Girl Online (27 page)

Dean grunts. “Noah approves everything that his fans will see. Right, Noah?”

“Dean's right,” Noah says, sounding dejected. “I'd better go back and check on the photos. These ones are going to be everywhere—the whole design and look needs to be right. I don't want to let anyone down.”

I almost laugh out loud.

“I mean . . . I know I'm letting you down, Penny. But—”

“I understand,” I say, stopping him. At the same time, though, I think:
I'm trying really hard to understand, Noah. Really hard
.
Then I'm almost laughing again at the thought that, even in the middle of the night, we can't find time to hang out together. Is this really what I signed up for?

We walk back towards the hotel, at a much slower pace than before. After the huge adrenaline rush, I feel the tiredness hit me again like a freight train.

“Let's talk over here,” says Dean, striding across the lobby to the hotel bar.

“I think I'm just going to go up to my room,” I say.

“Should we try again tomorrow?” Noah asks, his voice soft.

I just nod.

Then his hand slips from mine, and I'm left alone, standing by the lift and watching Noah walk away.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I lean up against the slice of wall between the two elevators and try to diffuse my disappointment so I don't lie awake all night, going over and over what just happened. I'm not even going to email Elliot about it; I'll pretend the night ended when we came back to the hotel the first time. Until then it was perfect.

“Why the long face?”

Blake's voice in my ear makes me jump. He's drunk and sways slightly as he tries to focus on me.

“Oh, you know . . . these lifts take ages.” I take a step back. “Did you have fun at the party?” I ask tentatively.

“That party rocked!” He stumbles as he mimes playing the drums in the air in front of us, smashing an imaginary cymbal. “
Ba-doom tish!
” he shouts.

The lift doors open and he straightens up and links arms with me. “C'mon, pretty Penny, let's go!”

I walk with him in slight disbelief that he is being so friendly. The lift is funky and modern, designed to emulate the night sky. There are glowing planets on the walls and stars on the ceiling, and there's calming music playing.

“You look
so
amazing tonight, by the way.” He starts trying to hold my hand and I realize very quickly that this isn't a comfortable scenario. I try to pull my hand away, but he reaches for it again.

“Blake, you're very drunk. Let's get you back to your room, shall we?” My head is spinning in panic, and I'm not sure where
his
head is at right now. “What floor are you on?”

“Eighth,” he says, still slurring. If Noah knew that Blake tried to hold my hand he would be furious. Blake is his oldest friend; I might not get on with him, but I respect that he's like a brother to Noah, and I know immediately that this is not something I'm going to mention to Noah. Blake is drunk and stupid, but it's not worth ruining a friendship over.

The lift seems to move agonizingly slowly, but eventually we reach the eighth floor. Blake points towards his room at the end of the corridor and I follow him at a safe distance, just to make sure he actually gets into his room. As we approach it, he turns to me and smiles sweetly. “Thanks, Penny. I'm sorry I can be such a douche. I like you really. You're great.” The silence feels awkwardly long as he just stares at me.

“Thanks, Blake, it means a lot—”

As I'm finishing my sentence, he pulls me near him and, before I know it, his face is looming towards mine. I whip my head to the side as he pushes his lips against me—missing my mouth but still catching my cheek. My bag slips off my shoulder as I throw my arms against him. “BLAKE! Get off! What are you doing?”

He tries again. I drop to the ground as he leans in for another kiss, and he ends up banging his head against the
door. I take advantage of the moment of confusion and back away from him. In a split second, my entire night has flipped upside down. Trying to hold my hand was one thing—I was prepared to let that slide—but this is unforgivable. How dare he do this to me . . . or to Noah?

He rubs his head. “C'mon . . . I know you're into me.” He puts his hand out, trying to entice me to come back towards the door.

I don't want to move, but he is standing between me and my only exit route: the lift.

“No. No, I'm
really
not into you. That isn't a thing.”

“Well, Noah doesn't have time for you, so you might as well be with someone who does.”

Something inside me musters the strength I need to push past him and run down the hallway, toward the lift. I hear Blake shout behind me: “Penny, wait! I'm sorry!” But I don't take the time to stop and listen to him. Instead, I don't even bother with the lift and I launch myself into the stairwell. I don't have my camera anymore—my bag is lying back in the corridor, but I don't care.

