Girl Online (20 page)

“And things with Alex are amazing. I went out to that rugby game with him . . . and I enjoyed it!”

“No way! I'm so happy for you. You'll turn into a right sports lover yet.”

Elliot grimaces. “I don't think so. But we watched Noah's Berlin show on YouTube. It was so sweet when he gave you a shout-out before ‘Autumn Girl'! I wish I could make big, romantic, public displays of affection with my boyfriend.”

“Elliot . . .”

“I know, I know. I'm not complaining! I want him to come out to everyone when he feels confident. I just wish I gave him that confidence. It's silly, I know.” I want to give Elliot a big hug and tell him not to worry about Alex—that it will work out in the end. They are made for each other; they are so perfect together. “So, where are you off to next, you globetrotter? It's not more long hours on the bus-from-hell, is it?”

“Rome! And, no—we're flying.”

“You lucky
signorina
.” There's a pause as Elliot and I just stare at each other through the screen. His green eyes are enhanced by the purple rim of his glasses, and they start misting with tears. “I miss you,” he says.

I can't help it; my eyes fill with tears right alongside him. “I miss you too.”

We both hug the screen until, on a count of three, we hang up together.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The late-afternoon flight from Munich to Rome is surprisingly pleasant. Blake and the rest of the boys are seated farther back, so Noah and I have a little bit of time together. Wrapped up in Mum's cardigan and snuggling next to Noah, I manage to keep my anxiety at bay, even though I grip Noah's hand throughout the take-off. During the flight we discuss the music industry and debate who we believe is the greatest rock band of all time. I don't think that Noah really understands my choice of Journey but I just can't help it: I love “Don't Stop Believin' ”! He loves Pink Floyd and is shocked when I say I haven't heard of them. He plays “Wish You Were Here” on his iPod and makes me listen through his headphones. I agree on the need to expand my musical knowledge.

Stepping out of the airport, I feel a lovely warm breeze on my face. So many people have told me how beautiful Rome is and I am very excited to finally be on Italian soil. There is no show tonight and a whole day tomorrow to explore the city with Noah. The excitement bubbles up inside me as we
are driven to our hotel. Rome really does look spectacular, even from a blacked-out tour bus.

When we finally reach the hotel, Noah flops down on my bed. “I've enjoyed today, you know, just us getting to talk about everything and nothing.”

“I know what you mean. It's like New York all over again, before anyone knew about Noah and Penny.”

He takes my face into his hands and kisses me as we lie next to each other. It's the sort of kiss that leaves me in knots and I feel like I may have to be scraped up off the floor as I've turned to jelly. Noah is a great kisser. Not that I've had many kisses to compare with his, but Noah feels older and a lot more mature and it's so different. It's not awkward or uncomfortable—it's just perfect.

Noah is exhausted so we order in room service and stick on a film to relax. It's not long before Noah falls asleep, his head resting in my lap.

When the film ends, I'm tempted to just let him sleep, but pins and needles are tingling up and down my trapped arm. As I shift to release the pressure, he stirs.

“Oh, what time is it?” he says, his voice groggy. “Is the movie over?” He sits up in bed, his hair flattened against the side of his face. I can't help but giggle.

He throws a pillow at me, then stretches and yawns. “I'll see you in the morning, Princess Penny.”

He jumps up off the bed and makes his way to the door. All these rooms are beginning to look very similar and the novelty of staying in a hotel is definitely starting to wear off.

“Won't you stay with me? Please, like in Berlin?” I smile sweetly at him.

“You know the rules, Penny. That night was a one-off. Your parents wouldn't be happy if I did that—and Dean would kill me. Separate bedrooms was one of the terms of you coming along.”

“My parents are so annoying and old-fashioned,” I huff.

“They're just looking out for their little girl.”

“LITTLE? I'm sixteen now! I'm venturing off into other countries without them—”

“You'll always be their little girl, Penny. You know that. Meet you downstairs tomorrow morning at nine. Love you.” He blows me a kiss and disappears off to his room.

I distract myself for the rest of the evening by having a deep bath and checking some of my favourite photographers on Instagram, as well as the hashtags for Rome, with their sightseeing recommendations. I contemplate whether I should open an Instagram account for Girl Online—maybe it would be safer without words?—but then the warning bells start ringing.

Never going online, Penny . . .

Instead, I turn out the light and settle down under the covers, my mind filled with filters, photos, and all the treats that Rome has in store, and fall fast asleep.

•  •  •

The next morning I gather together my camera and bag, and head downstairs to the reception lobby. Noah isn't there. A worrying niggle gnaws at my stomach, and I pray that this isn't a repeat scenario of Berlin.

“Penny.” Noah appears next to me with a somewhat less excited expression than the one I am wearing. He frowns. “I can't do today after all. Dean wants me to do a press junket and this is the only time I can do it.”

I try to remain calm, but I can feel the anger rising and my face burns with heat. “OK,” I manage through pursed lips.

“I'm sorry. Are you annoyed?” He tries to hold my hand but I snatch it away.

