Marinette stood backstage at the most beautiful venue she could imagine to showcase her designs; La Carrousel du Louvre. When she had accepted the invitation to accompany Andrew to Paris, Agreste Designs had changed their plans and given Square a slot of time, and Andrew had immediately given up what would have been his show for Marinette. Marinette's samples were shipped to her overnight. Her designs were to be showcased at Fashion Week instead of one of Agreste Designs in one of their many shows. For Agreste Designs, giving the slot of time to her wouldn't affect them at all, but for Marinette it meant the world. The publicity for Square and for her personally would be fantastic. Not only was she here at Fashion Week, but her designs were being shown off by Gabriel Agreste himself. Though that thought didn't really linger in her mind as she looked out where the audience would soon be seated.
She had arrived at the venue before everyone else to drink in the atmosphere. As the head designer for Square, and the representative of Agreste Designs at this show, she was now in charge of this event. She'd known that she would be showcased by the company eventually, it was her dream to be recognized by Gabriel Agreste. She made it a personal goal to work hard enough to catch his attention. But as she looked out on the beautiful Louvre, she was still in awe that it had happened so soon. She looked back at all of the model stations. The large mirrors and soft lights seemed to welcome her. She touched all the clothes on the racks in the middle of the preparation room. She had done it. She was a designer at Paris Fashion Week.
She almost couldn't believe everything that had happened to her this week. She had met so many Designers that she admired, and learned so much. Her sketchbook was filled with ideas, inspiration and designs that she loved from the many shows she had been to. Her resolve to do well in her chosen career burned within her. She had signed her name on so many things and collected so many signatures of her own. It was a week she wasn't going to soon forget. She twisted the intricate ring around her middle finger, and sighed. Besides all of the excitement surrounding fashion week, she was also very distracted by Andrew.
The young, charming designer had definitely caught Marinette's attention. After so many days together, it was inevitable that they would become better friends, and maybe closer to something more. They had spent the past few nights staying up late talking on the phone, and making fun of some of the models that seemed far too serious. They were fast friends, and quickly snowballing out of the friend zone. To make things even worse, Marinette could feel that he was attracted to her. It was intoxicating to stand near each other, to feel the pull between them. She shook her head. Right now, she needed to focus. She had a show to put on.
She smiled and looked around the space again. Her excitement started to buzz beneath her skin like electricity. She felt strangely confident. Even though she and Andrew were separated for the day, and he had been her support, she was beyond elated and surprisingly not nervous. She was ready to show her skills, ready to face the world of fashion.
The doors opened, "Miss Dupain-Cheng, the stylists are here. Are you ready for them?"
Marinette beamed, "Oh, of course! Send them in."
The assistant opened the doors and a group of people shuffled in. Each of them with a large bag of tools and supplies.
Marinette waved, "Bonjour, everyone! It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng. If you would, I'd like you to pair up. Pick someone you like, you'll be with them for the entirety of the show." She pointed to another section. She set her hands in her hips, "Please set up your things at whatever station you'd like and when you're done meet me over by the runway."
The stylists quickly skittered off to set up their things. Marinette walked to the stage. She was the first show of the day, a privilege and a burden, meaning that she would set the tone for the whole day. She smiled. She was going to blow the competition out of the water. The catwalk was beautiful. Marinette thought she could just die.
She admired the beauty of the inside of the famous museum and thoughts of clothing and shoes inspired by the building and atmosphere built up in her mind's eye, ready to leap into her sketchbook the first chance she got. She walked back behind the scenes, to find the stylists waiting for her. They looked at her expectantly. She took a deep breath; she could do this.
"So," she smiled, "how is everyone?"
A girl with pink eyeshadow and blue mascara looked at Marinette, "You wanted to speak with us?"
"Yes! But first, really how are all of you? I know it's a little bit early to be here, but I really do appreciate you being here. Do you all like coffee? I hope so because coffee is on me this morning! Please give your order to my lovely assistant," she winked at the quiet girl that had been assigned to help her, "and we'll get them in for you."
The stylists looked at each other, and then to the spunky designer, and she beamed at them. They soon found it hard to resist her infectious nature and once they had all given their coffee orders to the assistant, Marinette called them over again.
She had them all sit down.
"For my show I have some strange rules I need you to follow. They are different from what you've had before, I promise. But, it won't be hard I don't think."
The stylists looked nervously at one another.
