« Marguerite ! You come down right this minute ! »

I sighed loudly, getting my ear pods out of my ears and closing my Fashion Now book. I swept my eyes quickly around the room. Nope, everything was in order. The vintage white-scraped bed stood in the middle of the room, and deep brown covers were placed perfectly on top of it. I had already done the dust over my larger than life first edition of the first ever Vogue magazines cover, and the extremely pale cherry Louis XIV dressers were propped up against the wall. My room was not the one to blame for my Mum's anger. My feet lingered on the last step of the stairs as I finally realized the source of my mother's anger. A very well-dressed young man with light brown hair was lying, snoring on the clean floor that my father had spent hours cleaning when my mother had suddenly become very feminist and demanded that Dad cook and clean – one day she even smoked a cigar, but I was only to prove a point – she was admitted into the hospital after having quite eaten the cigar. Smoke gets to your head, or so it seems. I got back to the image of my best friend, who had indeed fallen asleep on the scrubbed floor – very good job, by the way.

" Would you be so king as to EXPLAIN THIS TO ME !"

I winced as Mum finished the sentence screaming hysterically. It really wasn't my day. I had been studying the 100 most-well known designers – and I was only in the first book, letter F ! – and Brad just had to ruin it. I was passing my exams in two weeks, for God's sake!

Just then, my father decided to make his entrance – very theatrically, I must say. I think he literally had a panic attack at the sight of the dirt covered, drunk Brad on his floor. Then he just about nearly fainted.

My mother had started tapping her foot repeatedly in a very annoying manner, such as she would do sometimes. I opened round innocent eyes.

"What? I'm not responsible for him, okay? You can't blame me every time he gets drunk, I never asked him to! And how did he get in anyway?"

"Well, figure that, I heard the bell ring, and when I opened the door, he fell on me, and then on the floor" she said, scrubbing her clothe unconsciously, as if remembering the dirty clothe against her fabric.

I nearly snorted laughing, but kept it to myself –it would have been very nice seen to do that, seeing as she was most likely in a profound state of shock.

I approached Brady carefully, taking care to hide the smile playing on the corners of my lips. Just then my father decided to intervene.

"Marguerite, now what it going on? You're seventeen, for God's sake! What is he doing drunk? What is happening ! What is happening?"

His voice reached crescendo – I think he mustn't have got over the trauma of his ruined floor.

"I'll tell you what's going on" said Mum " Marguerite is seeing the wrong people! You will certainly not bring this young man back here!"

Considering I had been bringing him back here for the past two years, she had quite the guts to call him young man and I turned around, my eyes blazing.

"Oh God Mum, it's the first time something like that happens, he doesn't even drink, but lately he's had a rather bad breakup, and someone must had offered him a drink, and he hasn't had the head to refuse! Don't tell me you never got drunk before!"

"Certainly not when I was your age" she said, offended.

She seemed to make a decision.

"Okay, get Brad upstairs, and make him shower. I'm not going to have this smell lingering around that house anymore" said Dad, seeming to share his thoughts with Mum. Her eyes agreed to what he said.

Well, at least she was calling him Brad – it was a start. I sighed as I resumed the rest of my week end. It would be mostly taking care of stupid Brad – why couldn't he get himself into trouble some other time, huh?

My Dad and I carried him upstairs, where he once again crashed on my nicely made bed. This made me sigh once more. He got out of my room as I started taking Brads' shoes off. He moved slightly. I smiled to myself as an idea came. I went to the bathroom to retrieve a glass of cold water. Judging my covers ruined – for the day, at least – I didn't make concessions. I threw the water right into Brad's face. He stood up violently and coughed his guts out, his eyes opening. I put on my best smile.

"Good morning to you, honey. Or should I say" I corrected, checking my watch "noon ?" I lost the nice expression. "What the fuck, Brad!" I whispered "I know you're not getting over him anytime soon, but why don't you crash at your home for once, huh? You were lucky enough last time, and the time before, that my parents were out, but it won't happen again! Come on, Brady, I thought we had a deal" I pleaded "Not heartbreaks! No boyfriends! New York next year, to us the city that never sleeps, and the fun!"