“No, really, I'm fine,” I say. I play with the strap on my bag, trying desperately to think of a way to leave this situation before my emotions explode in a bubble of hot lava.

“Oh, all right then. I'm glad you're cool,” he says, smiling down at me.

But, like a burst pipe, I can't contain myself. “NO, NOAH. I'M NOT FINE. CLEARLY I'M NOT FINE.”

“You just said you—”

“GIRLS ALWAYS SAY THEY'RE FINE, BUT YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO TELL I'M NOT FINE. THAT'S WHAT BOYFRIENDS DO! And do you know what else they do? They don't let their girlfriends down every chance they have.” My voice is shrill and squeaky but I can't stop now. “Yes, this is big and scary for you, but this is big and scary for me too. I gave up a huge chunk of my summer holiday to be here with you, because you told me we would have the time to do these things, Noah. You promised me. I am jumping through hoops for you here and it's exhausting. I feel like a piece of your kit that's being carried from one venue to another.”

By this point, Noah's mouth has dropped open and everyone in the lobby has turned to look at us.

I try to lower my voice, but the anger still comes through just as loud. “I'm
not
a piece of kit, Noah. I'm here and I want to experience this with you and I want to have at least
one
day with you where we can do the
one
thing you told me
we would be doing.” I stand there, breathless, waiting for a response from Noah, but instead he turns and walks out of the hotel's front door.

My feet are glued to the spot and I feel a heavy tear roll down my cheek as I watch him jump in a waiting taxi and drive off. Curious eyes burn into me from every corner of the lobby and, without making contact with any of them, I hold my head up high and strut to the lift. I walk in confidently when the doors swoosh open, then I stand back and watch the doors close, maintaining my poise . . . and then I burst into uncontrollable tears: snot, red face, heaving chest, and all.

I hate arguing.

(No, I don't.)

Yes—I really, really do!

I go out of my way to avoid confrontation. Milkshakegate was the first time I've stood up for myself in years. And, even though it felt so good at the time, it hasn't made confrontation any more my friend.

When I get angry, I crumble. I cry.

And arguing with Brooklyn Boy?

That's practically unthinkable!

How can I argue with someone I love so much? We've been nothing but happy and carefree ever since we met.

I guess that means it was inevitable that one day our smooth sailing would hit a rocky patch.

Today just happened to be that day.

Imagine a luxurious and very grand hotel reception lobby in Rome: tall marble pillars and a domed ceiling painted with a beautiful fresco. Imagine the echo that would create. Now throw in an angry five-foot-five, auburn-haired sixteen-year-old and her cool, laid-back rock-god boyfriend looking charming and dressed down as always.

Now imagine my raised voice bouncing off the walls for the entire reception to hear. I don't have to imagine it—
I'm remembering it.
At the time, I didn't care about the commotion I was causing, but it has just dawned on me that I will need to go down through the reception lobby again to leave the hotel at some point. Mega cringe.

My parents hardly ever argue. I occasionally hear my brother fight with his girlfriend, but it's only ever over really stupid things like, “No, I told you I would call you back AFTER the football game.” I feel like those things are little disagreements, while what's just happened between Brooklyn Boy and me was a rather large step up from that.

In fact, can you really call it an argument if there is only one of you doing the shouting? I think BB's sole contribution was a lot of blinking back at me. Was I being ridiculous?

All I know is that arguments sometimes need to happen in order for things to be OK again, and, like the mature, responsible grown-up I am, I am going to make sure things are OK. Find me a couple who haven't been through a simple argument. Actually don't. (Wiki, I'm looking at you.)

So, just for future reference, I'm going to make a list of things I've learned NOT to do in an argument:

1. Don't argue in the reception of a hotel—pick your moments and your location. Not everyone needs to know the ins and outs of why you're mad.

2. Understand that your voice is probably a little louder than it sounds in your own head.

3. Don't downplay how annoyed you are or say that you're fine. Not everyone is a mind reader.

4. Try to be cool, calm, and collected. Emphasis on the word
try
because by this point you may be about to explode.

5. When your boyfriend leaves without saying a word after your outburst, don't stand there cemented to the spot for too long. You will feel and look like an idiot.

6. When you have a big, snotty cry in the lift afterwards, expect that someone else might join you from another floor on your way up. That's what lifts are for.

7. Saying you have severe hay fever makes you look like a fool. It's pretty clear you are crying, so you may as well embrace it and accept the tissue from the middle-aged Italian man.

8. When making a grand exit, make sure you have your room key. After all, you will look ridiculous if you have to go back down to the reception to get another one issued.

9. Don't overthink the situation once you're sitting alone in your hotel room.

10. Don't eat ice cream in a hot, steamy bath—it's not that easy, especially when it's melting at lightning speed. I find pretzels to be a great alternative.

I'll leave it there for now. It's too cringey for me to want to write about it any more, and now that I'm seeing it all laid out in black and white I know I need to apologize for my way-too-public outburst.

Because, with any relationship, there will always be challenges that you might have to face together. It's just about being strong enough to know that an argument (even a mega-big one) doesn't have to mean the end.

Girl Offline . . . never going online xxx