Nochelle - Our Stories

P A R I S

It wouldn't be a problem, usually. She's not one to mind sharing a bed with someone else – whether they're of the same gender or not. She had to do it tons of times as a child, during family gatherings, when there wouldn't be enough beds for all of her and her cousins. The situation here is different, though.

Because Noah is her Best Friend, yes, but she also likes him. As in, she has romantic feelings for him – has had for a while, to be honest.

And she sometimes talks in her sleep. She can't help but worry about what could unconsciously slip out of her mouth in such a close and intimate setting, then.

"I think there's a mistake, here," Noah talks, taking Richelle out of her meandering thoughts. When she looks at him, she sees him staring at Mme Bertrand, who turned out to be some cute old Parisian lady living in the apartment downstairs. His hand is scratching the back of his neck in what Richelle recognizes as a nervous tic. "We booked a room for two people."

He nods towards the bed and raises two fingers for emphasis. The woman simply smiles in return.

"Oui," she says. "C'est le lieu parfait pour un couple." Her smile grows wider as she winks amusedly at Richelle before bringing her attention back onto Noah. Richelle can feel her ears and cheeks start to burn in a blush at her words – she's not fluent but can still understand some French from the classes she took in school.

"No no no, see, that's what I'm talking about. We? Not a couple." Noah doesn't give up just yet. He seems to have a least caught the one similar word as well. "We're just friends. We need two beds." All along, he gestures between the two of them to try and make the old lady get what he's explaining to her.

In vain. She only shoots him another smile. "Oui, oui." Then nods again.

Noah lets out a frustrated groan. "Isn't there anyone I can talk to who speaks English?"

"English?" she repeats. "Mon fils vit en Angleterre."

He sighs. He tries to have a conversation with her for a little longer, although it remains the same – they can't seem able to understand each other. Richelle just watches them from afar, sitting on the small bed after having taken off Noah's jacket to dry. Any another time, she would have found the situation funny (and even cute, on Noah's part) but not right now.

Right now, she's just tired and already dreading the night to come as her hands curl around the warm sheets.

After a few more minutes of misunderstanding between the two, she can feel the bed shift next to her when Noah joins her after Mme Bertrand has left the place with a last smile and a polite 'bonne nuit'. They sit in silence, neither one of them looking at the other while their shoulders slightly brush together. They can hear the wind whirling against the only window as rain is still pouring down outside.

It doesn't seem to be calming down anytime soon.

"I can try and find a better place," Noah eventually offers. His eyes are on her, piercing through her core when she looks up at him.

"It's too late." Richelle lets out a small defeated sigh. "Let's just... try to dry our stuff, take a shower and go to sleep. It's only for one night, right?" She attempts a smile in his direction.

She hopes he can't read the nervousness.

A beat passes before he answers anything – a few seconds during which he stares intently at her. It's hard for Richelle to stay still and hold his gaze during that moment.

"Right," he agrees then reaches for his backpack. "You can have the bathroom first if you want. You're still shivering." His voice is soft; she can almost hear some concern, there. Her heart warms up at his words and she takes a beat to look at him.