Marinette pointed at them, "I think every single one of you is extremely talented and gifted in your art. I've never met you before, so I don't know everything about you, but I do know that you've made it to Fashion Week in the City of Love, so I know you're talented. Therefore, please style the hair and makeup as you see fit. I will offer you no direction. Just as I am an artist, I believe you are artists as well. We'll shine together."
Before they could argue, her phone dinged. She smiled, "That was fast. Coffee's here!" She left them to go help the assistant bring in coffee.
"Everyone get settled and finish setting up your stations. The models will be here shortly!" Marinette smiled as she handed out the hot drinks.
The stylists smiled at one another and set off in pairs to get ready for the models, sipping at their warm drinks and talking about how they were going to tackle the challenge of artistic freedom.
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Adrien sighed as he prepared himself mentally to walk down the long and brightly lit stage. The catwalk was drowned with the flashing lights of thousands of cameras and a blinding spotlight, the sole purpose of which was to blind the models as they walked from one end to the other. It was, Adrien had decided, a test that all models had to pass - not tripping over anything, or falling off as you made your way through the lights trying to look perfect. This was only one of the issues Adrien had with fashion week.
As much as he wished he didn't, he hated modelling for Fashion Week. As one of the world's most popular models, star and cast member of many box office breaking movies, and the son of the most well known fashion designer in the world; he should be elated to be where he was. The center of attention should be his favorite place. But, he just couldn't bring himself to feel any kind of excitement about the overrated fashion show. He never did. He preferred photo shoots to shows. And he preferred his apartment to photo shoots. However, this was his job, and he would do it well. Though, he couldn't promise he would like it. The clothes were never quite finished, and the designers backstage would fiddle with his clothes until the last possible instant, giving him no time to prepare. That being said, there was enough pins and tape underneath everything to make a whole line called "Office Supplies" complete with duct tape socks.
Among other things, he hated the cleanup that had to happen after Fashion week was done. His hair would be a rock of product and his skin would be ash. He would be tired and high strung for at least a week while he unwound. The pressure to be beautiful took its toll, and many of the models went on vacation for a good two weeks after Fashion Week to recover.
At the thought of vacations Adrien smiled, thinking again of his week-long getaway with Robyn. He let his mind wander to the sandy beaches as the stagehands guided him to the stage where he was assigned. His father had asked him to model for the new branch of their company, Square. Most of Agreste Design's clothing lines were top of the line, haute couture. So when they'd taken on Square, a more ready-to-wear company, their sales skyrocketed. Gabriel Agreste's idea of a reward was sending Adrien to be a model with them.
Adrien didn't have the heart or the courage to tell his father that Designers didn't care much for models, only how the clothes fit on them. He also didn't point out that his father didn't know any of his own model's names. Not to mention, he didn't really like the idea of being considered a reward. He walked in through the double doors to find a lively atmosphere backstage.
One of the stagehands let out a small 'eep', and smiled at him, "Monsieur Agreste? What are you doing here?"
He smiled back at her, "I'm here to be a model. Gabriel Agreste sent me personally. Where would you like me to go?" He asked.
"Uh," She stuttered a little, "I don't know, the Designer has her own way of doing things. I would ask her." the girl pointed with her pen, and then scribbled something on her clipboard.
Adrien turned to look at the designer, she was wearing black heels and tights with her pink sweater. A sweet skirt flounced around her hips as she rushed around. He frowned a little. He didn't recognize this Designer. He was expecting someone else.
He walked over to her, "Excuse me, Mademoiselle."
She held up a finger to him, signaling him to wait while she finished, "Thank you Tina, I appreciate it. Let me know if you have any questions." She waved as the other woman hurried off to complete her task.
Adrien raised an eyebrow, he'd never be shushed like that before.
She turned to look at him, "I'm so sorry. Tina was having a small crisis, but we avoided disaster. What can I do for you?"
He felt his heart skip. She was very beautiful, and her eyes were strikingly bright, like the color of the ocean on a Caribbean shore, or the sky just before the sun rose. And her hair was a strange blue-black. He cleared his throat, "Hello Miss, I'm here as a model. I am apparently the first one here." He smiled, looking around.
She smiled back at him, "Well, as they say, the early bird gets the worm. You get to pick your stylists for the show, Mister…" She looked at him with expectant eyes.
He blinked, she was asking for his name, "Oh, right," he wasn't used to people not knowing who he was, he put his hands into his pockets, "I'm Adrien Agreste. My father, Gabriel Agreste, sent me."
"A-Adrien?" She choked, her eyes widening. She looked him up and down, and then she laughed, "I can't believe it."
"Excuse me?" he looked at her, confused.
