“You’re right. There’s nothing to be nervous about—I’m just overthinking things. Tonight should be great.” I grab his hand, and my taking charge clearly catches him off guard, as he usually initiates affection. Not that there has been much other than a few kisses. But I like Noel; he’s comfortable and kind. He’s reliable and safe.
“It will be,” he confirms as we descend the red stairs to the underground pub.
I spot Stana and Lottie before anyone else, bolting for their table with Noel’s hand still in mine. I don’t miss how their eyes flare at our conjoined fingers.
“Em, you made it!” Stana says, quickly changing her expression into a beaming smile. Lottie lets her eyes linger, not caring what I think. While Stana will put on a good face and wait for me to come to her, Lottie likes to jump right in, taking no shit.
“Sorry we’re late. I was in the middle of a piece for a client, and poor Noel agreed to wait for me. Who knew five minutes would turn into thirty?” I grimace, hoping Noel can see the apology in my eyes, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“It was no bother. You’re an artist—you’ve got to do it when inspiration hits,” he says. I give him a thankful smile.
“The lads are about ten minutes from going on. Em, come get a drink with me?” Lottie eyes me suspiciously. I don’t miss Stana subtly nudging her cousin in the side, but Lottie just flashes her pearly whites before grabbing my arm, her acrylic nails accidentally digging into my side.
“Don’t make it so obvious you’re about to talk about him, Lo,” I tell her as we reach the bar, Stana now animatedly speaking to Noel.
“He doesn’t care. He’s a nice guy and nice guys don’t start unnecessary shit. I’ll give you a hundred quid if he brings it up later.”
I roll my eyes, trying not to let her see the amusement behind them because she is right. But I won’t be telling her that.
“What can I get you?” Stella, the bartender, asks.
“I’ll have a rosé. Lottie, what do you want?”
“Nothing for me, thanks.”
“Can I also get a pint of whatever you’ve got on tap?” I quickly call out, not wanting to forget Noel.
Stella nods before turning away.
“So, what’s the deal? You and Noel seem to be getting serious.” Lottie is back on me, asking things she already knows the answer to.
“We’re not. We’re taking things slowly; I’m not ready for anything serious. I’m still trying to get over…” I cut myself off, not even needing to say his name.
Lottie’s eyes soften.
“You know I’m not trying to be an asshole, right? I just worry and this happens to be how I show it. I want you to be happy, Em. I just want to make sure you’re doing it with the right person.”
“Well, the person I wanted doesn’t want me, so I’ve had to make other arrangements.” I cringe at how awful that sounds because I truly do like Noel. I just know it will never compare to how I feel for Reeve.
“I’m sorry, Em. I know you’re not a twit. You’re a smart girl and I need to trust you know what’s best for yourself. I’m just like a mamma bear sometimes—I get protective.”
I pull her into my side, grateful for this new friend who already feels so much like a sister to me.
“I know, Lottie. But Noel is a really good guy. He isn’t Beck.” At the mention of her cheating ex-boyfriend, her face pales momentarily before her mask slips back into place. I want to ask her about it, but cheers erupt, and the boys begin to walk out on the stage.
I quickly pay for the drinks before retreating back to where Stana and Noel are sitting. I grab the chair next to him. We’re not touching, but we’re close enough for someone walking by to assume we’re more than friends. He thanks me for the pint, and I take a sip of my rosé. It’s easy. It’s comfortable.
I don’t enjoy the set. I don’t even really hear the songs. All I notice is the way Reeve’s eyes bore into me the whole time. I can practically feel the holes in the side of my head, yet I refuse to direct my attention solely to him. I’m a lot of things, but an asshole is not one of them, and I wouldn’t disrespect Noel by watching Reeve the entire time.
The band finishes and cheers ensue around the room, the guys quickly exiting the stage and grabbing a few pints.
“They really are great,” Noel says from next to me. I turn to him, angling my body to give him my full attention.
“I always thought they could make it big if they really wanted to,” I tell him. “But they never had any interest in it. They said doing it professionally would take the fun out of it, which I guess isn’t wrong.”
Noel grins. “You should have seen them in uni, Em. Girls went nuts over those three. It’s true that people have a thing for musicians.”
I laugh. “I don’t think much has changed for them.”
“Did you ever get into music?”
“No, I’m about as musically inclined as a deaf elephant. Painting has always been much more my scene.”
He laughs as we continue on with our comfortable banter, the girls darting back and forth between us and the guys. It’s not till Noel goes to the bathroom that I realize I probably should have left earlier.
I’m digging through my purse when I feel a presence behind me. I don’t need to turn around—there’s only one person willing to get that close.
“You missed last Sunday,” Reeve says from behind me.
I stiffen, hoping no one will notice the close proximity to me. Saint Street is packed, so I don’t have any prominent fear of people noticing, but the panic is always there.
“So?” I say, voice cold.
“Come on, Emilia. You’ve already missed the last two.”
Like a clock, my mind ticks back to those nights I’ve missed so deeply the past couple of months.
“Okay, Reeve Sawyer, you have completely been holding out on me, you little bastard. This is one of the best roasts I’ve ever had, and that’s saying something.”
His lips turn up slightly at the sides, giving me that hint of a smile I’m so used to. Bloody hell, it’s more than anyone else gets, that I know.
“I just tried a few new things,” he replies, popping a crispy potato into his mouth.
“Well, this one is definitely my favorite.” I don’t hesitate to help myself to seconds, lathering my chicken in gravy while piling roast veggies onto my plate.
“You do know who would love this, right?”
He shakes his head, but mischief runs across his face. Oh, he knows.
“All I’m saying is Ali and Owen are gonna be crushed when they hear they’ve been missing out.”
“They’re never going to find out,” Reeve quickly replies. It’s not hostile or forced, said more as if we’re a secret he wants to keep all to himself. Not wanting to read into it, I change the subject.
“So, now you’ve known her for a few months, I see you’re warming up to Stana?” It is a question, but I have hope for the answer. I’ve come to see Stana like a sister, and I don’t want that to be jeopardized by anyone.
“I won’t lie, I was hesitant at first, Em. You never know what people’s intentions are, especially when money is involved.”