Episode 1 – The Look
841 Words
I’m late.
Of course I am.
It had to happen.
I’m almost running down the street, my bag half open, my makeup brushes clinking together inside. My phone died during the night. No alarm. Perfect.
First day of my internship.
And I’m already late.
Great start, Léna. Really.
I push the door of the artistic club, slightly out of breath. Music hums in the background, voices, lights… an atmosphere I don’t even have time to take in.
“Léna?”
I flinch.
A woman is looking at me, clearly in a hurry.
“Finally. Come on, we’ve been waiting.”
No hello. No introduction.
I nod, still catching my breath.
“Sorry, I—”
“It’s fine. No time. Take this.”
She puts a makeup kit in my hands.
“You take the next one.”
The next one?
I frown, but she’s already pulling me toward a door.
“Get in. He’s waiting.”
He?
I don’t even have time to ask.
The door opens.
And everything stops.
He’s there.
Sitting in front of the mirror, surrounded by lights.
Noé.
I recognize him instantly.
Everyone does.
And yet… seeing him in real life is different.
More real.
More intense.
He slowly lifts his eyes to me.
And looks straight at me.
My breath catches.
I freeze for a second too long.
This is ridiculous.
I’m supposed to be professional.
He’s just a client.
Just a singer.
Just—
No.
Not just.
Because in that look… there’s something.
Something I don’t understand.
Something that completely unsettles me.
“Are you planning to stand there all day?”
His voice pulls me back to reality.
Soft. Calm.
With a hint of amusement.
I blink and finally move.
“No… sorry.”
I step closer.
My hands tremble slightly as I open my kit.
Breathe.
It’s nothing.
Just makeup.
I stand behind him.
Our eyes meet again in the mirror.
And this time… he doesn’t look away.
Neither do I.
Bad idea.
Very bad idea.
My heart starts racing.
I quickly look down, grabbing a brush to distract myself.
“You’re new.”
Not a question.
I nod.
“Yeah. First day.”
“And you’re already late.”
I grimace slightly.
“Yeah… not a great start.”
A small smile appears on his lips.
“Depends.”
I frown.
“On what?”
He looks at me through the mirror.
“You seem good.”
My heart skips a beat.
I don’t even know why.
It’s just a sentence.
Just a compliment.
But coming from him… it feels different.
I focus.
I apply the makeup carefully, trying to ignore his presence, his gaze, the closeness.
But it’s impossible.
He’s too close.
Too aware.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“A few years.”
“Why?”
I shrug slightly.
“Because I like seeing people rediscover themselves.”
Silence.
I glance up.
He’s looking at me.
Differently.
Like he’s trying to understand something.
“And you?”
The question slips out before I can stop it.
“Why do you do this?”
He smirks slightly.
“Singing?”
I nod.
He looks away for a second.
“At first… to exist.”
Then he looks back at me.
“Now… I’m not so sure.”
I stay quiet.
I don’t know what to say.
The atmosphere shifts.
Softer.
More intimate.
Like we just crossed an invisible line.
“I’m done.”
I step back slightly.
But he doesn’t move.
He keeps looking at me through the mirror.
“You know you look a lot.”
I freeze.
“What?”
He smiles faintly.
“Since you walked in.”
My cheeks heat up.
“That’s not true.”
“Not really.”
I look away.
“It’s just… professional.”
“Of course.”
He stands up.
And for a second…
he’s way too close.
My heart goes crazy again.
“We’ll see each other again, Léna.”
I frown.
“How do you—”
“They told me your name.”
He steps back.
Like nothing happened.
Like I’m not completely shaken.
He walks toward the door.
Then stops.
Without turning around.
“Try not to be late next time.”
And he leaves.
I stay there.
Frozen.
Heart racing.
Mind spinning.
I run a hand through my hair.
What just happened…?
I take a deep breath.
Pull myself together.
It’s nothing.
Just a meeting.
Just a moment.
Nothing more.
---
Later that day, I finally turn my phone on.
I sit in a corner, exhausted.
I check my notifications.
And I freeze.
Tinder.
A message.
The match from last night.
“N.”
I stare at the screen for a few seconds.
Then I open it.
“So… are you going to answer me today?”
My heart skips again.
For no reason.
No logic.
Just a feeling.
I look at the message.
Then I smile slightly.
And I start typing.
Without knowing that…
I just replied to the same person.
- Writer
