The next day, I went back to my parents’ place to grab the rest of my stuff: nothing fancy, just a couple of bags filled with clothes, old books, and random things I hadn’t bothered moving the first time. It still felt a bit unreal, the idea that I’d actually moved out for good.
On my way back to the apartment, arms loaded, I almost walked straight into Greg:
He was heading the other way, sports bag slung over one shoulder, already dressed for training. Rugby shorts, high socks, solid legs moving with that heavy, grounded confidence of his. He looked like he belonged outdoors, like the street itself was just another field.
“Hey,” I said, stopping. “You off somewhere?”
“Yeah,” he replied, jerking his head down the street. “Training. Stade Jean Bouin.”
I blinked:
“Wait… As in Stade Français?”
He cracked a small grin:
“Yeah. Semi-pro team.”
That caught me off guard. I mean, now that I was thiking about it, this made perfect sense with his outfit but also his physique. Of course thise bulky guy was playing rugby,
“Great,” I said. “You thinking about going full pro someday?”
He shrugged, adjusting his bag:
“Maybe. We’ll see how the body holds up.”
We stood there talking for a minute, just like that, and I became oddly aware of his presence. The smell coming off him wasn’t sweat exactly, it was rougher, more physical. A mix of clean fabric, skin, and something unmistakably masculine, like effort and motion. It lingered around him as we talked, grounding, almost distracting.
“Well,” he said after a moment, already shifting his weight forward, “don’t wait up. And don’t mess with my stuff.”
I smiled:
“Wouldn’t dare.”
He nodded once and headed off toward the stadium, his steps heavy and confident. I watched him go for a second longer than I meant to before adjusting my grip on my bags and turning back toward the apartment.
That was the second time Greg was being really protective towards his room. Odd. I mean yeah, it's not a cool thing to dig through your roommates' stuff while they are not around, but he seemed to be a bit too anxious about the idea.
Deep down, Greg actually seemed pretty nice beneath his slightly rough, no-nonsense exterior, you probably just had to talk to him about rugby. Still, I hadn’t managed to ask him what he was studying on the side.
When I got to the front door, I realized I still didn’t have the keys or the entry codes to get into my own place.
Shit… I forgot to ask for them last night.
What an idiot!
I pulled out my phone and my fingers instinctively went to Julien’s contact, which I’d renamed “Jus 2 lien” as a nod to his stupid joke (and also because I knew another Julien—it was easier to tell them apart that way).
My new roommate picked up almost immediately, his upbeat voice a sharp contrast to Greg’s calmer, more monotone tone:
“Yeah dude, what’s up?”
“Hey, sorry to bug you, I just… I forgot to grab the keys yesterday. I’m standing in front of the door and there’s no one here.”
“Ah shit, this is totally Adrien’s fault again! He was supposed to give them to you last night.” I heard a fist slam down on a table. “I swear, what an idiot! And Big G's gone too, I guess?”
Big G...? Ah yea, that must have been Greg's nickname.
“Exactly. So… no one can let me in?”
“I’m at uni and I was supposed to go to... ah fuck. Alright, wait, I’m coming.”
“Oh man, thanks, you’re saving me.”
“Yeah yeah,” he said with a mischievous tone, almost like a threat. “You owe me one.”
Fifteen minutes later, while I was listening to a podcast about the Battle of Leuctra (I was really into that period—and no, not just because warrior-lovers were involved, I see you coming), I spotted Julien running toward me, drenched in sweat, a huge grin on his face.
“I swear, Curvy’s gonna hear about this.”
Curvy? Weird nickname.
“I really hope he made a spare key, seriously.”
Anyway, one thing was clear: Julien was efficient. He’d crossed several districts in barely fifteen minutes, on foot.
“Thanks, Julien, you really didn’t have to run, you know.”
“No worries, that’s my running part of the triathlon!” He gave me a wink before leading me toward the front door.
“Oh, so you swim too?” I said, trying to follow up on what he’d just implied.
“Yep. Well, actually I mostly just swim, but I’ve got some friends who went for the full combo. Not sure I like running that much though.”
