. . . a frosty shower
Mala’s words stuck themselves into the crevices of my brain from the second that they left her mouth.
They overtook it, shrouded my thoughts in doubt and circled around my head until they were all I could focus on.
But then I re-entered the juice bar, Noah bounded up to me with a fifth drink and everything felt right with the world again.
I have nothing to worry about – this is just Noah. Noah is just a friendly guy.
Mala saw us interact for a couple of minutes out of context and got the completely wrong end of the stick.
It’s no reflection of us, or a reflection of her, it’s just a reflection of unfortunate circumstance.
Noah and I don’t act particularly lovey-dovey – we just act like two people who are comfortable with each other.
Because we are comfortable with each other.
Super comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that our current awkward silence makes no sense.
We’ve been standing in it since we walked through the door of our Hungarian hotel room.
‘It’s . . . different,’ he says, trying to move us on from ten minutes of awkward nothingness.
I, on the other hand, am still dumbfounded. ‘There’s no way this will work.’
‘It’s not that bad.’
‘Noah.’
‘Amorie.’
I look back at him, perturbed. ‘The bathroom walls are entirely see-through.’
‘It’s frosted glass!’
‘Noah.’ I’m louder this time.
He mumbles. ‘It didn’t look like this in the pictures. Do you think they’ll switch our room?’
‘Do you think the other rooms are different?’
‘Probably not.’ He sighs. ‘So, what do you want to do?’
I continue to stare. I haven’t stopped. I’ve been frozen in the same spot, suitcase handle in hand as I ogle the monstrosity that they expect us to use. What kind of pervert puts a see-through bathroom cubicle in a twin bedroom? Frosted glass or not, they knew exactly what they were doing.
‘This place was non-refundable, right?’ I ask.
He nods sombrely. ‘You told me to book the cheapest rate going.’
And I meant it. I still have a hefty amount of credit-card debt. And I still owe Noah for the hotel in Amsterdam because I needed the last instalment I promised him, to get myself out of my overdraft. He said I could get it to him whenever, but I don’t want to take liberties.
‘I guess we make do,’ I sigh, rolling my case towards the beds.
I pick the one closest to the window and furthest away from those frosted walls.
‘I promise not to look when you’re in the shower,’ Noah says, settling on the other bed.
‘You better not.’ I fall back onto the bed.
‘And you promise not to look too, right?’ he asks.
I go to laugh, but as I tilt my head in his direction I see that he is actually being serious.
‘Looking hadn’t even crossed my mind,’ I say, deadpan.
In fact, since Mala dropped that bomb, I have done my best to avoid thinking about Noah entirely. It’s too late to complicate things, especially given how far we’ve come and the task we’ve got at hand. I have done so well so far and I will be damned if I am brought down by frosted glass.
I hang my head upside down over the edge of the bed, eyes focusing in on an inverted image of the perturbed-looking man now standing over me. He’s frowning. Forehead creases packed tightly as he looks down at my face intently.
‘It didn’t cross your mind once?’ he asks.
His bottom lip is jutted out in distress. I have to bite my lip not to laugh back at him. He looks like an upset little kid.
‘Did you want to be objectified?’ I ask.
He crouches, bringing his face close to mine. Far too close, actually. His breath skates, soft and warm, against my upper lip.
‘I just can’t believe you’re not even a little bit curious.’ His voice drips with trouble, desperate to prove a point as he leans even closer, his nose bumping against mine.
I swallow firmly. ‘Noah. Rule number one.’
We have the rules for a reason. That reason being to stop the way I’m feeling right now.
How am I meant to get on with my job and throw myself into dates with other people when he looks the way he does and says things that make me want to melt on the spot?
I start to feel the lack of air con in this cheap room, my temperature climbing with every second we stay like this.
It’s dizzying and overwhelming, but I can’t look away.
Looking away would indicate that something is wrong, when there’s not.
‘I’m not saying you should look,’ he says, rooted in place.
My eyes flit over his stretched lips. They’re so close to the skin of my forehead that they could brush it with a kiss if he were to breathe just a little too heavily. I feel a tingle run through me at the thought and immediately panic. Mala was not right. She cannot be right.
He continues. ‘I’m just saying, I’d understand if taking a peek had crossed your mind.’
I clamp my eyes shut to silence the noise and attempt to ignore the proximity.
‘I don’t think of you naked,’ I say. ‘In fact, I think of you like a brother.’
He chuckles cockily. ‘No, you don’t.’
The sound echoes through my ears, bringing with it a flashback of us on the counter. I feel a warmth grow within me.
