Nochelle - Our Stories

M I S T L E T O E

~let's say Season 4 idk~ (Nomanda is 💀)

Richelle's hands are sweaty. They've never been sweaty before, she doesn't get nervous—ever. But here she is, hands sweaty all of a sudden, and she can't figure out why.

"Richie," she hears. She spins around, the hem of her dress whipping around her legs just above the knee, to see Noah running down the corridor, landing directly in front of her. Her dress was a deep navy blue colour that Michelle had picked out, Richelle was never one for fancy dresses and parties, much preferring her sports bras and sweats, but here she was, in a fancy dress, at a party.

He grins at her, hands stuffed in his pockets, and she smiles at the button down powder blue shirt that his mother has put him into for this party. "Still a mama's boy, aren't you?" she quips, smoothing his collar and the shoulders of his shirt out. "Remind me again, how old are you?" she laughs, tilting her head to the side accusatorially.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Noah mumbles, pushing a hand through his perfectly tamed hair. "I'm sixteen and I still do whatever my mum asks me, I get it." Richelle smiles at him, a sense of calm and warmth flooding her system.

"I like it," she says, laughing at the sudden blush that explodes across his face. "You're one of the good ones Noah Erlick."

Noah smirks and cross his arms, slightly sweating from side to side as he stood. "So, what's up with you? You're in the studio from six to ten with Michelle, it's like I never see you except for at group rehearsals." That's true. Now that they're both in A-Troupe (god, the thought of it makes her excited and terrified at the same time), Richelle's been pushing herself more than ever, taking more challenging classes, doing privates with Michelle and Riley, and getting more involved with teaching J-Troupe.

All of that, however, hasn't left any time for her friends, including Noah. She misses all of them, especially after having to leave Gabi and Becca behind in B-Troupe. It was hard for her to adjust to A-Troupe, not being especially skilled in making friends and subsequently sticking within the older A-Trouper's circle, only occasionally confiding in James' sister, Piper. Most notably though, her friendship with Noah had somewhat fallen to the sidelines.

Richelle sighs, sinking back down onto the wall. "You know me, Noah. I never stop working."

"Well," he points out, rolling up the sleeves of his button down to just below his elbows, "you stopped dancing long enough to come to this party."

Richelle, transfixed at the way Noah's newly toned forearms move with every gesture he makes, doesn't even notice that he's finished talking and that she's staring for a couple seconds. She shakes herself out of her reverie and pulls at the itchy plunged collar of her dress, chuckling. "Yeah, but that's only because it's literally at dance, plus, I knew you would die if you went any longer without seeing my beautiful face."

Noah mocks her, sticking his tongue out, and Richelle laughs, pure, and happy, for what feels like the first time in months. She doesn't let anyone see, but the loneliness has really started to get to her, and it's these moments and their 50 minute duet rehearsal each week that help keep her going.

"Fine," Noah relents. "But only because I know you can't stand being away from this face either." He contorts his face so that it forms a double chin, and Richelle just shakes her head, rolling her eyes to distract from her smirk.

"Okay, Noah, if you're done acting like you're five, let's go get food. You know like 85% of the reason I come to these parties is to get something to eat." Richelle grabs Noah's wrists and drags him through to Studio A. When they finally reach the buffet table, they both pile their plate with food and go to find somewhere quiet to sit.

Richelle glances around, but the room was filled with people, and she knows they shouldn't take their food out of the studio. Then, Noah grins, and her heart leaps into her throat. It's not fair. Why does she have to notice how objectively attractive her best friend is now? Couldn't this wait? She really doesn't have time for it.

"Come on," he says, motioning for her to follow him. "I have the perfect place."

Richelle looks at hims, puzzled, but follows him out of the studio and into Riley's office. Then, she sighs and smiles, locking the door as she watched Noah pull out the brown leather chair and duck underneath the desk. "Noah, there's absolutely no way we can fit underneath there. The last time we did this was when we were in J-Troupe. And in case you haven't noticed, I've grown a little since then."

Noah's eyes peek out of the desk to rove over her body, and Richelle feels a little flushed until he smiles that same toothy grin at her. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, you're still tiny. Join me," he whispers, sneaking further into the desk nook to obscure himself with a dramatic hush. Richelle lingers there for a moment, rolled by her eyes but not denying the smile stuck to her lips, before she ducks under.

She was right, they are quite cramped. But Noah was right as well. It seems like another world under here, silent and sacred. It's only then that Richelle realizes if she's actually going to fit, she and Noah are going to have to be, well, close. She blushes, hoping he can't see under the dim light, and steals some of his food off of his plate.

She feels like a kid again, if only for one night a year. But it's worth it.

When they're finally too stuffed with food to even think about having a single more bite, Noah scrambles out from underneath the tablecloth. Richelle shuffles out behind him, but when she glances up, she sees Noah holding a hand out to her. "Perfect gentleman," she teases, slipping her hand into his as he helps her up.

"You're never going to stop teasing me, huh?" Noah murmurs, eyes on her face.

"Count on it," Richelle winks, dropping her hand from his. "You're stuck with me."

"Thank God," Noah mutters from behind her, and Richelle's never been more grateful for her olive skin that helps to hide blushes, because her face feels like someone set it on fire.

She and Noah weave their way throughout the crowd, until finding a suitable spot leaning against the barre, sparing secret glances whilst they people-watch and exchange inside jokes. All of a sudden, Richelle feels a pressure on her shoulder, and she turns around to see her older sister, Michelle, smirking at her.

"Well, looks like someone's got to keep up the tradition." she chuckles, taking a sip of her drink, eyes shining.

Richelle knows before she even looks up, and looks over at Noah's face. This had been an ongoing prank since they were kids, but for the first time since this started happening, all the way back in J-Troupe, he doesn't look shocked or horrified or upset. He looks almost unsure. But, his eyes lock with Richelle's, and she gives him a smile.

(She's never been more unsure of anything in her life, but this is Noah, and she'll love him no matter what. but not in that way. She thinks.)

Noah steps even closer to her, and Richelle wants to stay focused on him, on those brownish-green eyes that are always so expressive, but she can't figure out what they're saying right now, and when he lifts a hand to brush her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, her eyes drift shut, and she can't breathe.

Every single molecule of oxygen in the air seems to have decided it would be better placed elsewhere, and Richelle can't focus on anything besides the sound of Noah's breathing, the rough but warm feeling of his hands on her cheek, and the silence that seems to have appeared all of a sudden.

Then, she feels the feather light press of lips against her cheek, slightly chapped but still impossibly soft, and her heart threatens to beat out of her chest. Noah lingers there, hand curled around her hip, and it's all she can do to keep her eyes closed and not drag his mouth to hers. His breath washes over her, soft, and Richelle squeezes her eyes even further shut, even as he pulls away. Her eyes flutter open to find Noah staring at her, shell shocked, but in the good way. Richelle lets her eyes flicker down to his lips, wonders what it would be like if she kissed him right here and right now, but she swallows the temptation and locks it away.

"Merry Christmas, Richie," he whispers, hand slipping off her shoulder as he walks away. Richelle watches him leave, swallows roughly, and tucks her hair behind both her ears, left blushing—not by Noah though, but her sister's smirk.

~~~
Oops sorry I forgot to post this earlier in December, there's a few more Xmas ones to come xx