Girl Online: On Tour (27 page)

I let out a loud gasp, and Noah’s head spins round. But I can’t do this now. My Ocean Strong courage has evaporated. I turn and start to walk down the hallway.

“PENNY! How long have you been there?” Noah runs after me.

“Long enough to hear what you’re talking about!” I try to wipe away a few tears before he can see them, but it’s too late. My whole face feels as though it’s on fire and my tear ducts are doing their best to try to put it out.

“Penny, please, can we talk? Just stop for one moment.” Noah tries to grab my arm but I carry on charging down the corridor, back to the stairwell. I will not have another confrontation for everyone else to hear. I race up the stairs to my room, with Noah following me. When I’m finally inside, I try desperately to clear the anger that is clouding my ability to think or speak straight.

Noah stands in front of me.

“Penny, Dean is just being a manager. You know how these things are in the music industry. They’re all crazy lunatics who think they know what’s best . . .” He runs his hands through his hair, and starts pacing the room. He’s nervous, but for once I can’t be the one to calm him down—because
I
am the one who needs comforting right now.

“You think it’s Dean that I’m mad about?” I say. I catch sight of my furious face in the mirror, and suddenly my glamorous get-up feels like a sham. I’ve been crying so much my false eyelashes have loosened on my lids, so I rip them off and throw them in the bin. I miss, of course. They cling to the carpet like squashed spiders. I throw on my Rolling Stones hoodie and scoop my hair up into a massive bun that Elliot and I like to call “The Pineapple.”

“I promise he didn’t mean anything by it.” Noah looks at me pleadingly.

For the first time in a very long time, I’m looking at him and I don’t want to jump on him and kiss him to death.

“Noah, I get it. It’s not cool to have a girlfriend in this industry, especially when you’re starting out and you’re the screensaver on most girls’ laptops and the wallpaper on most girls’ phones, but do you not get how this is hard for me too? Do you not think I’ve noticed how frosty the Sony execs acted around me? And you didn’t even defend me to Dean. I’m an embarrassment to you.” At this point, I feel myself start to tremble. My hands are shaking. I think this is the most real conversation Noah and I have ever had. He stares back at me blankly, just like when I shouted at him in the hotel lobby in Rome, but I’m not shouting this time.

My mind rages that I’ve allowed Noah to derail me from the real source of my anger: Blake. I shudder even more. What story was he telling Noah and Dean?

“Penny, you’re shaking! Are you having a panic attack?”

Noah’s words bring home what is happening to me. I
am
having a panic attack.

My breathing is speeding up, like I can’t seem to get enough air in my lungs. My heart feels like it is beating visibly through my chest, and I feel hot—so hot it’s suffocating. My palms are slick with sweat and my feet burn with pins and needles.

Noah tries to speak to me—I can see his mouth moving—but I can’t focus on him at all. Instead, all I can think about is breathing in cold, fresh air. I dart up from the bed and run to the window. It’s old and the handles are refusing to budge, even though I feel like I’m pushing with all my might.

I give it one last heave with my shoulder, when all of a sudden I realize I’m going to throw up. I turn to run to the bathroom, but it’s very clear I’m not going to make it. The bin next to the wardrobe is the next best thing.

I don’t really feel or register anything until Noah wraps his arms round my shoulders and brings me back onto the bed. There’s now a fresh breeze swirling into the room and I feel myself begin to relax. Noah must have opened the window while I was facedown in the bin. Usually I’d be mortified, but right now I don’t care.

Noah brings me a damp facecloth, which he pats around my forehead and the back of my neck. My body is still shaking, and my insides feel jumbled from all the throwing up, but my pulse finally slows, along with my breathing. Noah sits with me, just holding me until I feel stronger again.

“Do you need anything?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Maybe just some water?”

He nods and fills up a small tumbler with water from the bathroom tap. I take a few sips and try to regain my composure, but I know the panicked feeling isn’t truly going to go away until I tell Noah everything.

“Noah, it
wasn’t
just about Dean . . .” I say, continuing to sip the water as Noah sits next to me, rubbing my back. I take a deep breath. “Blake tried to kiss me. He was really drunk and I was making sure he could get to his room but then he leaned in for a kiss. I managed to run away, but it was horrible, Noah.” I look at him for any sign of shock or anger, but there is nothing.

Instead, Noah pulls away from me a bit, taking his hands off my back and putting them both in his lap.

“Blake said you might say that.”

I almost choke on my next breath. “What?” I barely manage to say.

“He told me what happened. That you showed up at his door saying I didn’t want you anymore and then tried to kiss him. He said he wanted to let you down gently but you ran away.”

“No . . . what? That’s completely wrong!”

“Jesus, Penny—I know things have been tough, but Blake’s my friend. You didn’t think he would come to me straightaway? Is this some kind of plea for help? Dean said something like this might happen . . . but I always defended you to him. I said you would never do something like this. I guess I was wrong.”

I’m astonished. I’m too stunned for words. The boldness of Blake’s lie has hit me like a runaway train and I don’t know how to convince Noah how wrong he is. “Noah, are you being serious? I would never do that. It was Blake—he was the one who came on to me.”

Noah then does something he’s never done before: he shouts at me. “Penny, give it up! Blake’s told me what
happened, and he has my back no matter what. Why can’t you just be honest and say you did it to get my attention? I know I haven’t been there for you, but I expect us to at least be able to be honest with each other. I could forgive you if you said this was a mistake but I will never be able to forgive you if you keep making up lies, especially about my best friend. How old are you?”

