Page 63 of City of Love

I nod, amused. “There’s hot sauce in there, I think. And…Worcestershire sauce?” I add, looking at Luc, who nods.

“Worcestershire,” he confirms.

Lydia takes another drink, then another, before setting the glass down on her coaster. “So Luc,” she says, looking at him. “Tell me about yourself. Or tell me embarrassing stories about Noel when he was little.”

Luc shoots me a wicked grin, and I glare at him.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No embarrassing stories.”

“Oh, come on,” she says playfully. “You tell me some embarrassing stories, and I’ll tell you some of mine.”

I narrow my eyes at her. She just tilts her head, looking adorable. “You first,” I say finally, because I’m skeptical of this arrangement.

“All right,” she says, settling into her seat and taking another drink. “So when I was…oh, maybe twelve or thirteen? We went to my aunt and uncle’s house for Thanksgiving. I was having really bad stomach cramps, plus I was on my period—”

Luc groans, but Lydia just shushes him.

“It’s a biological function, Luc,” she says. “Get over it. So anyway, I was having some…you know”—she gestures vaguely to her stomach—“some GI issues. So I had to dash to the bathroom to go number two, and I was having somerealtrouble. I ended up using quite a bit of toilet paper, because like I said I was on my period too, and when I tried to flush, the water started rising super fast”—she starts giggling—“and my poor uncle, who I really don’t know that well, had to come unclog the toilet.” She’s giggling even harder now, her face flushed. “I was mortified. I asked my parents if we could go home right then, even though we hadn’t even eaten Thanksgiving meal yet.”

Luc and I both laugh, and for the next half an hour we regale each other with embarrassing tales from our pasts. Lydia flies through her drink, and when the waiter brings her a second one, he looks momentarily dazzled by the smile she gives him. We carry on with our storytelling, Luc’s tales getting more and more ridiculous as we go. We only stop our conversation when Lydia catches Luc looking at something a few tables over.

“Luc,” she says, an amused smirk tipping the edge of her full lips. “You’re staring at that poor girl.”

I notice then that Luc is indeed looking at a woman; a little older than us, maybe, but not by much. She’s his type exactly—petite with dark hair and big, dark eyes.

“I should go ask her out,” he says decisively.

Lydia gives an exaggerated gasp. “You can’t! Not like that,” she says. “That’s not how you do these things.”

Luc turns his gaze onto her, grinning. “You have practice picking up women in bars?”

“No,” she says, drawing out the word. “But I’m a woman. Do you want my advice, Luc?” She leans forward conspiratorially. “You should know, I’m something of a matchmaker.” She nods to herself, taking another drink. “Yeah, you need me. All right.” She clears her throat and sits up straight, folding her hands primly together on top of the table. I eye her drink, wondering about her behavior, which is a little…off.

“You have towooa woman, Luc,” she says. “Flirt with her. Bring her flowers. You can’t just expect her to want you when all you’ve done is expressed your interest. You have toearnit.”

Luc, to my surprise, nods thoughtfully, like he might actually be taking her words to heart. I half expect him to pull out a pad of paper and take notes.

“So here’s what you do,” she says, her face becoming more animated. “You engage her in honest, friendly conversation. You pay her compliments—not too many, and always genuine, or you’ll come off as trying too hard. If she seems interested, try to work in some casual touch.Casual, Luc,” she emphasizes, stern now. “A step past friendly, but not sexual. Not if you want anything meaningful.”

Luc throws his hands up in the air, though he looks just as amused as I’m sure I do. “What does that mean?” he says.

“Oh, it’s easy,” she says, giggling. “A hand on the small of her back. Here,” she clarifies, turning slightly in her seat and tapping her lower back. I notice Luc’s eyes fix on her bare skin before he tears them away, looking guiltily at me. I just glare at him.

“Tuck her hair behind her ear if she seems like she’d be okay with it,” Lydia goes on, oblivious.

I swallow. She’s describing things I’ve done to her. Does she realize that?

“Brush your hand against hers,” she goes on. “Sit close to her rather than far away. Stuff like that.” She shrugs. “It will let her know you’re at least tentatively interested without putting any pressure on her.This,” she says suddenly, taking another drink of her Bloody Mary, “is very good.”

Luc shoots me a look, and I know what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking the same thing. My eyes on Lydia’s flushed cheeks, I pick up her glass and take a sip.

“That’s got alcohol in it,” I confirm, shaking my head. That explains the giggling. I push my water toward her. “Here,” I say. “Drink.”

Luc grins at me before turning back to Lydia. “So I shouldn’t just go up and hit on her?”

“I mean, sure—you have to get her attention somehow. Just be classy about it. No horrible pick-up lines andcertainlynothing crude. And don’t go up and kiss her or something,” she says, waving an airy hand. “I would never do that.” She pauses. “Although Jade might,” she admits. She picks up her glass and takes another long drink until there’s no more than an inch or two left.

“Maybe you would just be too scared,” I say, grinning at her—flirtingwith her, like the stupid idiot I am.

---