Page 40 of You + Me – Against the World

What I really want is to be alone. But Clémentine says that showing my face in public is the best way to prove to Tim that I’m not moping over our breakup, that my life is going on without him, and that his threats haven’t scared me. By breaking up with him, I also lost all of his friends and almost all of the social life that kept me busy when I wasn’t thinking about Vadim Arcadi.

“Have you ever heard of the Coué method?” my best friend asks me with a smile. She links her arm through mine to give me courage as we stand in front of the café. “It’s a concept that came from the psychologist Émile Coué. You just have to fake being happy until you actually feel it.”

“Clémentine D’Aragon, I love you with all my heart, but I don’t think I’ve got it in me to pretend like that. Even for you.”

“Oh yes, you have, you’ll see! Tell me something, anything. I’m going to laugh really loudly so people think we’re having the best time.”

“No.”

“Yes! It’ll be awesome. We’ll walk in, we’ll laugh like crazy, heads will turn, and we’ll practically shower everyone with happiness!”

“It’s a big, fat no.”

“Ha-ha-ha! I didn’t even have to force it. You’re funny when you’re sad. Come on, let’s go sit in the back.”

A few people do turn to look at us. Not because they’re captivated by—or even envious of—our little performance. It’s more of an awkward, mocking vibe, perhaps even outright contemptuous. Looks like Tim did his job well.

Then, suddenly, in the scattered Thursday night crowd that only half fills the Sunset, two clear, gray eyes stop me dead in my tracks. There they are: those luminous eyes I’d almost forgotten. Those piercing irises, glittering with provocation. The eyes that I love so much. I watch as they drift away from me and settle on the very pretty girl sitting across the table from him.

“Oh my God, what a player—he’s with someone else!”

“I saw.”

“Don’t look at him, Alma. That’s exactly what he wants. Turn around!”

“Keep your voice down… What’s he doing now? Can you see?”

“He’s talking to her, and she’s laughing.”

“Does she look smart? Do they look like they have things to talk about? What’s she drinking? What does her laugh sound like? Please tell me she has a piece of food stuck between her teeth.”

“Well, to be honest, she’s… Well, she has… How should I put it…?”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Shall we go now?”

“Definitely not! Never flee the enemy. Even when she is blonde, slim, tanned, and fit, with a high ponytail, full lips, and perky breasts.”

“Is that the second part of your ‘fake it till you make it’ thing?” I ask with a grimace.

The server interrupts our conversation, setting two glasses down on the table in front of us. “Girls, these are on the dark-haired guy over there. The tall one. And he also wanted me to give you this.”

She trots off after sliding a folded paper napkin onto our table. Feeling my pulse begin to race, I open it and try to decipher the smudged, black letters.

“Can you believe this?”

“Let me see! ‘Not brave enough to… come…’ I don’t know what that says! ‘…fight… with me?’ Is this guy crazy or what? Does he think you do MMA or something?”

“Fight for me, Clem. He wants me to prove myself to him. Publicly.”

So, you want to play that game, do you, Vadim Arcadi?

“He’s looking at you, Alma. Whatever you do, don’t turn around! Oh wait, you just did. Fine, don’t listen to me then!”

At the other end of the café, Vadim shoots me a defiant look, followed by his trademark smirk. Detestable. Adorable. I’m tempted to march over and remind him that I’m not a dog you can whistle for whenever you feel like having fun—or one you can make pee on the neighbor’s wall just to test its loyalty.

“Do it, Alma. Go tell him where to shove it!”

“He’s looking to get a rise out of me, and I’d just be giving him what he wants. I’m better off ignoring him…”