Girl Online: On Tour (18 page)

I cringe a little. “Oh, you know . . . it takes some getting used to!”

“Hey, we’ve been doing this for over a year now. You’ll get into the rhythm eventually!” Kendra smiles at me, and I smile back gratefully at her attempt to make me feel better.

“You had that blog, didn’t you?” asks Selene.

I nod. “I did, but I shut it down at the end of last year.”

“That’s good—you wouldn’t be able to sit here and talk with us if you were just going to go and write about it all on your blog. The managers would probably have a fit!”

“No, I know—I’m not Girl Online anymore. I’m just plain old Penny.” Suddenly I feel a warning prickle of anxiety heat on my neck and I realize I need to get out of there quickly or else things might go from bad to worse. I stand up from the table. “I’m just going to find the bathroom. It was nice meeting you guys.”

“You too, Penny! Come hang out with us anytime. Then you can officially be a member of the tour WAGs!”

I nod and smile, then head off in the direction of the bathrooms. I push through the heavy door, locking it behind me. I lean up against the door for the moment. I know what was making me feel panicky: the more I hang out with other people who have done this for a long time, the more I worry that it’s not going to be for me. I don’t have any talents that would make me a useful member of Noah’s entourage, and I don’t like fashion or music enough to keep up with the other girls. I like my home, and my own bed, and having my family close by. But I like Noah too.

I glance at myself in the mirror. Just thinking about being with all those other girls leaves me feeling racked with inadequacy. My long red hair is curled loosely and looks a little messy. I pull a few strands away from my face and trace my freckles with my finger; they are a lot more prominent now that it’s summer. My green eyes stare back at me and I squint in the mirror, making a funny face.

I wish I knew how to do more with my eye makeup, like Selene. My eyes are probably my favourite feature. They are the sort of green that you would probably only see on a vampire in a TV series, and they change colour in different lights. My dad calls them sea-glass eyes, after the smooth shards of glass that wash up on the shore at the beach. Mum and Dad gave me a bottle-green sea-glass necklace for my sixteenth birthday that perfectly matches my eye colour.

I think back to last night and how I’m completely relaxed wearing my comfy pyjamas with Noah. It doesn’t matter what other people might think: Noah loves me the way I am,
makeup or no. I look down at my watch and am surprised that it’s almost been an hour already. I wonder if Noah’s meeting is over yet.

I head back round the corner to the dressing room and knock tentatively on the door, which instead swings open at my touch.

I’m greeted by a completely unwelcome sight: Blake’s bare bum.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Blake is completely naked, running around with Noah’s guitar, and everyone is in fits of laughter. I have no idea where to look.

“Ahem . . . HEY, GUYS!” I say, loudly enough so they know I’ve entered the room. It doesn’t seem to make any difference. I spot Noah and quickly sandwich myself next him on the sofa, trying desperately to avert my gaze. He is practically doubled over with laughter.

“Oh, hey, P!” He pulls me in for a cuddle and kisses my nose.

“Spare us the PDA, Noah,” Blake calls over.

“Spare me your naked body!” I yell back.

Noah bursts into laughter again and Blake just blinks back at me in absolute horror. I blush pink, but actually feel proud that I managed to respond to Blake’s jibes.

When Noah finally regains his composure, he says, “Clear out, dudes. I want a bit of time with Penny before the show.”

“Seriously, man? Can I not put on some boxers first?” Blake protests.

“Hey, you made this bed. Now you have to lie in it. But here—” Noah fishes out Blake’s boxers with the end of a drumstick, wrinkling his nose, and whips them across the room. Blake snatches them out of the air and shuffles over to the door, just managing to cover himself with the rest of his clothes, which are rolled up in a ball.

“What was all that about?” I ask Noah, when everyone’s finally gone.

“Oh, just typical Blake. He was threatening to play my guitar completely naked tonight.” Noah laughs softly.

“Of course he was,” I say, lifting an eyebrow.

“I’m so sorry, Penny.” Noah lifts my chin with his fingers and gives me a small smile.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought we’d have so much more time to spend together. But the tour is a lot more full-on than I’d ever imagined.” His hands drop from my chin and, instead, he runs them through his hair. “The press is becoming more and more interested in me—I have interviews flying in left and right, and I want this tour to be amazing for everyone, and for me. The reviews are all good, but I need them to stay that way. I want to practise twenty-four seven, and if I’m not practising or publicizing the tour I’m asleep. I feel exhausted already, and I’m only partway through.”

“I know—” I try to reach out to him, to let him know that I understand how he feels, but it’s like a dam has broken and the words keep rushing out of Noah.

