"You getting emotional on me?"
"Isn't that what you want? Isn't that the whole point? To evoke emotions in your audience?"
His eyes burrowed into mine, as if he were digging deep into my soul and uncovering every single one of my secrets. If he only knew how many times I'd listened to his lyrics and imagined getting to know the man who wrote them. How many times I imagined spilling my own soul to him. I'd always thought someone who wrote such tortured, passionate lyrics could be someone who understood me.
I'd thought Noah Hart was the one person in the world who could understand what I'd gone through.
The scorching hot look in his eyes was causing me to throw all my reservations out the door. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me.
"I've heard it all," he said abruptly.
"What?" I blinked.
"I changed your life. No one else understands your pain like me. That's what you think, right?"
"I—"
"I'm not your savior," he interrupted. "I'm not your god. I write songs. That's it. I don't understand your pain anymore than you understand m—" he cut himself off, looking away with clenched fists.
"How do you know?" I whispered.
He whipped his head up. "What?"
I swallowed hard and continued. "How do you know I can't understand your pain?"
He smirked, but his eyes were hollow. "You want to save me? You want to be the girl who saves me from myself?"
Yes. I did. I wanted to be that girl.
"You can't," he said flatly. "So don't even try."
"I wasn't planning on it," I bit out. "But you clearly need to talk to someone."
"There she goes again, thinking she knows everything."
"I don't know everything, but I do know some things. Carrying around all that unresolved guilt isn't doing you any good. Just because something happened to your sister—"
"Don't you talk about my sister. You have no idea."
"Why are you being like this? Last night you were so—"
"Drunk?" he shot back. "People say things they don't mean all the time when they're dunk."
"So you didn't mean anything you said last night?"
"No."
"What about when you said you trusted me?"
"The only person I trust is myself."
"That's a terrible way to live, Noah."
"Whatever," he said dismissively. "I don't need this."
"And by this you mean someone who actually cares about you? Someone who's willing to listen?"
"I mean dealing with some deluded fangirl who thinks she knows everything about me."
"So this is how it is? You just push away anyone who gets too close? Is that what you did with Lily? Is that why you sent her away to London?"
Noah stared at me with dead eyes for several long, silent minutes. He stalked over to the door and threw it open.
"Get out."
"What do you mean, get out?" I said, shocked.
His eyes were shuttered, his face expressionless.
"It means I don't need you anymore. I'm done."
Chapter Seventeen
At first I'd been upset. Beyond upset. Noah had said such sweet things to me the night before, then shut right down and thrown me out the next morning. I had seethed the whole way home, stomping my feet with every step and cursing Noah Cranky Hart.
Once I calmed down, I tried to see things rationally. Clearly I'd poked Noah in a sore spot. I shouldn't have provoked him. I certainly shouldn't have mentioned his sister.
I suppose he'd had his reasons for acting like that. He clearly didn't like talking about his feelings. He was obviously embarrassed about how much he'd shared. I wasn't going to let him off lightly, but I would at least give him a chance to apologize for throwing me out like that.
After a few days I sent a text, saying that we should talk. No answer. I left voicemails. Nothing.
It seemed Noah had been telling the truth when he said he was done.
"You look like you're a million miles away!" my friend Natalie said as she popped her head around my shoulder to smile at me.
I had a standing lunch date with my two best friends. We had lived together while we were at college. They had both recently moved in with their boyfriends so we'd made a pact to have lunch together at least once a week to make sure we kept in touch.
Ivy had recently reunited with her long lost childhood sweetheart, Ren Sada, after five years. Natalie had managed to capture the attention of her lifelong crush Morris Edwards.
Both happened to be members of Darkest Days' rival rock band Feral Silence.
Nat and Ivy managed to stay down to earth, despite having famous boyfriends. They often teased me that I should try to snag a rock star boyfriend of my own.
My mind immediately went to Noah. I scoffed at the thought of him ever actually opening up enough to someone to be their boyfriend. Even friends-with-benefits was out of the question, since Noah didn't have friends. We were merely work colleagues who had sex.
And as it turned out, we weren't even that anymore.
"Tell us about your new job," Natalie asked.
"I can't," I said with an apologetic shrug. "I signed a non-disclosure agreement." Although I didn't know if I even still had a job.
"That's not fair," she said, faking a pout. "Can't you even tell us where you're working?"
"It's in the music industry, I can tell you that much."
Nat's eyes lit up. "I'm so happy for you, Jen. You've worked so hard. You deserve it."
I looked down at my sandwich, picking out the cucumbers and setting them aside. All my hard work had clearly been for nothing. "I haven't worked any harder than you two have."
"Are you kidding? With all those long hours you pulled practicing before and after class, and on weekends in between your part time jobs? You made the rest of us look like slackers."
There was a reason for that. I had to work ten times as hard to be even half as good as anyone else. As much as I loved music, it didn't come easy to me. Sometimes it felt like I had to struggle to be even one tenth as good as anyone else.
"Ivy, what's wrong?" Nat asked. "You looked like you're ready to explode."
