Before He Was Famous: HotFlush Book 1

by Becky Wicks

  'Noah?' Another tap on my shoulder. I'm irritated. And then I remember Jayde's in the room. I turn to her.

  'Can you get some water?' I ask, and I see she's already holding a glass of it out to me. But she's looking at me like I'm a stranger. Her eyes are narrowed and kind of red and she looks like she's about to burst Linda Blair style. What the hell? I take the glass from her and pass it to Chloe, who downs the lot without stopping. When I turn back to Jayde, she's already gone from the room.

  'I'm so sorry,' Chloe says, wrapping a hand around my bare arm and sending a shot of adrenaline through my body. All my senses are alive when she's hurt, or sad, or angry. They always have been. Jack says we fused together with the sun and the moon when we watched the eclipse one night through her dad's telescope; bundled up in blankets, eating s'mores, Prairie Dog sleeping beside us. I don't know where he got that idea, but Jack was older and smarter. Before we even knew what an eclipse was, he'd told us he could magically black out the moon. It happened, so I believed him about the fusion, too. Chloe was my shadow, even before the Peter Pan thing. Or maybe she was my sun.

  'Noah, shit, I'm in your bed. I'm the worst houseguest ever,' she's saying now. She goes to climb past me but I stop her. I put my hand on her bare leg, warm, smooth, familiar but so alien at the same time and she stares at it.

  'Stay,' I say, 'it's not your fault you had a nightmare. You had a nightmare before you even went to sleep!'

  'I'm such an idiot.'

  'No. You're not.'

  'Yes I am. About so many things. You have no idea, Noah.'

  'Sssh, just lie down, OK?'

  She does as I say reluctantly and I study her face; the gashes, the bruises darkening her skin. I reach for her Tinker-Bell necklace, run my fingers over the tiny silver wings. Our eyes meet and I don't look away and neither does Chloe.

  I get another flashback, from out of nowhere, of when we were kids at aunt Madeline's house in The Bronx. A huge thunderstorm kept us up in the middle of the night and I crept into her room to find her lying there, eyes wide open, raindrops thrashing at the huge brown-house windows. I knew she was waiting for me to arrive because without me she was too scared to get out of that bed. That house is so old and creaky. We switched places without speaking and she started trying to capture the lightning with her camera.

  She spent more than an hour in the window, working silently, determined, clicking the camera over and over. Something about her was mesmerizing. I watched her from the bed and wrote a song in my head about how she lit up every time the lightning struck, and when she climbed in beside me she was wriggling under my skin as much as the covers. Chloe became the lightning then, for me at least, lighting up every room. And so began the storm in my head.

  'I'm so sorry this happened to you, Pan, I promise we'll get your camera back, OK? Go back to sleep,' I tell her, hearing my own voice wobble.

  She nods and smiles at me weakly and instinctively I lean down and kiss her cheek. She turns at the last second and I catch the corner of her mouth. She seems stunned for a minute, kind of freezes.

  'Are you gonna be alright?' I whisper, my face just an inch from hers. The cut on her lip is pink and swollen and I resist the urge to press my lips to it. Dammit. I should not be thinking like this. We're friends; we never talk about it. That night almost didn't happen. She wanted it that way, but she's hurt and I can't stand it.

  'Yes,' she whispers back. 'Thank you, Noah.'

  I force myself to get to my feet. Picking up the glass I walk from the room and shut the door behind me.

  I smell the cigarette smoke instantly. The front door is partly open. I put the glass in the kitchen and head outside, where I see the fire escape open too, at the end of the hall. Jayde's sitting on the stairwell, smoking. 'What are you doing?'

  'Playing tennis,' she says dryly without turning around.

  'Jayde, you don't even smoke.'

  'So, how long have you been in love with her, Noah?'

  Her words throw me. I click the latch on the door so we won't get locked out and close it behind me. Then I sit next to her on the stairs, take the cigarette from her fingers. I take a huge drag. I hate it but I have to admit, it's kind of satisfying at the same time.

  She turns to look at me expectantly. I hand her the cigarette back and notice she looks tired and pale in the harsh light and shit... she can tell I've been crying. I rub my face again and rush my hands through my hair. My fingers are trembling. I'm a fucking mess right now.

