The Trouble with Faking (24 page)

He nods. “A reminder every time I look in the mirror of how I messed up.”

“We’ve all messed up, Noah. We all make mistakes. You’re the one who reminded me of that.”

“Some mistakes are bigger than others.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to keep silently beating yourself up about it. It’s in the past. You’ve dealt with it. You’re not that person anymore.”

With a smile on his lips, he whispers, “I think I love you.” The word ‘love’ sends a thrill racing through my body, lighting up the fire inside me once more. But perhaps he takes my lack of response as a bad sign, because he adds, “Sorry. Too soon?”

I shake my head against the pillow. “You already said it during your secret slideshow in the video.”

He places a kiss on my neck. “And you said it when you walked in here just now.”

I tilt my head and find his lips and kiss them once more. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” I whisper.

His hands frame my face. “It’s only four days,” he says with a gentle smile.

“I know, but two of them are Saturday and Sunday, and they’re going to take sooooo long to pass.”

He kisses me again, long and lingering. When he breaks away and sits up, he says, “Walk outside with me. I want to introduce my beautiful new girlfriend to the guys I’ll be working with for the next few days.”

“Um, in this?” I sit up and gesture to my pyjama pants and gumboots.

“You look gorgeous,” he says. “You could be wearing a tea cosy on your head, and I’d still want to show you off to everyone.”

I pull my boots back on—with Noah’s help, which he manages to do in a way that’s so sexy I almost tug him back onto the bed—and zip my jacket up over my
He is
not
my boyfriend
T-shirt. Noah picks up a duffle bag, slings the strap over his shoulder, and slips his hand around mine. He gives me another quick kiss before we walk down to reception and out to the parking lot where, fortunately, it’s stopped raining, and two guys are waiting by a car.

“Taking your time, Ferreira,” one of them says, but despite his attempt to look annoyed, I see the smile in his eyes.

“I think we all know why,” the other one says, grinning at the first guy.

They greet each other, and Noah introduces me. He throws his duffle bag onto the back seat of the car, then takes my hand and pulls me aside. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my forehead.

“Can I say one more thing before you go?” I ask.

He nods, kisses my lips, and says, “Of course.”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? When I turned down that opportunity to dance with you and you said I’d regret it one day?”

“Yip.”

“I think I’m regretting it now.”

“I see.”

“And I think there might be a way you could help me out with that.”

“Oh really?”

I nod and open my hand to reveal the folded-up flyer I stuffed into my pocket just now.

“Hmm.” He takes it from me. He must recognise what it is from the colours, because he doesn’t bother unfolding it. “You know, I never did get an answer to the message on that heart I gave you.”

I think of the paper heart stuck to my pinboard.
Be my valentine
. I wrap my arms around his neck, stand on tiptoe, and whisper in his ear, “I would love to be your valentine.”

“In that case—” he kisses my earlobe “—Andrea Clark, would you like to go to the Smuts formal with me?”

I’m still putting the finishing touches to my outfit when there’s a knock on my door.
Shoot!
What is he doing here? He’s got to be at least forty minutes early.

“Relax,” Carmen says from the other side of my door. “It’s just me.”

I pad across the room in my slippers and open the door. Carmen’s standing on the other side looking glamorous and model-like in a long, close-fitting red gown. “Oh, wow, you look amazing.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Okay, then.
“Um, have you had a chance to think about what I said yesterday?”

“You mean what you
yelled
yesterday?”

“Uh, yes.” Carmen and I have spent all week fighting about Noah—she still thinks he’s a terrible person, while I’ve been trying to convince her otherwise—until yesterday when I shouted, ‘Noah did
not
kill your cousin. And even if he was this terrible, evil influence you seem to think he is, Tyrone was his friend and I highly doubt he
forced
him to do anything. Tyrone
chose
to drink that night. He
chose
to get behind the wheel of a car. And he
chose
not to stop at a red light. End of story. If you want to hate Noah for the decisions Tyrone made, go right ahead. That’s your illogical business, not mine.’

“Well, you know I’m a very practical, stick-to-the-facts kinda person,” Carmen says, placing a hand on her hip, “so I didn’t just think about what you said. I did some research.”

“Research?”

“I hunted down some of Ty’s friends from back then and asked them a few questions.”

I smile because I can imagine Carmen hunting people down. Literally.

“Despite the fact that Tania has always insisted her brother was a good guy who never chose to get involved in any of that stuff—drinking and drugs and all that—the friends he used to have said he was always, well, the life of the party. That he was excited when his uptight younger cousin Noah left school and decided to relax and join in the fun. So I guess it wasn’t Noah who led Ty off the tracks. If anything, it was the other way around.”

Relief warms my insides. “Carmen, that’s—”

“And while this does not mean that I have to
like
Noah,” Carmen says, holding a finger up, “I do now see that it’s illogical to blame him for Ty’s death.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

“And don’t expect me say that again. You know how I feel about admitting that I’m wrong.”

“I do.” I watch in amusement as she sashays back to her room. She wasn’t entirely sure about this whole formal thing, but one of the few Smuts guys who isn’t afraid of her asked her to go with him, and, after making him wait several days for an answer, she said yes.

I spend the next forty minutes finishing my make-up and hair. I’m lacing up my boots when Noah knocks on my door. I know it’s him—I recognise the way he knocks—and my stomach fills with anxious butterflies. Will he like what I’m wearing? Will he think I’m pretty? Will he be embarrassed to be seen with me?

