Girl Online (35 page)

“I know. I found out recently he's going to be in London, so I can get in touch with him and maybe we can meet up and at least clear the air. It's not like we have to go from being in love to being in
hate
, is it?”

Alex leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “You can do this, Penny. I believe in you.”

•  •  •

Back in my bedroom my fingers are hovering over the keypad on my phone, with an empty text-message screen. Why can't I find the words?
Oh, hey, Noah, remember me? That girl who left you in Paris during your tour. The one you wrote that song for . . .

I bury my head in my pillow and let out a frustrated whine.
WHY IS THIS SO HARD?
I'm absolutely terrified that the wounds, which are just starting to heal since I left Paris, are all going to rip open again once I send this text. What if Noah responds like Elliot and doesn't reply? But I can't ignore this forever. If I don't try, then I'll never know. Noah was—
is
—so special to me, and we have to talk at some point. I can't keep putting it off.

I put my phone down on the bedside table, almost expecting there to be no reply, when it lights up instantly. It's from Noah.

My heart skips a beat at the end of the text.
He misses me.
Has he really been waiting for me to contact him? My flood of feelings for Noah comes pouring back and I instantly feel my face flush.

I remember us dancing in the crowd like complete fools while The Sketch played; I'm remembering his little kisses on the end of my nose, the nights he would text me from his room to say he wished he was cuddling up with me instead, and the way he would dart me a glance in the wings as he sang “Autumn Girl” to a stadium of people. The wonderful memories I've been trying to lock away are quickly replacing
the angry, frustrated ones that have been helping me through the last few weeks.

I try to push the happy memories away, because I know if I let those feelings in I'll fall completely head over heels back in love with him. What if he does just want to be friends? I'm totally doing an Elliot and wanting to close up and never talk about my emotions, but it's just making me more and more confused about what I actually want.

I hit send. I've done a lot of nerve-racking and ridiculous things over the past year, but, for some reason, the thought of talking to Noah again fills me with the biggest nerves of all.

Chapter Fifty-Two

I'm up at the crack of dawn, and I can't believe I'm back to this—not being able to sleep, not letting my mind rest.

I've been a jittery, vibrating bundle of nerves all night. I can't wrap my head round the fact that I will be seeing Noah today. It may have only been a couple of weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. I've paced back and forth so many times that Dad has already popped his head in to check I'm not going crazy.

I've also chewed my fingernails down to the quick, but that's for a different reason. Noah was right when he said that I wouldn't—
couldn't
—go to the festival alone. My initial instinct of course was to take Elliot, but he's already agreed to go to Bath with his parents for a historical tour (an attempt by them to cheer him up). Besides, he would have asked way too many questions as to why I decided to go and talk to Noah
now
, and that would have brought up Alex and the surprise. So, in a way, it's better not to ask Elliot at all. I feel a little like I am cheating on him by being so sneaky behind his back, but I know it's all for a good cause.

Then I tried to invite Kira, but she is already going to the festival with Amara. They booked their tickets months ago because they are huge fans of The Halo Pixies, an a cappella girl band based in Sweden that is also playing.

I was comforted when I knew the twins would be going too, so I bit the bullet and invited Megan. Her messages to me since Noah and I broke up have been nothing but sweet, plus part of me wants to figure out the mystery behind TheRealTruth. There haven't been any more emails or letters since Noah and I split up so I chose not to go to the police in the end. Maybe if I spend a whole day with Megan, I'll be able to reassure myself that she wasn't behind all those nasty threats.

I really hope she wasn't—I'm just starting to feel as though the Megan I grew up with is making more and more of a reappearance. She's going to her drama school in September, and a part of me will even miss her. I won't miss her ending all my sentences or wanting to be the centre of attention at every given opportunity, but I will miss little things like her always being there to meet me after English so we can walk to lunch together and her sarcastic sense of humour.

So, now, she's here in my room, perched on my desk chair and looking at me with a slightly concerned expression.

“Penny, I know you said you're fine, but I'm starting to think you might be lying. I've been counting how many times you've paced back and forth and I'm up to fifty-six already. That's far too much exercise for one day, let alone when you're feeling stressed and anxious.” She looks down at her nails and traces the little daisy transfer that she has on her thumb.