  'She shouts your name in her sleep,' Jayde says quietly.

  I'm cold. I don't have a shirt on. I really just want to go to bed but I can tell Jayde's pissed at me. This is so not what I need. I can feel her eyes on my face. 'You didn't answer my question,' she says.

  'Because it was stupid,' I snap.

  She frowns. 'I don't think it's a stupid question. How long have you been in love with her?'

  'Jayde, the girl just got mugged for fuck's sake...'

  'NOAH! You ran to her like the house was on fire. You let her sleep in your bed! Do you think I don't notice how you look at her? You just called her baby!'

  'What did you want me to do?' I say, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

  'I don't know Peter, how about nothing? I'm your girlfriend!'

  'Sssh, Jayde, OK. Be quiet!' She's raising her voice and I'm worried she'll wake the neighbors. We're not supposed to be smoking on the stairwell and we're definitely not supposed to be having this conversation right now.

  Jayde scowls and takes another sharp drag. 'I don't know why you don't just fuck her and get it over with,' she snarls on an exhale. 'I'm surprised the whole fucking apartment building doesn't burn down, all the sparks going off between you.'

  Her words come out in a cloud of smoke, as if they need emphasizing even more. I watch them curl around the strip-light above us and disappear but I know they've been lingering inside her for days. 'You're being ridiculous.'

  'Am I? Noah, the only reason you're not in that bed with her right now is because I'm here.'

  I'm not answering her, but my heart is pounding. I stand up. 'Jayde, I'm tired, it's been a long night. Come back to bed when you're done, OK?'

  She snorts indignantly as I reach for the door handle. 'I should've known you'd be like this. You can't even admit it to yourself.'

  'There's nothing to admit!' I turn around again. 'Jesus, Jayde! And why are you giving me shit about anything, anyway? You're not even supposed to still be here!'

  As soon as I say it, I regret it. She looks at me like I've slapped her. She stands up, dropping the cigarette on the stairwell and squashing it hard with her high heeled shoe. 'You are such an asshole!'

  'Sssh, Jayde...'

  'Don't sssh me. I've put up with your shit for weeks, Noah, your nicknames, your private jokes, you only ever really talk to me properly when she's not around. It's like you don't even notice me... it's all Chloe this, Chloe that, Peter fucking Pan. You need to grow the hell up!'

  She pushes past me and rushes back into the apartment, goes into the room and grabs her bag from the floor. I run in behind her and she squares up in front of me, looking defiant. 'I'll come back for the rest tomorrow.'

  'Where are you gonna go?'

  'A friend's place,' she says, but as she looks at me her eyes fill with tears and I know she has no clue. I feel awful. I mostly feel awful because I actually don't care if she goes. I don't mind if she stays, but honestly, I don't care either way. My phone beeps on the dresser right next to us and I curse the message as she glances at it.

  'Courtney?' she reads. 'So you're still texting her, too?'

  Fuck. 'Look, Jayde, it's late, you're emotional, you're not going out there on your own... look what just happened to Chloe. Just stay here, please.' I take her by the shoulders and she doesn't move. I can tell she doesn't really want to leave but she's right, I'm an asshole. I pull her against me. She still smells like beer and the smoke surrounding us gets caught in my throat. She drops her bag again
and throws her arms around my middle.

  'I was falling in love with you, Noah Lockton,' she blurts suddenly, and I hear her voice break against my chest.

  I hold my breath for a moment. When I go to speak I stop because for once, I have no words. What can I say? I've got absolutely no idea what to say to that without hurting her. She tightens her arms around me. It's as though she's trying to squeeze her way right through to my heart. But I can tell when she pulls away and sighs in frustration that she knows she'll never be able to.

  22

  Chloe

  It's light when I wake up. I can hear them talking. I can hear Jayde yelling again like she did last night, then more crying; more of Noah trying to pacify her but I can't hear their words. The apartment door slams.

  I'm feeling useless and drowsy and still a bit drugged. Memories of last night come back to me in a blur; the foot coming down on me, the force on my back, tugging at my camera bag strap and kicking me again to make sure I stayed down; Noah finding me on the couch, the police firing me with questions and me, somehow ending up here in his bed, without him.

