Chapter 15
NOELLE
I couldn’t wait to break out of this prison. I spent the day pacing, lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, hugging myself with a stupid smile on my face, jumping on the mattress, screaming.
The kiss.
I pressed my fingers to my lips for the hundredth time since last night. I wanted to seal the kiss there. Imprint it on my brain. Just in case it was our last.
I threw myself across the bed again and dragged a pillow over my face. The timing couldn’t be worse. We couldn’t rekindle our romance now—even if we wanted to. I’d lose my promotion. Hell, I’d lose my whole job.
We could wait. We waited all these years; a few more months wouldn’t matter.
Struggling to sit up, I tossed the pillow across the room. Did Conor even want to give this another chance? He seemed more upset about someone manipulating us than he did over the actual breakup.
Or did he? I’m the one who broke our connection last night. But if I hadn’t, that kiss would’ve sapped me of all strength and reason.
I had no illusions about the lengths management would pursue to control the narrative of a popstar but giving us false phone numbers for each other seemed a bit draconian—even by Gordon Cooper’s standards.
I yanked my phone from the charger on the nightstand and scrolled through my contacts until I found Charlie. I tamped down my guilty conscience. Conor never had to know I checked his story.
“Alright, luv.”
Charlie’s voice never failed to bring a smile to my face—even as I was crashing out, doubting my feelings, doubting Conor.
“Hey, Charlie. Hope I’m not disturbing you. Do you have a minute?”
“If you make it quick. Dev is in the zone right now, and she’s just about ready to bounce some lyrics off me.”
“I don’t wanna disrupt the zone. I’ll be fast. Do you remember when Five2 went off to Australia for your first big tour?”
“Me brain’s a bit rattled, but how could I forget that? Dead brilliant it were.”
“Do you remember if you guys got new phones?”
“New phones? I don’t remember, but Gordo was always swapping out our phones, so it’s possible.”
“On that tour, d-did Conor ever mention to you guys that he couldn’t reach me?”
Charlie’s sharp laugh nearly pierced my eardrum.
“Don’t tell him I told you, but we used to call him Conor the Goner because all he did the first half of that tour was mope around waiting on texts from you.
Drove us bloody mad. Is he trying to pretend he wasn’t completely gutted when you dumped him? ”
I didn’t dump him.
“No, I just...hey, I’ll let you get back to writing that song with Devon. Thanks for the party the other night. See you soon.”
“See ya. And don’t forget, luv. You’re supposed to be working on Jay to get him to agree to the reunion tour.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I ended the call before I let it slip that I had no clue how to get through to Javeed.
I cupped my phone between my hands. Conor the Goner. Charlie’s words didn’t bring me any joy. They grabbed me by the throat and squeezed the breath out of me.
How had we let that happen to us? I didn’t believe Conor would discover the truth. Too many years. Too many stunts. Too much control.
Gordon Cooper would never remember one little relationship between a boybander—even one from his most successful act—and a junior publicist.
That title bordered on the generous. I was a gofer. Maybe that’s why I never dug deeper or questioned anyone about Conor.
Someone knocked on my hotel door, and I crept toward it to press my eye against the peephole. Conor hadn’t reached out to me today after that kiss last night, and I was too chicken to discuss it with him. Knowing myself, I’d blurt out that it was a mistake before he could.
Seeing Ashley tapping her foot outside my door made me feel only slightly less relieved.
I pulled the door open. “Hey, Ashley. Are you ready for the show tonight?”
She squeezed past me and into my room. “I am so ready. The music critics, who are usually assholes, liked me. I mean, they praised the whole show, but they liked my set. No snarky comments this time.”
“I read the press.” I held out my hand for a fist bump.
Ashley stared at my fist for a second before giving it the tiniest of taps with one knuckle.
Guess she wasn’t a fist bump girl.
“You’re a PR genius, Noelle.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“The whole fake dating thing with Conor is working.”
Ashley waved her arms around the room, her musky perfume making me sneeze. She covered her mouth and nose with one hand. “Don’t get me sick.”
“I’m not sick.”
Was she high? The fake dating thing, as she called it, seemed to be going nowhere fast—maybe because the fake dating instigator and one of the fake datees couldn’t keep their eyes off each other—and now their lips. Hands next.
I shook my head. “Well, something’s working. Ticket sales are good. We sold out tonight, too. Maybe it’s just the music.”