"After all this time, who would have thought I would see you again. Here, of all places! Alya will just die." She smiled, and pointed to her face, "It's Marinette!"
"Marinette?" Adrien blinked. He looked at her again, the same hair so dark it seemed to have a blue shine, and her distinctly asian eyes. His face broke into a true smile, "Who'd have thought!? How have you been?"
She laughed, "I've been amazing! I'm at Fashion Week. In Paris!" She spread her arms out wide, gesturing to the grandeur of her situation. She sighed happily and shoved her hands into her pockets.
"Wow," he blinked, "I almost can't believe it. You really did it! You really became a designer. But if you're here and not the normal guy," he pointed at her, "You're the new Head Designer for Square? My father must be very impressed with you to have given you the spot."
Marinette put her hands on her face, and looked at him with a mix of horror and excitement, "I kinda can't believe that myself, actually. It all happened so fast. But," she looked off into the distance and then back to him, "I guess I am." She shrugged.
The stylists behind her started to murmur about him, and then they came up to him, and begged him to pick a set of stylists to work with.
"Well, I'd better go start getting ready." He waved as he was pulled away.
Marinette waved, "Break a leg. Maybe I'll get a chance to talk with you later."
Before he could say anything else, she whirled around and was immediately off to her next thing on her agenda. He was ushered to a station and he sat down lightly. The stylists immediately set to work picking which outfit he was to wear and how they would dress him up.
Adrien sat in his chair while the other models arrived, and his stylists put his outfit together, and then did his hair and touched up his makeup to match. As they danced around him, his mind wandered to the young designer, Marinette. She wasn't the Marinette he remembered. She was, different. She was sassier, sweeter somehow, and oddly charming in a way. He hadn't seen her since high school, and he couldn't deny that he wanted to catch up with her. It was likely they had the same experience with Fashion. A love-hate relationship, driven by passion and fueled by competition. He watched her as she flitted around the stage like a concerned mother bird. She checked up on everyone and made sure everyone was okay. She brought snacks and treats and coffee and water refills for anyone who asked.
Adrien was a little bit floored, she was so genuine. Her sweetness wasn't fake, and neither was her sass. Adrien frowned, confused, had Marinette always been like this? Of what he could remember, Marinette had always been a bit shy.
All at once the show started, and all of the models were lined up to Marinette's liking. With a little last second primping and ruffling of hair and fabric, they were ready to walk out into the lights. Marinette stood backstage, and smiled at them, "Have fun out there, everyone."
The music started, and one by one the models filed out into the audience and made their way backstage. The audience cheered, and Marinette felt her heart and soul fill to the brim with pride and satisfaction. The show went off without a hitch and the models, who had grown quite fond of the sweet designer, forced her out into the bright lights. The crowd roared with applause.
"Well, hello." She waved nervously.
More applause and whistling.
She laughed, "I don't have much time, but thank you all so much for being here. It is a great privilege to be here, in the most gorgeous venue I could have ever dreamed of, showing off my designs. I would like to thank everyone who made this possible! For a small girl from Paris, it's quite the honor to be here." She bowed, and ran back behind the curtains.
Her newfound friends cheered for her.
"That was so scary you guys!" She screeched, "How unfair!"
The models and stylists laughed. They teased her as they shuffled around, cleaning up their things.
She sighed, and smiled at them, "Thank you all so much. This was the perfect way to end a perfect week. You have my gratitude. Truly."
They cheered for her, and clapped for her. She blushed prettily.
With the looming time crunch of another show calling them, the stylists and models packed up their things and rushed off to the next thing. Marinette stayed behind, and admired for the thousandth time the clothes on the racks. She had really done it.
Adrien smiled, "It was hard to recognize you without your iconic pigtails, but your kindness hasn't faded," he laughed a little when she jumped, "though I am surprised that you are talking to me. I thought for sure you'd still be afraid of me."
"Goodness!" Marinette put her hand over her heart, "You startled me." She let out a breath, and leaned over a bit, "I thought I was alone in here."
He put his hands in his pockets, and smiled at her, "Sorry. I didn't mean to spook you."
"No, it's okay. And," she corrected him, "I have never been afraid of you. You just," She paused, suddenly not particularly fond of the idea of confessing her girlish crush to him, "made me nervous."
Adrien's eyebrows shot up, and he looked at her, "Really?"
"Yes." She put her hands on her hips, "I was a shy, innocent, fragile high school girl, and you were the charming and handsome son of a man I very much admired. Still admire, actually." She raised an eyebrow at him, "So yes. You made me nervous."