  I wish I could get up and go back to my own room -- my room in Boulder, at mom's house, not here. I don't belong here, not in Noah's room, not in his apartment, not even in New York. All of this is wrong. All of yesterday confirmed it. I'm about to get up in spite of my throbbing head when the bedroom door opens.

  'Chloe?'

  I say nothing, but I can hear his bare feet walking towards me on the hard floor. I can feel him sitting down on the other side of the bed, leaning over me, running a finger along my cheek. His touch makes my heart shift involuntarily. My throat gets even drier.

  I open my eyes to find him propped up on one elbow, looking over me. His bare chest is right there, toned, tanned, rigid. 'Hey, how're you feeling?'

  His eyes are full of so much concern that I can hardly stand it. He scrambles under the covers and lies there. 'It's cold,' he justifies, although he doesn't need to. 'Jayde's gone,' he adds after a moment and my stomach pole vaults.

  I turn to face him slowly. Even though the heat of him is radiating out and into me under the comforter it's a shock to see his face so close now -- unshaven jawline, curls un-brushed, long eyelashes that drive people wild, familiar gray eyes locking onto mine. I'm suddenly even weaker.

  'Gone where?' I manage.

  'I don't know, but she won't be back.' He reaches out and brushes my bangs aside, touches the cut above my eye gently, frowning. 'How are the war wounds?'

  'I'm OK. Noah, she's gone because of me?' I say and he just shrugs and kind of smiles awkwardly. It's always because of me. We just never say it.

  'I'm so sorry,' I start again, but he puts a finger gently to my lips and takes me totally by surprise as he shuffles even closer, pulls me against him. My face lands against the soft patch of fine hair at the top of his solid chest. My hands come up against his torso automatically as he wraps his big arms around me; one under me and the other across my arms and I can't move my legs... I can't, because if I do, too much of my naked flesh will be pressed against way too much of his and we're not doing this again.

  Are we?

  'Don't be sorry,' he whispers, holding me even tighter against him. His triceps flex against my clammy skin and I feel so tiny. 'I'm just glad you're OK. You really freaked me out last night, Chloe.'

  All five foot eleven of his height and muscle is wrapping around me now and instinctively I move a hand up around his shoulder. My fingers find his hair and I flashback to doing the same thing last night when he found me and rocked me and... left me to go to Jayde.

  He mirrors my action and I loosen my grip on his own hair slightly because we're not doing this. 'Noah, I'm...'

  'I said don't be sorry, not about anything, especially not Jayde. You're worth a thousand of her to me, you know that, don't you?' His voice is determined, harsh. He pulls away suddenly and meets my eyes again. He looks so serious. My insides flip and I have to look away. But when I do I note that his pectoral muscles are more defined now he's topless and on his side. I see the scar on his right shoulder from where he fell off Jack's homemade sled one winter and tumbled roly-poly style right into a rock. It's a thin, shiny white line. I resist the urge to touch it. He's undoing me, again. How does he do this?

  'I guess she knows it, even if you don't,' he whispers.

  'I do,' I say, and inside I'm screaming. We're not fucking doing this; we're not. This is dangerous. But he climbed in next to me and now it's the strongest, aching urge to keep him here, to have him holding me again and to never let me go. The guilt surges through me, along with the fear. 'So, she broke up with you?' I manage.

  'I guess so,' he replies, scanning my cuts with his eyes.

  'She really liked you, Noah,'

  'Yeah, well, maybe I'm just an asshole.'

  I realize my hand is still in his hair and I retract it quickly. He grabs it, holds it against him. You're not an asshole I'm thinking, but for some reason I can't say it. It would be like admitting something else; like the fact that he's an asshole to every girl who likes him, but never to me. And then I'd have to really think about why that is and that's not something I'll ever be comfortable with at all, even though his eyes are like maps and his words are like anchors and his songs are like personal messages and I love all that.

  'Chloe, where was Aaron when this happened? You never said anything to the cops about Aaron but you were with him, weren't you? How did this happen?'

  'I wasn't with him. I told you, it should've taken me five minutes to walk home...'

