Chapter 5
NOELLE
So much for taking things slowly.
“I hope you don’t think it’s too soon,” Webb prefaced as we stood outside my apartment door at the end of our Mount Hood date.
“But one of my buddies is stopping by in a few days for a quick visit on his way back from a wedding in Vancouver. Sam separated from the Army about a year before me, and he’s been working for a charter company out of White Plains, New York.
We’re just going to hang out on the deck at HQ, grill up some burgers and dogs, nothing fancy.
But I was wondering if you might like to come. ”
“Don’t you want to spend time with your friend, though?” I asked. “If you haven’t seen him in a while?”
Webb shook his head. “It’s not going to be like that. The whole team will be there. Ace, Tyler, Indy and his fiancée, Bea, and Rafe and his wife, Eden. Plus me and Sam. And hopefully, you.”
There was a part of me that agreed that it was too soon. That it would only be our second date, and therefore far too early to meet Webb’s closest friends. Plus, going to the Blade and Arrow headquarters didn’t mean just visiting where he works, it’s also where he lives.
On the drive back from Mount Hood, Webb had told me about his living situation, explaining, “We all live right on the Blade and Arrow property. It makes it easier when emergency cases pop up, that we’re all right there.
And if we have a client in need of protection, we have the option of bringing them to HQ. ”
With images of a camp-style bunkhouse in my head, or possibly a giant estate with a wing for each person, I asked, “How does that work? Do you have any privacy?”
“Absolutely,” he told me. “I have my own apartment. So does Ace. The others have their own sort of… tiny houses on the property. Rafe and Eden have one, Indy and Bea have another, and Tyler has his own. We have some common spaces we can use, but if I want privacy, I’ve got it.”
With the implications of seeing Webb’s apartment and meeting his friends weighing on me, I almost said no. That irritating voice of logic whispered to me, A hiking trip is one thing. But seeing his home? Meeting his friends? Isn’t that moving a little fast, considering everything?
Maybe if I weren’t coming off the best date of my life, I would have.
Maybe I would have declined if Webb hadn’t had that hopeful look in his eyes, the one that made my heart feel all soft and squishy.
Maybe if he’d given me any cause to doubt him, I would have clung to that as a reason to say no.
But aside from being a bit bossy, which I’ve been known to be myself from time to time—an unfortunate necessity when you’re a stage manager—I’ve yet to find any glaring red flags.
And honestly, putting all of that aside, there was another big part of me that wanted to accept.
So I did.
And now I’m dashing around my apartment trying to finish getting ready, feeling a heck of lot more nervous than I’d be if I were just hanging out with friends.
I’ve changed my outfit five times and redone my hair twice.
I put on a full face of makeup before washing it off; having decided that if Webb liked me at the diner with nothing more than tinted moisturizer and a light application of mascara, it wouldn’t make sense to wear more.
Would I go through all this if my feelings for Webb were only platonic?
Well, duh. Obviously not.
After I’ve checked myself out in the mirror above my dresser for the umpteenth time, I sternly order myself to go sit down.
With fears of rogue hairs sticking straight from the top of my head and missed toothpaste stains on the floral sundress I finally settled on, I force myself over to the couch and flop onto it with an exasperated sigh.
I glance at my phone to check the time, sighing again when I realize I still have another ten minutes to kill.
Ten minutes to agonize over my outfit or if I should wear the olive-colored eyeshadow that’s supposed to make the gold in my eyes pop.
Ten minutes to wonder if I’m doing the right thing when the rest of my life is such—
No. I’m going to have a nice time tonight. I’m not letting Ken ruin something else for me.
So instead of beelining back to the mirror like I want to, I text Jaz instead.
Hey. Tell me not to check my hair again. And that a sundress is perfectly fine to wear at night.
Less than thirty seconds later, her reply appears.
Leave your hair alone. And it’s summer. What else would you wear? Jeans and a sweater?
I quickly type out my response.
But it’s evening. Maybe a sundress is too… daytime? And I left my hair down. We’re supposed to be grilling out on the deck. What if it gets windy and my hair ends up looking like a giant bird’s nest?
Several seconds pass.
Noelle. Your hair is gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. I’m sure you look amazing. Don’t worry.
Before I can respond, she sends another text.
Off topic, but have you thought any more about coming out to New York and looking for a job out here?
I’m already shaking my head as I message her back.
Thanks, but that’s okay. I like the West Coast. And I’m sure I’ll find something soon.
Three dots blink.
Okay. But if you change your mind…
I won’t. Especially with this whole mess with Ken still going on. If I go to New York to stay with Jaz, that’ll put a target on her back, which is the last thing I want.
That’s why I didn’t tell her what Ken did, either.
If she knew, there’s no way she’d let it go.
She’d insist on trying to take him down, which I’ve already learned is impossible.
A conflict with Ken, who’s very well known in the theater community, would only end up hurting Jaz’s career.
