Page 30 of When the Stars Rise
Oh, I’ll be honest, all right.
My pen digs so deep into the page that I rip a hole in it, but I keep writing down snatches of the lyrics floating through my head, grasping them before they disappear.
I want to write a song about celebrity culture, the price of fame, and the vultures who prey on us. We’re human beings who deserve to be treated with common decency, but they have zero regard for us, and they never respect our privacy.
My friends and I have all been victims of the backlash and the drama drummed up by the paparazzi and the tabloids to sell their rags. And while I know that one song won’t change anything, my music is a form of therapy, so I need to get it all out.
I keep my eyes trained on the notebook and squash a smile when Noah sits across from me and nudges the toe of his sneaker against mine. It’s such a boyish thing to do. It reminds me of when we were teenagers.
I hate him a little bit for that.
“What happened in London?”
When I don’t lift my head from the page, he yanks the notebook right out from under me. I shoot him a glare. “Do you mind? I’m trying to write music.”
I lunge for my notebook, but he holds it above his head, out of reach. “Just tell me what happened.”
I huff out a laugh and take a sip of my iced coffee. “Oh, because you tell me everything?”
His gaze drifts to the window. “We used to tell each other everything.”
My stomach sinks because it’s true. We used to, but now we don’t do that anymore. “I guess we grew up.” My voice is tinged with sadness, and Noah’s face falls, his expression mirroring mine.
He presses his lips together and nods his head. “Yeah, I guess we did.”
I miss you. I miss us.I think it, but I don’t say it because there’s a mountain of baggage between us, and I don’t know how to get around it.
After what he said in Baltimore, I’m afraid that I’m going to lose him all over again.
My heart aches, and it makes my chest feel tight.
I miss our carefree childhood when we ran wild and free, and I never worried about losing the people I love. When Noah was my best friend and we were chasing fireflies and wishing on stars, confiding all our hopes and dreams.
I miss those giddy highs of falling in love with the boy who stole my heart when we were only four years old.
I miss the way we were before tragedy struck and forever changed us.
Before the guilt and heartache set in and I pushed Noah away the first time.
Before we started keeping secrets and accumulating a junk pile of lies.
I swallow hard to speak past the lump in my throat. “I passed out. In London,” I clarify. “It wasn’t a big deal—”
“You passed out? And you don’t think that’s a big deal?” He grabs his head with both hands and tugs on the ends of his hair before throwing his hands into the air.So dramatic.“What the fuck, Hales?”
“Seriously, it was nothing.”
“You don’t just pass out because it’s nothing.” His brows furrow with concern, and I’m reminded of the sixteen-year-old boy who refused to leave my bedside after the accident.
He climbed into my bed, ignoring the nurse who told him he couldn’t, and held me while I cried so hard it felt like my chest was cracking in two.
“What did the doctor say?”
I shrug. “I got a rejuvenating IV and a nice high from the oxygen, and they sent me on my way.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at me. “You’re joking about this?”
I sigh. I’m going to kill Dean for mentioning it in front of Noah. Why didn’t I see him sitting there? He must have moved to the sofa while I was making coffee with my back turned. “Like I said, it wasn’t a big deal. Low blood sugar.”