  'It doesn't matter, he should have walked with you! What were you doing last night anyway?'

  I look away. I don't want to tell him I was with the paparazzi. He hates them enough as it is, without knowing I was willingly involved, too. I didn't tell the cops I got photos of a teenage, wasted Brandon Cleaver in the bar, or that maybe he was the reason someone followed me last night. I know it was stupid not to say anything, but Noah was right there listening. The camera's gone now anyway; what does it matter? 'We were just at a party...'

  'Where?'

  'I don't remember. Noah, I'm gonna tell Marianne I'm quitting Shimmer.'

  His eyes grow wide, 'What? Why?'

  'This isn't my world, it's yours. I just wanted to take photos...'

  'You still can!'

  'Not without my camera,'

  'We'll get you a new camera. Chloe, you can't just quit because of one stupid asshole! Are you scared now, is that it?' He puts one big hand to my cheek gently and impulsively I lean further into it. 'Seriously, are you scared? Because if you're scared of anything here you don't have to be. Denzel wants you to come on tour with me! He loves what you're doing and so do the label. He's gonna talk to Marianne, see if you can do the Shimmer blog as an exclusive from the road. You'll be with me, not just in New York, everywhere. Chloe, it'll be amazing. It's fucking Knight Ryder!'

  My heart has started jumping wildly like a puppy dog trapped in my ribcage. I don't know what to say. The closeness of him after all this time, it feels so good, so what I need, but none of this is mine. Even with Jayde gone I'm so far out of my depth. I can't go on tour, I can't spend every day in his shadow like some lovesick Lockette; what would people say?

  I realize I'm shaking my head, but Noah balls his fist in my hair at the back of my neck, draws me closer. 'I can't do this without you, Pan,' he tells me and his words land like red hot bullets on my skin.

  'Someone else can do the blog...'

  'It's not just about the blog,' he says, and I swallow. We're not doing this.

  He takes my necklace loosely in his fingers. As they brush my flesh I shiver. 'The blog is a way in. It's an opportunity for you to prove yourself -- think about it. And selfishly it's about me wanting my best friend with me the whole way, like she's always been. Don't make me beg you, Chloe. The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it.'

  'You can't quote Peter Pan at me now, Noah,' I
say as the words 'best friend' plummet from my head to my toes like a lead balloon.

  'Yes I can, if it applies. You can do this. Don't let last night change anything, not that asshole in the park and definitely not Jayde. This is about you, Chloe. You can fly, I know you can.'

  He drops Tinker-Bell, leans down and kisses my forehead and I can't help it, I melt. I flash back to the feeling of him, closer than close. Fairy wings flutter against every organ in my body as his touch zig-zags right through me. It's a head-spinning fairground ride just being in his arms; one a million girls out there would now kill to experience, I know.

  'Ryder Telling?' I say, willing my mind and tingling body to calm the hell down.

  He grins and his eyes light up and I can feel them lighting me up, too. 'Can you believe it? We're doing Boston, Washington, Chicago, Florida, Denver, Texas, New Orleans, Vegas...'

  'Vegas?'

  'Yeah, and more. Denzel says if it goes well and I get the right publicity and following, I'll get to go solo, maybe even onto Europe!'

  I feel my eyes bulge. His happiness is infectious -- he's a kid again, telling me he learnt A Whole New World on the guitar so I could sing Princess Jasmine's part with him as Aladdin. He was so proud. I was so impressed.

  'You know what that sounds like, don't you?' I'm smiling now.

  'It sounds like an awfully big adventure,' we say at the same time.

  23

  Noah

  'So here we are, Shimmer folks,' I say to the camera Chloe's pointing at me, 'if you've ever wanted to see the inside of a band's tour bus, this is pretty much it.' I grin and wave around the inside of our seriously pimped out vehicle and she sweeps the camera in a full circle before following me up the center aisle.

  'This is the chill out space right here -- two plasma screens for movies and video games of course, leather seats...' I sit down and pretend to slide around, '...very comfy, see? They match the black suede roof up here, which is totally unnecessary in my opinion but between you and me, I knew Ryder Telling had them in his own bus and who wouldn't want what he's got?'