“Megan, are you sure I look OK? No, not
just
OK. Do I look
really
OK?” I scan myself in my full-length mirror and stand up on my tiptoes.

“As long as you stand like a normal person, you look great. I mean, it's not exactly what I would have chosen . . .”

I've gone for a black skater dress with a bright-red poppy print, paired with my little black ankle boots—because we are going to a festival after all! My hair is down and tousled and I have a pair of aviator sunglasses perched on my head.

“Where did you get all this makeup anyway? It's awesome!” Megan picks up my pot of NARS foundation and a gold bronzing palette.

It's all the stuff I got from Leah at Sephora. “Oh . . . a friend helped me pick them out. To be honest, I don't know what half of it does.”

“Well, if you ever want to donate any of it to a worthy home—”

“I know where to find you.” I finish her sentence.

When it's time to leave, we hop into a taxi that takes us straight to Brighton Station, where we meet up with Kira and Amara. We all buy smoothies from Marks & Spencer, then jump on the train to London. Surprisingly, we're able to get a table seat. It's really nice being with all three of them, like old times. It's refreshing to have friends I can just talk to about normal stuff—discussing boys from school, Year Eleven dramas, and what we are all going to do now we are venturing into kind of serious, grown-up territory.

“Do you think Blake will be there today?” Megan looks at me from across the table and does a strange winky face.

“Um . . . as in Noah's drummer?” Just hearing her say his name makes my skin crawl.

“Yeah, he's really hot. I might stand a little bit of a chance there, especially since you can introduce me again.” She smiles and laughs.

“Yeah, of course I can, but . . . he's not good news, Meg. He's more of a bad boy.”

“PENNY! I sometimes wonder if you know me at all!” She laughs again, but this time a lot more loudly. “You know I love a bad boy. They're always far more interesting. You will introduce me again, won't you?” Her tone changes slightly towards the end of her sentence and I feel the old Megan could be rising inside her like a demon.

“No, really, Megan. Blake came on to me when we were in Paris. He tried to kiss me but I managed to get away before it got too far.”

I can see the confusion on Megan's face—and the insecure voice in my brain says it's because she also can't believe Blake would go for someone like me. But then Kira speaks up. “Seriously? That's awful, Penny!”

“Is that why you and Noah broke up?” Megan asks.

“Sort of . . .” I say.

“I can't believe he broke up with
you
and didn't dump that greasy hanger-on of a friend,” says Megan. She's obviously decided to turn on Mega-Bitch mode towards Blake, and I couldn't be more grateful. “Noah better apologize today. You're way too good for him.”

“That's so true,” says Amara. “No guy is worth you if he won't stand up for you!”

I can't help the blush spreading across my cheeks. I've
never been more happy to have such great girlfriends by my side.

A voice comes over the train PA system, letting us know that we are minutes from London Victoria.

“I'm
so
excited to get there!” says Kira. “This festival is supposed to be awesome. What time are we heading back later?”

“I don't know,” says Amara, “but The Halo Pixies aren't on until five.”

“I probably won't stay for the whole day, guys. I'm just going to find Noah and then come back home,” I say, watching the world speed by outside of the train window. I know that the conversation with Noah is going to be enough to send me into an exhaustion coma. “I don't think I can stand to be at the festival for very long. Crowds aren't really my thing, remember? Shall we meet to say goodbye at three, after I've spoken with Noah?” I look down at my phone. That definitely gives me enough time to get out of there before he takes to the stage.

“Sure thing!” Kira says, smiling widely. “Maybe we can go get waffles? I had the best food last time I was there.”

“I heard they have a pop-up blow-dry bar!” says Megan. “Maybe we can get our hair done before we see the boys?”

I tug at my hair, which hasn't seen much styling since I left Paris. It certainly doesn't have the beautiful sheen that Leah Brown's stylists managed to get into it. But I'm not going to waste any time faffing around—I just want to see Noah, get out, and go.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Suddenly the swarm of butterflies in my stomach that has been lying dormant the whole train journey wakes up in a complete frenzy. The train pulls into Victoria Station and I prepare to be face-to-face with Noah once again.

Chapter Fifty-Three