1 5 - C H A N C E

"Something's wrong," I tell Noah as I get in his car. He's stopped by my house to pick me up on the way to some cultural festival. The only thing he's told me is that there will be a lot of different languages, but he's made up for the lack of information with an abundance of enthusiasm.

"What happened?" he asks, concerned.

"I'm liking that book way more than I thought I would," I admit. "You were right about it being way better than it looks or sounds."

"Yay!" He pumps his fist. "I've converted another one!"

"Who else?"

"Emma. She loves anything related to romance, even though she used to hate it." Then he frowns. "Maybe that's why she was meddling so much," he mutters. "Maybe I shouldn't have introduced her to that book in the first place."

"Maybe," I agree. "But I think she genuinely cares about you too. And speaking of Emma, is she coming today?"

"Nope. But this'll be a great opportunity for you to learn some Japanese! Or Spanish! Or pretty much anything you want!"

"But I really don't know that much. I want to see you talk to people, though. I'm still having a hard time believing you can speak so many languages."

"Okay!" He's practically beaming at this point, obviously excited. And seeing him excited makes me happy, too, even though I have no idea how I'm going to manage in such a big crowd of people. Especially if most of them are speaking in other languages. People are terrifying. But as long as I'm with Noah, I'll still have fun, even if it's only because it'll be amusing to watch him.

When we reach the convention center, we manage to grab one of the last parking spaces in the main parking lot, which only encourages Noah further. I'm surprised both by how energetic he is and by how it's making me energetic as well. I hadn't expected to be this excited for something completely out of my comfort zone, but I guess his energy is contagious.

"Have you been sleeping better?" I ask him curiously as we both get out of the car. "You seem a lot more energetic than you usually do."

"I actually have!" he says with a beam. "I already told you about how my first meeting with the therapist person didn't go very well, but you've helped me more than you know, as cheesy at that sounds. I've been able to sleep most of the way through the night lately."

"Well, you actually have the energy to be cheesy, so I can't care that much," I tease. "But seriously, I am really glad that I've been able to help."

"Yeah."

On an impulse, I reach out and grab his hand, interlocking his fingers with my own as we walk. "Is this okay?"

He stares down at our hands in disbelief, and I can see him swallow nervously. "You realize what this means to me, right?"

"Yeah. I know. Does it make you uncomfortable? I can stop. I just wanted to see what it would be like, I'm sorry—"

Shaking his head, he says, "No! I mean yeah, it makes me uncomfortable, but in a good way. It's fine."

I can feel a broad smile make its way onto my face. "Good. Let's go."

We walk towards the entrance, joining a small but steady stream of people. Some are dressed in simply jeans and t-shirts like Noah and I, but others have a more cultural dress.

"Wow," I comment when we walk in the doors. "This is way bigger than it looks from the outside."

"Yeah," Noah agrees. He's trying to sound casual, but I can hear the nervousness in his voice. "It's grown from last year, too. There weren't this many booths and displays. And there are more people around, too."

"You should go talk to those people," I say, nudging him towards a booth with a Japanese flag on it. "I want to hear you talk."

"Can I do Spanish or French first?" he asks. "As a warmup or something? I'm more comfortable with those than with the others. Those are easier."

"Sure. What about that booth over there?" I point him towards what looks like a French food truck.

"Okay! Come on!" He drags me over by my hand to stand in front of the menu set up next to the truck. "Anything look good?"

"I'm not sure. I'm fine with whatever."

"Alright, sounds good." He turns to the woman behind the cart and starts speaking in rapid-fire French.

I have to admit that listening to him talk is kind of addicting and appealing in a way, and I can't help but be envious of how quickly he seems to be able to switch between cultures. Because it's not just the language that changed, but his whole way of presenting himself. He stands differently, and his voice is slightly deeper than it is when he speaks in English. Maybe I really should be more like him. It would certainly make moving a lot easier.

"What kind of crepe do you want?" he asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Something sweet," I respond. "You choose."

"Does strawberry and Nutella sound good?"

I nod, watching him fall back into conversation with the woman as she gets out the ingredients. They talk for a few more minutes, and when our crepes are ready, Noah removes his hand from mine so he can reach out and grab them. I find myself missing the warmth as he thanks the woman.

"Thanks," I say as he hands me mine. "Woah, that's hot."

"Yep. Be careful. Want to go sit down over there?" He points to an empty bench near the wall.

"I kind of want to hear you talk more," I say. "But I guess you can't really do that while we eat, so sure!"

"Where do you want me to go next?" he asks as we sit. "This is so great. It's like an adventure game! There's so much stuff to do."

My grin mirrors his. "Yeah, it does! Let me think about it." I glance over the scene in front of me, trying to figure out what the options are. "French, Spanish, Japanese, Korean, and German, right?"

"Yep," he says through a mouthful of food. I laugh.

