The invitation arrived on a folded sheet of pale blue paper, smelling faintly of cheap vanilla perfume. It wasn’t the perfume’s owner that made Sophie’s heart stutter—it was the place: Chez Adrien .
Clara snorted. “Your parents still think we’re ten.” La Boum
“My parents let me,” she said, then winced. Stupid. He doesn’t care about your parents. The invitation arrived on a folded sheet of
The invitation arrived on a folded sheet of pale blue paper, smelling faintly of cheap vanilla perfume. It wasn’t the perfume’s owner that made Sophie’s heart stutter—it was the place: Chez Adrien .
Clara snorted. “Your parents still think we’re ten.”
“My parents let me,” she said, then winced. Stupid. He doesn’t care about your parents.