break out of your shell?” Marinette answered, her rising inflection making it a question.  She wanted to help Max, not offend him.  “You mother has kind of thrown you into the deep end here, and I kind of got the feeling that you’re drowning--”

“What my sister means to say,” Bridgette cut in with a warning glance for Marinette and a kind smile for Max, “is that you’ve seemed pretty uncomfortable at the other events we’ve taken you to.  It’s completely new to you, isn’t it?”

“Your entertainments have been nothing like my mother’s society affairs,” he said stiffly.  “That is true.”

“So maybe it might help if you know better what to expect?” Bridgette went on.  “Things like dress codes, and the types of people who are likely to attend?  

Max’s expression had relaxed a bit, and turned thoughtful.  “Perhaps you are right.  If academic instruction is beneficial to my education, it stands to reason that social instruction would be beneficial as well.”  Then he frowned.  “Is there something wrong with my clothes?”

“N-no,”  Marinette said.  “Not if you like your clothes.  But, have you ever experimented with other styles?”

He shook his head.  “Mother has always selected my wardrobe.”

“Well, would you like to try now?” Bridgette asked.  You shouldn’t change anything about yourself for other people, but if you’d like to explore your own sense of style for yourself, we could definitely help with that.”

He looked uncertainly between his cousins.  “I suppose it is too late to change anything for this evening.  There is no time to go shopping--”

“Yay!” Bridgette squealed, clapping.  “Of course it’s not too late!”

At the same time, Marinette said “Nonsense.  You live with a budding designer, Max.  It’s never too late.”  She grinned delightedly as she eyed him up and down, mentally calculating his size and what styles would be flattering on him.  “Come on Max, we’re going to raid your closet.”

Bridgette gave an encouraging nod, and Marinette gestured for Max to precede them into his room.  He stopped just inside the door, and turned back.  

“Marinette, I’m sure that nothing in my current wardrobe--”

She waved him to silence as she looked around his immaculate room.  “Where are those jeans that Maman got for you right after you arrived?”

“Oh.  Those.  They are at the back of the closet.”

Marinette dove into his closet and began flipping through the hangers, looking for likely candidates.  She found the jeans and held them out behind her, then shook them when he didn’t take them from her.  The hanger left her hand, and she went back to digging.

“Are you certain that denim is an appropriate choice?” he said uncertainly.  “Mother says--”

“Max, I love you,” Marinette interrupted him again as she emerged with several shirts in her hands.  “But I need you to please forget everything your mother has told you about fashion. Her fashion sense is several decades out of date, and anyway, we’re trying to find your fashion sense.”  He frowned, but nodded. “Good.  We’ll try a few things, and if nothing works for you then we’ll stick with this for now, until we can go shopping.”

“So, jeans?” he asked.

“Jeans,” she said, nodding firmly as she laid out the shirts on the bed.  “Those in particular are perfect, because the darker color means that we can dress them up or down pretty easily.  As for your shirt...”  She trailed off, eyeing their options consideringly: a surprisingly current white button down dress shirt, thankfully not yet starched and ironed to within an inch of its life; a fuzzy fawn colored sweater with a shallow V neck; a previously white long-sleeve henley that her father had accidentally turned pink in the wash; and the t-shirt that had been hanging with the jeans.  Her mother had bought that, too, and while Max had expressed thanks, no one had seen either article of clothing since.  “Okay,” she said.  “Of these four, are there any that you definitely don’t want to wear tonight?”

“The sweater, if you intend for me to wear it alone.  It is wool, and itchy if I’m not wearing something under it.”

“Fair enough.” Marinette took the sweater and hung it back in the closet.

“Anything else?”

He frowned.  “I am not fond of this one, either.  It was kind of your mother to think of me, but--.”

Sabine pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and fore finger with another sigh.  “You forgot, or you put off telling us?”  Tom winced guiltily, giving Sabine all the answer she needed.  She stood and began clearing away their breakfast dishes.  “Mm-hmm.  Well then, I suppose you can handle putting clean sheets on the bed in the guest room, then?” she asked sweetly.

Tom slumped in relief and grinned at his wife.  “Of course I can, my darling!  I’ll make sure everything is ready by the time he gets here.”

Marinette shared a look with her sister.  “Which will be when, exactly?”

