North Star

Chapter 9: The Errand Boy

“MALAYSIA,” the boy repeats, in a crisp German accent. “That’s my guess. You're Malaysian, right?”

I murmur “no”, side-eyeing the boy sitting next to me . He’s got a handsome if somewhat impish face, with deeply tan skin, greyish blue eyes and dark blonde hair, and a very mischievous grin. He fist bumps Étienne over the table, mumbling something like “hey bro.”

He’s wearing one of those muscle shirts, to show off his toned arms and ripped physique, and I almost gag.

I hate guys like him. Macho men, total alpha male types. I bet he’s studying finance or law or something like that, something really sensible and jockish. 

Aamira rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Meg, this peacocking buffoon is Lukas,” she says, almost apologetically. “Don’t take offence to anything he says. Not easy to do, but really, he’s a harmless sort of idiot.”

Lukas blows a teasing kiss in her direction, but all his attention focused squarely on me.

“Ok fine, not Malaysian,” he says. “But look, I’ll make you a deal. We play a game, ok? I get three guesses… if I figure out where in the world you’ve come in from, you go on a date with me. If I get it wrong, I’ll owe you a favour. Whatever you want. Within reason, of course. What do you say, pretty girl? Are we on?”

“Oh my god,” Hannah says disapprovingly. “You are way too thirsty Lukas. Take it down a notch, ok? I’m trying to eat lunch, not throw it all up.” 

Lukas c***s his eyebrow and says “why, are you jealous Hannah?” to which Hannah gives him the middle finger before returning her attention back to her plate or mac and cheese.

Lukas presses on with his little game of “guess where the new girl comes from,” oblivious to my uneasiness.

“You want to play?” he asks me. “C’mon, live a little, new girl.”

I ponder for a moment, then shrug my shoulders. There’s no way he’ll guess I’m South African, and it might be useful to have a brawny gym bunny dude owe me a favour… I could make him carry my books around campus the whole semester.

“Sure,” I say. “Let’s play.” To throw him off, I try to say these words in an exaggerated stereotypically Punjabi accent, and lo and behold, the i***t takes the bait. 

“Ok, I think I got it…” he says. “Yeah. India. Definitely India.”

I shake my head, wondering if he has any ability at all to see past his all-encompassing white male privilege, to understand how extremely inappropriate this all is.

“Hmmm,” he says thoughtfully, scrutinising me. “Usually I’m the best at this, and it’s pretty tricky here in Luxembourg, we’ve got everyone…. Swiss, German, French. But you’re a total mystery.”

“Are you… kiwi?” he asks. Despite the uncomfortable situation, I can’t help but giggle at this, and I say “nope, not even close.”

“Ok, third and final try…” he says. “Mauritius. You’re from Mauritius, right? The greenish-hazel eyes, dark skin… you’ve got to be Mauritian.”

I shake my head.

He’s now perplexed, and a little dejected, having lost the guessing game.

“I’m from South Africa,” I say. “Cape Town. I’m Meg. And you’re my new errand boy.”

“Errand boy, huh?” he says, smirking. “Sure. Your wish is my command.”

“Right now I command you to be quiet, and let me eat my food in peace,” I say, at which Aamira and Hannah both giggle. 

Mahalia doesn’t join in the laughter. She hasn’t said anything the whole time I’ve been sitting here, and is quietly reading something on her phone, maybe a book or a very engrossing article by the looks of it, while she picks distractedly at her food. I get the feeling that she might be even shyer than me, which is really saying something - I’m usually the shyest, quietest person in the room.

My new roommate Heloise is keeping awfully quiet as well, and that I find surprising - she was so talkative when I met her back at the res, so vivacious… but now she’s just staring down at her food, looking sort of tired and crestfallen.

“You coming down to The Frog later?” Étienne asks Lukas, and as the conversation carries on, I turn to Heloise and whisper to her.

“Are you ok?” I ask. “You seem a bit… down.”

She shakes her head and attempts a weak (and clearly forced) smile, and says “yes, I’m ok Meg. Please don’t worry about me. It’s nothing.”

She’s avoiding my eyes, and I want to press further, but I know it’s probably not right to do so. We only met like an hour ago, and it would be weird for me to go digging through her personal business, prying and nosing around when I barely know her… but still, I can’t help but feel like the sudden change in Heloise’s mood has something to do with me.

There’s nothing more I can do - for now, at least - so I take my first bite of my neglected summer truffle macaroni cheese. Even though it has started to go a bit cold, I’m immediately in love. My tastebuds are overwhelmed with a brand new flavour I’ve never before experienced - the earthy, nutty, insanely deliciously savory taste of truffles - infused into the ooey-gooey melty cheese. I let out a little moan of delight after the first bite, and I flush with embarrassment, hoping no one heard - and luckily, they all seem to be too engrossed in talking about plans for the evening, to have noticed my orgasmic hiccup.

If the food here is this good all the time, I’m going to be rolling out of this place in July, not walking. Wow.

I spent the rest of lunch savouring my food while the conversation washes over and around me like a cool stream of words, joining in every now and again with a remark or a smile or laughter, but lost in thoughts of all the places I want to go while in Luxembourg, the landmarks and tourist attractions to see, the food to eat, everything amazing to see and do during my short semester abroad. 

Finally, someone rings a bell near the back of the hall to indicate that the lunch service is over.

“Should we get going?” Heloise says to me, rising and picking up her tray. “I’ll give you a tour of Marie-Adélaïde House.”

“See you later,” Aamira and Étienne say at almost the same time.

“Bye Meg, hope I see you again soon,” Lukas says with a smirk. “I’ll be over at the boys’ res across from Marie-Adélaïde House, if you want to come find me. If you miss me. Room 12, first door on the right.”

He winks teasingly, and I literally almost vom. I know he’s just joking with me, playing a fun little game of “flirt with the new girl”, but it’s still gross.

“You too Heloise,” he says. “My door’s open. Come visit any time.”

“You are such an i***t, Lukas,” Heloise says, shooting him a sour look over the table as we leave. “For real.”