An Opened Door

Chapter 4: Lafayette's A Bore

(AN: In this chapter and generally in this story, any long strand of dialogue in Italics is usually French or some other language if I say it is but just translated to Enlgish and I always specify which language, so when the dialogue stops being in italics, it's back to English, mainly because I don't like using translators. You'll know if something in italics isn't in another language because I won't say that it's in another language, just that it's a word the character is stressing.)

Okay, so apparently colleges don't actually care what you fill out on your roommate form.

This fact is so evident as I sit on the desk in front of my bed, typing away on my laptop. I'm looking at the syllabus for my political science class to see which assignments I can do beforehand. At the same time I'm doing that, I remember that I need to sign up for student council before my name is too far down on the list—I don't want to look like a slacker.

Meanwhile, the French guy—shit, I don't even know his name yet—is sitting on top of his bed, which has a very expensive-looking satin sheet set, on his phone.

"Hey, I forgot, what's your name?" I ask him, before I forget to and accidentally go the first week of the semester without knowing my roommate's name. It's probably something French.

"Oh, it is Gilbert." He says without looking up from his phone. I'm confused for a second at such a blatantly American name, but then I alter the pronunciation a bit and—

"Gilbert, is it? You sound like you're from Paris, and I can not imagine your name having such an English pronunciation." I say in French, pronouncing his name correctly. He looks up from his phone, clearly taken aback.

"You speak French?" He continues in French, his fluency clearly being more highly in the language.

"Yes, I picked it up from my mother when I was very young. Her father was a Frenchman. I don't get the chance to use it very often, though." A smile comes across Gilbert's face.

"What a coincidence. Yes, I am from Paris. I was born there but I wanted to go to school in the states, so I did, and yes, my name is technically Gilbert, but only my family calls me that. It's kind of like what Americans call a pet name, I believe. My friends call me Lafayette or just Laf for short."

"Yeah, it's called a pet name," I begin, then decide to just continue in English. There would be other oppurtunities to practice my French. "Anyway, why do they call you that, Lafayette?" I say, stressing his name and trying to get used to it.

"Well, you see, I don't usually tell this to anyone, but you're my roommate and so who else would I tell if not you first? Anyway, my father, he was a marquis. Of a territory called La Fayette. "Marquis de Lafayette" is technically part of my full name, even though it's just my hereditary title, so my friends call me that instead." His phone is down at that point, and I turn away from my computer to pay attention to the conversation at hand.

"So, since you basically just said we're friends, we should go out for lunch or something to get to know each other better. Do you have anything to do today?" I ask, already shutting my laptop.

He checks his phone calendar, and I almost snort. Is this guy seriously so busy that he has to check to see if he has something scheduled?

"Yes, I should be available. Should we go now?" he asks, standing up.

I get my wallet from out of my bag and put it in my back pocket.

"When else?"