Looking for a shared apartment is an extremely delicate matter, especially in Paris, as you can well imagine.
People fight over apartments that are too small, poorly insulated, or even converted cellars (which are, of course, illegal), all at exorbitant prices. As a result, many young people (well past 30, easily) live in shared housing to keep expenses down and avoid ending up on the street. I was in that situation myself, having just moved out of my parents’ place and looking for at least a minimally decent apartment near my university, whose campus was in the center of Paris. Suffice it to say that listings were rare, and places were snapped up within just a few minutes on classified websites.
I started by looking for mixed-gender shared apartments, thinking that having a bit of diversity would be nice, but I quickly realized they were far too sought after and that women preferred to share apartments among themselves to avoid any problems, I imagine. So I fell back on student offers around my neighborhood and posted a short profile: Stéphane, 25 years old, history student, enjoys going to concerts, cozy movie nights on the couch, easygoing and a pretty good cook! I filled in all my contact details, then spent a long time scrolling and set up alerts for places that matched my budget criteria.
Days started to blur together. I kept getting notifications, but I was always beaten to it by other profiles that were probably more appealing. Only once did I manage to get a video call with a shared apartment, and it was pretty clear they weren’t exactly thrilled by my current lifestyle, or by me, really. Maybe they found me too boring? Too straight-laced? I don’t know. Either way, we clearly weren’t on the same wavelength.
A week had gone by and I was starting to lose hope, wondering if I shouldn’t just rely on people I knew and find a place through word of mouth instead.
Maybe I got lucky, or maybe it was just meant to be, but while I couldn’t fall asleep and was trying to read a passage from the novel Cosmos, I got a notification from the flat-sharing website.
"It was a listing for a shared apartment posted by a profile called “Jus 2 lien,” a pun on the name Julien, I guess (literally translated into English, it would be “Julien’s juice”). Anyway, I quickly realized he had a pretty unusual sense of humor, because the ad read:
“Hey, heads up, I’m starting a shared flat with two childhood buddies and we’re looking for a solid fourth wheel. Preferably a girl, but if you can cook and you don’t mind cleaning, we’ll take you RIGHT AWAY. We’re three sporty, chill guys, all busy with our studies, but we like to enjoy life. We’re kind of fed up with laundry and all that crap, so if you’re into that, we’re in. The apartment is huge, your room will be the smallest, but that also means you’ll pay the lowest rent. Call me before we decide to turn this place into a full-on guys’ pad.”
For most people, this kind of ad would immediately scream red flag or be downright off-putting. Not only was the content borderline, but it was also full of typos and repetitions, as if this Julien guy had written it while not exactly in his right state of mind.
But the rent was really cheap. Like, really cheap (almost suspiciously so for such good living conditions). Still, it was late, I hesitated for a bit, then told myself I had to jump on the opportunity. The apartment was big, the photos of the living room made you seriously want to crash on that huge orange couch, and there were two bathrooms plus four fairly spacious bedrooms. And it was only 15 minutes from my university! What more could you ask for?
So I called. Yeah, I called Jus 2 lien at 3 a.m., and when he finally picked up (after maybe a minute of waiting), I was greeted by a deep, raspy laugh:
“Yeah, what the fuck is it?”
“Uh… about the listing, I’m really interested.”
“Oh! Sick! Guys, come over here a sec... there’s already a fish on the line! Owww!”
“No way, dude!”
I heard one deeper voice and another higher-pitched one nearby, they all sounded completely wasted.
I barely had time to process what was happening before Julien jumped back on the line.
“So yeah, man, tell us about you real quick. What do you do, what’s your vibe, you know.”
I swallowed and went for honesty. “Uh… I’m Stéphane. Call me Steph. I’m a history student. Pretty chill, not much of a party animal, but I like cooking. Like, actually cooking. And, well… cleaning doesn’t really bother me.”
There was a half-second of silence.
Then absolute chaos:
“NO WAYYYY.”
“BRO DID YOU HEAR THAT?”
“He SAID he likes cooking!”
“And he doesn’t hate cleaning?!”
I heard loud cheering, someone banging on a table, and very clearly the sound of glasses clinking together.
“To Steph!” one of them yelled.
“Our future savior!” another added.
Julien came back, laughing his ass off. “Man, you have no idea how good that sounds right now. I think you just unlocked the deluxe version of this apartment.”
“Yeah,” I said, half amused, half confused, “I guess that’s a good thing?”
“It’s a great thing, bro. Honestly, we don’t even need to hear more.”
I hesitated for a second. “So, uh… when could I come by for a visit? Just to meet, talk a bit?”
Julien didn’t hesitate either.