I run until I reach my room, thankful that I kept my room key with me, rather than putting it in my bag. I slam the door and lock it with the chain in place, my heart pounding in my chest. I lean against the wall and tears stream down my face.

My perfect night is officially ruined.

Chapter Forty

I'm not going to let Blake get away with this. I stand up, wipe the makeup from under my eyes, and try to put on my fiercest Ocean Strong face. I head straight down to the hotel bar to find Noah and tell him exactly what has happened, but the server lets me know that he and Dean have gone back upstairs.

I choose to take the stairs over the lift, not wanting to be trapped in any enclosed spaces if I can help it. As I approach Noah's room, I can see that the door is ajar. I can just about see the back of Noah's head, and even the sight of his messy dark hair makes me feel better. I'm about to barge in when I hear Dean's voice and it stops me in my tracks.

“You see, Noah? You really should have consulted me first. It's not the image we want to portray for you. And now this . . . she's just so young.”

He's talking about me. I know he is. I wait for Noah to leap to my defence, but he doesn't. There's a deafening silence instead. My blood runs cold inside my veins, turning my fingers to ice. It's like all my worst fears are coming true.

Noah Flynn would be better off without me.

That exact thought has crossed my mind many times, but hearing the sentiment said out loud is truly horrible. Tears start rolling down my cheeks again, but then I hear another voice in the room that turns my blood from ice-cold to fire-hot. It's Blake.

“Sorry, man. I didn't know what to do. She just showed up at my door.”

I let out a loud gasp, and Noah's head spins round. But I can't do this now. My Ocean Strong courage has evaporated. I turn and start to walk down the hallway.

“PENNY! How long have you been there?” Noah runs after me.

“Long enough to hear what you're talking about!” I try to wipe away a few tears before he can see them, but it's too late. My whole face feels as though it's on fire and my tear ducts are doing their best to try to put it out.

“Penny, please, can we talk? Just stop for one moment.” Noah tries to grab my arm but I carry on charging down the corridor, back to the stairwell. I will not have another confrontation for everyone else to hear. I race up the stairs to my room, with Noah following me. When I'm finally inside, I try desperately to clear the anger that is clouding my ability to think or speak straight.

Noah stands in front of me.

“Penny, Dean is just being a manager. You know how these things are in the music industry. They're all crazy lunatics who think they know what's best . . .” He runs his hands through his hair, and starts pacing the room. He's nervous, but for once I can't be the one to calm him down—because
I
am the one who needs comforting right now.

“You think it's Dean that I'm mad about?” I say. I catch sight of my furious face in the mirror, and suddenly my glamorous get-up feels like a sham. I've been crying so much my false eyelashes have loosened on my lids, so I rip them off and throw them in the bin. I miss, of course. They cling to the carpet like squashed spiders. I throw on my Rolling Stones hoodie and scoop my hair up into a massive bun that Elliot and I like to call “The Pineapple.”

“I promise he didn't mean anything by it.” Noah looks at me pleadingly.

For the first time in a very long time, I'm looking at him and I don't want to jump on him and kiss him to death.

“Noah, I get it. It's not cool to have a girlfriend in this industry, especially when you're starting out and you're the screensaver on most girls' laptops and the wallpaper on most girls' phones, but do you not get how this is hard for me too? Do you not think I've noticed how frosty the Sony execs acted around me? And you didn't even defend me to Dean. I'm an embarrassment to you.” At this point, I feel myself start to tremble. My hands are shaking. I think this is the most real conversation Noah and I have ever had. He stares back at me blankly, just like when I shouted at him in the hotel lobby in Rome, but I'm not shouting this time.

My mind rages that I've allowed Noah to derail me from the real source of my anger: Blake. I shudder even more. What story was he telling Noah and Dean?

“Penny, you're shaking! Are you having a panic attack?”

Noah's words bring home what is happening to me. I
am
having a panic attack.

My breathing is speeding up, like I can't seem to get enough air in my lungs. My heart feels like it is beating visibly through my chest, and I feel hot—so hot it's suffocating. My palms are slick with sweat and my feet burn with pins and needles.

Noah tries to speak to me—I can see his mouth moving—but I can't focus on him at all. Instead, all I can think about is breathing in cold, fresh air. I dart up from the bed and run to the window. It's old and the handles are refusing to budge, even though I feel like I'm pushing with all my might.