The most beautiful people I’d ever seen were at that party. The women were impossibly tall with impossibly long legs. The men had cheekbones that looked as though they were chiseled out of stone.

I felt small and mouse-like in their presence.

Victoire took hold of my elbow and marched me around the room, introducing me as “la copine de Sebastian.” Every time I opened my mouth to correct him, he laughed and marched me off to the next person.

Finally, he released me and I was able to slink into a corner, nursing some abominable concoction made out of vodka and God-knows-what-else in a large tumbler. Sebastian came and found me.

“There you are! Are you OK? Do you need another drink?”

“NO! I mean, no, I’m OK.”

“You look uncomfortable. Do you want to leave?”

“I’m having fun, Sebastian. Thanks for bringing me. It’s a great party. I’ve never seen such beautiful people.”

He looked deep into my eyes and took my hand. “Tu est la file la plus belle ici,” he said.

I looked up and saw Victoire staring at us.