La - Boum

Then Adrien was beside her.

That night, Sophie didn’t ask. She just set the invitation on the kitchen table, next to the fruit bowl. Her father, a history teacher with kind, tired eyes, picked it up. Her mother, who always smelled of mint tea and worry, read over his shoulder. La Boum

“You came,” he said. His voice was lower than she remembered. He was holding a bottle of grenadine. Then Adrien was beside her

Her father glanced in the rearview mirror, and for a second, she thought she saw him smile too—as if he remembered, once, being fifteen, standing in a room full of noise and light, holding on to a moment before it slipped away. a history teacher with kind