Chapter Seventeen Noah
"Shit happens, nobody died," he growls.
"The point is, Trent, that the entire point of the campaign is that it relies on a controlled environment.
Live-streaming a real fire response seems like a good idea in theory, but what if something awful happened and you accidentally filmed someone's death to an audience of people who didn't ask to see something like that?
Not to mention these are real people impacted by the emergency—they deserve privacy. And you broadcasted a minor without his parents' consent.
Which means another aspect of that is..."
Blah, blah, blah. I'm a stupid idiot. I'm reckless even when I try to be helpful. I'm a disaster even when I save lives. I'm a walking liability and it's a miracle that the captain still keeps me around.
It can't all be bad, though.
I haven't had a chance to check how many people actually tuned in, but at least a few of my followers witnessed me saving a little boy twice and rescuing a puppy.
Regarding the latter, they definitely won't have evidence to suggest I planted that baby animal in harm's way just for views, like some people have with the poor kitten that started this whole thing.
When I get back to Station 47, I'm officially off-duty. Hargrove has to go do his usual post-response paperwork, so I sneak away to shower off the smoke and sweat.
Then, steeling myself, I head up to the mezzanine floor.
Somehow, I knew Lila would be waiting for me. The door to her room is already open and she's on her feet, hands planted on her hips, glare focused on her laptop resting on the desk.
Her head snaps up when I tap on the doorframe.
"You!" She stalks forward, grabs a fistful of my shirt, and hauls me into the room with so much unprecedented strength that all I can do is give in to it.
I stumble inside, frowning down at the wrinkled fabric left behind by her fist, and wait while she steps around me to close the door.
Because whatever she's about to say to me requires privacy, it seems.
I turn to face her, backing away slightly as she clenches her hands into fists at her sides.
There's something especially charming about her when she's pissed off.
And yet, at the same time, I'm a little bit scared.
"You!" she snarls again. "What the hell were you thinking, Noah? Live-streaming without even checking with me first? I'm the public relations expert here, okay? I'm the one calling the shots for this campaign! Not you!"
"I just thought—"
"You didn't think at all! Do you know how many people tuned in to that stream once word spread about what you were actually putting on display?"
"Um, like, a lot—"
"A lot of fucking people, Noah! Eighty-two thousand people!"
I have to clutch the headboard of the twin-size bed frame to steady myself at that.
"What? How is that possible?"
"You have a lot of followers, genius, and word spreads fast in the digital age." Lila lets out a loud huff, glaring up at the ceiling.
"Do you have any idea how bad this could have been?
I mean, never mind the fact that tens of thousands of people just watched you lose track of a kid who ran right back into a burning building.
.. a kid, Noah. A minor. And you broadcasted him—and his family's entire nightmare—without their consent.
These are real people whose home was burning down, not content for views. "
Technically, I didn't let him—he slipped away in the chaos. But I'm capable of taking accountability here.
I should have been paying attention for longer than just a couple of seconds once I delivered the boy into his dad's arms. The guy's home was on fire, his family in danger; he's not trained for this shit like I am. I should've had it handled.
And yet, if the boy hadn't run back inside, that puppy would probably not have made it...
"Not to mention that you showed these people's address and apartment number!" Lila is still lecturing. "That's a major breach of privacy!"
I step forward, placing my hands on Lila's shoulders and staring down at her in hopes that direct eye contact might convince her of how earnest I'm being.
"Listen, Lila. You're right. I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to help." I close my eyes and let out a long breath. I'm physically exhausted from the fire, but the adrenaline has me mentally wired. "How bad is it?"
"Look," she simply says, gesturing toward her laptop.
I let go of her and glance down at the screen, where a breaking news bulletin has taken over the home page of a local news station's website.
Blaze in Chinatown now spread to two residential buildings—updates forthcoming.
Underneath that, I'm mentioned by name.
Station 47's Ltn. Trent livestreams emergency response, revealing careless endangerment of young child.
"What? Careless endangerment? They can't be serious."
"And look at this," Lila says, holding up her phone. It's open to TikTok, where, after barely one hour, clips from the stream have already been compiled into a choppily edited report that shows, for the most part, a screaming child and my failed attempts to wrangle him.
