. . . a surprise
There are too many people walking through the streets of Berlin at this ungodly hour.
They chat too loud and close café doors with bangs that echo around my poor, fragile, hungover head.
Who let them out this early? What were they doing last night that prompted so much energy on a Saturday morning?
All I wanted was a solitary walk of shame back to my hostel in peace.
Last night was fun and exciting, and everything I didn’t even know I needed, but it’s also the first time I’ve had sex in over a year.
Not only that, but it’s the first time I’ve had sex with anyone but Tom in over six years.
I didn’t think it would be that big a deal – Paige always says it’s just like riding a bike – and for the most part it was.
Sam certainly knew what he was doing, but it didn’t stop me from waking up with more baggage than I anticipated.
Sam, bless him, offered to pick up breakfast and even walk me back to my hostel, but I wanted nothing more than to be alone with a sugary black takeaway cup and my complex thoughts.
He took it in his stride and has even already messaged me – we forgot to exchange numbers, but he seems to have found my socials through my column.
By the time I get back, my coffee is mostly done but my thoughts are murkier than ever, so I’m beyond grateful to find our hostel room empty, sparing me from awkward small talk with strangers.
At least, I think it is, at first. That is, until I hear a small rustling behind one of the bed curtains.
Is someone . . . moving?
I see a foot poke out, then a second. A second that clearly belongs to someone different.
Are they . . . ?
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 God they’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 is this?’ 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.
‘We got a little distracted walking back here last night. I guess the drinks got to us more than we thought and then next thing I knew, we were . . .’
He swallows.
‘So, you two . . . ?’
‘No, of course not! We’ve only kissed. She’s in a relationship . . . I would never.’
‘You do realise how stupid that sounds?’ I ask.
‘Yep. Realised the second I said it,’ he says. ‘Look, it’s fucked. I know it is.’ He throws his hands up in the air and leans back against the wall dejectedly before continuing. ‘Does it help if I think I might actually like her?’
The words leave his mouth slow and heavy, sinking to the floor. I’ve seen this look before in my friends and in my sisters. He’s fallen for her. Fallen very hard.
‘Noah . . .’ I sigh and he lifts a hand, begging me to stop.
‘She’s just got something about her,’ he says sadly.
Yeah, a boyfriend, I think. But I don’t dare say it out loud.
He continues meekly. ‘And I think she might like me too.’
‘You can’t go there. Not while she has a man,’ I say softly.
He nods with defeat before throwing his head back against the wall, the soft knock echoing down the empty hall.
‘What do I do?’ he asks.
He doesn’t want an answer. At least, not an answer that I’m willing to give. But he has to do something to help him through the horrible position he’s landed himself in.
I don’t like seeing him like this, so void of his spark, all because of a stupid, drunken mistake.
It takes everything in me not to point all my rage towards El, but I know deep down this isn’t solely her fault.
They’re both adults, which means that even though she’s the one cheating, he still played a part in his knowing.
‘What do you want to do?’ I ask.
Although it feels like for ever, I’ve only known Noah for a few weeks now. I don’t know him well enough to guide him without a little help from his end.
‘Honestly?’ he asks.
He meets my eyes and I see that his have misted over. They are growing wetter every second. I nod softly, prompting him to carry on truthfully.
‘I want to go back in there and grab her face again, and kiss her under those covers and waste the whole day away,’ he says. ‘But I’m not going to.’
He spits out the last sentence bitterly, punctuating it with a deep, exasperated sigh. His back melts into the wall the best that it can as he tries to make himself disappear entirely.
‘What have I done?’ he groans, eyes closed in despair.
I reach my hand out to stroke his arm, provide support in any way. I trail it down his arm, my fingertips brushing his hairs as I go, before silently arriving at his hand. He squeezes my hand tightly as I clasp his. It’s the gesture he needed. The reminder that he’s not alone in any of this.
‘You made a mistake,’ I say softly. ‘We all make mistakes, but what’s important is that we move on from them. You know it was wrong and you’ve owned up to that now, so just make sure you don’t kiss her again.’
He shakes his head. ‘Of course not.’
They emerge less as spoken words and more as one deep and hurried breath. But there’s still truth to them. Even if it looks like their mere utterance has chipped away at him.
‘I’ve never done that before, you know.’ He peeks my way before dropping his eyes again. ‘I don’t usually – I’ve never – I’m not one to kiss girls who have boyfriends. I know how messed up it is.’
I shake my head. ‘Of course not. You strike me more as the type to go around kissing girls with husbands. Proper cheating.’
The joke falls flat on the floor quicker than the speed at which it left my mouth.
‘Sorry,’ I say.
A small laugh leaves his lips. ‘That was so stupid.’
‘My joke or your actions?’ I ask.
‘Definitely both,’ he says.
I hasten a glance in his direction and catch the hint of a smile, slowly unfurling the longer I look at him. Just like that, with one unbearably awkward joke, we are back. I feel my chest lighten as the hallway fills with air once more. He looks me up and down.
‘Wait, are you in last night’s clothes?’ he asks.
I see a flash of the old Noah, the happier Noah, as he salaciously awaits my answer. It’s comforting to have him back. He needs this more than I need to be coy.
‘I had sex with Sam last night,’ I say slowly.
His eyes widen in shock.
‘You dirty dog!’
I laugh. ‘Dirty dog?’
‘It seemed like the least offensive way to tease,’ he says, shrugging. ‘How was it?’
‘Nope, not doing that.’
‘I’ll read about it anyway.’
I press on. ‘He’s asked me to come round again tonight.’
He takes the hint and moves on with me.
‘Do you want to?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know. What do you think?’ I turn to him.
I don’t even know if I want his advice on the matter any more – I’m pretty sure I’ve already decided against it. But it’s proving to be a great distraction. His smile grows by the minute.
‘The sex clearly wasn’t that good if you have to ask,’ he says, far too smugly for someone who was just caught in his position.
‘Noah! Serious!’ I slap his arm.
Clearly someone’s feeling a little better about himself. He ponders for a moment, head tilting to the side before looking back at me with his answer.
‘Keep it to the one time. It’s cleaner that way.’
‘Smart.’ I nod, pushing myself up off the floor.
We rise from the ground, nervously facing the door and everything that lies behind it.
‘Wow, Berlin, eh?’ I say.
He chuckles somewhat sadistically before shaking his head and looking back at me. ‘What a place.’ He sighs, motioning for the handle. ‘Here’s hoping Prague grants us some peace.’