“Oh, God.” Breanne suddenly sounded ill.
“What?” Michelle asked, scanning the room for signs of a problem. If those drunk frat boys puked in the plants again…
“He's here.”
Oh, that. Michelle looked up to see the infamous Nicolas walking into the lobby. She gave him a long appraisal. He's attractive enough, I suppose, though not particularly tall, and his European features don’t really trip my trigger.
She glanced at Breanne. Her friend was staring at this new arrival with the desperate air of someone dying of thirst. He walked straight into her arms. She laid her cheek on his shoulder. They began talking in French too rapid for Michelle's two years of high school French to comprehend.
It appears Breanne has completely forgotten I’m here.
“Ahem,” Michelle said. “Excusez-moi.”
They tu
