Noah gave me a probing look, something almost like curiosity on his face. "You shouldn't say things like that out loud."
"Why not?"
"Don't let other people know you doubt yourself. It makes them doubt you."
"Is that why you don't want to the other guys to know about us working together?"
He grumbled. "I told you. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me."
"It's okay if you don't want the other guys to think less of you."
"I want you to stay out of my head." The words were quiet. Noah's eyes were almost dead inside, other than the slight frustration I could see simmering underneath.
"And I told you. I'm here to do a job. I can't compose a song for you until I've gotten to know the real you. This has to sound authentic. Otherwise it won't ring true to the fans."
"And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you? You're a fangirl."
"You say that like it's a bad thing. Of course I'm a fan. Your music touches me."
"I don't write music for people to get all weepy."
"Don't you want people to feel something when they listen your songs? Isn't that the whole point of creating music?"
"I don't care if anyonefeelsanything. I write it because it's marketable. Because it sells."
I was appalled at the words coming out of his mouth. Noah Hart, talking about howmarketablehis songs were. It was baffling.
"Are you serious? You don't care how your music makes people feel? You just want money?"
"That's right."
"I don't believe that. You said the music came from your heart. From your soul. If you didn't care, you wouldn't be having so much trouble with this one song. You want it to be good. You don't want to let your fans down."
"You've got me all figured out, haven't you?"
Underneath the tension and frustration, I could hear a hint of helplessness. Noah was having trouble. He didn't want anyone to know. But he knew he needed help. He just couldn't bring himself to ask for it.
"I don't have you figured out." I gnawed at my lip. "But I'd like to."
Noah stood from the piano bench and approached me slowly, slinking almost like a jungle cat. The look in his eyes threatening to burn me up from the inside.
"You want to know more about me?"
He got closer, forcing me to take steps back until I hit the wall with a thud. I couldn't move any further away, and yet Noah didn't stop advancing. He stalked toward me until he was mere inches away. He inclined his head down. We were practically nose to nose.
"I can think of a few ways to get to know each other." His lips tilted in a dark smirk.
My inner muscles clenched as I contemplated all the different meanings of those words. Was he serious? Or was he teasing me? Making fun of my so-called fangirl crush? Noah kept on making these comments and innuendoes. How much of it was him needling me?
His eyes were on my lips. My breath caught in my throat. I made an aborted motion, stopping myself before I could reach out and touch him.
If Noah didn't feel the same sexual tension between us that I felt, if it was all just a sick game to him, I'd end up making a fool of myself.
I let out a shallow breath and shifted to the side, putting a few feet between us.
"I'm… gonna go get a coffee," I said weakly before stumbling out the door on shaky legs.
I had to get out of there before I did something I'd regret.