I looked to Ivy. Her eyes were shining. She was practically vibrating in her seat. "I know a secret."
Both Nat and I crowded in to get close.
"Ren let out something he shouldn't have."
"Tell me," Natalie insisted. With her hair pinned in a chic bun and her subtle make up expertly applied, Nat might have been the picture of elegance, if it weren't for her wide-eyes and almost manic expression. "Tell me, tell me!"
Ivy looked to me. "You're not allowed to tell anyone where you're working, right?"
"Right."
She paused for a moment, looking hesitant. "What if someone else found out and told?"
"Ivy." Nat pressed her hands onto the table. "Spill."
Ivy dropped her voice into a whisper and leaned over, her long blonde hair falling over both shoulders. "Jen's working with Noah Hart."
"No. Freaking. Way." Nat slapped her hand down on the table to emphasis each word. "Are you serious?" she turned to me. "Is she serious? Are you really working with—"
"Shh!" I looked around to make sure we weren't being overheard. "I can neither confirm nor deny that statement."
"Oh my god!" Nat squealed and hugged me so hard she almost broke my ribs. "That's an amazing opportunity."
"Yeah. It is." Of course, I might have completely blown that opportunity.
"I know you didn't want to use our connections in the music industry to help you, which I still don't understand by the way," she said, making a face at me, "but I'm so proud you."
"I get it," Ivy said. "You wanted to do it on your own."
Ivy's independent streak was even more stubborn than mine. She got why I didn't want to use my friends to get ahead in my career. I needed to prove I could score a job on my own merits.
As it turned out, the o
nly merit that mattered was my fuckability.
"I can't believe you get to work with Noah Hart," Natalie sighed blissfully. Even dating a rock star herself hadn't cured Nat of her fangirl ways. "He's so passionate on stage."
Ivy looked thoughtful. "From what I've seen, he seems kind of closed-off in person."
"What's he really like?" Natalie asked.
"An emotionally stunted jerk," I muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. I'm still getting to know him."
I remembered the various and myriad ways in which I'd gotten to know Noah Hart and flushed.
He said he was done with me, but I wasn't done with him. No matter what our personal feelings were — and god, were there a lot of feelings tangled up in my chest right now — we still had a song to work on. We still had professional business to take care of.
I had to convince him we still needed to work together. That I was the only person who knew him well enough to work on this with him. He said all the others were hacks. I wasn't near as good as the rest of the members of Darkest Days, but I wasn't a hack. No matter what else he'd thrown in my face, Noah had said I was talented. He took my opinions and suggestions into consideration.
When he wasn't getting pissy and throwing me out of his apartment, that is.
But despite all my texts and voicemails and emails, Noah wouldn't respond. I had been contemplating showing up at his apartment door and not leaving when the solution came later that afternoon via text from an unknown number.
hey gorgeous, i'm throwing a huge rager at my place tonight. u in?
From the gorgeous I knew it had to be Cameron. I asked how he got my number. He said he had his ways with a winky face. I assumed he'd asked Naomi.
Is Noah going to be there?
so its true? the two of you? damn, i was hoping i had a chance
I need to talk to him.
i'll make sure he's there. give them ur name and tell them cam invited u
Going to a party with rock stars would be fun, not to mention I would get a chance to talk with Noah. Maybe I could corner him so he couldn't get away. Maybe if I went to the party I could salvage something. Maybe I could convince Noah to take me back—
I had to stop thinking of it like that. It had too many different connotations.
But as much as I tried to convince myself this was a purely professional move, there was a part of me mourning the loss of our relationship. It wasn't just the sex. It was all the other little things. The little smirks and the small touches and even the grumpy way he grunted after I caught him saying something sweet.
I knew there was something more between us. There had to be.
Chapter Eighteen
I hadn't known what to expect when I arrived at the address Cameron texted. Another expensive high rise condo building like Noah's, perhaps.
What I hadn't expected was an enormous mansion with loud pounding music vibrating from every door and window. Drunk party goers were laughing and falling over themselves on the front lawn, which was perfectly landscaped, aside from the beer bottles and trash littering the grass. Dozens of paparazzi were hanging around on the sidewalk out front, no doubt as close as they could get before officially invading private property.
As soon as I stepped out of the taxi, flashes went off in my face. I brought a hand to my face to shield my eyes. As soon as the media realized I was a nobody, they backed off, ignoring me completely.
As taken aback as I was, I had to admit this kind of thing was exactly what I should have expected from Cameron Throne, reputed to be the party animal of the bunch.
A bouncer stood guard at the front gates, tall, beefy, and intimating. I gave him my name when asked. I wondered for a second whether I'd even be on the guest list when he went to check his clipboard, but he gave me a nod and ushered me in.
The front door opened onto a vast foyer with five times as many drunk people inside as there had been out on the front lawn. I was torn between excitement and nerves. I wished I'd invited Ivy or Nat to come with me. They no doubt had experience with this kind of thing, although I knew their boyfriends Ren and Morris were a lot less crazy partiers than Cameron Thorne was known to be.
