Chapter 18
NOAH
As it turned out, Ace and Xavier had gone to the Olympus head office to cut together all the footage from the dozens of cameras we’d used to film the mission, so it was just the six of us for burgers.
Well…six of us plus four producers, three cameramen, a sound technician, and two hair and makeup artists.
Why they were still hanging around when the challenge was done was a mystery to me, and I was too wrung out mentally, physically, and emotionally to ask.
They were all sitting around our huge dining table to eat their burgers, though, so I shrugged it off and focused on my food.
I’d become a whole lot less awkward around the staff over the past month, but I was a long way from being able to pretend they weren’t there. Even so, it was a lot easier to ignore the staff than it was to ignore the way Minho kept trying to catch my gaze from across the table.
“You smell like Ice Blue,” Torin commented beside me, eating soy and garlic glazed fried chicken pieces. I stole one, because they smelled delicious, and he allowed it. When Z reached over to grab one, though, his hand got smacked.
“Ow, come on, you let Noah have some!” Z complained with a pout, rubbing his knuckles.
Torin shrugged. “I like Noah.”
Z scowled. “I thought you liked me, too. Rude.”
“You like me, though,” August said smugly, reaching for a piece of chicken, only to get his hand smacked away as well. “What? Tor! Don’t be greedy. You won’t eat all that.”
Torin shrugged, pulling his container of chicken closer to his chest. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. What’s on the agenda for this evening?” He directed that question down the table to the staff.
One of the producers, a thirty-something guy named Fred, started explaining the footage they wanted to capture for the next Mount Olympus episode, which explained why they had so many staff still around.
I zoned out a little bit, the adrenaline crash still fogging my head and the ache in my body crowding what little brain space I had left. Torin’s chicken was delicious, though, and I smiled when he pushed the container closer to me in a clear invitation to help myself to more.
“Traitor,” August grumbled, and I reached behind Torin to hand him a piece. “Yay! Okay, I see why we all like Noah. Mmm, that’s good.”
“Noah can’t participate in any of that,” Skye said, replying to whatever the producers just explained. “He’s under medical advice to rest for a couple of days.”
Fred the producer frowned. “But he can still be in frame, can he not? I think it’s important to ensure Noah is given maximum screen time since he’s the newest member.”
“Well, I think it’s important that he follows doctor’s orders and rest his back after a near-fatal accident only a few hours ago,” Skye snapped back. “So, no. He will not still be in frame, he will be resting.”
“Seconded,” Minho added, flicking me another intense stare, which I dodged by closely inspecting my next bite of burger, just in case it had suddenly morphed into a face-eating spider.
Fred blew out a frustrated breath. “Z, come on, man, back me up here?” Because apparently if Ace and Xavier were both gone, Z was next in charge.
Silly Fred was barking up the wrong tree there because Z just shrugged and shook his head. “Nah, I’m with the team. Noah’s sitting this one out. Actually, come to think of it, I’ve got shit to do this evening as well.”
“No, no, no, no,” Fred argued, looking stressed. “If we can’t film the bubble soccer content with all six of you then I need something else or Leight will have my ass for breakfast.”
“Kinky,” Torin snickered. “Maybe don’t share your personal details so freely, Freddie.”
I grinned at that. “As entertaining as bubble soccer sounds, I’m agreeing with Skye and Minnie on this.
I need a day.” I was struggling to even sit there in the hard dining chair, so the idea of being bounced around in an inflatable ball seemed very painful.
“Can we just rain check on it for another day? You wouldn’t release the episode for weeks yet, right? ”
Fred and one of the other producers, Sally, exchanged a long look, and Sally shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” she said with a quick smile my way. “We’d be in bigger shit if Noah ended up injured worse than he already is.”
Fred gave an exasperated groan, running his hand over his balding head. “Fine, but I want a CB-Live from at least three of you instead. Two hours minimum with fan interaction.”
My jaw dropped. Two hours? That was a big ask.
“One hour,” Skye countered, “but we will find an organic way for Minnie to take his shirt off again.”
“Why me?” Minho protested weakly, scowling at Skye. “Why not Z?”
“Because Z wasn’t caught running through the rain shirtless like a fucking romance hero this morning, dickhead,” Skye replied with a smirk. “And the fans don’t give a fuck about seeing my abs.”
“Bullshit,” August accused, “but if it makes you feel better, we’ll do the CB-Live with you, too. Noah can chill and Z can go do what he needs to do.”
“Deal,” Fred agreed, before Minho could protest any further. “Finish eating, then get hair and makeup sorted. I’ll let Mr. Leight know about our change of plans. Sally, can you stay to monitor the Live?”
She nodded, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “Yes, sure can.”
Rather than get somehow sucked back into joining them on their hour-long Live, I quickly finished my burger, stole another piece of Torin’s chicken, then quickly took my trash to the kitchen to toss.
Right when I thought I was in the clear, headed for the stairs, Minho called out my name.