With a shy smile on my face, I pull open the door. Noah looks dashing in a suit, completely different from his normal casual attire. At the sight of me, his eyes widen. “Wow,” he says. “Just … wow.”

I’m wearing my version of a steampunk dress. The centrepiece of the outfit is a Victorian-style coat, tight at the waist and flaring out like a skirt over my hips. I added a few ruffled layers, longer at the back and shorter at the front, to fill out the skirt. Under that I’ve got black stockings and high-heeled ankle boots—visible from the front where the skirt is shorter. Brass buttons shaped like cogs add to the steampunk look of the coat-dress, along with the old pocket watch I hung on a short chain so it sits against the V of bare skin beneath my neck. Lastly, I twisted my hair up and pinned a tiny top hat to the side of the twist.

“Is that a good ‘wow’?” I ask.

“Yes. That is a my-girlfriend-is-the-sexiest-and-most-beautiful-thing-I’ve-ever-seen wow.”

I reach for his hand as a blush rises in my cheeks. “I like that kinda wow.” I lean forward and whisper, “I thought you were sexy enough in normal clothes, but you’re even sexier in a suit.”

Smiling, he raises my hand and kisses it. “I’d prefer to kiss your lips,” he says, “but I don’t want to ruin your make-up.”

“Hmm. Maybe I don’t mind having my make-up ruined.”

He brushes his lips against my cheek. “Don’t tempt me.”

With a laugh, I step back and look around for my keys. “So, shall we get going?”

“Wait, what about my steampunk accessories?”

I look at him. “Really?”

“Of course. You’re my date. We should match.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Are you sure?”

“Andi, when it comes to you, I am always sure.”

“Oh good,” I say, clapping my hands together, “because I got you some stuff, but I didn’t know if you’d want to wear it or not. Nothing overboard, of course.”

“Of course,” Noah says.

I open my cupboard and pull out the items I got for Noah. “Here’s a top hat. I stuck a watch face on the side along with a few of the clockwork brass buttons I used on my coat.”

“Awesome. I’ve always wanted to wear a top hot.”

“And these cufflinks have watch parts stuck to them, so they’re in keeping with the steampunk vibe.”

“Perfect.”

“Really? I thought maybe you’d think they’re stupid or—”

He silences me with a kiss, obviously no longer bothered by my make-up. I melt against him, wondering if perhaps we should give the formal a miss and stay here all night. But he pulls back after a few moments, and I remember that I’m looking forward to showing off my dress and dancing with Noah. “Um, I may need to reapply my lipstick now.”

“And I probably need to remove it,” he says, ducking out of my room. I hear him turn on the tap in the bathroom.

A few moments later, after adding a quick layer of lipstick, I pull my door shut and meet Noah on the landing. “Ready?” he asks.

“Ready.”

***

Fairy lights glow like stars above us, and beneath us, the polished dance floor gleams. My feet ache from dancing so much, but right here in Noah’s arms is exactly where I want to be. So I unlace my boots, toss them to the side of the dance floor, and skip back to Noah on my stockinged feet.

“Steampunk pixie,” he says into my ear before spinning me around again.

“Steampunk hunk,” I say with a laugh after the spinning ends and he catches me.

It’s been a fun evening, with several people complimenting my outfit, and only one person making a rude comment to my face. He suggested I got lost on the way to a theme party, but Noah simply said, “Hey, remember when you fell out of a window?” and the guy backed off pretty quickly.

The music slows, and Noah pulls me closer. I link my arms around his neck. Over his shoulder, I see Damien. He’s with a girl whom I assume is his new girlfriend. I wonder for a moment if she’s the girl he wrote the letter to. The letter he may or may not have sent. I find, though, that it doesn’t matter to me anymore. Maybe he lied and maybe he didn’t, but I’ve moved on.

I rest my cheek against Noah’s shoulder, enjoying the feel of his strong arms wrapped around me. We sway slowly, and I rub my thumb gently up and down the back of his neck.

“This is perfect,” Noah murmurs.

I lift my head so I can look at him. “I thought you said there’s no such thing as perfect.”

“There isn’t. At least, there aren’t any perfect people. But there’s a footnote to that statement.” He leans his forehead against mine. “Two imperfect people can make a perfect moment.”

I close my eyes. It is a perfect moment. Even though the music is cheesy and the food wasn’t all that amazing and the hotel ballroom has a musty smell and the stars twinkling above us aren’t real, it’s still perfect. Because I’m with him.

“Hey, guys!” I wave at the camera. “Sorry to make you wait a WHOLE TWO WEEKS for this announcement, but after our last book review, Noah went away for four days—”

“And Andi was too busy missing me to think about replying to your comments,” Noah says.

“And then the Thursday coffee shop video went live because it was already done and uploaded, and most of you DISLIKED that video because it wasn’t about Noah and me—”

“Not cool, guys. Not cool.” Noah shakes his head, showing the camera his mock-serious face.

“And then the next Tuesday book review day came around and …” I look at Noah. He looks at me. He winks, and I grin stupidly at the memory of last Tuesday’s make-out session. “… and, well, we were otherwise occupied,” I say, facing the camera once more. “Fast forward through another automatic coffee shop video, which was bombarded by #CrossOutTheNot comments, and here we are.”

“Thanking ourselves for never making our residential addresses public,” Noah adds, “because at least half of you would have hunted us down by now if we had.”