Adrien blushed a little at being called charming by the shy girl, but quickly recovered and shot back, "Do you not think I'm charming and handsome now?"
Marinette huffed, "The world of fashion has changed me, Monsieur Agreste. It takes more than a pretty face and a little flirting to turn my head now." She hummed, "Besides, I haven't seen you since middle school! I mean look at you. You're so tall! I didn't even recognize you all the way up there." she laughed.
He looked down at her, "I guess I have gotten taller. I hadn't really noticed."
She rolled her eyes, "Besides growing like a weed what have you been up to?"
He shrugged, "After that year that I was in school with you, my father put me back in private school so that I could graduate early and get a head-start on my modeling and acting career. I toured the world, learned everything there was to know about modelling and did a good fair share of acting. I was even in a few movies."
Marinette smiled and pointed at him, "I know! Alya and I went to see a few of them for old-times sake." Marinette left out the fact that Alya had dragged her to them, hoping to remind Marinette of her puppy love for him.
"You're still friends with her?" Adrien's eyes widened, "That's wonderful! To tell you the truth, I'm a little jealous. I wish I still talked to Nino. I haven't heard from him in so long. But it's so hard to stay in touch with anyone with my hectic schedule."
She stopped, and held up her arm, looking at her stylish watch, "Speaking of, do you have somewhere you need to be? I'm loving the chance to catch up with you, but I don't want to keep you or be the reason you're late."
"I'm free for the rest of the day." He smiled, struck by her respect for his time, "This was my last show of Fashion Week." he looked at her, "What about you?"
Marinette sighed, relieved, "This was my last gig too. Andrew wants to go to a party tonight," she made a slightly disgusted face, "but I'm not sure how I feel about parties after the last one Andrew dragged me to. I don't really like alcohol, which I'm convinced is the only way anyone enjoys parties, and the loud music makes me kinda nauseous."
"I don't like them much either." he confessed, "though mostly because I can never go anywhere without being stopped and asked about my father or signing my name on napkins and forearms."
She pulled up a chair for him, and one for her, and sat down softly, "That does seem annoying. I won't ask you for your autograph." Marinette flashed him a sweet smile, "As far as catching up with Nino, I could arrange that for you. Alya and Nino have been dating for almost two years now. They're actually engaged!" Marinette gushed, "Alya keeps sending me previews of their wedding invitations."
Adrien sat down in the chair and looked at her with wide eyes, "Really! Who would've guessed? Now I feel like I definitely need to catch up with him." He laughed, "And what about you, Marinette? How have you been besides Fashion Week?"
"I've been fantastic," she sighed, "I work as the Head Designer of Square, which I guess you already know. We just finished working on a Project for Gabriel Agreste, which I'm sure you also already know. And we have a new intern, she awfully sweet." She smiled, "Uhm, I introduced Andrew to Jagged Stone, and," she paused, "That's pretty much all I have. I'm pretty boring."
Adrien hummed, "Well I think that your success is really admirable. It's a tough world to stay at the top of. But, someone as talented as you was bound to make it here."
"It wasn't easy, but working for Square is rewarding and challenging and everything I could have ever dreamed." She sighed happily, and leaned back in the chair.
Adrien started and looked at her with a smile, "That's right. You're on the Square Team. Then you've probably met my girlfriend. She is one of the main models for Square. She just got the job, though, so maybe not."
Marinette looked at him with surprised eyes, "Oh really? What's her name?" She silently prayed that she was one of the nice ones, and she wouldn't have to lie to Adrien about liking his girlfriend.
"Her name is Robyn Handen. She's American." Adrien smiled, "Her French is horrible, but she makes up for it by being fantastic at her job."
Marinette scrunched her face a little and then beamed at him, "I do know her! She's absolutely darling." She answered honestly, "She didn't tell me that she was dating you, but it must be you she spends all her time texting. Girl never gets off her phone." She waved her hand dramatically.
Adrien laughed, "Tell me about it. Sometimes I'm not sure if I should be jealous or not."
She laughed, and then stopped, "Oh, of course!" Marinette hit herself in the head, "I saw an article in one of those sometimes-true magazines about the two of you. You've been dating for a long time, right? Like two years?"
"Yeah," Adrien looked away from her, touching the back of his neck, "I guess it has been that long. Since we're both models, it's hard to spend time together. So I guess it just doesn't feel like it's really been two years."
"Well that's awesome, she's lucky to have scored a nice guy like you." Marinette smiled, looking right at him.
