You stared incredulously at your phone, as you sat at home at 3 in the afternoon, on the couch, eating a tub of ice cream; Chloé had texted you on Instagram.
For context, you’d reluctantly followed her on the app, after she’d nagged you non-stop to one lunch, and about a week later, she’d returned the follow (you couldn’t fathom why though). Now, here she was, reaching out to you, and you couldn’t help but be suspicious. Eating a particularly large helping of Ben and Jerry’s, you opened her message, and scanned over its contents with narrowed eyes.
Chloéestincroyable: [Chloéestincroyable has sent a location]
Chloéestincroyable: Hey loser. I’m hosting a party this evening and I want you to come and help. I want you to serve hot drinks to the guests like you do in Starbucks. The party is starting at six so you better be here at least two hours before
You: ¿Qué???
You: Lo siento, pero no hablas Francés 🥰
Chloéestincroyable: Ugh! 🙄Just come over and stop being so difficult!
Chloéestincroyable: If you must know I’m going to have this party to say sorry to everyone and prove to Adrien that I can be nice
Chloéestincroyable: So get over to my place!
You: Nein.
Chloéestincroyable: WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS
Chloéestincroyable: I’M TRYING TO BE NICE!!!
You: Non mi piaci.
Chloéestincroyable: Come over. Now.
Chloéestincroyable: ……
Chloéestincroyable: … please
You: Well, since you begged me, I guess I’ll have to - will be right over.
Chloéestincroyable: I CAN READ ENGLISH YOU KNOW YOU FRAUD
True to your word, you went over to the location that Chloé had sent you; it was a huge hotel lobby, with people rushing around setting up the party. Chloé herself was in the centre, with a furious scowl on her face, and tapping angrily on her phone, clearly not too thrilled about the event she was about to pull off.
“Salut,” you called out from the entrance of the large building, with an awkward wave, still a bit irritated from this morning.
Chloé whipped around, with a gasp, and bristled angrily, storming over to you. “Finally!” she exclaimed, “Come here!” she grabbed your arm, and dragged you over to the side of the hall, where there was a small booth set up, similar to the one at your workplace.
Once she let you go, you looked around, a little dazed and confused, but was jolted violently when Chloé aggressively tied a striped apron around your waist. “I made sure that you’ve got everything you need here,” she explained hastily, whilst placing a trilby hat on your head, “so everything is extra… nice.”
She triumphantly whipped out her phone, and got in your face, as she took a picture with you, in which you finally saw yourself in the clothing she’d put you in; “I look like a butcher back in England,” you mumbled.
“Well, whatever,” Chloé grinned in satisfaction, shoving you behind your booth, “you look the part! Now, prepare a couple of drinks for the early comers!”
YOU ARE READING
Uptown, Downtown (Chat Noir x Reader) - Book 1
RomanceMoving to Paris from London was not what you wanted. Nevertheless, for the sake of your parents, you try very hard to adapt to your new setting; attempting to speak fluid French, and fit in at your new posh school. Two young men, one a handsome mode...