“It’s never just the music. You should know better than anyone.” She crouched in front of my mini bar and plucked out a little bottle of white wine. She unscrewed the lid and chugged half of it.
I said, “Of course, good buzz around a concert sells tickets. I’m chuffed it’s working.”
“Chuffed. You talk like an English person.” Ashley squinted at the label on the bottle. “Must be hanging out with Conor all the time.”
“I spent a lot of years in England when I was a kid. My dad worked there. I picked up some of the lingo.” I shrugged and tipped the glasses off my face.
Didn’t want Ashley to start attacking me for my appearance.
In my own room. On my own time. But she’d wandered into dangerous territory with her remark about me and Conor.
“Question for you.” Ashley took a long pull from the bottle and slammed it on the credenza.
I jumped.
“Do you know Jade, the backup dancer?”
“She’s helping me document the tour.” I threaded my fingers in front of me waiting for the bricks to come down. “Is there a problem?”
“Just thought she was a little aggressive on the bus with her phone.” Ashley ran a fingernail through the damp label on the bottle, leaving a jagged rip in her wake. “But if she was doing it for you, then it’s all legit.”
“Totally but let me know if she’s being too intrusive. It’s supposed to be a funny look backstage, not an exposé.”
“Got it. Anyway, awesome job on the PR.” Ashley downed the rest of the wine and gave me an air kiss before sauntering out of my room.
I swept the bottle from the credenza, screwed on the cap, and dropped it into the recycling can with a clang. If Ashley was happy with the direction of the PR, then so was I.
The banging on my door made me think she had second thoughts—or she wanted another wine from my mini bar. I yanked the door open and jumped back. Not Ashley. Someone much worse.
Conor.
With his blond hair standing on end and a ruddy Irish flush to his cheeks, he resembled someone who’d just gone twelve rounds with a pillow on a pint of Guinness. Was everyone on tour day-drinking now?
“Conor!”
He pointed over my shoulder. “Can I come in? I made a few phone calls today.”
I made one myself if I dared to tell him about it. I widened the door. “Yeah, of course. Did you discover anything?”
My heart fluttered, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth. Maybe I needed to start day-drinking.
As Conor paced to the window, he folded his hands on the back of his neck, his chin to the ceiling. He barely glanced at me when he walked into the room. Either he had some bad news, or he still felt awkward about our kiss.
And I didn’t?
He spun around. “I talked to Gordon.”
“He took your call?” Gordon Cooper sat astride an entertainment empire. He didn’t have to take calls if he didn’t want to.
“He jumped at the chance to talk to me. Called me right back after I left him a message.”
“Is that something new?” I put my glasses back on—as if seeing Conor better would help me concentrate on his words...or put a physical shield between us.
Conor nodded. “He knows something is brewing with me and the lads, and he wants to be a part of it.”
“He wants in on the Five2Go reunion tour.” I pinched my bottom lip with my thumb and forefinger. Might as well do something with my lips if they weren’t engaged with Conor’s.
“He absolutely does. The boys and I already agreed that’s not happening, but...” Conor held up one finger “...it means he’s gonna take our calls and keep in touch.”
“So, you disappointed him.”
“Guess so.”
“Did you disappoint him before or after you asked about the phone?”
“I kept it non-committal.”
“Good thinking.” I shoved my hands in my back pockets to keep my fingers from fidgeting. “And what did he tell you?”
“It was all suspicious and vague. I asked him if he remembered swapping out our phones on that first tour to Australia. He admitted that they’d probably switched out phones, as they usually did.”
“Did he ask you why you wanted to know after all these years?”
“No.” Conor dropped to the edge of the bed and then bounced up again, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Isn’t that strange? Wouldn’t your first question, if you’re Gordo, be what the bloody hell are you on about?”
“Probably. Did he sound...nervous? Edgy?”
“Gordon Cooper?” Conor full-on snorted. “That fella? Never.”
“Did you ask a follow up? We know they gave you new phones. You even remembered that, and Charlie concurred.”
“Charlie?” Conor’s head shot up. “You discussed this with Charlie?”
“I, umm...” I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose “I wanted to see if he had the same recollection as you about the phones.”
Conor’s eyes glinted like blue steel. “You were checking up on me, weren’t you? You didn’t believe me.”
Capturing a lock of my hair, I twisted it around my finger.
“It’s been...hard. I believed for so long that you ghosted me, Conor.
That you ran toward your glittering career without a second glance back at me.
I had to watch your dating life play out across social media, always wondering if you ever thought about me. ”