Dawn love

épisode 4

POV of Samuel

I stayed lying there for a long time after Isabelle left. The ceiling had nothing left to say. Gabi was still spinning somewhere in my head, but I finally chased the image away. Not the time.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Bernard’s number.

— Yeah? he answered, voice a little lazy.

— Get dressed. I’m picking you up in twenty minutes. We’re gonna teach you how to walk among humans.

He chuckled.

— Still your seduction bullshit?

— Exactly. And this time we’re going all the way. You’re not allowed to stand there like a f*****g piece of furniture anymore.

Twenty-five minutes later I was in front of his place. He came out in baggy jeans, worn sneakers, and a t-shirt that clearly came from his college days. I looked him up and down.

— First we’re fixing this. Get in.

We started at the stores. I went on a no-mercy hunt. He wanted to pick a plaid shirt. I snatched it out of his hands.

— No. Too “good student trying to impress.” We’re not looking to reassure moms. We’re looking to create tension.

He ended up with a sharp-cut pants, a simple black shirt, and sober shoes. In front of the mirror he stared at himself like he didn’t recognize the guy.

— You still walk like you’re carrying a backpack, I told him. Straight. Shoulders back. Not too fast. You never rush toward a woman. You let her feel you could just as easily walk away.

We walked the whole store. I showed him the walk, the look, the way to stop without looking lost. He tried. It still looked stiff. At one point he stopped in front of a mannequin and tried:

— Uh… hi… you come here often?

I burst out laughing.

— f**k, Bernard. Even the mannequin looks embarrassed.

He blushed but kept trying. Good. Old habits die hard.

As we left we passed the checkout. A cashier around thirty, pretty without trying, a little tired look. I clapped Bernard on the shoulder.

— Watch this. Demo time.

I walked up to the counter, calm, light smile.

— Evening.

She looked up, polite.

— Evening. Is that all?

I didn’t ask for her name. Mature guys don’t need to. I just dropped the trap question, the one that comes out of nowhere.

— You look like you’ve had a longer day than expected. Is it the Wednesdays that are hard… or is it just the month in general?

She blinked, surprised. The autopilot broke. She smiled anyway.

— The month… clearly the month.

We exchanged three sentences. That was it. Then I pulled out my phone without rushing.

— If you ever want to vent about the rest of this shitty month to someone who actually listens… here’s my number.

She hesitated two seconds. Then she typed it in. I walked away without looking back. Behind me Bernard’s eyes were huge.

— f**k… she gave you her number. Just like that.

— Because I didn’t beg. I created space. And she chose to step in.

Evening came and we met up at a new bar, more upscale than clubs. Low lights, chill music, a bit more dressed crowd. We ordered two drinks and watched.

At the bar, a lone woman. Maybe thirty-two. Dark pantsuit, hair up, phone beside her glass. She kept checking the time. She was waiting for someone. Or pretending.

I leaned toward Bernard.

— That one. Young businesswoman. Alone. Not drunk yet. Not openly hunting. Perfect first real test.

He swallowed.

— Now?

— Now. You stand up. You walk over without rushing. You only sit if she lets you have space. And you start simple.

Bernard finished his drink in one go, stood up, smoothed his shirt with a clumsy hand. Then he walked over.

I watched him approach the young woman. She looked up. He hesitated half a second… then pulled out the stool next to her and sat.

— Evening.

Bernard sat. The young woman turned her head slightly toward him, one eyebrow barely raised. Not hostile. Just… evaluating.

— Evening, she answered in a calm voice.

He took a big breath. I saw his shoulders straighten exactly like I’d shown him. Not too close. Not too far either.

— I took the liberty… you looked like you were waiting for someone. And at the same time… not really.

Not bad. He’d caught the lesson: observe before speaking. She smiled with the corners of her lips.

— Maybe. Or maybe I just enjoy having a drink alone sometimes.

Bernard nodded without rushing to fill the silence. Good. He ordered another drink, asked a light question about the bar, about the neighborhood. She answered. Polite. Measured. But she gave nothing back. No big laugh, no lingering look, no return question that would prove real interest. She played the game like a woman who had done this a hundred times.

I watched from my corner. Bernard was holding up better than I thought. He didn’t monologue. He left silences. He smiled without forcing. But the girl kept a locked door. Every time he made a move she elegantly shifted it elsewhere.

— You work around here? he tried.

— Yeah. And you?

He talked about himself, just enough. Not too much. Again, she listened, nodded, then pulled the conversation back to neutral ground. She was good. Really good.

After ten minutes I saw Bernard start looking for an opening. His fingers tapped lightly on his glass. He was hunting for the crack. There was none.

Then the bar door opened.

A man walked in. Dark suit, discreet watch, confident stride. He scanned the room and smiled when he spotted the young woman. She looked up, and for the first time since Bernard had sat down, her face actually lit up.

— Sorry, she said, turning to Bernard. My fiancé just walked in.

The man approached, put a hand on her lower back, kissed her on the temple. Then he looked at Bernard with polite calm.

— Am I interrupting?

Bernard froze for a second. I saw it click. Slowly. Completely.

He was in deep s**t.