Chapter 14
CONOR
The following night on the bus to Phoenix, I couldn’t even catch Noelle’s attention—forget about having an actual conversation with her or looking into her eyes or brushing her hair from her face or touching her smooth skin.
I swallowed and adjusted my jeans.
Our conversation at the club in San Diego before the paparazzi ambushed us had been needling me all day and night. Did she forget about the texts I sent from Australia? How did she not see them?
I glanced at the steps to the top deck of the bus one more time before grabbing the game control and shouting, “My turn.”
I didn’t really want to play again, but it beat tracking Noelle’s whereabouts and trying to avoid Ashley, who’d decided to take the bus with us.
Rhys snatched the controller from my hand. “No way, mate. You’re bloody awful at this game. Jade’s better than you at this point.”
Jade stepped over the table and wedged herself between me and Rhys. “Is that supposed to be an insult because I’m pretty sure I kicked your ass last time, drummer boy.”
“Hey, Conor. You wanna check out this song I’m working on?” Ashley, wriggled into a seat at the table across from the gaming area, stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, cat-like.
She decided to nail down the fake dating scheme by joining me on the bus to Phoenix. She probably figured it was a win-win, as the trip took just six hours, and she got to look like the devoted girlfriend in front of the fans when she boarded the bus.
She’d been coy and nauseating all day as we did a radio show live, a couple of interviews, a quick photo shoot. I suppose I should be happy—for Noelle’s sake—that Ashley shrugged off the pap pics from the other night.
Ashley seemed different today—more subdued. Maybe she decided to shelve the attitude and adopt a more likeable persona. Worked for me, just as long as I could shelve her once this tour ended, we sold lots of tickets, and Noelle got her promotion.
But she didn’t have to keep pretending on the bus. I was sure almost everyone on tour knew the relationship was bollocks.
Ashley’s phone buzzed on the table, and she jumped. Her face tensed as she glanced at her screen, and then she tossed the phone onto the seat beside her.
She curled one leg beneath her ass to prop herself up as she craned her neck and surveyed the bus from front to back. When she wasn’t trying to play nice with me, she was grabbing her phone every two seconds.
The vibe on this bus felt like we were on the highway to hell.
I decided to humor her. I stood up, giving Jade more room to kick Rhys’s arse, and dropped into the seat across the table from Ashley’s. “Let’s see what you have.”
Hunching forward, her eyes wide, she whispered, “I don’t really have a song. Have I ever written a song before in my life?”
“Okaaay.” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I had an escape route in case this went south fast. “What do you want?”
“Have you noticed anyone on this bus acting weird?”
Besides you? Besides Noelle?
I coughed. “I haven’t. What do ya mean?”
“Watching.” She twisted her to the side, flicking her gaze over the gamers and a few dancers sleeping in the back. “Recording.”
“On this trip? No.”
Ashley narrowed her eyes. “This trip. What about the first trip down?”
“I don’t know. Jade likes to take pictures, and she’s helping Noelle record and document the behind-the-scenes trip for social media.”
I immediately regretted my words as Ashley turned her steely gaze on Jade, bouncing in her seat and giggling, looking about the furthest thing from a spy as you could get.
“What are you on about, Ashley? Looks like you need to relax. Why don’t you head upstairs and get some kip.”
“Kip?”
“Sleep. Take a nap. We still have another few hours of rolling through the desert in the dark.” Rolling through the desert in the dark—sounded like a new song—as long as it had dissonant chords and a growling, anxious bass line to match the vibe on this bus.
She rubbed her eyes, smearing the makeup across her face, and for the first time I noticed dark circles under her eyes.
“Get some rest.” Even I knew better than to tell Ashley Bennett she looked tired. She might be working toward a new and improved, nice demeanor, but she wasn’t there yet.
She grabbed her phone, glancing at it again before throwing it in her bag. “You’re right. I hate riding this bus. It sucks.”
I watched her drag herself upstairs, pulling her phone out for another look.
That was...a bit weird.
Yawning, I took in the barren landscape hurtling by outside the window. We might as well be on the moon.
Everyone had turned in except Rhys and Jade, who’d toned down their gaming. They huddled together, whispering and pointing at the TV. Rhys would be pissed off at me for interrupting them.
