“Oh my God.” I’m feeling really angry now. “Have you seriously come all this way just to carry on lying to me?”
“No—I—I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are! I’ve seen it all online. All the tweets and the articles and the—”
He interrupts me. “It’s all crap.”
“What? Even Leah Brown’s tweets about you?”
“Yes! Especially those.”
I glare at him. How can he lie so brazenly to me? And how can he expect me to believe him? “What do you mean ‘especially those’?”
Noah finally manages to look at me. “Her last album bombed. The record label was panicking. So, when they signed me, the marketing people said they wanted to orchestrate some kind of phony romance between us. They said it would help both our album sales. I didn’t want to go along with it but they said all it needed was a few staged photos and tweets. Although I couldn’t bring myself to do that bit,” he mutters. “It felt so sketchy. I hated it. I even thought about turning the deal down but I couldn’t; I’d signed a contract. I was locked in. So I figured, what the hell, it wasn’t as if I was actually going out with anyone. And then you came along.”
I stare at him, trying to compute everything he’s just said. “So you and Leah aren’t . . .”
“No! We never were.”
“So, she hasn’t been hurt by what’s happened?”
Noah laughs. “No. She was a bit pissed at first cos she said I made her look like an idiot but then her record sales went through the roof because everyone felt so sorry for her so she got over it pretty quick.”
“But I can’t believe a record company would make you do something like that.”
Noah shrugs. “I know. But apparently it happens all the time.”
I feel my anger beginning to fade. “So why didn’t you just tell me?”
Noah sighs. “I wanted to. And Sadie Lee kept on begging me to but I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Losing you.” He looks out to sea. “Who wants to go out with a guy with a pretend girlfriend? And it’s so hard to find someone . . . who doesn’t just want their moment in the spotlight too.”
I can’t help laughing now, and as I do, hope starts fizzing inside of me. Noah is here. In Brighton. On the beach just a few feet in front of me. He hasn’t got a girlfriend. He isn’t going out with Leah Brown. He never was. But . . .
“Why did you get so angry at me? Why did you change your phone number?”
He starts shifting from foot to foot. “I thought you’d sold a story on me. I thought it had all been to get publicity for your blog.”
“But I didn’t even know who you were. Hardly anyone’s heard of you in the UK—apart from my brother, but then, my brother’s into all kinds of obscure music.”
“Thanks!”
“No, I mean . . .”
Noah smiles. And just the sight of those dimples makes me feel all fluttery inside. “It’s OK. I just didn’t know what to think and I guess I freaked out. And then when they started saying that I’d had a breakdown after my parents . . . and revealing all my favorite places. I’m a really private person. I felt totally under attack.”
I nod. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”
Noah instantly looks concerned. “How have you been dealing with it?”
“OK. Well, OK once I went on an Internet detox.”
He laughs. “So I guess you haven’t seen my new YouTube video?”
I shake my head.
“Do you want to come here and I’ll show it to you if you like?”
I suddenly feel overwhelmingly shy. Noah is here. He’s actually here. And nothing is how I thought it was. Everything is OK. I think. We sit down behind the shingle and Noah takes his phone from his pocket. He clicks on a YouTube video and presses play. A tiny image of him appears on the screen.
“There’s been a whole bunch of crap written about me lately,” Video Noah says, “and as I’m not one for Twitter and all that, I’ll stick to what I know best instead. This song is going to be the first single from my new album. It’s called ‘Autumn Girl’ and it’s about the only girl I’ve ever loved.” Then he starts singing the song. My song.
Next to me, Noah coughs and shifts on the stones. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” he mutters.
“It’s OK.”
“Is it?” He turns and looks at me.
I look right back at him. “Yes.”
“When I read your last blog post, I felt like such a fool.”
“What do you mean?”
“For thinking that you could have ever sold a story on me. I guess when it all went crazy, my fear kicked in and I wasn’t thinking straight.”
I nod. “Mine too.”
“So.”
“So.”
He puts his hand over mine. It feels so warm and strong.
“Can we start again?”
“As friends?”
He shakes his head. “No, as inciting incidents.”
I laugh. “Yes.”
Noah grins at me. “Because, you know, I don’t say ‘I like you so much I think it might be love’ to all the girls.”
“Not even to Leah Brown?” I say, grinning back at him.
“Never to Leah Brown!”
He shifts closer to me. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes. Please.”
Noah cups my face in his hands. “Man, you British chicks are so polite.”
We kiss but it feels shy, apprehensive.
“How did you get here?” I ask.
“I flew.”
“No, to the beach.”
“Oh. Your dad gave me a lift.”
“Oh my God, did they know you were coming?”
Noah nods. “Uh-huh. I told them I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“It was definitely that!”
Noah looks at me nervously. “They know what happened. I’d told Sadie Lee not to say anything to them at first. But then, when I’d calmed down and realized what had happened, I called your dad to ask if I could see you and it all came out. I’m really sorry—I assumed you’d have told them.”
“It’s OK. It’s all sorted now. Isn’t it?” I look at him and he nods.