"Okay. What about that one?" I point to a Korean karaoke booth.

"No way," he says immediately. "I can't sing. Not in Korean. Or any language, for that matter. I sound like a dying whale. Trust me. It's best for the wellbeing of everyone here that I stay far away from anything that requires singing."

"That's no fun," I tease. "I'll make you sing for me someday. But fine. What about that one, then?" This time, I'm pointing to a Japanese calligraphy station. "Can you do calligraphy?"

"I guess it's time to find out," he says, grinning as he finishes the last of his snack.

"Awesome, let's go!"

He glances at my hand. "Um, can I...?"

Before he can finish his sentence, I offer him my hand, and he smiles, taking it in his own. "Okay, now we can go!"

He leads me over to the stand, but not before I notice the way my stomach flutters at his touch. It's a thrilling feeling, and the rush of emotion that runs through my body makes me tingle. It's something I've never felt before, but it's definitely something I'll want to feel again.

After greeting the man and talking with him briefly, he turns to me.

"What?" I ask as he looks at me expectantly.

"Do you want to try?" he asks.

"Really? I won't be able to do anything."

"Okay. You're still trying, though. It'll be fun!"

I watch as the man hands him two pieces of paper and two brushes. He hands one of them to me before turning back. The man starts explaining, and I stand there with a blank stare on my face,

"You don't speak Japanese?" the man asks, catching me by surprise as he switches to perfect English. I shake my head.

"I lived in Japan for a while, but I never learned the language."

"Ah," he says. "That's a pity. You should have this young man here teach you! He sounds very good."

"Thanks," Noah says, grinning. "This is only my third time actually talking to someone. I normally just read and write. And listen to the radio."

The man shakes his head. "You've got an amazing talent for languages. I wish I could do that. I only speak Japanese and English."

"Thanks," he responds bashfully. "I like to think so."

We spend the next half hour or so making small talk as we experiment with the calligraphy. Eventually, Noah holds up his paper triumphantly. "I finished!"

When I hold up my own paper next to his, and all three of us break out laughing. While Noah's is actually really good, mine is decidedly not. But I still had fun, and I tell that to the man as we clean up our stuff. He smiles.

"If you ever decide to learn Japanese, feel free to come talk to me! I own the only Japanese restaurant in town, so it shouldn't be hard to find."

"Awesome, thanks!" My smile is genuine and carefree, and Noah's smile looks the same as he thanks the man one last time in Japanese before we walk away.

"That was pretty scary," he admits, letting out a large breath. "I wasn't sure I was going to be able to talk."

"You made it look easy," I tell him. "And that man seemed really impressed. It was super cool. Maybe I really should learn."

"Yeah! And I can teach you! It'll be awesome!"

"Maybe, yeah. That'd be cool! I probably should have started by now."

"That's okay. It's never too late to start!" He looks around excitedly. "Anyway, where do you want to go next?"

"Can we just wander for a while? I want to see everything."

"Sounds good to me," he agrees. This time, he reaches for my hand without hesitation, making me smile. I'm glad he's finally gotten comfortable enough to do what he wants without constantly second-guessing himself and tiptoeing around me.

We wander down row after row of stalls, booths, and food trucks, just taking in the atmosphere. People rush around us, excitedly chattering amongst themselves. I hear more English than I expect, but I also hear a ton of different languages that I don't recognize at all. For once, though, it doesn't make me feel left out or alone. I'm just excited. I had expected this whole even to be way out of my comfort zone, but I'm thoroughly enjoying myself.

We briefly stop by another food truck, where Noah has a short exchange with the smiling woman behind the counter before presenting me with a churro. He also gets one for himself, and we continue along the way, eating as we walk.

A stall displaying a huge variety of brightly colored and patterned fabrics sits off to the right, easily drawing my attention. Next to it, there's a display table of gorgeous hand-woven baskets and mats. I'm not sure which country or culture they belong to, but they're absolutely stunning.

I nudge Noah's side as we pass another karaoke booth, this time Japanese. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head immediately and instead tugs me over to a stand with a German flag hanging from the table. On the tabletop are all sorts of small hand-carved statues, ranging from foxes to palaces to instruments. Most of them are made of wood, but I see a few that look like stone.

"I want to see if I can read this information card," Noah says. "Can you look at the English one and see if I'm right?"

"Sure." I reach out and pick up the card written in English, while Noah takes the German one. "Go for it."

"Now I'm nervous," he says. "Okay. Here goes. Um...these were all handmade by a woman named Erika and her husband Erwin. The wooden ones are Erika's, and the ones made out of stone are Erwin's. They've been carving for thirty years together and they sell their work in a shop near the beach." He lets out a breath. "Was that right?"

"Yeah," I breathe. I still can't get over the fact that he can speak so many different languages—it's amazing, especially to someone like me who only speaks one language.

"Yay!" he exclaims, putting the cards down with a triumphant smile. "Do you see any one in particular that you like?"