I stare back at him in disgust and anguish. Right now I don’t feel like I’m looking at Noah, the amazingly talented musician with the most gorgeous smile, the most romantic gestures, and the most beautiful mind. I feel like I’m looking at a normal, arrogant, eighteen-year-old boy.

It leaves me speechless. Why am I wasting my breath on this? I know what happened, but my boyfriend—the one person who is supposed to look out for me and trust me—refuses to believe me.

“Just get out, Noah. If you think that little of me, I really can’t be bothered with this. It’s a waste of time. I told you what happened. If you don’t believe me . . . I don’t know what to do.”

Noah stands up abruptly. “Dean warned me that being on the road changes people. I just didn’t realize he meant you.” He glares at me, his mouth twitching in anger.

I almost want to laugh out loud at how ridiculous this all sounds coming from him.

“No, Noah, that’s nowhere near right. In fact, it’s very, very wrong.” I take a deep breath. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with someone who thinks these things of me, who’s constantly juggling me in their life, and who won’t believe me about something as serious as this. I thought I knew you, but
obviously that’s not the case. I just don’t know how this can ever work.”

I can’t quite believe those words have just left my mouth. I’m not sure Noah can either. He turns and walks out of my hotel room, slamming the door as he leaves.

Chapter Forty-One

Immediately after Noah leaves, I pick up my phone and call Elliot. I don’t even care about the European phone charges. After a few rings, he answers.

“Hello?” Instantly I can tell that something is wrong. He sounds quiet and far away—but then I realize it’s almost 2 a.m. and I’ve probably woken him up.

“I’m sorry to call so late,” I say. I try to make my voice sound as normal as possible, even though I feel like all I’ve done for the past hour is cry and argue.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I was awake.” He still sounds cold and distant.

“You were?”

“What’s up?”

“The sky?” I say, making a meagre attempt at a joke. It’s the sort of thing Elliot would usually at least chuckle at, but he doesn’t make a sound. I guess neither of us is in the mood for joking around.

“Elliot, I think that Noah and I may have just broken up.” I sit and twiddle with my hair as I’m met with an eerie silence.
The only thing letting me know the call is still connected is the fact that I can hear Elliot’s nineties power ballad playlist on in the background. It’s currently Bon Jovi’s “Always,” which makes me feel rubbish. I can’t keep the tears silent now, and I start sobbing down the phone.

Elliot takes a deep breath down the line. “No way.”

I make a small sound of affirmation and then the ball seems to drop with him. “But . . . but why? What on earth happened? What did he do now?” Elliot immediately falls into defensive best-friend mode. Now
this
is the Elliot I need.

“His sleazeball of a best friend tried to kiss me, and when I went to tell Noah, I overheard a conversation that he and Dean were having about how Noah shouldn’t have a girlfriend. Blake then lied and said
I  ’d
made the move on
him
. But guess who Noah believed! He said I’d made it up for attention, and that Blake would never do that. I’m in shock. I feel so alone.”

I catch sight of myself in the mirror opposite me, the very mirror in which, earlier on in the evening, I had looked at myself and thought,
Wow, Penny, you are hot stuff
. Now, all I can think is,
Wow, Penny, what a hot mess you are.
There’s black mascara and eyeliner running down my cheeks, my beautiful black lace-and-satin dress is hanging out from underneath my ragged old hoodie and my Pineapple is no longer looking very fresh.

“I can’t believe that Noah didn’t believe you . . . Are you OK? Do you need me to send someone to beat that Blake guy up?”

I giggle through my sniffles. “Maybe you and Alex together could take him?”

“Well, this is weird timing,” Elliot says. There’s a long pause on the phone. “I was going to wait till you got home to tell you, but . . . Alex and I have broken up too.”

Now I understand why he is listening to that playlist. “Oh no, Elliot . . . what happened? I’m so sorry.” I am genuinely in shock. I honestly didn’t think I’d hear those words come from Elliot’s mouth. The distance between us seems so wide in this moment. I want to reach through the phone and give him a hug that will last forever. Then it clicks. “Oh my god, was it because of the photo?”

“That set the wheels in motion, but there’s more to it than that. I need to tell you in person. It’s too much for over the phone. I wish we were together right now.” Elliot sighs, as Whitney Houston belts out from his laptop in the background.

“Me too. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you on the other side of the wall so badly. I could just knock and you’d come straight over.”

We continue to tell one another how much we miss each other and play out the things we’d be doing if we were together right now. Elliot even says he’d go as far as bringing me a box of twenty chicken nuggets from McDonald’s, and I know he understands how serious this is. He hates McDonald’s—except in dire emergencies.

I sigh as I stare out of the window. The Eiffel Tower, which only hours ago seemed so romantic and beautiful, is now just a stark reminder of how far away I am. I want to be at home right now, listening to Tom’s dubstep music pounding through the floor, Mum singing all the wrong words to pop songs on the radio, and Dad telling bad jokes about everything.

“Oh, Elliot, what am I going to do?” I say, feeling completely lost.

But, to my surprise, Elliot gasps in excitement and I’m almost sure I hear him clap his hands together. I can hear him typing away furiously on a keyboard. “Penny, I have an idea. It’s a bit crazy, but you have to trust me. Be at the Gare du Nord station tomorrow morning at nine thirty with all your stuff. I’m going to get you home.”