“Saturday. Come Saturday, bro. With your stuff.”
“With my... wait, like… all my stuff?”
“Yeah. We’re taking you.”
In the background, someone yelled, “SHOTGUN NOT DOING THE DISHES ANYMORE!”
More laughter. More glasses clinking.
I hung up the call a minute later, phone still in my hand, staring at the ceiling.
I wasn’t sure if I’d just solved all my problems… or made a huge mistake.
The following Saturday, I was standing at the apartment door with two fully packed suitcases, feeling a bit anxious about sharing my life with three guys who were very different from me and my little habits. Still, something had clearly drawn me to them. Their simplicity, their spontaneity, I guess, the fact that they had accepted me without even meeting me.
All of it was almost… attractive.
Anyway, my anxiety about the first meeting didn’t last long, because I was welcomed like a king into the shared apartment. The second I rang the doorbell, a tall blond guy opened the door, short messy hair, a really friendly face, and a slightly childish smile, arms wide open.
“Woo, he’s here, guys. Julien. Cool to meet you.”
He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder and invited me in. He smelled pretty strongly of a strange, almost ocean-like cologne. His blue T-shirt had wave patterns on it, giving him a surfer vibe. He was a bit taller than me, his blue-gray eyes bright and intense, locking onto mine right away. His broad shoulders made him look even more imposing.
I was quickly surrounded. For a moment, I felt boxed in, like I was being checked out and studied by three curious guys trying to figure out who they were dealing with.
“Steph, right?” asked the stockiest of the three as he gave me a fist bump. “Greg. Nice to meet you, man. I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna get along just fine.”
This guy was a tank!
He wasn’t especially tall, maybe around 5’7”, but he had a solid, seriously muscular build. Big arms and round pecs, like they’d just been pumped after a workout, with thick veins running through them. A wide head, shaved so close it looked like he’d never had hair at all, and a short stubble framing his powerful neck, which was slightly shiny with sweat. I immediately noticed his tall white socks wrapped around thick legs. He was intimidating. This guy could easily have slammed me to the ground with a single move.
Finally, the last one held out his hand: long, slender fingers. I shook it before I even had time to look at his face. He was really tall, maybe around 6’5”. His hair was a bit longer than the others’ (though not as long as mine—I wore mine fairly long, tied back in a ponytail). He had a dark but charming look, slightly chapped lips, and faint dimples in his cheeks as he gave me a small smile. His open shirt hinted at well-defined pecs underneath:
“Hey, I’m Adrien.”
Even though he was tall, there was something comforting and calming about his presence. A kind of warmth, too, coming off his big, powerful body.
They invited me to sit down on the orange couch, wide and soft. The photos hadn’t lied: I was already feeling good there.
Each of them, in their own way, had an undeniable masculine charm. They were good-looking guys, that much was obvious, and it wasn’t hard to imagine that if a girl had lived here, she would’ve had plenty to choose from (and that things probably would’ve happened). In a way, it was probably better for everyone that it turned out this way.
Julien sat down right across from me, his hairless legs spread apart, that teasing smile frozen on his face, like he was testing me.
Me? Of course, I wasn’t interested in them like that... well, I mean, I had to admit that being surrounded by these three imposing guys was a bit unsettling, and that I might have been starting to sweat a little too.
But that was probably just the sunlight pouring in from the large living-room window, hitting me, and also Greg’s slightly hairy legs, his massive body sitting right next to mine, his knees just a few inches from mine.
To my left, Adrien’s slow, calm breathing brushed against my neck in soft waves. His body kept radiating a gentle warmth toward me, wrapping around me. I also gradually became aware of a pleasant, slightly woody scent coming from his green T-shirt, or rather from his armpit, since his arm was stretched out along the back of the couch, his hand just a few inches away from me.
They all seemed so relaxed. Living with these three strangers, who, by the way, clearly already knew each other very well.
Was I really going to be able to pull this off?
I had quite a few questions about the flatshare. I was about to ask about cleaning when Julien beat me to it.
“Alright, now we need to talk ground rules.”
“Rules?” Greg asked, already sounding annoyed. “We’re not in middle school. Like, make some dumb list? Can’t we just act like adults?”
“Julien’s right,” Adrien chimed in. “We need rules, otherwise it’s gonna be a total mess, I know us. There’s a board in the kitchen, might as well use it. We’ll write them there.”
I quickly realized this was Adrien’s apartment, or at least his parents’ place that he was living in.
“First thing,” Julien said, “we need to agree on one thing: I don’t wanna deal with your dirty clothes, guys.”
“Don’t worry, man, we’ll handle our own stuff. No drama.” Greg reassured him. “Besides, you wouldn’t survive my smell anyway,” he added with a thick laugh.
