“Yeah, I just kind of spent the morning, uh, looking around.”
“Well, I can take you to the apartment, if you like,” Maggie offers, brightening up. “My parents sent me here a week early to get accustomed to the city, and I’ve visited Paris a bunch of times before, so I know my way around pretty well!” She immediately blushed, probably feeling like she’s rambled too much. But I like people who talk a lot. My parents were always chattering back and forth while I just listened contentedly. It was comforting to me.
“That would be awesome,” I assure her. “I’m totally new here.”
“Okay,” she says, biting her lip. She still looks nervous, but there’s a sparkle in her eye. Maggie leads me across the large campus and out to the street. Instead of hailing a cab — which is how I always assumed everyone in big cities got around — she just started walking, with me trailing slightly behind.
“Is the apartment close to here?” I pipe up, my shorter legs struggling to keep up with this Amazonian new acquaintance.
“Oh, yes! It’s within walking distance of the university. The training studio isn’t far from here, either,” she explains. We walk for a while longer down the wide, busy streets, and then we turn a corner and Maggie points upward at a gorgeous old building with black, wrought-iron balconies jutting out from its stony face. “Home sweet home!” she exclaims, beaming.
“Wow,” I breathe, tilting my head back to gaze up at the many stories. I had no idea we would be staying in such a gorgeous place. This looks like a movie set, like a postcard. I’m expecting a Juliet to appear on a balcony and call out for her Romeo at any moment.
“I’m sure you’re tired of lugging that thing around,” Maggie comments, gesturing toward my suitcase. “Wanna go inside? I’ll show you our flat!”
She leads me through a giant set of carved wooden doors and we climb several flights of shining marble stairs, my suitcase clunking along behind us. I’m nearly out of breath by the time we reach the sixth floor.
“Yeah, the walk-up is a bit of a hike. But just wait until you see the inside!” Maggie remarks. We walk down a long hallway to room 608, where she takes out a key and opens the door to a spacious, airy apartment. My jaw drops instantly.
Everything is decorated in stark, clean whites and pale powder blues, with quaint little fixtures and floral designs on the molding. The ceilings are surprisingly high, and as I walk into the main living area, I am stunned nearly to tears by the sight of a massive, wall-to-wall set of windows. I rush over and look down to see that our apartment overlooks the street below, as well as a blooming green park across from us. Thin, gauzy white curtains are draped at either side of the wall of windows, pulled back to let in the lovely sunshine. I spin around and gawk at Maggie, who is also beaming excitedly.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she says, clasping her hands in front of her.
I nod vigorously, still at a loss for words. There’s a soft white sofa and two straight-backed blue armchairs with carved wooden legs. I can see the tiny kitchen area back toward the entrance, a line of gleaming white counters and minimalist appliances recessed in a smartly-lit alcove.
“Where’s the bedroom?” I ask, and Maggie guides me to a little room off to the right. It’s a bit tight, with two twin beds pushed against opposing walls, but it’s very cute. Just like the rest of the flat, the walls are a milky white and the floors a deep, natural hardwood. We both have white bedspreads with blue quilts folded on them — and here I realize that I’m rooming with a girl who actually makes her own bed every morning instead of leaving it a mass of tangled sheets like I do.
The bathroom is connected to our room through a door with a crystal-blue novelty doorknob. It’s fairly standard, with a pedestal sink and a shower stall. The floors are bright white marble, however, and so highly polished that I can nearly see my reflection.
“This is amazing,” I gasp, turning back to Maggie. She toys with the end of her flouncy ponytail, looking nervous once again.
“I —I’ve never had a roommate before. In fact, I’ve never really had a lot of friends,” she admits, her eyes riveted to the floor bashfully. “Oh, that makes me sound pathetic, doesn’t it?”
“No, no,” I assure her. She’s blushing furiously, her cheeks patchy with rosy splotches.
“It’s not that I don’t like other people or anything. I’ve just always been so busy with gymnastics, of course, and then there’s the homeschooling thing…”
Ah, there it is. That explains everything.