8. Noah
NOAH
When Nathan showed up at the crack of dawn in his Bentley, I struggled to believe he was doing me a favor by driving me to the airport.
Don’t get me wrong, we were family, but it was never something for nothing with my cousin.
When we were fourteen, he once covered for me when I was out past curfew, and in return, he made me do all his chores for the entire summer.
But whenever I needed him, he’d been there. When Daphne started college, and I was ready to leave St. Louis, Nathan offered me his spare bedroom until I got a place of my own.
Also, who the fuck drove a Bentley here?
True to what I told Macey, I set my alarm for thirty minutes earlier than originally intended so I could pack my bags. And by pack, I meant throwing a variety of clean clothes and bathing suits into a duffel bag and suitcase.
Hopefully, by the time I saw her, she’d have forgotten the embarrassing way I acted during our last encounter. She complimented me, and I froze. She wrapped my ankle, and I froze harder. She ordered an Uber and took care of me, and I was damn near ready to cry.
I didn’t even know the last time I cried.
I had my sister, Nathan, and a large circle of acquaintances. People who I bumped into at events around town, people who I ran 10ks with on occasion, and people who were dying for the opportunity to tag me in an Instagram photo.
For a while, I had Kyle, the only other Chicago influencer I actually liked. We stuck together during press events and chatted a fair amount via DMs. He was easy to get along with, probably because we had a lot in common. We hadn’t talked in a while, though.
My circle hadn’t always been surface level.
Back in college, I participated in clubs.
I ran track for a bit. Debate team too, though I tried to keep that one a secret.
Point was, I knew how to cultivate friendships.
But after Mom passed, I gave up on them.
I didn’t have the time, energy, or desire for relationships.
Nathan glanced at me from behind the steering wheel. “You’re deep in thought.”
“It’s been known to happen,” I said lightly.
“Not frequently.”
“Fuck you, too.”
The corner of Nathan’s mouth tilted up. He was only a year older than me but enjoyed taking on the older and wiser than thou appearance. His black hair curtained green eyes and dark brows. The wind from the window blew at his collared shirt, revealing the top of a tattoo on his chest.
At a quick glance, he was the same cousin I had grown up with: playing soccer in the backyard on sunny days, burning marshmallows by the fire in the winter, collecting bugs in jars to terrify Daphne.
It wasn’t until I took a second look at him that I could recognize the ways he’d changed: less patience, more intimidation.
Like he walked on a fine edge and could tip over at any point.
We were similar in the ways that mattered, but at times it was blatantly obvious we had taken different paths in life.
I didn’t even understand what he did for a living.
One hundred percent chance it was something with cybersecurity.
Fifty percent chance it was illegal. All I knew was he spent a few years down on his luck, like me and Daphne, but recently, it made him a lot of money.
Nathan shifted his hands on the wheel. “Thanks for inviting me to be your plus-one, by the way.”
“Like you couldn’t easily afford a trip to Aruba,” I scoffed.
“Will Macey be there?”
Tension burned through my body, starting in the ankle that still bothered me and trailing all the way up into my jaw. “Macey?”
“The girl from the video,” he clarified. “I looked into her after admiring the way she tore into you.”
Nathan was a powerful guy, with a lot of resources at his disposal. I had no doubt that looking into her could mean much more than the typical Instagram stalking. Did he offer to drive me to the airport to try to get closer to her?
The question struck me without permission, visceral and uncomfortable. Then I remembered Nathan didn’t “do relationships.” The realization should calm me, but it only made me spiral more.
Was Macey a relationship-only kind of girl, or did she want something casual?
“Yes,” I answered .
“She’s pretty,” he remarked casually, turning on his blinker as we approached the airport. “Good for you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I can’t remember the last time you dated a girl,” he said. “Maybe you should take her out before someone else does.”
Someone else? Did Nathan know something I didn’t?
He pulled into a spot in front of the drop-off gate, and I readily pushed open the door. “It’s not like that.” I seethed as I pulled my bag out from the trunk.
Nathan winked, totally unbothered from the driver’s seat. “Sure it isn’t. Have fun in Aruba.”
I dropped off my luggage with the attendant outside and checked my texts.
Macey: I’ll be there in five.
