God, this is awkward.
I shouldn’t be here.
I start to evaluate the most silent exit route, but the curtain starts to rustle, a foot hits the floor and it’s clear it’s too late.
I suck in my breath as an arm reaches around, the curtain pulling back, and I brace myself for an awkward encounter with some horny hostel randos...
But they aren’t randos at all.
In fact, there sits Noah and El, flushed, sweaty and frozen in guilt.
We stay silent, eyes locked and mouths open in utter and immediate shock. I blink once, twice, three times, trying to convince myself that this isn’t real and it will all disappear. But it doesn’t. They’re still sitting there, still crammed on El’s double bed looking guilty as sin.
At least they’re clothed.
Thank Godthey’re clothed.
‘Noah?’ I hear a voice squeak before I realise it’s mine.
He doesn’t move. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost.
‘I thought you were writing today,’ he eventually says.
‘I thought you weren’t single,’ I say, turning to Eléa as I start to come back to life.
That’s enough to revive Noah. He leaps from his place and rushes over to me. ‘Can we talk about this outside?’
‘What isthis?’ I hiss at him sharply, flailing my arms around wildly.
We both glance over to El, lying back against the headboard as she scrolls through her phone, completely unperturbed.
‘Outside.’ He gestures towards the door.
The new crease in his brow is obscenely unsettling, but I head for the door nonetheless because I do want some answers. He shuts it behind us as we stew in the silence of the hostel hallway.
‘What was that?’ I ask immediately.
He doesn’t speak straight away or look me in the eye. His eyes dart around the hall as if searching for a means of escape, hand anxiously grabbing the back of his head.
‘Does it matter?’ he asks.
‘Is she now single?’
His sigh deepens.
‘Then, yes, it does matter.’
‘It’s just a bit of fun...’ he says weakly.
‘You’re not here for fun, remember? You’re here to find something real,’ I say sternly. ‘What’s real about kissing a girl who’s in a relationship with someone else, Noah?’
He sighs again, pressing his back against the wall and sinking until he’s sitting in a ball on the floor. He looks so innocent, so bereft, as he shifts in his seat. It almost makes me feel bad for the scolding. Not bad enough to take it back, of course, but bad enough to wander over and join him on the floor.
We sit there in silence, knees tucked under our arms as we solemnly rest our chins on them and stare forward.
After some time, he starts to mutter. ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen.’
His voice is weak, fragile, stripped of its usual joy. He stares straight ahead as he talks, and even as he thinks. He daren’t look anywhere our eyes could meet.