Adrien looked back to her, his eyes meeting hers, and felt something in his chest stir. The same strange feeling from before, like there was something he was missing. He couldn't place his finger on exactly what it was, but it was strangely comforting and also a little bit warm. It wasn't earth shattering, and if he hadn't been so struck by it, he probably would have written it off. He was pulled from his musing by a sharp ringtone. Marinette paled.
"I'm so sorry," she apologized quickly, and looked at the screen. She smiled prettily at him, "I have to take this."
She set the phone to her ear, "Andrew! Where are you? I'm so sorry, I got stuck talking to an old friend." She looked at Adrien through the corners of her eyes.
He smiled, and listened to the garbled voice on the other end.
She made an angry face, "Of course I have friends, Mister Gris. How very rude of you."
Adrien watched her talk to the other designer. She was very animated. Had she always been like this? Or had she perhaps grown into this attitude?
"I'll have you know that I am friends with Adrien Agreste, we went to school together as kids. Mister Agreste sent him to be a part of my show. Who did Gabriel Agreste send to hang out with you?" She paused, "That's what I thought."
The voice on the other end sounded surprised.
"Well now you know another one of my secrets." Her voice switched to flirtatious and sassy. Adrien raised an eyebrow, he didn't know Marinette to be like that, either.
"Okay, fantastic, I'll be there as soon as I can." She shoved her phone back into her pocket. She turned back to Adrien, "It was so good to see you, but I have to get going."
Adrien shook his head, "Not to worry, we are all busy. It was good to see you, too."
She picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she dashed for the door. She slid to a halt, and hung from the doorway, "Hopefully I see you again sometime," she winked, "Goodbye, Adrien."
He waved, a little dazed by her forward nature. Had she always been like that?
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Marinette raced through the halls, feeling her hair whip behind her as she moved through the crowds of people. She made it to the front doors, and saw Andrew standing out on the street. She burst through the doors.
"I'm so sorry. I got talking to Adrien and I totally forgot about my promise to meet you."
Andrew smirked, "Well, now you'll just have to make it up to me."
Marinette frowned, and folded her arms across her chest, "I'm not going to another party."
"Fine," he huffed, "Then how should we celebrate the end of Fashion Week, Mon Chérie?"
Marinette's heart skipped at the nickname, and she smiled at him, "I actually think I would really like to just slow down and sleep. That sounds so lame when I say it out loud, but I am so tired. I feel like I have been running on a high for days, and I'm finally coming down. Would you think me a total loser if I sit the rest of the day out?"
Andrew lightly brought her hand to his lips, "If you are tired, you should rest."
She smiled up at him, "Thank you."
Andrew smirked, "But don't think I won't ask you to come to the final party with me after you've rested all day."
She huffed, ignoring his invitation, "Have fun, Andrew. I'll see you later." She waved, and walked towards the hotel, and halfway there, she felt a desire to surprise her parents.
She hadn't told them she was coming to town, or they would have insisted that she and Andrew stay with them, and while that was nice, she didn't need that kind of publicity on her childhood. With a smile she turned left instead of right, and made her way home to the bakery.
She she rounded the corner, and broke into a run. She burst through the door, and inhaled deeply. The smell of flour and sugar and happiness filled her nose. The warmth and smell of cooking buns and fresh bread healed her tired spirit, and she was immediately glad she'd chosen to come home.
There was a small girl behind the counter, her hair pulled back into a single braid. She gulped, "Hello, Ma'am. How can I help you?"
Marinette grinned, "Can you get Tom for me?" Her father's name felt strange in her mouth. The girl paled.
"Yes," she darted back into the kitchen.
Marinette's father walked out into the lobby of the small bakery, "Yes, how can I -?" He stopped, and a smile spread from his heart to his eyes, "My little Mari!" He moved towards her.
Marinette raced to him, and threw herself into his arms, "Oh, Daddy. I've missed you."
He squeezed her tight, "What are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but we weren't expecting you."
"Daddy, I did it. I made it to Paris Fashion Week as a designer. Gabriel Agreste himself congratulated me on my success." Marinette's eyes sparkled.
"What is all the ruckus out here?" A small voice called.
"Mama!" Marinette shouted and pried herself from her father's grasp and wrapped herself around her mother. The chinese woman laughed and wrapped her arms around Marinette.
"Marinette, my dear, it's good to see you."
"It's good to see you, too." She hummed.
Tom laughed, "Fashion Week, huh? I always knew you would do great things." He smiled at her.
