27. Awa
Chapter twenty-seven
Awa
Something's different with Noah today.
This morning, when I dumped the latte he bought me into the nearest trashcan as usual, he just winked, pulled another steaming cup from behind his back, and then walked off to talk to Rory.
I was so stunned, I just watched him leave.
I also drank the second latte; one wasted coffee per day is my limit.
Even though he'd been in back-to-back calls this morning, pacing next to the wardrobe trailer while speaking to the Barclays Center's marketing team from the sound of it, then a studio hoping to option one of his client's pilots, he kept staring at me.
Staring. Not sneaking glances. It's like he wanted me to see that he was checking me out.
The second time I looked up and found his eyes on me, his gaze hungry, I decided I needed to talk to Tabitha right that moment and practically ran off. I could swear I heard him chuckle behind me.
And why am I watching him, anyway? I made up my mind weeks ago that Noah was in the "look, but don't touch" box and I'd save all my touching for late nights by myself remembering the wicked curl of his lips or the sure stride of his steps whenever he went to tell someone off.
Yes, he is a sight to behold, but on set, he's strictly off-limits.
He's already burned me once; I prefer to leave the drama to the actors.
"Did you bring something here, or are you heading home to change?"
I gasp. I hadn't heard him approach.
"Sorry!" he says, looking chagrined. "I would've tapped you on the shoulder, but I thought that would startle you. Guess I picked wrong, huh?"
I use every ounce of willpower not to respond to the innocent smile he's giving me. I know it's an act.
"It's fine," I answer. I keep my voice cold and pull my steadfast composure even tighter around myself. "And to answer your question, I brought something. My place is on the Upper East Side, and there's no way I'd make tonight's event if I had to go home first."
His smile gets impossibly wider. Apparently that was the right answer, though I must've missed the question.
"Great! I did too. That means we can share a cab."
"W-wait a second!" I shout, hastily rising from my chair to chase after him before he can disappear into the sea of cast and crew. "What are you talking about? Why would we share a cab?"
"Because," he starts, his tone patient, "tonight is the first big publicity event for 'Forced Proximity'. Our clients have to be there. We have to be there. Why take two cars when we can share?"
He starts walking again, and I reach out to grab his forearm. There's no way I'm ruining these heels trying to keep up with his six-foot-plus frame.
"Noah, stop." When he finally comes to a stop and I don't think he'll take off again, I explain the problem slowly, as if talking to an imbecile.
"We can't go together, Noah. We don't even like each other."
"No," he corrects. "You don't like me. I like you just fine. I seem to remember bringing you coffee this morning."
When he has the nerve to grin again, I barely contain my scream.
"Yeah, but those are to annoy me," I seethe. "We don't get along, and tonight is just the first of many press events. We might be stuck together all day, but that doesn't mean we need to be stuck together all night too."
"Like that would be a hardship," he says with a smirk. "You and I both know I wouldn't kick you out of bed for eating crackers."
"Eating what?" Between the blatant innuendo and the nonsensical phrase he just said, I'm feeling out of my depth.
"It's an expression. It means I'd be happy to have you in my bed," he clarifies smoothly. His smirk is just as devastating as it was in college, despite the fact that I have way more sense and experience than I had at twenty-one.
I tuck my twists behind my ears to avoid his stare.
"What is going on with you today? First, there's a second coffee—"
"Which I noticed you drank," he interrupts smugly. My cheeks heat, but I continue.
"Then you start with the sexy looks. And now you want to share a cab and you're propositioning me?" I plant my hands on my hips. "Have you been body-snatched? Was your smoothie this morning really Soylent Green?"
Noah chuckles.
"Solid reference. I didn't think that was your kind of movie."
"Surprise, surprise," I huff. "A lot can happen in a couple of decades. Now, would you please answer the question?"
I can see him considering whether to needle me further or reply truthfully. Luckily for me and my sanity, he chooses honesty. His playful expression vanishes.
"Awa," he sighs. "What happened between us before…
" He weighs his words before continuing.
"There's nothing either of us can do about the past. I've apologized—even though you said you don't need it," he rushes to add when he feels me about to argue.
"But I'm different now. We're different now.
And I'd be lying if I said I don't like how you've changed.
"You're beautiful, you're impressive, and your client clearly loves you." He swallows, his voice suddenly thick. "Is there any way we can leave the past in the past and start fresh?" His eyes are imploring, pleading with me to say yes.
"C'mon, Awa," he presses when he senses my resolve weakening. "For tonight at least, why can't we just be two sexy-as-hell people enjoying an open bar while our clients brag about themselves? Doesn't that sound like more fun than growling at each other for another few months?"
Begging. Noah Park used to be the big man on campus. Then he became agent to some amazing talent. Not more amazing than my client roster, but still. And now he's literally begging for another chance, for me to drop my guard and see what kind of man he's become.
I take a deep breath, and with it, a leap of faith.
Noah hands me another champagne, and I crack a smile.
"I saw that," he teases.
I don't bother hiding it. I'm having a good time. Possibly better than I've had at a publicity event in…years? God, I hope my life isn't that depressing.
Over the years, I've gotten better at these networking things, though they've never been my strong suit. I do better when the social situation has a purpose, like a contract to sign or terms to negotiate. I always feel so awkward when we're just supposed to…chat.
Noah doesn't have that problem. From the red carpet through the hors d'oeuvres, he's been smiling, patting people on the back, making everyone he speaks with feel seen, heard, and valued.
It doesn't feel like bullshit the way it so often does with industry types, and I'm as drawn in as everyone else.
He rests his warm palm on the small of my back, goosebumps spreading from the contact. He's been touching me all night, keeping me primed and ready, chipping away at the restraint that usually holds my lust in check.
It started when I opened the door to the production office to find Noah standing there in a navy tux. His face split into a wolfish grin at the sight of all the skin my gown left exposed, and my pussy squeezed involuntarily.
I took his arm to descend the steps, then I took it again when he helped me out of my town car—I was not taking a filthy cab in this dress.
He valiantly blocked me from the view of any sleazy photographers trying to get an upskirt shot and caught my dress's wayward strap when it slipped down my shoulder.
Later, he held me by the hips to move me out of the way of a waiter's tray, then skimmed my shoulder with his fingertips as he whispered something about a director we both hate. Two hours in, and I'm a tingling, pulsating mess.
What the fuck am I supposed to do after this? Go home? Wear down the batteries of my wand while eating another TV dinner? You never get enough to eat at these things, I grumble to myself.
I look up at Noah for the hundredth time tonight, and my breath catches. He's obviously got plans for us.
"You wanna get out of here?" he murmurs. His face is close enough for his lips to graze my earlobe, and I nearly whimper.
Across the room, Tabitha's maneuvering like a pro; she's done a million of these. Yong-rae is nearby, gabbing with members of the supporting cast and doing a terrible job of keeping his crush on Tabitha under wraps.
I turn back to Noah's smoldering gaze and decide, just this once, to throw caution to the wind. I work hard. I deserve a little fun for once in my impressive but extremely lonely life. And I'm so fucking horny I can't think straight.
"Yes, please."