He frowned, and then lifted his eyebrows. He was really hot – ruffled brown hair, big green-noisette eyes, straight nose. Only thing straight about him. I met him when I graduated to 'lycee' – we lived in Paris – in the international section, as I spoke English. I soon realized he had the same potential and ambition as me. Straight to New York, I wanted to study fashion, and he was full on publicity. We both claimed proudly we had not heart. For three years, we promised ourselves no boyfriends, no twisted love stories, only one-night stands in all the nightclubs we managed getting in freely – his uncle worked in the world. I had managed my part, even when this guy, Paul, had made his habit of falling in love with me. He was handsome, and nice, but not my type. I wasn't boyfriend material. I mean, what use is love? Does it even exist? In any case, certainly not in high school. He agreed full with me and before we knew it we couldn't be seen apart. Only…Only then Benjamin arrived, sunny and happy to live, the exact opposite of mysterious, dark muscled Brad. It was only a one-night stand, he swore, until it became a two-nights stand, and reached up to five-night stands a week – with the same guy. I tried an intervention with Lila and Garrett, but he was unchangeable – "Only one life, babey, and I'm taking a little part…Don't worry, I'm not getting involved. I'm out of there the minute I feel it's getting serious." That was what he had told me. Only they celebrated their first month anniversary – which in high school is quite an accomplishment – and then their seconds… I saw him happier than ever even if he didn't acknowledge it. But on the third month he finally confided in me. He loved him.

"It's got nothing to do with anybody" – by anybody he meant Benj, did he think I was really so stupid? But he was closing off again, as he had been doing since the breakup. "And we are going to NY, nothing's changed. Can't I just get a little fun?" He said, pulling me over in a kiss. I pulled back.

"Yeah, right. You know what, get your fun. Just don't come back here. And when we were together you didn't get drunk to have fun. We had other ways."

He chuckled darkly, his eyes closing momentarily.

"Well if it interests you babe, I got a blond one tonight."

"Yesterday" I corrected. Was it true? "I thought you weren't keen on blonds since-"

"I told you, I don't care…It was a longer-night stand. Nothing to worry about. Now" he said, changing subject, and putting his arms behind as he took in the ipod and the books. "Still studying?" he added, smirking.

"Aren't you? Oh, I forgot, you passed yours two weeks ago ! Well yes, I do have a life outside of you, if you'd like to care. I'm doing the exam in exactly three days and" I checked my watch "one hour and a half. By the way, which club did you go?"

"The one at the corner of Half' Stew's Street, you know with the red lights all around it…"

I gasped in shock. He had been introduced to this club by Benj – was it possible that he was really over him? I shook myself – I really didn't need to be distracted by stupid teen love stories. I had an exam at which to come first, and then New York with my best friend ! Of course, we were both going to pass our exams with felicitations, we were the best of our class, and we had studied really hard for it. I just hoped I didn't fall on Jean-Paul Gaultier or Christian Lacroix on the test – not that I didn't like them, but there was so much you could learn about a French designer for an exam.

'Aaaall right" I announced "Ready to explain why you ended up drunk on our front porch before falling" I nearly snorted laughing "on my mother and ruining a floor that Dad has spent literally a day to clean? May I just say, just pretend someone tricked you into drinking it with cola or something. In any case, I'm not helping out with them. It's your call" I added, putting up my hands in the air, a fatalist look on my face.

He groaned and put a pillow over his face, covering his eyes.

"Why did I have to become friends with you, huh? I would have been happy with any other girl whose parents didn't mind drinking, but non, I have to fall on the 'Catholic Family' !"

"Well" I said, smiling "Don't say that to Mum because she might just kill you, or torture then kill you. Do I need to remind you my parents don't have any religion?" I added as he raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"Oh right. Forgot. Ooops… Anyways, I saw this guy at the club, not the blond one but another, he was eying Ashley."

"Ashley? What was she doing at a club?" I asked stupidly.

Really, Ashley? She was this girl at school, who not only had a 'Catholic Family' like Brady described, but firmly believed in it and was determined to be an angel for the rest of her days. She also hated me because I had once tried to prove to her that God didn't exist by taking her to a hospital just after a big multiple car crash, and describing the life that a supposed God would be offering us and asking her if she preferred a sadistic murderer-God than a nice non-existent God. Needless to say that she didn't even find the force to slap me as she fainted – in front of a blood-draw. The following days, then weeks, then months, and now years at school, she had not only ignored me, but also spread this rumor that I was a bitchy-non-believer. It wasn't really a rumor, as it was true.

I really couldn't believe Ashley would be in a club. Of any sort. Oh wait, maybe Angel Club, if that existed. In France, not a lot of people wanted to be angels. And even less in a club of angels.

"But wait for it, that's not the best part yet! She was eying him back, and smiling! She even winked at him!"

I was near about taking notes. Revenge sweet revenge…

"And then?"

He faked disappointment.

"And then…I don't know, he went up the stairs, you know the one at the far end, with the pearl curtains? Really no taste, huh?"

I just nodded, eager for him to continue.

"And she went up a few minutes later."

"AhA ! I knew it! All those so-called prayers to God, really she's just a little s-"

That's when my Dad interrupted us, to tell us lunch was ready, and Mum was prepared to accept Brady's apologies, even though seeing his face I was quite sure Dad was still holding a grudge for the floor story.

We all went downstairs to eat, as another day was yet starting in my normal life that was going to get way more interesting…In just a few months.