Chapter 160: [160] "Swapping"
Talia reached into the front pocket of her flour-dusted black apron. She pulled out a smartphone. She tapped the screen a few times, unlocking it, and slid it across the tablecloth toward Hugo.
The panic from ten minutes prior was nowhere to be found. Hugo reached into his own pocket, producing his own device, and set it on the table. He picked up Talia’s phone, his thumbs moving across the screen to input his contact information, while she did the exact same on his device.
"They’re swapping numbers," Rose noted, a deeply satisfied smirk playing on her lips. "Checkmate."
Talia slid Hugo’s phone back to him, retrieving her own. She stood up from the wooden chair, stretching her back slightly.
"I have to go help Marcel close out the register. But I’ll text you. Assuming you aren’t too busy."
"I will make time," Hugo replied. His voice was steady, projecting a quiet confidence that made Luc nod in silent approval.
"Good." Talia offered one last, lopsided smile, the pencil still sticking stubbornly out of her messy bun. She turned away from the table, offering a quick wave to Luc and Rose before marching back.
Hugo sat in silence for a few seconds after she walked away. He picked up his phone, stared at the newly added contact on the illuminated screen, and then carefully slid the device back into his pocket.
"Alright, that’s enough excitement for one night," Zara announced, sliding out of her seat and grabbing her tote bag.
Bachra groaned, standing up. "You’re killing my vibe, Zara. The night is young."
"The night is over," Zara corrected smoothly. She turned to Luc and Rose, offering a warm smile. "It was wonderful running into you and Hugo both. Rose, let’s get lunch next week. Preferably somewhere Bachra isn’t allowed to enter."
"I would love that," Rose smiled, standing up to briefly hug the older sibling.
Bachra walked over to Hugo’s table, slapping the teenager firmly on the shoulder. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Next time, try not to look like you’re going to vomit when she asks for your order, but a solid recovery."
"Goodbye, Bachra."
---
After the siblings departed, Rose began gathering her own belongings. She pulled the thick, grey trench coat off the back of her chair, sliding her arms into the sleeves.
"I should get going as well," Rose said, tying the belt around her waist. "My agent is probably drafting a strongly worded email about my unauthorized absence as we speak."
Luc stood up, leaving enough cash on the table to cover his and Hugo’s meal, plus a generous tip for the chaotic service. "Drive safe. And thanks for the company."
"Anytime." Rose offered a final smile before heading toward the exit.
The restaurant was nearly empty now.
Marcel was flipping the chairs upside down onto the tables near the front windows, signaling the definitive end of the evening service. Th scent of roasted garlic was beginning to fade, replaced by the cleaning solutions being deployed in the kitchen.
Luc walked over to Hugo’s table. "Ready to go?"
Hugo wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. "Yes."
They walked out of Le Petit Chêne, the sky was pitch black, devoid of stars, the urban glow of the streetlights reflecting off the pavement left behind by the earlier rain.
Luc unlocked the Porsche, the headlights flashing twice in the dark street. They climbed into the vehicle, the leather seats cold against their backs. Luc started the engine, letting the heater kick in before putting the car into gear.
He pulled away from the curb, navigating the narrow streets back toward the main roads of the city.
The interior of the car was quiet, insulated from the wind howling outside the windows.
"You handled that well," Luc said casually, keeping his eyes on the road as he shifted gears. "Well..eventually."
Hugo stared out the passenger window, watching the blurred lights of the passing storefronts. "I didn’t get the initial interaction right. I failed to account for her directness. It required a change of my standard conversation skills."
Luc laughed. "You don’t have to talk to her like she’ll eat you alive, Hugo. She’s just a girl. Treat her like a person, not a problem to be solved."
"I am aware," Hugo murmured, though the faint pink flush returned to his ears. "She... she was interesting."
"That’s exactly why you need people like that in your corner," Luc advised, his tone shifting into something a little more serious, adopting the mantle of captaincy off the pitch. "When the media turns on you, or when you have a bad game, the people who only care about the SC Valois crest on your chest are going to disappear. The ones who stick around are the ones who care about the guy underneath the shirt."
Hugo processed the information in silence. He reached into his pocket, his thumb brushing against the edge of his phone, likely thinking about the newly acquired number stored within its memory.
"I’ll drop you off at your place," Luc said, merging onto the wider avenue that led toward their residential district. "I need to get you home before Valérie finds out I kept her prize playmaker out past curfew and decides to kill me."
"Valérie does not care about my curfew, especially when you’re my chaparone," Hugo noted pragmatically.
"She cares when she doesn’t have absolute control over our schedules. Besides, we both need the rest. We have Belleville on Sunday. The gap is four goals right now, but Fresko plays a relegation-threatened side this weekend. He’s going to score. I know it, I need to make sure I match his output."
Luc kept his eyes on the road, but his mind instantly visualized the layout on the pitch.
He smiled in the dark. The mental reset was officially complete. They were going to dismantle FC Belleville’s defensive structure, and ensure the Golden Boot stayed firmly in Stade Valois.
He pulled the Porsche up to the curb outside Hugo’s building, putting the car in park.
"Get some sleep, kid," Luc said. "And text her tomorrow. Don’t play games with the timing."
Hugo unbuckled his seatbelt, opening the passenger door. He stepped out, pausing before shutting the door.
"See you at training."
The door thudded shut. Luc watched the teenager walk before pulling away from the curb.