“On top of that, I feel like this is such a weird time for me. I’m getting to do the one thing I’ve dreamt of since I was a kid, and I’m doing it with no family around me. I don’t get
text updates from my mum and dad asking how the tour is going like the rest of the boys do. I don’t have parents to Skype every day, who look out for me, like yours do. Sadie Lee’s focus is on making sure that Bella is OK—I’m eighteen, I don’t need her as much as Bella does. It’s just me, on my own.” He slumps down into the sofa and starts tracing the music-note tattoo on his wrist. “But tonight . . . tonight, I promise that we can go out for dinner after the show. I owe it to you. I know I do.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Noah. I love you! And you’re not on your own—you have me. I can do whatever it is that you want me to do. I want to make this easier for you. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Penny. I am the happiest I’ve been in a long time. It’s just sad at the same time, you know?”

I put my arm round him and pull him into me for a hug. Why hadn’t I seen that Noah wasn’t OK? It’s dawning on me just how much pressure Noah must be feeling right now.

“Let me help you. What can I do for you?” I jump up off the sofa and look around the room.

“Honestly, Penny. I don’t need you to do anything. Just being here is enough.”

“No, there must be something. At least let me do something to help? One little thing . . .” I turn to the mini fridge and grab a fresh-fruit smoothie. I run and grab a glass from the table, and pour the smoothie into it. Then I slice a strawberry and wedge it onto the rim of the glass—a little smoothie cocktail that looks like something you’d order in a fancy hotel, topped off with a pretty straw.

“Voilà!” I say, spinning round to reveal the smoothie to Noah. It’s as I’m
taking a couple of steps towards him that I realize I don’t have control of my footing. I look down in horror to see one of my feet is caught behind the leg of a coffee table, and suddenly the floor is getting closer to my face. As I hit the ground, the smoothie flies through the air towards Noah. I see his face frozen in horror as the pink pulp splatters over his entire outfit.

“NO! Oh no, Noah. I’M SO SORRY!” I leap up and start scraping the mess off his top with my hands.

Noah’s expression is serious . . . until he bursts out into laughter. “That’s it! You’re getting a hug right now!” He opens his arms wide and takes a step forward towards me, his smoothie-covered chest looming.

I squeal and run away, and we end up in a game of chase around the dressing room. He catches up with me when I get caught between the sofa and a stack of empty guitar cases, and he squeezes me tight. I cringe as the smoothie dregs are squished between us.

He kisses the top of my head. “Hey, good thing all I own is black T-shirts, right? I’d better go change out of this.”

He winks as he peels his T-shirt off, rooting through his bag for another. I can’t believe I can be the silliest, clumsiest person in the world and Noah
still
loves me, no matter what.

In a fresh black top, Noah looks like the smoothie disaster never happened. He kisses me on the cheek and dashes out the door to get to the stage. A few moments later, I hear the crowd start to scream with delight.

He’s in his element, and that’s all that matters to me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

When I’ve cleaned up, I watch the rest of Noah’s set with Kendra and Selene from a little balcony in the wings of the stage—but I make sure to be back in the dressing room when Noah’s finished. I’m hoping that we can head out straightaway to go to dinner.

My heart lifts as I see Noah walk in. His cheeks are red with exertion, but he has the biggest smile on his face. Dean follows not far behind, along with a man and woman I don’t recognize. Neither of them is dressed for a rock concert—in their matching grey suits and stiff white shirts, they look prepared for the boardroom, not backstage.

“This is where I chill before and after the show.” Noah gestures around the room, then plunges his hands deep into his jeans pockets. Weirdly, he looks nervous. Normally he rides high on confidence after a show, so I’m intrigued as to who these people are.

“Oh swell, that’s just swell,” the man chimes.

The woman tries to hide the fact she’s wrinkling her nose
slightly. It makes me laugh—I’m used to the smell of stinky boy musicians now.

My giggle draws their attention. “Who is this?” the woman asks, looking at me. It’s clear she thinks I don’t belong. “Did you win a competition to be here, my dear?”

“Er, no, this is Penny. She’s my—”

“She’s a friend.” Dean steps in, drawing the group together so they’re standing in a circle, backs turned towards me. I can still see Noah’s face, but he is studiously avoiding my gaze.

My stomach does a few flips. What’s going on?

“So, Noah—Alicia and Patrick were wondering if they could take us out for dinner tonight, just to go through a few contract things with Sony, if that’s OK?” Dean’s voice is as smooth as silk.

Things are starting to make more sense now. These are bigwigs from the label.