That explained the particularly well-built back and shoulders… As I followed him, I couldn’t help watching them move with every step he took. This guy was clearly into some seriously intense swimming.
“You do it at a semi-pro level too?”
“Honestly, I’ve slowed down a bit this year because of school. But yeah, I’d like to take it further. I just need to be more consistent.”
“School for…?”
“Business, man,” he replied as his long fingers unlocked the apartment door. “Alright, I’m gonna go man. You’re good here, right? You don’t need to head out later?”
“No, no. Thanks for everything.”
“You’ll owe me for this!”
And with that, the swimmer took off again, not even bothering to come inside or wipe the sweat soaking through his blue T-shirt. His blond hair was already disappearing down the street as I struggled to drag my two heavy suitcases inside.
I spent the rest of the evening sorting through and putting away my stuff. I hadn’t even planned anything to eat, so around 10 p.m. I started wandering around the kitchen, hesitating between ordering something in or heading to the nearest kebab place to grab a decent sandwich.
My internal debate was cut short when the front door opened, revealing the tallest of the roommates, the giant that was Adrien.
“Hey,” he said, his deep voice calm, almost distant.
“Hey.”
He kicked off his shoes and stretched for a moment while I stood there, frozen, not quite sure how to act natural. I still felt like a stranger in this kitchen, a place whose rhythm and habits I didn’t know yet.
“Good day?” he asked as he put his shoes away in a small wooden cabinet by the door.
“Yeah, pretty good. I’ve almost finished unpacking,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck a bit shyly. “What about you?”
“Lab was kind of a pain today. And I’m starving, you've got no idea.”
“Oh.”
And that’s when I thought: why not?
“Uh, actually… I didn’t get a chance to eat either. Do you think we could go grab something outside?”
“Hold on, man, I’ve got a better idea. Honestly, I’ve got some leftover groceries, I just don’t really know what to do with them. Weren’t you the one saying you could cook?”
A charming smile appeared on Adrien’s lips as he turned toward me, full of hope. I felt a faint warmth spread through my stomach.
“Uh… yeah, I like cooking, and apparently I’m not too bad at it.”
“Perfect. Think you could make us something then? I’m starving, and honestly, I really can’t be bothered to cook right now.”
Adrien pointed out the kitchen shelves that were assigned to him. Everyone had their own space to store ingredients. Same thing for the fridge, which was absolutely packed with stuff in various states of questionable freshness (some of it straight-up suspicious, judging by the mold).
Yeah… these guys clearly weren’t great at keeping a fridge clean.
I should’ve seen that coming.
“Alright, I’ll whip something up real quick,” I said. It was probably the easiest option for tonight anyway.
With what I had on hand (two onions, some carrots, ham, eggs, and a bit of leftover milk), I figured I’d make him (or rather, us), a quick Steph-style quiche. I like making them, and it’s fast if you get the proportions right.
Adrien lingered in the kitchen for a moment, watching me with a small smile, before heading off to drop his things in his room.
He’d mentioned the lab. Did he work in an actual medical lab? Or maybe at university? His height made him seem like the oldest of the roommates; maybe he already had a dull-time job? I’d probably find out soon enough.
About thirty minutes later, the quiche had already been completely demolished by a blissed-out Adrien:
“Dude, this quick quiche is insane. 20 out of 20. Michelin Guide approved.”
“Thanks, thanks. You’re exaggerating,” I laughed.
“I swear, it’s divine,” Julien added, wiping his mouth with a finger. “You’ll have to make me another one sometime.”
Right as he said that, the apartment door opened again and Julien burst into the living room:
“Woo, guys, it smells amazing in here!”
“It’s the new guy,” Adrien said. “He made me taste something crazy, you have no idea.”
“Oh! I want some too!” Julien immediately demanded as he moved closer.
He quickly filled the room with the smell of chlorine. No doubt about what he’d just been doing. Still, he’d been gone for so long. He hadn’t been swimming the entire afternoon, had he?
“Uh, sorry man, there’s none left,” I said, a bit disappointed myself: we’d inhaled the whole quiche in no time.