I scan the table, letting my gaze wander over the various figurines. There are so many different ones, and they're all beautiful, but the one that really catches my eye is a wooden owl. The owl sits on top of a book, its body painted black and its eyes a startling orange. I can't help but feel like it's watching me, which is really cool but creepy at the same time.

"This one," I say, reaching out and picking it up. The wood is smooth underneath my fingertips, smoother than I thought it would be, probably because of the paint. It's cool to the touch, too, and its weight feels good in my hand.

Noah leans over to get a better look, resting his cheek on my shoulder. "Wow," he breathes. "That's amazing. Let's get it."

I want to protest, but before I can, he takes it gently from my hand and holds it out to the woman who has been sitting in a chair behind the table this whole time, watching us with a happy smile. I can see surprise flicker across her face when he starts talking in German, but only briefly, and before long, there's an additional sparkle in her eye.

"Here," Noah says, handing it back to me as we walk away. "Now you have something to put in your room! I even got it at a discounted price. She was really nice." Then he looks down at his watch and his smile falls. "It's already five. Do you have to be home soon?"

My smile fades as well. "Yeah, I probably do. Hey, do you want to come over for dinner?"

His head snaps up. "Really?"

"I mean, I'd have to check with my parents first, but yeah. I can't see any reason why they'd say no. Is that okay?"

He nods. "Of course! This is even more stressful than talking to strangers in different languages, though."

"Why?"

"I'm meeting your parents," he says, his eyes wide.

"You've already met my mom though, right?"

"Yeah, but this feels so much more official."

I shake my head. "You'll be fine. They'll love you. They might ask you some weird questions, but I think they'll be so happy to see me have someone over that they can't possibly dislike you." I pull out my phone and send a quick text to my mom.

He laughs. "As much as that's not a very nice reason, that makes me feel better."

"Good," I say, glancing down at my phone and breathing a sigh of relief when I see a text from my mom. "She says you can come!"

Grinning, he says, "Let's go, then. As much as it's fun here, I'm hungry. Again. Even though we already ate a bunch of food."

"Same. We should come back next year." I take his hand and lead him back towards the parking lot. He doesn't try to move away until we get to the car, where he reluctantly removes his hand from my grasp.

"You're going to have to let go so I can drive," he teases. "And so that my heart stops beating so fast I feel like I'm going to die."

I feel my face flush. That's new. The second new thing today, too. "Sorry," I mumble.

"I don't mind," he assures me as we get in the car. "I just don't want your parents to get mad at me because we're late or something."

"Oh my gosh, Noah, stop stressing out. They're going to love you. Would it make you feel better if your parents came, too?"

He groans and starts the car, backing out of the parking space and driving back to the main road. "No way. That'd be so much worse. My parents would tell them about every single embarrassing thing that I've ever done, and it would be extremely awkward."

"What are some of the things they'd tell my parents?" I ask curiously.

"Do I have to tell you?"

"I can always ask your mom instead," I threaten, smirking. "I'm sure she'd be happy to tell me everything. She loves me."

"Fine," he grumbles, turning pink. "There was this one time in kindergarten where our class was watching an episode of The Magic School Bus—you know what that is, right?" I nod. "Well, it scared me, so I faked a stomachache and went to the nurse's office so I wouldn't have to watch."

I break out laughing. "Oh my gosh, Noah, that's wonderful."

"Yep, wonderfully lame. I still don't really like movies, but at least I'm not afraid of that show anyone."

"Anything else?" I ask eagerly.

He shakes his head. "Now it's your turn."

I'm about to protest when I realize he's about to meet my parents—he can ask them anything he wants. I sigh. "There was this one time in fifth grade where this kid was bragging about how bendy his ruler was. I didn't believe him, and he gave it to me so I could see. I accidentally broke it in half. It turns out it wasn't quite as bendy as he thought."

He chuckles. "That's funny, but it's not that embarrassing. Try another one."

I frown, thinking. "Oh! In kindergarten, I found some graffiti on one of the playground structures. I didn't know what the word meant, so I sounded it out and went and told the teacher. It turns out it was the f-word. That's the only time I've ever sworn in my whole life."

"Oh my gosh, that's hilarious." Noah's face lights up with laughter, and he starts gasping for air, which probably isn't very safe, seeing as he's driving. "How the heck were you so innocent? I'm pretty sure I knew all the swear words by preschool."

"I wasn't allowed to say the word stupid until middle school. My mom had me convinced it was a bad word. One time I got really mad at school and called something stupid. Nobody cared and I was really confused."

"I love your mom," Noah laughs as he pulls into my driveway. "She sounds awesome."

I nod, getting out of the car once he turns it off. "Ready?"

"Nope," he says, locking the car and following me up to the front door. "But it's too late, so whatever. I'll be fine."

"Good," I say, opening the door and leading him inside.