So as much as I hate lying to her, it was safer to give her a half-truth, which was that I quit the company due to professional differences.
I mean, technically, that’s true. I didn’t agree with Ken secretly filming me at my workplace. He thought it was okay. If that’s not a professional disagreement, I’m not sure what is.
Realizing Jaz is still waiting for my response, I send one more message.
I know, J. And I appreciate it. But don’t worry. Anyway, Webb should be here any minute. Wish me luck!
Once I hear the little swoosh of the text going through, I set my phone down on the couch cushion and take a steadying breath.
There’s no reason to be nervous, I tell myself firmly.
This is going to be a fun evening. I’ll spend time with Webb.
I’ll get to see him with his friends, which tells a lot about a guy—is he the jokester of the group?
Does he turn into an asshole? Will he ignore me in favor of hanging out with his buddies, or stick close to make sure I’m comfortable?
I think I know the answer to all of those questions. But I’m not sure.
My phone buzzes with another text, so I snatch it up, assuming it’s from Jaz. Or possibly Webb letting me know he’s almost here.
But stupid me, caught up in my thoughts about my imminent date, I don’t even consider it could be someone else instead. No, I just pick up the phone and look at the message.
So stupid.
Even though the attached image is small, I can still recognize it.
Or who, more aptly, because it’s another photo of me.
Like the time on the street, instinct tells me to ignore it—to swipe the text aside to deal with later. But then another one arrives. And another.
Heart pounding, stomach churning, I open the first one to find another video still of myself in my old office. Not changing this time, but I’m bending over to put something in my file cabinet, so my ass is right there for the camera to record.
The next text contains the same photo, only zoomed in this time.
And then the third is a close-up on my face as I must have been turning around. I’m smiling to myself, looking so blithely happy it makes my eyes burn with tears.
While I’m staring at the last of the photos, my phone buzzes again, startling me so badly it skitters out of my hands to land on the floor.
The same questions I’ve asked myself countless times repeat.
Why won’t he leave me alone?
I’m already gone. Why won’t he move on?
But I know why, don’t I?
I just don’t know how to get him to stop.
My phone jitters across the carpeted floor as another text comes in. I stare at it like it’s a poisonous rattlesnake about to strike, debating whether to kick it just to get the damn thing away from me.
Then a quick series of knocks sounds at my door.
My nerves are strung so tight, I yelp in surprise.
A moment later, Webb calls out, “Noelle? Are you okay?”
I take a deep breath, then blow it out slowly, taking a few seconds to compose myself. Then I pitch my voice into what I hope sounds like a cheerful tone as I reply, “Yup! Just fine. I’ll be right there!”
Before heading to the door, I swipe my phone from the floor and power it off. As I pass the TV, I take a quick glance at my reflection, hoping I don’t look as flustered as I feel.
Outwardly, I still look just as I did before. But inside, I’m a mess. All the buzzy excitement I felt before is gone, leaving me feeling cold and empty. My nose prickles, and I swallow against the threatening tears.
Once I reach the door, I take a few more steadying breaths. Then I paste on a smile and open it. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Webb’s gaze skims across me, his eyes flaring in appreciation as he takes in my dress. Then his focus moves to my face, and his smile fades. “Noelle?” He touches my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look…”
“Are you saying I look bad?” I ask lightly.
His face jerks with shock. “No. Shit, no. Of course not. You look incredible, Noelle.” His hand brushes my hair. “You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. And this dress, and… No. You definitely don’t look bad. At all.”
Despite my mood, It’s impossible not to smile for real when he says something so lovely.
“You look pretty good, too.” And he does.
Webb is wearing a pair of tan shorts that expose his muscled legs, and a blue short-sleeved button-down that matches the color of his eyes.
His hair is slightly wind blown, like he had the windows of the car open on the way over.
He’s freshly shaven, making him look younger than he is, and he smells clean, like soap and citrus.
Webb takes my hand, his expression still solemn as he looks at me. “I just asked if you were okay because you look a little… upset, I guess. If it’s not a good—”
“It is.” As shaken as I am, I know from experience that holing up in my apartment is the worst thing to do right now. So I grab my bag from the hook beside the door, toss my hateful phone inside, and slip it over my shoulder. “It’s a perfect time.”
He inspects me for a second. His brows pull into a worried V. “We haven’t known each other long, but if you ever need anything, I’m here. Okay?”
As I look into his eyes, seeing his genuine concern, I’m tempted to tell him everything. Or, barring that, at least the part about my ex-boss harassing me. It would be so nice, so comforting, to have him on my side.
But he’s right. We haven’t known each other long. And to unburden myself like that, to pull him into a bunch of drama when things are still so new…
“I know,” I tell him. Then I squeeze his hand and tilt my head at the door. “I’m ready to go if you are.”
He gives me another long look. “Okay.” He squeezes my hand back. “I can’t wait for you to meet all my friends. And they’re so excited to meet you.”