“Oh, you bastards,” Julien said with a laugh as he plopped down closer to the couch Adrien and I were sharing. “Well, I hope I get to taste it very soon then.”
Another very deliberate wink. This guy was clearly a pro at that.
Then the swimmer punched his buddy firmly in the arm.
“Hey, Curvy, didn’t you forget something yesterday?” he said. “Come on.”
“Uh…”
“The new guy’s keys.”
Hey, I’m not that short! We’re basically the same height, loudmouth. Though yeah—next to Adrien, that was a whole different story.
“Oh shit, the keys!” Adrien suddenly remembered, straightening up on his long legs. “I totally forgot.”
As he disappeared down the hallway toward our rooms, I stacked the plates and carried them over to the sink without really thinking about it.
“There’s no dishwasher, right?” I asked.
“Nope.” Julien’s voice suddenly shifted, much more serious all of a sudden. “Everything’s done by hand.”
I felt his body move closer behind me as I started pouring dish soap onto a sad-looking sponge.
“And you even do the dishes for that idiot?”
The smell of chlorine hit my nose.
He was really close.
“Yeah, why?” I replied honestly.
When he didn’t answer, I turned around, and I saw it.
I saw his eyes, fixed on me.
Or rather… fixed on something specific down there.
His gaze was clearly lowered. Like he’d just been checking out my b...
No.
That couldn’t be possible.
“No, it’s all good, man. Keep doing what you’re doing. You’re gonna be a damn good roommate, I can feel it,” Julien said, finally looking back up into my eyes.
“I’ve got a spare key!”
Adrien was back from his room, holding a small key ring.
“If you need anything else, man, don’t hesitate.” He held out his large, veiny hand and dropped the keys into my palm. “You’ve got the mailbox key in there too.”
“Thanks,” I said simply, slipping the keys into my pocket. “Alright, I think I’m gonna hit the sack soon.”
“Oh come on, you don’t wanna play a bit of Mario Kart with us?” Julien asked as he flopped down onto the couch.
“Uh…”
It's true that it was a good way to socialize a bit with them, but honestly, I had never been much of a fan of video games. In fact, I had never even owned a console during my youth. Yeah, I know.
"Next time, guys, I promise. I still have some administrative stuff to sort out."
Which, by the way, was true.
"Well, good luck then, see you tomorrow." Adrien replied, looking almost a little disappointed.
Were they starting to like me? At least, those two seemed to tolerate my presence and even ask for more—it was a good sign!
I still had Greg to convince that I was a good addition to this little group; he was probably the hardest to read of them all for now.
I retreated to my quarters and quickly yawned while going through some emails about the start of the year in my History Master's program. Orientation meetings, first classes, lecture halls, December exams… all that academic gibberish that was both comforting and, admittedly, kind of boring.
It was even more annoying with the occasional shouts of joy or rage coming from the living room.
When I finally decided to accept that sleep was more important than rereading the schedules over and over, I headed to the bathroom for one last pee before bed, when I heard the front door slam hard, followed by exclamations from the living room.
"Oh! Big G brought Big Girl home!"
"Woooo!"
"Hey, calm down, you lot. Sorry for the welcome. You really are idiots guys, told you she was coming, and you’re still in the living room?" Greg’s voice came from the other room, and it sounded like he wasn’t alone.
A few minutes later, while I was flushing, a huge thump shook the apartment walls. It sounded like someone had banged their head really hard.
Then another jolt. And another.
Coming out of the bathroom, I ran into Adrien, who was heading straight to his room right next to mine. He gave me a grin and shrugged:
"Put in some earplugs if you don’t want to hear the bulldozer at work."
Even from here, you could hear faint, high-pitched muffled cries, clearly coming from the living room.
Great… and I don’t have any earplugs. I hoped they’d finish soon because the thumping was making it nearly impossible to fall asleep, even making my bedside table vibrate.
As I lay there in my big, slightly empty bed, I couldn’t help imagining what Greg was actually doing back there. Judging by the force of those thuds, either the rugby player was moving furniture around with her, or he was rearranging her insides for good.
Ah, the joys of living in a guy’s flat.
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