“Four o’clock this afternoon, assuming that his train arrives on time.  Will you girls be here to welcome him?”

“Do we have to be?” Bridgette asked hopefully.

“Yes, you do,” her mother answered firmly.  “You’re both due in the café until four anyway, so you have no excuse.  He may be a bit...ah…”

“Difficult?” Bridgette supplied helpfully.

“Obnoxious?” Marinette added.

“Awkward,” Sabine continued firmly, her expression reproving.  “But he’s still your cousin and we will make him welcome here.”

“Yes, Maman,” they chorused dutifully, though they both wore glum expressions.

“There’s my girls,” Tom said, smiling.  He stood and carried his plate to the sink, and Sabine followed hot on his heels.

“The whole semester, Tom, really?” she hissed quietly.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” He whispered back.  “You know how Catherine can be, though.  How could I say no?”

Both girls muffled their laughter behind their hands, and slipped quietly out of the apartment.

“Poor Papa,” Bridgette said, shaking her head as she reached both for the bannister and for Marinette’s shoulder.  Her ankle was much better than it had been when she’d first fallen a week ago, but it was still weak and neither of them wanted to take a chance on her tumbling down the stairs.

“‘Poor Papa’,” Marinette echoed incredulously, glancing at her sister as she helped her maneuver down the steps.  “We’re the ones who will be stuck entertaining Collin all semester.”

“Oh, it won’t be so bad, Mari.  You’ll see.”

Marinette scoffed.  “I love Max, I do.  But when he’s around, it is always that bad.”

“I’m telling you, Fe, this is hands down the best bakery in all of Paris,” Adrien said, peering excitedly out of the window at the passing streets.  “My mother swears by this place, and so does yours!”

“Really? I hadn’t known,” Felix said drily.  Unlike Adrien, he was reclining lazily in his seat, his head against his head rest and his eyes closed.

Adrien ignored his friend’s sarcasm; he was used to it.  “Chloe says that they serve coffee and stuff now, too, and she flat refuses to go anywhere else.  And you know Chloe,” he added.  “She wouldn’t deign to drink anything that isn’t ‘the best’.”  

Felix scoffed, acknowledging the truth of that, and then remembered what she’d said at the party.   This, then, is the girls’ café, Felix realized.  He wondered if they would be working this afternoon, suddenly feeling a bit more enthusiastic about the errand.  Then wondered why it should make a difference one way or another.

“We’re here!” Adrien said, drawing Felix’s attention once more.  Adrien burst out of the car almost before it stopped.  “Here it is, the best boulangerie et pâtisserie in the city!” he said, gesturing grandly at the unassuming shopfront behind him.

Felix slid out of the car behind him with a murmured thanks to their driver, and frowned up at the corner building before him.  It didn’t look like much from the outside, and he was more skeptical than ever about his friends’ claims.  “This is the place everyone has been raving about?” he asked doubtfully.

“Don’t you know better than to judge a book by its cover, Fe?”  Adrien scolded.  He opened the door, making the bells above it jingle.  “Come on, it won’t kill you to give it a chance.”

Felix sighed and walked past Adrien into the shop.  At this point, he was willing to give it a chance just to shut him up about it.

The first thing he noticed was the absence of other customers.  Was it a normal lull, or had his father’s staff bullied everyone out in advance of their arrival?   Despite his relief at being spared an audience, he hoped that it was coincidence, not contrived.

A heartbeat after that, he registered that there were no beautiful young women behind the counter with sweet smiles or snapping blue eyes.  He stifled his disappointment and took in the shop itself.

In contrast to its forgettable exterior, the inside was tastefully decorated shades of pale pink and gold.  The shop’s wares, whose aromas had greeted him the moment he stepped through the door, were laid out neatly on gleaming white counters and shelves.  Beyond the shop’s displays was a dining area with an eclectic collection of mismatched café tables and chairs.  Set against the warm brick of the room, the overall effect was charming, and he realized with some surprise that he liked it.  If the food tasted half as good as it smelled, then he’d have to concede that their reputation was entirely deserved.

“Oh wow, that’s new!” Adrien said, peering into the dining area.  “The last time I was here, this was part of the kitchen.”