Marinette smiled back, filled to the brim with happiness as she let her soul marinate in the feeling of her childhood home, "Yes, Daddy, Fashion Week. It's been incredible and amazing and exhausting. But enough about me and Fashion Week. I've had enough Fashion Week to last me until the next one." She put her hand to her forehead dramatically.
Sabine laughed, "We're still proud of you."
"Thank you, Mama." Marinette looked at her mother with a smile.
Tom made a serious face, "Do you need a cookie? You're looking thin, how about two? I'll go get them." He disappeared into the kitchen.
Marinette shook her head with a smile. She looked to her mother, "So, Mama, who is this?" Marinette pointed to the girl behind the counter.
"Oh," Sabine hummed, "This is Haley. She is working with us while she goes to Culinary school. It's nice to have another set of hands around here again."
Marinette turned, "It's lovely to meet you Haley, I'm Marinette."
Haley's face paled and then she looked surprised, "You can't be."
Marinette raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"
"You said you came from Fashion Week, and if you share the same name as your parents you are Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You're like super famous." Haley gushed.
Marinette blushed, and laughed nervously, "Not here, I'm not. You're right. I am who you think I am. But, this is my home. Here I am just Marinette, the humble daughter of a baker and cake decorator."
Tom returned, "I brought you three cookies just in case."
"Daddy!" Marinette laughed, "I can't eat that many cookies."
Tom laughed, and set all three of them in her dainty hands anyway. She rolled her eyes and sneakily put one of them into her pocket, where a pair of small red hands snatched it from her.
"So what did you come here for?" Sabine smiled.
"I was in town and I was on my way back to our hotel when I thought I'd drop by," she took a bite of cookie, "These are delicious."
Sabine frowned, "You should have told us, you could have stayed with us for free."
"I know, Mama," she smiled, "but the arrangements were already made by the time I knew about them."
Sabine waved her hand, "Next time then."
"I promise." Marinette laughed.
Tom cleared his throat, "Well, if you're here, you should help us with this order. Two thousand cookies all frosted to look like ball gowns. You design dresses, right?" He winked.
Marinette rolled her eyes, "Yes, Daddy."
"Can you frost cookies?" Tom teased.
"Yes, Daddy." She laughed.
He pointed to her, "Then you're hired. Come," he waved, "come help your father frost cookies." He walked towards the kitchen.
Marinette followed him with a smile, grabbing a spare apron from a hook as she did. It was good to be home.
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The final shows of Fashion Week passed quickly, and the party scene for Paris sprang to life in a matter of minutes. As the sun set and the stars came out, so did celebrities and lovers of fashion and parties alike. The young and beautiful flocked to join the nightlife of the City of Lights. However, not every party is created equal, and there was only one party worth going to.
The line was long, and the guests waiting to get in were lively and excitable. As the line shortened, people started saying they might not all get into the festive venue. A few more people made it into the large building before the bouncer held up his hand and shouted to the crowd.
"There will be no more admittance. We have reached capacity. Move along." He walked inside and shut the door. With a very final sounding click, the crowd started to disperse.
With tears in her eyes, a young girl wandered away from the closed doors of yet another party and sat down on a bench. She felt so cheated. She had come all this way, and everything was so fantastic until now. It was so unfair.
Her heart clenched, and a voice rang in her ears.
"My dear girl."
She turned around, "Who's there?"
"No need to be afraid." The voice cooed, "I am here to help you. Paris is a beautiful place. But, there are some people here who don't understand a girl's need to have fun. Wouldn't you agree?"
The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. She hummed, "And what would you know about girls?"
"Enough." The voice answered harshly, "It was rude of them to keep you from the party. I can give you the power to throw your own party. No one will be able to resist, and you may choose who comes and who gets left out. You will be the bouncer, and your party will be the hottest spot in all of Paris."
She felt as her mind pushed the thought of anything else away. Suddenly this seemed like the best idea, and she was grateful to this man, whoever he was, for helping her, "That would be fabulous, but what's the catch?"
"I need you to find someone for me."
"Who?"
"You'll know if you find them. Until then, enjoy your partying, my dear Party Crasher."
The name rang in her ears, and seemed to perfectly fit her. She smiled, "Alright, I'll do it. But how will I let you know if I found this person."
"Simply call for me. My name is Papillion."
"Leave it to me. Thank you Papillion." She smiled, and felt as the power coursed through her. She looked down at herself. Her dress glittered as she moved, as did her shoes.
She stood from the park bench, and walked back towards the party she'd been kicked out of, this was going to be the best night of her life.