I winced, bracing myself for humiliation as I paused to wait for him. “What’s up?” I asked with forced levity in my voice, still refusing to meet his eyes because fucking hell we’d kissed. Not a casual friend kiss, either, but a full-on kind of kiss with tongue.
“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked, cutting straight to the chase as we made our way up the stairs together. “Is it because—”
“Shh!” I hissed, panic flooding through me at the idea someone might overhear us. “I’m not avoiding you.”
“Uh-huh, sure. That’s why you’ve been dodging eye contact since literally the moment we ki—”
“Shh!” I cut him off again, this time spinning to face him and clapping a hand over his mouth, locking eyes with him in the process. “Look, see? Eye contact. We’re fine. Nothing happened. People do weird shit when they’re drowning in adrenaline, right?”
Minho’s brow dipped in a frown as I withdrew my hand.
“Oh. I see. Nothing happened.” He seemed…
puzzled. Did he think I was going to make a big thing out of it?
Probably. Holy crap, had he noticed me checking him out these past weeks?
He probably knew I had a massive crush and was planning on letting me down easy for the sake of the team, which was mortifying.
Swallowing hard, I started to turn away, but he grabbed my arm to pull me back. My breathing hitched and my pulse raced as his grip on my wrist shifted down to interlace our fingers.
“But something did happen, Chicken…” he said softly, causing my insides to erupt in fluttery ripples of desire and excitement and anxiety. “If you’re worried that—”
“Everything okay here?” someone asked, interrupting whatever Minho was saying and making me jump so hard I jerked my hand from Minnie’s grip and bumped my shoulder into the wall.
It was Sally, the producer, and she was eyeing the two of us with an uncomfy amount of suspicion.
“Minho, you’re needed for hair and makeup. ”
The glare he shot Sally’s way was enough to freeze the fucking sun, and I gaped in awe. I’d never seen him anything more than slightly irritated before, but angry was kinda hot on him. Of course, what wasn’t?
“I need to speak with Noah,” he snapped, reaching for my hand again.
Reluctantly, I evaded his motion and shook my head. “No, I think we’re good. He’s all yours, Sally.” Then before he could disagree, I quickly hurried down the hall to my room and slipped inside.
For a moment, I leaned my shoulders against the door and silently willed my heart to stop fucking racing.
But shit, for a moment there I’d thought he was going to tell me he wanted nothing to happen again…
which was a whole big can of writhing worms that I didn’t need to inflict on him or the team.
I was essentially catfishing them all, which I could justify when it came to simply being on their team, especially since their owners had blackmailed me into it.
But a romantic, sexual entanglement while pretending to be someone else? That was a line I couldn’t cross.
Did I just…come clean? Tell him that I was really a girl, did not have a back injury—minus the pain of my crash landing—and did have a massive crush on him?
Nope. There was no way he would treat me the same if I told him.
Then fans would get suspicious, and someone would inevitably connect the dots.
It’d be mayhem. The hate and death threats I used to get as Norah Sparkle would be nothing compared to what I’d get if it came out that Noah Fearly was a girl.
Skye was different. Skye had known since almost day one, and he didn’t want to fuck me.
If Minho knew I was a girl…would he want me? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know that answer.
A soft knock on the door saw me nearly swallow my tongue, but to my surprise it was Z standing there, not Minnie.
“Just figured you could use these,” he said with a lopsided smile, holding out a little pile of frosty ice packs. “You were moving pretty stiffly downstairs.”
“Thanks,” I replied, taking them gratefully. “I think I’m just really bruised from the fall.”
“Understandable,” he murmured, sweeping his fingers through his burgundy hair.
The motion drew my attention to a tattoo on his forearm that I’d been meaning to ask about for weeks.
There was something incredibly familiar about the design, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. “Did you know about the safety net?”
I blinked, trying to refocus on what he was saying while my mind was puzzling over his tattoo. “No.” I shook my head with a small shrug. “Nope, that was Ace and Xavier’s little secret, I guess.”
Z nodded thoughtfully. “So you really thought you were going to die today, huh? That’s got to leave a mark more serious than just a few bruises. If you ever need to talk to someone…”
I wrinkled my nose, grinning. “Are you offering, Z?”
“Maybe. I’d make a good therapist but couldn’t promise not to turn your pain into lyrics after the fact.
Anyway, I’m heading out. If you get bored, log into the boys' CB-Live and give them crap.” He reached out and ruffled my hair affectionately—brotherly—and something withered inside my chest. He had a girlfriend, and I knew this.
So why the fuck did I keep imagining chemistry between us?
Forcing a smile, I gestured to the ice packs. “Thanks for these.”
“Anytime, bro,” Z shot back, and I closed the door before he could see my smile fall.
Something about Z… It was so silly; he was never anything other than friendly with me, but I was constantly getting flustered around him.
My body couldn’t seem to comprehend that we were just bros.
Stupid hormones were delusional and really starting to fuck with my friendships.
I needed to get a grip. But first, I was going to watch the boys do their live from the comfort of my own bed.