Page 99 of Saint Céline
“Camila’s mysterious Céline,” he said.
Katherine’s smile froze. I felt it happen beside me.
“Just Céline,” I said.
“Nothing mysterious?”
“That depends on who’s asking.”
He laughed, and the sound was warm enough that I understood immediately why girls probably forgave him for most things before he did them.
Camila rolled her eyes. “Don’t flirt with my friends.”
“I’m being welcoming. We need to be good hosts, relax.”
Thad smiled at Katherine then, as if remembering manners.
“And you’re Katherine Montgomery.”
Katherine straightened slightly. “Yes, that’s me,” she squeaked.
“I’ve heard about you.”
Her face brightened with such sudden, fragile hope that something in me tightened.
“Really?”
“My father knows your father,” he said.
The hope dimmed slightly, but she recovered.
“That’s usually how people know me.”
He laughed politely, but his attention had already drifted back to me.
“So,” he said, “France?”
I could have redirected him. I could have pulled Katherine into the conversation properly. I could have made him see her.
Instead, I smiled. “Supposedly.”
His eyebrows lifted.
Katherine looked at me sharply.
I had broken character for him. Just slightly. Just enough to make him feel like he had been given something private, and it worked to get his attention.
* * *
By midnight, the party had spilled onto the terrace.
The air outside was warm and damp, smelling faintly of ocean salt carried from farther down the coast and the sweet rot of flowers after a hot day. Fairy lights hung along the railing, casting everyone in soft gold. Someone had started dancing inside near the piano. Lila was arguing with a boy about whether champagne tasted better than prosecco. Katherine sat on one of the outdoor sofas with a group of girls who had asked her about university and then immediately started discussing dorm decor before she could answer properly.
Thad found me near the railing alone.
“You’re not like the others,” he said.
I laughed because the line was so obvious it almost deserved admiration.