The moment I stepped through the door I was greeted by a group of drunk guys who tried to pull me into a game of strip football. I didn't know how exactly that would work, but I declined and made my way into the next room as soon as possible.
A random stranger thrust a beer into my hand with cheer and a grin. The top was on, so at the very least I knew it wasn't spiked. I still laid the beer down on a side table as I made my way towards what I assumed was the kitchen. I didn't want to drink this early in the night. I needed to have my head about me if I wanted to have this conversation with Noah. If I could ever find him among the throng of drunken party goers.
I caught sight of a tall blond in the corner and recognized him as August. I squirmed through a crowd of people to get to him. They mostly seemed to be talking about music and their work on the latest album.
"Excuse me," I said, sliding through an empty space.
August nodded when I caught his attention. "Hello, Jennifer."
I was still brought up short by how beautiful this man was. His platinum blond hair complimented his ice blue eyes. Eyes that looked like they could see into your very soul.
I gave myself a mental shake. "Hi, August." It felt weird to call a celebrity by his first name. He had always been August Summers to me. "Do you know if Noah is around anywhere?"
"I think I saw him out back near the pool." August gestured to the others in his circle of followers, indicating that they should leave us alone. When they dispersed he shot me a careful glance.
"How's it coming along?" he asked quietly.
"It?"
"Noah's song."
Tension spiked through me. "It's going fine. Great, even. He's working hard on it."
"I hope he isn't giving you too much trouble with your consulting." He stressed the last word, giving me an oddly penetrating look.
He knew. August definitely knew I was writing the song for Noah. Did he know we'd had a fight? Maybe August knew everything that went on in the band.
"Noah's not too bad once you get to know him." I was lying through my teeth of course, but I didn't want to bad mouth August's fellow bandmate in front of him.
"If you ever need help getting through that thick skull of his, let me know."
"Actually…" I wondered whether I should tell August what happened. The thought of confessing our sexual escapades and subsequent falling out was embarrassing enough that I found myself flushing. No. No one could find out about that. "We had a bit of a misunderstanding. I'm trying to find him so I can clear things up."
"Please be patient with him."
I blinked. "Patient?"
August nodded. "He can be difficult to work with."
I choked back a snort. "I've noticed."
"Like I said. If you ever need any help."
"I'll remember that. Thank you."
The rest of the mansion was as full with people as the front rooms had been. I had to tiptoe around drunk people and duck to avoid flailing limbs. When I finally found the back entrance to the pool, my dress was spotted with splashes of beer and smears from sticky fingers. I was glad I hadn't worn white.
I found Noah sitting out back, slumped over on one of the stone-carved benches. He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees and a beer in one hand.
"Hey," I said tentatively.
He inclined his head a fraction of an inch, not meeting my eyes.
"What?" he said flatly.
I flinched, but steeled myself. "I thought we should talk about what happened."
"Nothing happened."
"Are you really going to pretend that we didn't…" I looked around surreptitiously, making sure no one could overhear. "Pretend we didn't spend weeks having sex with each other only to have you throw me out during our first fight?"
"Nothing. H
appened." He stressed each word carefully. Probably wanted to forget all about his temper tantrum. Maybe he also wanted to forget about the rest of it, too. The thought made my heart clench.
"Fine. If that's how you want to play it. If nothing happened, then that means there's no reason why we can't continue working together as adults."
"Right."
"Okay." I stood there, fuming. "Then I guess I shouldn't mention that song you were playing when nothing happened."
He glowered at me. "What about it?"
I folded my arms across my chest like armor. "I liked it. I think you should use it."
"Use it how?"
"Use it for your album. That should be your song."
"No."
I raised an eyebrow at his curt reply. "Why not? It's good. Better than anything the two of us have been able to come up with."
"The stuff we've come up with has been fine."
"Do you want your song to sound fine? Or do you want your song to sound like Noah Fucking Hart?"
"That song sounds nothing like my style."
"It sounds more like your style than you know."
"Because you know me so well," he snarked.
"Are we really going to get back into this? As far as I've been able to tell, I'm the only person who's gotten this close to you in a long time. If I can't tell what's a Noah Hart song and what isn't by now, then I should be fired."
"Fine. You're fired."
"You're hilarious." I took a seat next to him on the bench. "You said the song was old. Was it something you composed a long time ago? Before you were with the band?"
"Why do you care?"
"Humor me."
He grunted. "I've been working on it off and on for years," he said grudgingly.
"So it's not something you wrote because you knew it would sell?"
"Lily liked it when I played. I came up with stuff I thought she'd enjoy."
"My mom liked it when I played, too," I said quietly. "I used to wonder if it was the only thing that kept her from—" I cut myself off sharply.
Noah stared at me with sharp eyes.
I avoided his gaze. "Anyway. If it's something you composed for your sister, I think your fans would like it, too."
Hard Rock Tease: A Rock Star Romance (Darkest Days Book 1) Page 11