At some point, Clara caught her eye from across the room and gave her a huge, knowing thumbs-up.
Adrien’s house was a two-story with a creaky gate and a living room emptied of furniture. Someone had pushed the sofa against the wall and hung a disco ball from a ceiling hook that was probably meant for a plant. The music was already loud—a French pop song she didn’t recognize, then something by Depeche Mode, then a slowed-down Cure track that made everyone sway.
But he smiled, showing the chipped tooth. “Want to dance?”
At some point, Clara caught her eye from across the room and gave her a huge, knowing thumbs-up.
Adrien’s house was a two-story with a creaky gate and a living room emptied of furniture. Someone had pushed the sofa against the wall and hung a disco ball from a ceiling hook that was probably meant for a plant. The music was already loud—a French pop song she didn’t recognize, then something by Depeche Mode, then a slowed-down Cure track that made everyone sway.
But he smiled, showing the chipped tooth. “Want to dance?”
