CHAPTER 15: COLD FEET

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I walked back home after my talk with Gerard, a grin still lingering on my lips. I was ecstatic about the idea of working with him. It would be the perfect way to use effectively all my free time. I made lunch quickly and ate in silence, staring at the clean white walls of the kitchen. I had a huge chocolate craving, so I attempted to rummage through every drawer and shelf of the kitchen to find the desired treasure. While I searched through the highest shelf of a cabinet, I found something not quite as good as chocolate, but close enough: alcohol.

Laurent had an interesting collection of wine, rum, vodka, and my ultimate favourite, Ungava gin. I took the bottle and smelled it, thinking about a habit of mine when I was in high school. Sometimes, when my mothers would go out for the night or I would find myself alone at home for a long time, I would invite Sarah over and steal from the hard liquors cabinet. We would blare music in the house and get ourselves drunk, just the two of us, to have fun. It was a simple, forbidden thing we did, and at the that time, it felt like the time of our lives.

Now, I was alone, and I doubted Gerard would want to dance drunkenly with me in Laurent's house. However, I would not let that fact stop me from having fun and take a break. So, I grabbed the expensive bottle with me and took a Sprite can in the same cabinet to make the delicious mix. I began drinking slowly while attempting to put music on the speakers of the living room.

Half an hour later, I was swaying mindlessly to Portugal.The Man and Hubert Lenoir, all the gin I had consumed hitting me hard. I felt free and crazy at the same time, laughing to myself while singing/slurring to the lyrics. I knew this was not healthy, but I did not care. Everybody had the right to get loose from time to time.

At 2 o'clock, the front door flew opened and I jumped in fright, knowing Laurent usually finished working at 4h30. He appeared with a frown on his face, obviously noticing the half-empty bottle of gin laying on the countertop and my dishevelled appearance, paired with the loud music. I scurried to turn off the speakers and stared at Laurent sheepishly, expecting another one of his outbursts.

''What is this?'', he asked with astonishment, removing his black jacket.

''I was bored'', I tried to say in the soberest tone possible, which was not working that well. ''What are you doing so early...?''

''I took the rest of the afternoon off'', he answered while watching my mess with irritated eyes. ''Are you drunk?''

''Yeah, totally'', I laughed stupidly, but stopped when I saw he did not share my amusement. ''Come on, don't make that face.''

He approached me tensely and raised his hand to help me get down from the sofa, which I forgot I was standing on. I took his hand, and the contact sent warmth everywhere, urging to touch him more. I refrained myself, but I still checked him out, his tight navy-blue shirt and beige pants making him look amazingly handsome. He picked up my glass and the bottle and put them pack in the kitchen, before he came back in front of me, his hands on his waist in a discouraged stance.

''Ugh, stop looking at me with the cold face'', I groaned, observing him. ''You're so freaking hot, it kills me.''

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