I got ready to creep upstairs and slide into the bunk above Noelle. If she weren’t sleeping, she’d pretend to be once she heard me. She’d done everything in her power on this trip to be in a different part of the bus from me. It’s as if I had kryptonite in my pocket.
She couldn’t be worried about Ashley anymore. Ashley assured both of us she hadn’t set us up, and she didn’t even care about the photos. Apparently, Ashley had something else on her mind—tour spies.
I collected a few empty cans and bottles and squeezed into the kitchen bay near the front of the bus. I shoved them into the recycling bins and turned to leave, almost bumping into Noelle. It’s the closest we’d been all day.
I said, “Whoa. You’re sneaking up on me.”
She backed up a step.
I didn’t.
Pressing a hand against her chest, she said, “I-I thought you were sleeping in your bunk. Someone is.”
“Does he snore? Definitely not me. It’s a good thing I didn’t crawl in there with the interloper.” Unless Noelle was the interloper.
“Oh, I’ll just...”
As she turned away from me for the hundredth time today, I grabbed her hand. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
She didn’t pull away this time. “It’s...I think it’s probably for the best.”
“The best what?” I stroked my thumb along her inner wrist measuring her fluttering pulse, and she sighed.
She dropped her head, her hair creating a veil around her face. “Maybe the best for my mental health.”
“Noelle. Nollaig.” I wedged a knuckle beneath her chin and tilted her head back. “Why am I bad for your mental health? Why is it so bloody awful if the two of us reconnect? I haven’t felt this...myself since the last time we shared a bus together.”
“That’s just it, Con.” She jerked her head, and her hair whipped across her face. “That was the last time. The last time we saw each other when you asked me to follow you to Australia. And I wanted to. I texted you. I don’t know you can sit there and tell me you never got my texts.”
“You said that before.” I pressed two fingers against my temple.
“How is that possible? I messaged you, Noelle. I swear I did. You can even ask Charlie, all of them. I drove them bonkers with my whingeing about it. They even devised a game where they’d hide my phone from me because I was checking it every two minutes. ”
Her eyes lost their glassy stare, as she seemed to be taking in my words, maybe even considering them. “I never got any texts. Are you saying you never saw my texts to you?”
“I told you that the other night. I wrote a fucking song about it. When you didn’t answer my texts, I figured you’d chosen your job over me.”
“That didn’t happen, Conor. Baker Street, Gordon specifically, gave me the ultimatum—follow you to Australia and lose my job or stay in England and keep it—I told him to shove the job.
But when I sent you my choice, you didn’t even respond.
And I never heard from you again.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she didn’t look away.
The hurt in their depths gutted me...gave me hope.
“Didn’t respond?” I clutched my hair at the roots. “Noelle, I texted you every single day. You never answered.”
“Th-that’s just not true, Conor.” She folded her arms across her chest, digging her fingers into her biceps.
“I didn’t receive one message from you after that last one you sent before boarding the plane to Australia.
It said, hope to see you down under. I followed the plane’s progress online and texted you a few hours after you landed.
I’d decided by then to quit my job and use my own money to follow you down. Good thing I didn’t buy the ticket.”
“Not. Possible.” I flexed my jaw and shook my head. Was this some kind of next level gaslighting? “I texted you as soon as we got to the hotel, as soon as we got our new phones.”
“New phones?” She pressed a fist against her stomach. “As in a new phone with a new phone number?”
“I guess it was a new number. I didn’t pay attention.
It’s not like I give out my number—not even back then.
We all got new phones with our contacts pre-loaded.
I was able to text my mum, my dad, even my brother.
All the lads’ numbers were loaded in the phone and yours too.
I saw the contact with your name and your picture.
I texted you. Even if I did have a new number, that was my way of sharing it with you as soon as I could. ”
She sucked in her bottom lip. “I never got that text...or any others. When I texted you, I was using the phone number you had in England.”
I squinted as if trying to see into the past. Then I steepled my fingers and rested my chin on the tips. “I don’t understand. That was your name, your picture. Every other contact in my phone was correct. Everyone else I texted, texted me back. Everyone but you.”
“I swear, Con. I never received any messages from you.” She caught her breath, her eyes widening.
We had the same idea at the same time. Had a simple misunderstanding, a swapped digit tanked our relationship? Or had it been something else? Something more sinister.
I spread my hands in front of me. “If I had that phone today, I’d show you. I’d show you all the messages I sent—each one more desperate and pathetic than the previous one.”