"Fuck!" I turn away, raking my fingers through my hair. I sit down on the edge of the mattress and lean forward to brace my elbows on my knees. "I'm sorry, Lila. I'm so fucking sorry."
There's a long silence, which she then breaks with a quiet sigh.
When the mattress sinks beside me, I look up.
"It's fine," she tells me, her voice suddenly soft and sweet. "I'm just being mean because that was really fucking stressful to watch you and Hale do all that stuff."
"You watched?"
"Obviously. I have your notifications turned on. I know the second you post or go live."
I snort. "So you can be prepared to do damage control at a moment's notice?"
Lila frowns. "Listen, I know you were only trying to help.
It's not all bad, anyway. People are already defending you in a bunch of different comment threads.
A lot of folks who actually watched live are fact-checking and explaining how it really happened, that you only lost focus for, like, half a second and kids are insanely unpredictable anyway and it's probably more the father's fault than anyone else's. .."
"You really don't have to be nice to me right now."
"I want to be nice to you, though. Because you really are a hero, Noah."
I scoff. "I'm a dumbass."
"You're not dumb," she rebukes, her voice growing harsh again. "Don't say that about yourself."
"It's true."
She grabs my forearm and squeezes. "It's not. You just have a tendency to think more with your heart than your head."
"I think with everything but my head, it seems. My heart, my dick..."
Lila laughs. "Yeah, well, me and you both, Dimples."
"Oh, you think with your dick, too?"
"Yeah, and it's absolutely massive, so it's a real problem."
Despite myself, I chuckle. "You're funny. I like you."
"You said that earlier, too."
I lean back on my hands, enjoying the way her gaze flickers down to my flexed biceps. "Yeah, about earlier..."
Lila cringes. "That whole thing about open communication? Does that mean I should tell you that me and Hale—"
"Fucked in his office after we left? Yeah, I assumed." I shrug to indicate that it doesn't really bother me.
Because it doesn't. I've always had an open mind about stuff like this. I just always assumed I'd never actually have the opportunity to explore it as a possibility.
"We didn't..." Lila shakes her head, momentarily scandalized by my bluntness. "We didn't fuck, Noah. We just did other stuff."
"Oh, yeah? Hand stuff? Mouth stuff?"
"Are you twelve years old?"
I grin. I can tell that she's indulging this change in topic for my sake, but I'm too appreciative to question it out loud. "Well, which is it?"
She purses her lips. "Ugh, in the interest of this new transparency clause between us all, he went down on me."
I nod thoughtfully. "Was he good at it?"
"Noah!"
"Not in a jealous way! Just, like, because I hope you had a nice time or whatever."
A blush colors her cheeks. I'm chuckling again at the sight of it, then laugh heartily when she claps her hands over the pinkness and turns away.
"It was nice, yes," she confirms.
I lean back further, propped up on my elbows. "So... when is it my turn?"
Lila shifts on the bed so she can face me better. "I don't know if the captain likes you like that, honey."
Snickering, I knock my knee playfully against her thigh. "You know what I mean, you little freak."
Her blush deepens again, and all she can manage is a halfhearted shrug.
Despite how tired I am, I have half a mind to roll over and tackle her. Burying my head between her thighs and making her moan for a while definitely sounds like a better way to pass the time than heading home for the night.
But then she surprises me by flipping the imaginary script. In one graceful motion, she rises onto her knees, shoves my shoulders flat against the mattress, and swings a leg over to straddle me.
I was already half-hard the moment she called me Dimples, but now that she's pressing her hips into mine and smiling down at me with faux innocence, I have to take a deep breath to avoid busting right then and there.
Which isn't my fault. It's just that it's been a while.
Also, she's insanely hot.
"What if I want something else?" she murmurs.
I settle my hands on her hips, choking on a groan when she grinds against my dick. There's nothing but my sweatpants and her underwear separating our bodies, thanks to my decision to go commando after my shower and her choice to wear that frilly skirt thing today.
"I'll give you whatever you want right now," I tell her.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're a bit of a simp?"
"Many times." I moan when she slowly glides the warmth between her thighs against the length of my erection. "Proud of it, too."
Lila giggles. The sound goes right to my cock.