“Yeah, keep your dirty boxers away from me, I prefer it that way!”
“Alright guys, and what about cleaning?” Adrien dusted off a cushion next to him. “What do we say, once a week?”
“Once a week?” Greg raised an eyebrow.
“Dude, you’re a pig. You know this place’s gonna get filthy in no time, especially now that there’s four of us. And I’m not even talking about your room.”
“You better not step in there anyway, man,” Greg said with a wink. “That’s my room. You don’t go in. That’s gonna be a rule too.”
“Fair enough,” Adrien nodded.
“I don’t mind doing it once every two weeks. And one of you can cover the rest of the time. You rotate, and it’s even.”
My suggestion seemed to have the effect of tossing a stone into water, because there was a long pause.
Greg looked like he was seriously thinking it over, and he was the first to do the math:
“So… we’d end up doing it less than you, basically? Like, once every six weeks or so?”
“Once every two months, Greg, you’re not gonna miss that, are you?”
“Yeah, that sounds fine to me,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Deal.”
“You sure that doesn’t bother you?” Adrien’s deep voice asked from my side.
“Yeah, I swear, actually I don’t mind sweeping or mopping.”
“No way?” Julien exclaimed. “Admit it, you’re lying. You just said that to get the flatshare, admit it.”
“Not even, I promise.”
I heard Greg snort to my right:
“We hit the jackpot, guys.”
“So, what about having people over or throwing a party?” I asked, a bit hesitant.
“Oh, you gotta give a heads-up if you bring a girl over, that’s basic. Especially if she’s staying the night,” Julien said, with a look that said way more than words.
“We can just make a group chat and let everyone know if it happens,” Adrien said, sounding a bit bitter. “Me, I’m not exactly likely to bring anyone home anytime soon anyway.”
“Don’t say that, man,” Greg replied. “Maybe this is exactly when you’ll feel like letting loose for once.” He casually scratched his crotch.
“You’d better not bring your rugby buddies over,” Adrien shot back. “They’ll start doing dumb macho shit in the living room, I can already imagine the state of the floor after.”
“Hey, asshole, once we run you into the ground, you won’t be talking so big anymore, swimmer boy,” Greg said, his voice half joking, half threatening.
“Alright, cut it out, guys. It’s settled,” Adrien said as he got up from the couch. “Let’s show you the room so you can get set up. Any questions?”
“Uh… no, not for now. Thanks.”
“Then follow me.”
I nervously scratched my temple as I followed Adrien behind the couch, down a hallway leading to two or three doors.
“On the left, that’s mine. On the right, that’ll be yours. Middle one, you get it, that’s the toilet. So try not to drop a massive dump at six in the morning, or you might wake me up,” he said, pointing at each door.
“Haha, yeah, got it.”
I opened the door on the right and was surprised to see quite a bit of stuff on the floor. It was far from as clean and tidy as I had imagined.
“Ah, shit. Uh… we were supposed to clean yesterday. Sorry.”
On the floor, I noticed some guys’ underwear, but also… girls’ stuff? There was even a bra hanging from a lamp next to a big desk.
“Was there a girl here?”
“Yeah, my ex. About a week ago. Sorry. She stayed here for a while,” Adrien said, opening the window to air the room a bit. “I’ll take the time to tidy this up soon, I promise.”
I set my suitcases down next to the double bed, a bit thrown off by the mess, my eyes wandering over the room, trying to figure out what kind of girl had lived here.
“Alright, I’ll leave you to it. See you later. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.”
It wasn’t exactly the best setup to feel at home, and I was clearly a bit uneasy about settling into a room that had clearly hosted someone not long ago. And the ex of the owner, no less!
I plopped down on the mattress, stroking my chin as I thought back to that first flatshare meeting. Those three guys seemed really friendly, but I could tell it would take some time before they saw me as an equal, before I’d really earn my place beside them.
Lying back, eyes fixed on the ceiling covered in tiny stars (you know, the glow-in-the-dark kind), I could clearly picture each of their bodies, or at least parts of them. Greg’s muscular legs and thick black hair, Julien’s broad shoulders, and even Adrien’s well-defined pecs.
Why was I thinking about this?
I mean, yeah, they were a little attractive, they had athlete’s bodies, it was obvious they took care of themselves. But still… why couldn’t I think about anything else?
It was only the first day of this new living situation, and I was already doubting my ability to assert myself around them. I’d already agreed to an unfair division of cleaning duties, what else might they make me accept over time? Their natural charisma and my shyness were definitely going to make things way easier for them.
What had I gotten myself into?
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