Transcontinental Overload

By the start of day five, Noémie would’ve done anything for a day off. As a university student, she was used to running on fumes, but the show was exceptionally draining. The producers were perpetually barking orders and the stylists were constantly poking her face with make-up and shoving outfits at her, not to mention the group was always on the go. There was no time to relax.

“Hey,” Harry said as he entered the kitchen. Noémie had taken it upon herself to prepare traditional French dishes for everyone, although her capability was limited. She put in a lot of calls to her mother for recipes. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Crêpes,” she answered. “‘Ow is your arm?”

Harry shrugged as best he could. “Sore. More annoying than anything.” He jumped up onto the counter, despite Noémie’s protests, and watched her cook. “Any idea what we’re doing today?”

“The theatre. MC2 is doing Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. ‘Ave you seen it?” Noémie chuckled as his features scrunched in disgust. “I guess not?”

“Not really much of a reader,” Harry admitted. “Zayn’ll be pleased, though.”

Nodding, the French girl went back to slicing strawberries. A few with banana had already been finished and plated, and Noémie asked Harry politely to bring them into the dining room so everyone could start breakfast. He obliged and was quickly out of her hair, earning Noémie a rare few seconds to breathe.

When she wasn’t calling for recipes, Noémie made many frantic phone calls asking for advice. She was already terrified that she’d made a huge mistake, and while the break from her university courses and the rest of the real world was much appreciated, something still felt off. Her mother reassured her this was normal; she was somewhat of a celebrity now, and everyone dealt with the spotlight differently. Perhaps Noémie’s instinct was to hide from it.

Pulling herself back together, Noémie plated the last few crêpes and joined everyone in the dining room. Her attention was immediately drawn to Niall, whose cheeks were so stuffed he couldn’t speak without bits of food flying out. She smiled despite herself; Niall’s cheeks reddened once he realized she was staring.

“These are really good,” he mumbled.

The rest of the group nodded in agreement, all humming their thanks. A few of the boys made idle chit-chat while everyone ate, until a lapse in conversation resulted in awkward silence. Zayn immediately piped up.

“Harry says we’re going to the theatre tonight?”

Noémie nodded. “Shakespeare,” she answered. “Twelfth Night.”

“What’s that about?” Louis asked, immediately earning a glare from Zayn.

“Are you serious, mate? You’ve never read it?” Louis shook his head. “Well, it’s kind of complicated, but what happens is…”

Noémie tuned them out, already having read the play a few times, and concentrated on finishing her breakfast. It felt strange eating with cameras in her face, but in the back of her mind she knew Zayn’s condensed Shakespeare retelling would make for decent television. It made him appear cultured, or at least very well-read.

Once Zayn was finished his explanation, Louis paused for a moment. “So…it’s basically the plot to that Amanda Bynes movie?” he finally asked, and a few members of the group snorted their laughter. Noémie didn’t know who Amanda Bynes was.

The group spent the rest of the afternoon milling around before it was time to leave. A few went out into the city to shop and sightsee, a few stayed at the villa to relax and get ready, and Noémie spent her time with her nose in her textbooks. Sure, the break was nice, but she’d be almost a year behind by the time she returned to university. Noémie’s parents agreed to keep up the rent for her apartment at school so long as she kept up with her studies. Luckily, her university allowed her to go on the show so long as she submitted her work online at the end of every week.

A pair of knocks sounded on her door, drawing her attention away from Architecture: Form, Space, and Order. Harry, Molly, and Liam stood in the open doorway, a trio of happy smiles occupying their features.

“Are you actually doing coursework?” Harry asked, a sarcastic disdain tinting his deep voice. When Noémie nodded, Harry feigned vomiting. “We’re meant to leave in a few minutes. Just wanted to see if you wanted to come in our cab.”

Standing from her desk, Noémie made a mental checklist of everything she told herself to do before she began studying. Her hair and makeup were done, the black dress she was wearing was suitable for the theatre, and in case they were seated in the mezzanine, her heels were appropriate for climbing stairs.

“Okay,” she agreed.

During the drive, Liam and Harry talked animatedly about the last time they’d done a concert in Paris. The girls got everything — pranks, mishaps, horror stories involving fans, and how Harry hadn’t realized his pants were on backwards during the entire concert. Noémie tried to follow along as best she could, but her English wasn’t as sharp as everyone else’s so she nodded and smiled when everyone looked at her to gauge her reaction.

“So, Noémie, I feel like we know nothing about you!” Liam said. “What were you studying when this wanker so rudely interrupted?”

“I study at L’École d'Architecture Marne-la-Vallée in Paris.”

Harry and Liam shared a look, obviously clueless as to what she said. “She’s studying architecture,” Molly said. Noémie smiled, silently thanking her for the translation.

“Oh! That sounds fun,” Harry said. “So, you want to, like, design buildings and stuff?”

“City planning,” she replied. “I am not very good with design, ‘onestly.”

The cab stopped abruptly outside MC2, causing everyone to lurch forward. Harry and Liam bumped heads and one of them started shrieking in pain, claiming to have been stabbed by a rogue heel. The girls rolled their eyes and exited the vehicle, leaving the boys to deal with paying the fare and tipping their driver.

Once the group was reunited, Louis and Zayn were still arguing over the play. Louis was firm in his belief that the Amanda Bynes movie was better — Noémie assumed it was called She’s the Man — and Zayn was firm in his belief that his bandmate was a moron. Niall was eyeing the snack bar and the other girls looked desperate for an escape. It didn’t seem like the theatre was high on anyone’s list except Zayn’s.

“Is this going to be in French?” Louis whined. “How am I even gonna know what’s going on?”

Zayn looked exasperated. “I just told you the whole plot!”

As they continued bickering, one of the producers appeared and handed out the tickets. Everyone immediately began comparing seat numbers, only to find they were scattered all over the theatre. Of course, they were in pairs again. However, Noémie was pleased to discover she was sitting with Zayn. Perhaps sitting with someone who both understood and appreciated the play would help her get through it.

But probably not.