“Then it must have been quite some time since you were here last,” said a diminutive Asian woman that Felix hadn’t initially noticed, but immediately recognized as a relation of Marinette’s.  “It’s been years since we expanded the shop!”

“Mrs. Cheng?” Adrien asked hopefully.

“Why yes, do I—” She broke off suddenly and her eyes widened in recognition.  “Adrien?”  He nodded, and the small woman bustled out from behind the counter with a bright smile.  “Goodness, you’ve grown!  Your photo on the TV doesn’t do you justice.  Have you got a hug for an old woman, or have you outgrown such things now?”

Felix all but gaped at the woman’s behavior, but Adrien walked into her open arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Nonsense,” he said warmly.  “You’re every bit as lovely now as I remember you being before, and I will never be too old for hugs.”

“Oh, dear,” she said, smiling up at him, “you’re every bit the charmer Bridgette claimed you to be.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed in confusion then rose incredulously when he made the connection.  “Bridgette and Marinette are your daughters?”

“All of their lives,” she said impishly.  Then she turned expectantly to Felix.  “And you must be Felix.  I haven’t seen you since you were an infant.”

Felix resisted the urge to step back.  “Mrs. Cheng,” he said coolly, with only the barest hint of a smile.

“Your father’s son, I see,” she observed with a merry twinkle.  “It seems that Marinette wasn’t much given to exaggeration, either.”

Adrien snickered, and Felix bristled.

“Come now, both of you, and take your pick of the shop while I get started on something for you to drink.  I know you didn’t come here to see me, after all.”

She buzzed efficiently about the shop as they browsed, and presented them with their requested drinks just as they made their pastry selection.  When they tried to pay, she declined and adroitly maneuvered them into a promise for ‘next time’.

Felix couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so deftly—or pleasantly—manipulated.

“What was it you were you saying earlier, Bri?” Marinette asked, leaning close to Bridgette so as not to be over heard.  “Something about, ‘it won’t be so bad’?”  Bridgette elbowed her in the side, and Marinette straightened with a smile for her awkward, if well-meaning cousin.  “Are you having a good time, Max?” she asked politely, gesturing around them.

They were at a sort of indoor carnival and resource fair, held in the main hall of the Student Union.  It was the second major social mixer planned by the University, and intended to give students a chance to meet their peers, become comfortable on campus, and learn more about the different organizations and resources on campus.

“Oh absolutely!  This is quite an impressive Hall, though I must say that it doesn’t quite compare to the one at De Bourgh University.  Did you know that the De Bourgh family donated their entire estate to the pursuit of higher learning, and that Sir Lewis De Bourgh himself was the first dean?”

“Ah, yes we did, actually.”

He looked nonplussed for a moment, then rallied.  “Well, they recently installed a brand new, state-of-the-art arts wing that cost in excess of—”

“Is your discipline within the arts, then, Max?” Bridgette asked, hoping to divert the conversation to something they might care about, at least a little bit.

“Oh, no.  I would never study something so frivolous as that.  I will be studying theology and philosophy under—”

“Ahh,” Marinette interrupted him. “That’s too bad then.  I’m studying fashion, and Bridgette is studying graphic design.”

“Oh!  No!  I mean, that is to say—” he spluttered awkwardly.  “I meant no offense, of course, I just—”

Bridgette stopped him with a hand on his arm.  “Relax, Max.  Mari’s just teasing you.”

He looked between them, and Marinette nodded a confirmation.  “The arts aren’t for everyone,” she said lightly.  “And theology is no more appealing to me than fashion is to you, I’m sure.”

Collin smiled, and relaxed a bit.  “Teasing.  I should have known.  You’ve always been a tease, Marinette.”

Bridgette choked on her drink, Marinette hid a laugh behind a cough, and Max’s eyes flew wide as he realized the double-entendre in his comment.  “No! N-Not like that!  I would never suggest—I meant—”

“It’s alright,” Marinette assured him, still laughing.  “We know what you meant.”

“Look, Bridgette said, pointing to a table set off to the side.  “Nino, Alya , Ivan and Mylene are setting up a Magic game.  Didn’t you say that you wanted to learn how to play?”

“Are they?”  He brightened, and turned to wave at Alya.  She returned his wave with a pained smile.   Then he turned back to Bridgette.  “It can’t be that different from D&D, right?  Do you think they’d be willing to teach me?”