Instead of heading inside the airport, I decided to wait for her outside. It might be full circle, to have a decent interaction outside the airport instead of a fight. As I waited, I scrolled through my email and skimmed the latest update from Opal Serenity.
We’re so excited to welcome you and your girlfriend, Macey, tonight! At reception, you’ll find…
I frantically reread the sentence.
Girlfriend.
No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. Macey and I weren’t dating. How did they even come to that conclusion when the only recent time we’d been seen in public together ended with an argument?
Maybe I could call the PR contact on the email and clear up the misunderstanding. I was sure she’d already spoken with Ezra? —
Fucking Ezra.
My manager had recently proclaimed himself a “Noah and Macey shipper,” so this must have been his way of pushing his agenda. It was too late to walk it back now without making me and Macey look like frauds.
I rubbed a hand over my face but dropped it once I saw Macey get out of the car in front of me. How was I going to tell her that Opal Serenity thought she was my girlfriend, and there wasn’t anything we could do about it?
In my defense, I did try to tell her a few times.
First, as we went through security. But then I got dinged for an electronic in my pocket and had to be pulled aside.
Second, when we waited to board. Macey must have had a double shot of espresso before arriving because I could hardly get a word in before I gave up completely.
“I’ve never flown first class,” Macey commented as we boarded the aircraft.
I’d never heard of ArubaAir before, but through the plexiglass, the plane had seemed standard. Safe. Opal Serenity was a five-star resort; I was sure we’d travel there on a nice plane.
As we climbed over the rickety bridge into the aircraft, I realized how wrong I was.
First class, as it turned out, was no different than the rest of the aircraft. The only difference was a curtain that separated a handful of seats from the others. A general feeling of neglect emerged from each part of the plane: outdated, uncomfortable-looking seats, and stale air.
The line moved slowly as the people ahead of us stopped to shove their oversized carry-ons into the small overhead compartments.
“You should have checked this,” I scolded a middle-aged man with a suitcase that hardly fit in the compartment. Between the two of us, we were able to jam it in .
Macey and I settled into our seats, then she was the one scolding me. “Not everyone has the extra cash to afford to check in luggage, Noah. He’s not flying first class.”
“Then he should have packed less.”
The plane was so tiny that there were only two seats on each side of the aisle. Our seats were so close together, our arms constantly brushed. I scooted closer to the window to try to gain some distance. Said window was scratched and smudged, reducing visibility.
Macey clicked her seat belt closed and sighed. “I bet you’re the guy who leans his seat all the way back.”
“I pay good money for plane seats,” I defended. “Hell yes, I lean them back.” There was no other way to get comfortable.
“Technically, you didn’t pay any money for these seats.”
“Neither did you.”
She nodded solemnly. “Exactly. And that is why we will not be leaning our seats back.”
We’d see about that.
I flagged down the nearest flight attendant, a woman with a bun at the top of her head. “Excuse me, could I get a coffee?”
She pursed her lips. “Oh, we don’t serve coffee on this flight.”
“A beer, then.”
“We don’t serve alcohol on this flight, either.”
I rubbed my temples and tried to ignore the inner urge to bang my head on the seat in front of me. “Water?”
The flight attendant nodded. “That we have.”
As she walked down the aisle, Macey giggled, which also brought me closer to that urge. “What?” I snapped.
“You’re such a diva.”
“I’m a diva for asking for a drink?”
Macey rolled her eyes and focused on the backpack in her lap. “No, you’re a diva for not waiting until they come around with the drink cart to ask. ”
“Something tells me they don’t do that here.” My lip curled when my hand skirted over a rip in the seat. “Not a great first first-class experience for you.”
She pulled a book from her bag and dropped it on her lap. “It’s fine. Besides, I’m sure you’ll post a photo that makes our experience look much better than reality.”
“Hey, you’re the one who liked three of my photos the other day.” The flood of heat I felt knowing she spent free time looking at my photos was totally unnecessary. I blamed the inadequate air conditioning on this plane. “Does this mean you like me now?”
She flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Social media isn’t real.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You’re the one doing all the liking.”
“Say what you will, but you’re the one who’s tagging me in photos.”
Minutes after she texted me the running photo, I posted it online before I could chicken out. Yes, I tagged her. It was only fair. “I looked good in it. You’re welcome for the photo cred, by the way.”