She sat with her feet tucked up under her on the little plastic bed in the dormitory. She didn't attend classes because she was there for the intern program but the university had made an exception for her and allowed her to rent a dorm room. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to afford to live anywhere near the fashion district and two hours on the train would have left her with no time to sleep.
Her phone was ringing and she picked it up without looking at the screen. She'd set that ring tone. It only rang like that for one person.
"Hey, girl, what's up?" Alya said.
"Remind me that I am over him and I am not a pining idiot," Marinette said.
"Is this about Adrien?" Alya asked.
"No, it is about the other boy I spent all my teenage years sighing over and staring at and being an idiot about," Marinette said.
"Oh, you never talked about him, what's his name?" Alya asked.
"I hate you," Marinette said.
"Tell me what happened," Alya said.
"Earlier this week, they - the models - were messing around and the had us interns come up to an old room so they could try and embarrass us by taking suggestive pictures," she said.
"Oh my god," Alya said.
"It was funny actually," Marinette said, "But hat's not the point of this story, the point of this story is that Adrien is very tall and smells very good and I got far too close to him and then I freaked out and fell over a table and embarrassed him so much that he ran away. Then today, he shows up in my workroom and asks me to the biggest event of the year. The big charity gala they hold at the Louvre? That one. He's going to help me pick a dress and we're going as 'just friends' and I think I'm going to die."
"That's kind of a big deal for a 'just friends' kind of date," Alya said.
"I know," Marinette's voice was a squeak and she shook herself hard and sat up in her chair. "But it's a great opportunity. You don't turn down great opportunities to meet the best in the world because your stupid teenage crush happens to be stupid and still smell good and somehow can tell what shoe size you wear just by looking."
"That's the worst flirting ever," Alya said.
"You only say that because he wasn't looking at you like that when he said it. Or maybe he wasn't looking at me like that. He was probably actually just trying to figure out my shoe size. Which is why you are supposed to be reminding me that it was years ago and I am over him and it doesn't matter that he smells good or has this perfect little smile when he's embarrassed and is going to look so good in a tuxedo. Oh no. Stop me. Come over here and stab me maybe," she said.
"I am not stabbing you, then you'd bleed all over the dress your hot model not a boyfriend got for you," Alya said.
"I'm over him," she said.
"Liar," Alya said cheerfully.
"I am," she said.
"You just chose stabbing over imagining him in a tux, you have it so bad," Alya said.
"Not helping," Marinette told her.
"Hey, I've been hanging out with him and Nino a lot these last few years. Trust me, you'd be good for him. He need a girl like you. For a ridiculously pretty rich boy, he has surprisingly terrible luck. Besides, you're leaving again in January. Live in a little. Go on the date. Wear the fancy dress. Get over him when you're back in Canada," Alya said.
"Alya!" Marinette said.
"You did say yes, didn't you?" Alya said.
"Yes," Marinette said.
"Then go, it's not a real date anyways. It's 'just friends' which is a free pass to just have some fun. You deserve fun. You're fingers will fall off from all the sewing you do. Besides the troll designers who keep yelling at you will die of jealousy. I bet none of them were invited. Look on the bright side," Alya said.
"I'll go, it'll be fine because I am over him," she said.
"Liar," Alya said but then she hung up the phone before Marinette could start another argument.
