I turn around, making out his tall, curly silhouette through the slither of moonlight.
‘Thank you,’ he says gently. ‘I really appreciate this. And you. It... it took a lot.’
My body flushes with warmth and I just about make out his soft, caring smile through the dark. That smile alone, so genuinely appreciative, shoots to the top of my terrible list of reasons.
‘Hey, I’ll not sleep with you anytime,’ I say.
His laugh echoes down the hallway as he heads for his own room. As I open the door to mine, a tidal wave of fuzziness floods through me and I feel overcome with peace, and only the tiniestwhat if?
. . .a travel buddy
I feel like death. Worse than death. Like someone killed death and then, somehow, worse than that.
I let out a muffled groan into my pillow as I roll over towards the wall, attempting to shield myself from the morning sun. I’m sure the net curtains look gorgeous and dainty, but they are doing jack shit when it comes to blocking out light.
I reach for my phone – dead. Of course it is. I didn’t unpack a thing last night, including my charger. In fact, I’m still in the clothes I travelled from London in, bar my leggings that I seem to have shed in the night. I shuffle down under the covers, fishing them from their new hiding place, tucked in the corner of the tightly packed sheet. I shimmy them on the best I can without getting out of bed, before admitting defeat and crawling out from under the covers.
The sun’s even brighter from here, illuminating the entire room with a soft morning glow so sickeningly sweet. This place truly is gorgeous. Far too gorgeous for me to appreciate with the banging going on in my head.
The most redeeming factor, though, just happens to be the en suite, saving me from the embarrassment of encountering Noah in this state. And what a state it is... I jump at the sight of myself in the mirror – a nest of unruly hair, dried drool and the remnants of last night’s make-up slowly seeping its way down my face.
This just won’t do.
I storm back out and unzip my suitcase, the sound setting off cannons inside my head. I’m in no state to unpack, so I reach for the bare essentials: my toothbrush, toiletries and the first outfit my hand touches. Twenty minutes later and I resemble someone a little more human, with a clean face, slicked-back bun and a white frilly sundress. Passable. Barely alive, but not quite yet a corpse. Good enough to venture out of my room for a glass of water.
The kitchen is empty. As is, it seems, the rest of the flat. Either that, or Noah sleeps like a pin-drop silent psycho. I rummage around for a glass, run the tap and sit down on a bar stool, downing the drink in one fairly quick glug. I go again. And then again. By the fourth glass, I slow down just enough to savour the feel of the liquid rolling across my tongue. I catch my breath and make my way towards the sofa, settling into the cushions and staring up at the ceiling.
What a first day. What a first night. And now here I am, on some random guy’s sofa in a beautiful Belgian apartment.
This is what theNew Travellerwant.
I scamper back to my room, grab last night’s cardigan and my laptop before snuggling back into the sofa with a fresh new document.
Around the World in 80 Dates
A chronically single girl’s six months to find ‘the one’
Date 1 – Mr Mysterious
I can’t help but giggle the second I type it out. Absolutely not. I try again.
Around the World in 80 Dates
A chronically single girl’s six months to find ‘the one’
Date 1 – Barrier Boy
A far better fit. And now, for an introduction.
When I left for this trip, I knew I was set for six months of pretty extreme dating. What I had not imagined, was that that journey would begin within minutes of me stepping off the train in Brussels...
I jolt in shock as a key turns in the door and in walks Noah, clutching a brown paper bag.
‘You’re awake!’ he says.
His voice and smile are bright, but a worrisome look seeps through the cracks of his exterior.
‘Barely,’ I say jokingly, watching him closely.
