Nochelle - Our Stories

T R A F F I C

~Season 6~

The rain that had been tearing through Toronto today had behaved decently enough to cease its loud smatter against the Studio A windows by this early afternoon hour, meaning Richelle won't have to jog through downpour on her way to the bus. She silently thanks the universe for this as she's buttoning her dark blue coat all the way up at her cubby.

Rain and humidity makes her hair crazily frizzy, and she has no time right now for a two hour reluctant session of straightening and brushing it out. With everything that's been going wrong for her in the last few months, she deserves this minimal victory. Michelle and Emily got fired (which was almost definitely her fault and the reason she didn't have a lift home), their new Studio Head is nothing like them, and what happened at the hospital with Noah... she can't stop thinking about it.

A part of her knows the kisses were probably just for sympathy - a part she wants desperately to push down - wishes they weren't, and at this point it's making her go crazy. She can't avoid seeing him at dance, she can't avoid talking to him, and for every trivial question about a team-related issue the flutters of the butterflies in her stomach are growing so intense she's nauseous.

They still haven't had a chance to talk about what happened. Considering she's leaving rehearsal to go home now, it won't be happening today. If they ignore it for long enough, maybe they won't ever have to discuss what's repeating a thousand times over and over in her head. "You know when you told me you thought I was emotionally stiff, and never properly apologised? And then six months later I ended up in hospital and when you visited we kissed multiple times and I liked it so much more than I should have? Do you want to talk about that?" Yeah, Richelle can think of less awkward conversation starters.

She's stepping into the elevator as she hears a loud "Wait!" and someone dashes through the doors in the last second before they close.
Noah. Exactly what she needs right now. Not.

"I'm leaving, too." His grey hoodie is still unzipped and his dance bag is open, as if he just grabbed everything and started running after her. For all she knows, he might have.
"You want to catch a ride, by any chance?"

There is no way she's saying yes to this.

Nothing about it is remotely close to a good idea. She wants to go home and drink a nice cup of hot chocolate and read a book and forget every single detail on her personal life and Noah and that stupid goddamn kiss...

"Sure. Why not?" She ends up mumbling, realising there's not an excuse for her to be walking home in the rain when he has a perfectly warm car.

"Great." He shoots her one of those dorky yet confident smiles and she instantly hates herself for saying yes. Too late now.

The parking lot is as crowded with cars as always. She walks a few steps behind Noah as he strolls towards his car, trying her very best to focus on anything that isn't him. She's failing miserably. Every time she tries to divert her attention to the sound of a car driving away or the sensation of an ever so slight drizzle staining her coat, her eyes return to him and her thoughts run to how good his characteristically tidy hair looks from behind even in this humid weather.

"My car," he states as he unlocks the vehicle, Richelle remembers once promising to herself when she was in B-Troupe that she would never be one of those girls he picks up in here. "Care to join me for a ride?"

"Only if that ride goes home to my place where I leave this car without you." she says in a resentful tone as she gets in, wishing she really felt as bitter about sitting here as she tries to appear.

"Cold, Richie." He laughs, and the sheer effortlessness of it makes Richelle's heart skip a beat. Nothing can ever happen for real between the two of them, she reminds herself as she presses her nails into her palm. There are so many reasons why not. Focused, just-recovered-from-an-injury Richelle shouldn't even be considering it. So why is her brain picturing them both leaning across the seats in that very car, kissing?