So this my first fan fic, here I go. I'm not sure how often I'll update the story, I'm working a bunch of other stories, not that have been posted here, but still I'm working on them all the same. I'll try to update as often as I can. Just a heads up, when I started this I didn't(and still haven't) done much research so if I make any mistakes tell me, and I'll try to fix it but most likely I won't. I hope you enjoy, please comment! :)
Fleurinne's P.O.V.
I walk through the front door of the dorm building.(At least I think that's what it's called, I'm not totally sure.) There's a lady at the front desk looking at her phone, seeming bored. I smile to myself this won't be so hard. Right? My smile falters as she looks up from her phone and frowns. I walk over to the desk pulling my two suitcases behind me.
I try to form the right words in my head, "Hello?"
"Yes?" the lady asks, "Are you here for a room, or do you already have one, or what?"
"Um," I don't know what words I need to use. I think of my little sisters Avryll, Adalaide, and Nadeleine, they told me that if I ever needed to speak in English that I should use the translator they installed on my phone. I whip it out and open the translator app. I speak the French I know and the phone does it in English. "I already paid for a room but my phone started glitching, anyway I don't know what room or floor or who I'm boarding with. I was wondering if I could get that information, and a room key."
The girl rolls her eyes, "Name? That is the only way I can find your room and floor and key."
I speak into the phone again, "Oh, yeah, right. I'm Fleurinne Lavigne." (pronounced, flor-enne la-veen-ye)
"Fleurinne Lavigne," the girl says as she fingers through some files she pulls one out, "Is it French?"
"Excuse moi?" I ask.
"Your name, is it French." she asks again, handing me the file.
I sigh again and say into the phone in French, "Yes it is."
"It's pretty, feel free to come to the front desk or call, the number is in the file, if you need anything. Have a nice day." she says and looks back at her phone.
"Merci." I say, I think about how her mood seemed to change, I wonder of that's how all American's are.
I drag my bag up the stairs to my floor. I check the paper the front desk lady handed me. The paper says that my floor is floor: 4 and my room 325. I walk down the long hallway and come across room 324 I look across and see a blonde boy talking on his phone in front of the door.
Thomas's P.O.V
I see a pretty brunette girl with brilliant brown eyes clears her throat. I drop my phone.
"Uh, pardon?" she says, "Ez this room Trois-deux-quatre?" her accent is hard to place, but it's definitely not English
"If that means room 324 then yeah this the right place." I say offering my hand she hesitates before walking around me.
"Okay, then." I mutter to myself, and follow her into the room.
She pulls out her phone, but then seemingly decides against it."Hmm, umm, do tu have a friend who leeves here?"
"No, I do." I say.
She looks at me and drops her phone, "Tu?"
"If that means me, then yes." I realize her accent is French. "Sorry I don't speak French."
She glares at me, "Tou live here?"
"Yeah." I agree, she looks horrified. "Umm, is that problem?"
"Non," she says. "Weech bed eez mine?" she asks in very broken English, I wonder if she's even actually is fluent in English.
"I lived here last year but, you can pick if you want." she seemed upset, so I thought if I gave her choice maybe she wouldn't be so mad.
"Merci." she says, she sets her purse on the bed that I haven't been using.
"So, did you come from France?" I ask, as she hangs her jacket above her bed.
"Oui," she sits down on the bed and pulls out her phone, she sets it next to her.
"You seem to understand English, but when you speak it seems very broken, do you speak? English I mean." I ask.
"A bit." she says, her accent making it hard to understand her, but also extremely cute at the same time.
"So you understand but don't speak?" I ask, trying to make it more clear for myself.
"I, umm, I, uh." I can't tell but it seems like she's trying to find the right words.
She picks up her phone and into it she says, "Oui, en gros." but the phone translates it for, "Yes, basically."
"Nice, I was born in London." I tell her, she nods, bored almost, but the look on her face shows interest, weird, almost like she's practiced.
"Do tu mind if I, ummm, geet ready for bed?" she says it like a question, I mean it is a question but she's questioning her words.
"No, I don't. Wait but before you do that that, I'm Thomas. Brodie-Sangster. Thomas Brodie-Sangster. You are?" I say, it is almost 9:00 at night, I better get ready to.
"Fleurinne Lavigne." she says it like Flor-eenne La-veen-ye.
"It's pretty." I tell her, she blushes, not deeply but her light skin makes it seem so.
She grabs pajamas and toiletries from her suitcase and goes into the bathroom. I wait for about 15 minutes until she comes out, makeup washed off her face, in PJ's, and her bag of toiletries under her arm. I slip into the bathroom while she gets into bed.
Fleurinne's P.O.V.
As I fall asleep I think of how different things are here. Sharing a room with guy? And a hot one at that? That's just weird. I think of how is voice and face looked familiar but I can't put my finger on it. I shake my head and sigh, I'm not going figure it out when I'm this tired.