‘No, I don’t,’ I say bitterly.
I open my eyes again to see his smug smile. His eyes are darker now, mischievous. The longer they continue to stare at me, the shallower my breaths become. It’s too much. My head’s spinning. I rush to sit up, my skull bashing against his in the process.
‘I’m so sorry!’ I say.
He jumps away instantly with a yell, rubbing his head as he paces across the room. ‘Is your head made of concrete?’
I turn away as I rub my own head, grateful for the distraction and the increased distance. Just like that, my chest softens and I can breathe again, no longer plagued by the inappropriate thoughts he brought on.
‘Okay, enough of that,’ he says, interrupting the calm. ‘I actually do need to shower off that train. So look away, yeah? Or don’t. I don’t actually care.’
I barely process his words in the time it takes for him to step inside the room and turn the shower on.
Before I know it, the sound of running water floods the hotel room, bouncing off the thin walls.
I glance up on instinct, instantly meeting the shadow of his figure underneath the showerhead.
He twists and turns none the wiser. Humming softly to himself as he suds up his body on the other side.
His wet, naked body is one pane of frosted glass away from mine. The knowledge knocks my brain over. The room starts spinning the longer I think about it.
I can’t do this.
I grab my laptop and get ready to make a run for the nearest café, but an aggressive buzzing fills the room. I grab my phone from the table to see a FaceTime request from Sara fill the screen.
‘Hey, Sar—’
‘One sec, I’m dialling Paige in.’
Her bubble quickly minimises as a second square pops up to reveal my other sister, beaming brightly.
‘She lives!’ Paige says in jest. ‘We were beginning to think you’d forgotten about us.’
‘What?’ I ask.
‘It’s been days,’ Sara says, far more pointedly. ‘You said you would keep in regular contact.’
‘Sorry, it’s been crazy.’
‘Oh, we know. I am loving the column.’ Paige grins. ‘Did that arsehole really shame you for eating a waffle?’
‘That entry’s been a fan favourite so far,’ I say.
Sara huffs. ‘Oh, so your fans hear from you? Because we, your sisters, haven’t heard from you for days now, Amorie.’
‘I think she gets it,’ Paige says teasingly.
‘It’s not funny.’ Sara purses her lips tightly. ‘We’ve been worried about you, and we’ve been lying to Dad and telling him we’re in constant contact! God forbid he knew the truth – he’d be on a plane to drag you home himself.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, more solemnly this time.
‘It’s okay,’ she sighs, pleased with her scolding. ‘Just promise you’ll be in touch more going forward. How’s Budapest?’
I pause. ‘Wait, how did you know I’m—’
‘She’s tracking your phone,’ Paige says.
‘Sara! We’re—’
‘Only supposed to use Find My Friends for emergencies.’ We recite this in unison.
‘It was an emergency. We haven’t heard from you in days! You could have been dead in a ditch for all we knew,’ Sara says.
Paige mutters. ‘That seems a bit much.’
‘I get it, I’ll do better. And Budapest seems fine . . . I hardly know to be fair, I only just checked in,’ I say.
My thoughts are interrupted by the slide of the bathroom door as Noah emerges, a towel wrapped around his waist. My eyes widen in panic and I silently warn him not to speak, but he’s not looking my way as he wanders out peacefully.
‘Could you pass me my lotion?’ he asks.
My heart sinks. There’s no mistaking the masculine sound of his voice.
‘Who was that?’ Sara asks, eyes exceptionally beady.
‘No one.’
He finally looks my way, so I shoot him the steeliest glare that I can. It doesn’t spook him. Nor does the enquiring tone of Sara as he looks on at me excitedly.
‘Is that your sister?’ he asks, smiling.
‘Amorie Elizabeth Grant, is there a man in your room?’ Paige asks.
She’s not as judgy with her tone, mouth dropped open in excitement and eyebrows all the way at the top of the screen. I look between their two faces and gulp. Sara looks about ready to strangle me through the phone.
‘No,’ I lie boldly.
I glance to Noah once more, silently pleading him to stay quiet. He finally gets the message, miming a zip of his lips before tiptoeing behind camera to grab the lotion himself.
‘So, what’s the weather like back in England?’ I ask as casually as I can.
‘Amorie, who is the man?’ Sara asks.
When it really comes down to it, I am a twenty-five-year-old woman who is old enough to live, breathe and travel on her own.
And they’re not even my parents – they’re my older sisters.
While they can advise me in my life, they have no real authority.
So why am I shaking? And why has my heart stilled?
And why does Sara’s stare need a warning sign?