“Oh, I’m certain that they would,” Marinette said encouragingly.  “Ivan almost always brings more than one deck, and he doesn’t mind sharing.”

“Absolutely,” Bridgette agreed firmly.  “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

I’ll have to remember to thank her later, Marinette thought to herself as her sister led their cousin away.  Especially since she’s still limping.

He was a bizarre mix of snooty pretension and complete social ineptitude. The poor thing had been home schooled, isolated from his peers, and taught to believe in his own superiority.  At least he hadn’t turned cruel, she thought, shaking her head.  Awkward is better than cruel, any day.

“Excuse me,” said a voice at her side.  She turned to see a handsome young man, probably a few years older than she was, with a shy expression on his tanned face. “It’s Marinette, right?”

“That’s right.”  Marinette smiled at the good-looking stranger and held out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

“We haven’t, actually.”  He took her hand and shook it firmly, without squeezing in a show of ridiculous male dominance.  She liked him immediately.  “My name is Théo Barbot.  I’m here with a study abroad program, and word on the street is that no one knows the art department quite like you do.”

“Really?” Marinette arched a skeptical brow, but her smile widened.  “Is that so?”

“Ah, no, actually,” he admitted sheepishly.  “My roommate pointed out a few people who could show me around.  I just…had a good feeling about you.”

Marinette blushed at that last bit, but otherwise ignored it.  “Who is your roommate?”

“Denny—ah, Dennis Regent,” he answered, pointing at a familiar-looking young man near the refreshment table.  He saw them looking at him, and waved.  “I think he knows your sister.”

“Yeah, he was in a few of her classes last year,” Marinette said, nodding in recognition.  She turned back to her new companion.  “Well, Théo, what would you like to know?”

“Oh man,” he said, widening his eyes. “I don’t even know!  There’s so much.  Um, here.  Maybe you could tell me about the professors I’ll be working with?”  He fumbled for his phone, and brought up an email confirming the classes he’d signed up for.  “I’ve got Dupont for Abstract Theory.”  He grimaced.  “Denny said that Dupont is a bear.”

“Oh, Professor Dupont isn’t so bad, so long as you don’t show up late to his class or try to turn an assignment in after it’s due.  Tardiness is his pet peeve.”

“That’s good to know, I guess.”  He scrolled down, scanning the email.  “What about this one?”

Marinette stepped closer to him to look at his phone, bringing their heads close together.  As she scanned his schedule, she noticed the subtle, spicy scent of his cologne and bit at her lip.  Great smile, firm handshake, doesn’t find it necessary to bathe in his cologne, and he’s in my department?  Better and better, she thought.

Aloud, she said,  “Antonin?”  She shrugged.  “Super easy, so long as you don’t miss class.”

He quirked a smile at her, and Marinette felt her heart do a little flip.  “No skipping, then, huh?” he asked.

“No skipping,” she confirmed.

“Bustier?”

“High standards, but really super nice.”

“What about this one?”

Marinette leaned back in to see what he was pointing at, then winced and hissed through her teeth.  “Mendeliev.”

His brows went up.  “That bad?”

Marinette shrugged noncommittally, but her expression spoke volumes.  “I’ve never had her, but she’s got a nasty reputation.”

“Great.”  Théo’s shoulders fell.  “I’m not going to have much free time this semester, am I?”

“Not much,” she said, her voice sympathetic.  Then she frowned thoughtfully; Mendeliev only taught senior level courses.  She cleared her throat.   “So, this is your senior year?”

“Yeah.  I’m doing my last year here.  Why?”

She twisted her lips into a wry smile and crossed her arms over her breast.  “You’re a senior, and your roommate pointed out sophomores to help you learn the ropes?”  He flushed, and Marinette grinned impishly. “I’m not buying it.”

“Alright, yes, I admit it,” he replied with his hands up, palms out, in a gesture of surrender.  “I wanted an excuse to talk to you.  But in my defense, Denny did say that you would be a good one to show me around.”

“I suppose I’ll allow it,” she drawled, smirking.

“Then I am in your debt,” he said gallantly, bowing.  “If I take you out for coffee, can we call it even?”  He held out his crooked arm, his expression hopeful, and Marinette melted.