seat no. 26 a ~discontinued~

5. statistical probability

“People who meet in airports are seventy-two percent more likely to fall for each other than people who meet anywhere else.” 

― jennifer e. smith, the statistical probability of love at first sight

his name was noah.

freaking noah – and here i was, a few days after i finished the notebook and i meet a cute guy called noah.with a british accent.

i blushed when he said it.

i’m noah, he said, in that chocolaty voice of his, giving me a small smile i don’t think he knew he was giving.

nice to meet you, noah.

nice to meet you too, zoya.

i liked it when he said my name, i liked it. when other people said my name it always carried the weight of what they thought of me, they put their own spin on it, it would be either zoya, loud and clear like my teachers, the syllables of the word getting lost in a breathless chasm of expectations; it could be zoya in a hushed whisper as i pass, a furtive undercurrent of gossip-sharing, it could be zoya harsh and demanding like evie did sometimes.

but when he said it, it was devoid of any weight, any judgment, it was just me and my name and his voice and his accent.  and i liked it.

so, um, where’re you from?

ugh, i’m not used to this. guys don’t usually take interest in where i’m from. or heck, even my name.

it’s actually a really long answer, i told him, grimacing.

noah smiled a little, another crooked one that went higher on the right than left.

(oh, swoons)

well, i have fifteen hours to hear it and you have fifteen hours to tell it.

i shrugged. it’s not going to take that long, but anyway.

then i paused, and he waited.

um, so...my dad was half american, quarter italian and quarter greek. so that makes me one eighth italian, one eighth greek and one fourth american. and my mum was four parts, it’s...um, sorry, i keep forgetting, she was quarter lebanese, quarter iranian, quarter british and quarter indian, so i don’t even know what that makes me, but yeah. that’s....that’s where i’m from.

he stared at me for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

wow. that’s some geneology.

i chuckled, even though saying that whole long sentence made me feel queasy because it made me remember things. i don’t think he noticed the past tense though.

what about you?

he looked a little surprised.

you can’t tell?

i giggled. fuck.

um, british, yeah, but...

london, he supplied.

i’ve always wanted to go to london, i told him, i mean, i have, but i don’t really remember much of it.

it’s sooty and depressing.

i find that hard to believe.