‘Me neither, but I’m excited. I sleepgreaton trains,’ he says, bragging.
‘I know. You snore great too,’ I say teasingly.
He shakes his head at me, hands still on my suitcase. ‘I can leave this, you know. And then good luck getting it to close on your own.’
‘I take it back – you sleep like an angel,’ I say, much to his amusement.
My four days of wallowing worried Noah exponentially and he never stopped trying new ways to bring me out of it. After various meals, invites out and movie-night suggestions, he brought out the big guns with an escape plan. He marched into my room brainstorming our next destination, and insisted we move countries entirely. After throwing around options and researching accommodation, we settled on a foray into Italy.
The journey from Vienna to Rome is, unsurprisingly, very long, and since I refuse to waste another full day on a train Noah suggested that we take a sleeper. I was extremely on board, more out of curiosity than anything else. It feels like the kind of experience youshouldhave on a trip like this and I reckon it could make quite a cute pic for socials. He took care of the tickets and the schedule for the day, and all I’ve really had to do is pack my case and show up. Which is great, because the way this week has gone it’s all I’ve had the energy to do.
We make it to the station in good time so we can grab French fries for dinner before boarding our bedroom for the night. Then I follow as he pulls my suitcase through the train, watching the sides of it knock against the narrow hallway. I justknowthat he’s biting his tongue to stop himself from once again stressing that I should have brought a duffle bag, but I respect his efforts to keep it contained. He’s been a little sweeter towards me since the whole Johann debacle.
He scans each door as we walk past, mouthing the numbers to himself and continuously checking the number on our tickets. Soon he comes to a halt outside one of the doors, looking back at me with a smile.
‘Our room for the night,’ he says, gesturing proudly to the door.
‘Thrilling,’ I respond sarcastically.
He laughs, shaking his head as he tugs at the lever and the door starts to slide open.
‘Come on, Am, this is the height of luxury! How can you deny the... oh.’
His whole body freezes. He pauses in the doorframe, blocking me from view so all I can see is his shocked and, if I’m not mistaken, incredibly embarrassed face.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, pulse quickening.
‘Well, I . . . well, they . . . I . . . erm . . .’
He reaches for his phone, frantically scrolling through emails.
I’ve not seen him this flustered before and it starts to make me feel sick. My mind runs through a list of possible scenarios, each worse than the last.
‘What? Wrong train? Wrong day? Are we illegal hitchhikers?’ My panic is shrill enough it seems to pull him out of his own. He glances over, notes my face and pauses to take a breath.
‘No, sorry. I shouldn’t have panicked you like that. It’s not even that big of a deal, it’s just...’ He pauses. ‘The website didn’t have English translations, and I guess I interpreted it wrong and...’
A mild rosy hue rolls up his face.
‘You’re scaring me. What did you do?’ I ask.
I try to peek around his shoulder, but it’s no use thanks to the obscenely narrow hallway.
‘I’m really sorry, Amorie.’ He nervously bites his lip before continuing. ‘I just, seem to have booked a double room instead of a twin... There’s only one bed.’
. . .an amendment
Our journey is fourteen hours long. That’s far too long to dwell on the awkwardness of a shared bed. It had to be nipped in the bud as soon as humanly possible and the way Noah was acting, I had to be the one to do it.
I brushed it aside instantly, telling him that it was no bother, that we’ve been sharing rooms all trip – what’s one bed? Then I sauntered into our tiny little cubby hole as if casually sharing beds with men I’ve almost screwed is a regular, everyday occurrence for me. I even stripped down to a baggy T-shirt and my underwear for bed, just to prove that it really wasn’t a big deal. Noah had no choice but to follow suit, stripping down to a T-shirt and boxers before he got comfortable.
Although, if I’m honest, the word ‘comfortable’ is an incredible overstatement. There’s only so comfortable you can get in a tiny sleeper compartment with such little floor space that you have to stand side on when not in the bed. It’s clear that they designed it for sleep and absolutely nothing else. There’s nowhere to be but in bed, which would be absolutely fine if I were not sharing the bed with my good friend, Noah.
‘You still up?’ he asks groggily.
He rolls over onto his side, forcing our arms to brush against each other. I feel the hairs on mine rise to attention as my body grows hotter, and I clamp my eyes shut in an attempt to shake off the feeling.
‘Sort of.’ I mumble my reply between subtle deep breaths.
