Page 32 of When the Stars Rise
He lets out a breath. “We were kind of swaying to the music in the way sad, drunk people do, and the next thing I knew, we were kissing. It wasn’t even really a kiss. We quickly pulled away because it felt all wrong. We both felt like shit about the whole thing. We had no idea someone was taking photos, but I guess it goes with the territory.”
I’m not surprised. Everly is a supermodel, and Noah has millions of followers, so of course, there would be photos.
We can’t go anywhere without ending up on social media or in the tabloids.
“Would you ever have told me?” I study his face, searching for the truth. “If there hadn’t been any photos, would you have told me?”
He leans back in his seat and swipes his tongue over his full bottom lip before meeting my eyes. “Everly called you the next day. She tried a few times, but it kept going to voicemail. She asked me to wait until you got back to LA, and we’d talk to you in person. So yeah, we were going to tell you.”
I check my phone and verify there were three missed calls from Everly, but no message. She called while I was in London, so I guess that’s why I missed her calls.
I wasn’t completely honest with Noah about that. I mean, I am hypoglycemic, and Ididpass out because of low blood sugar. But a couple of days before, I had a massive panic attack. I’m talking full-blown, you feel like you’re going to die kind of anxiety that sinks its claws into you and won’t let go. I couldn’t shake it off. It followed me around like a dark cloud.
I think that’s why I had those bad dreams in New Orleans. Even weeks later, thinking about that incident in London makes me anxious.
“Hales?”
I look up and blink a few times to bring him into focus. Etta James is singing “I’d Rather Go Blind,” and all the edges are a little blurry.
“Are you okay?”
I suck in a deep breath and nod, forcing a smile I don’t feel. “Yeah.”
He studies my face, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “It was a shitty thing to do, and I’m sorry.” With his eyes still locked on mine he says, “If I could take it back, I would. I’m so fucking sorry, Hales.”
I can hear that he means it and I can see it on his face that it’s genuine. He really is sorry.
His apology doesn’t magically make it all better. He still kissed my best friend and that still hurts to think about. But considering the circumstances, I guess I can understand why it happened a little bit better now.
For the sake of our friendship—not only mine and Noah’s but Everly’s too—I’ll have to find a way to make my peace with it and try my best to let it go.
So I nod, accepting his apology and he releases a breath of relief like we’ve dodged yet another bullet.
We’re not perfect, not by a long shot, but I’m glad he told me the truth. For all our shit, Noah has always been honest with me, and in my book, honesty goes a long way.
My mind snags onto something he said earlier. “Which song was it?”
“What?”
“The song that made Everly sad. Which song was it?”
Noah rubs the back of his neck and lowers his eyes like he doesn’t want to tell me, and I know the answer before he says it.
“It was the song you wrote about Zeke.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Noah
I’m tryingto be cool about this. I really am. But I’m pissed off. Why is she spending the evening with that douche?
I stare at her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror while she does that thing with her eyeliner that makes her eyes look like a sexy cat, and I want to punch a wall.
My gaze roams over her body, down and over the black crocheted mini dress with deceptively sweet white daisies sewn into the fabric to the platform heels that make her legs look like they go on for miles, and my blood pressure spikes through the roof.
I can’t believe she’s wearingthatdress tonight.
I rub my hand over my chest, trying to ease the ache, but it doesn’t work. Never does.
