Page 10

NOAH

Your hand is sweaty

“Alright.” I drop the signed paperwork on the table and get to my feet. “Nothing like the present time to start.” I hold out a hand towards Millie.

Her gaze darts to it before landing back on my face. “What are you doing?”

“I think we should practice touching.”

“ Now? ”

Her terrified expression almost makes me laugh. “Yes, now. When would you suggest we start? When we’re in public and everyone’s looking at us?”

She stares at my hand, dragging her bottom lip into her mouth and biting down so hard it looks painful. Having a woman this resistant to touching me is a first.

“You know, I never took you for someone to go back on their word,” I say. “A goody-two-shoes. A nerd, yes. But never a liar. Never lacking integrity. A flog .”

Millie’s mouth drops open. Got her.

“You’re not using that word correctly,” she grits out. “A flog is someone who is considered pretentious, conceited or foolish.”

“Would you not agree you’re foolish for putting yourself in this situation?”

She narrows her eyes. “I am not a flog.”

“Prove it.”

Millie shoots to her feet and slaps her hand into mine, squeezing it hard for good measure.

I squeeze it back. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“I hate you.” Her gaze darts to our conjoined hands. “This is weird.”

“That’s why we’re practicing,” I say, stepping closer and sweeping my gaze down her face.

Millie’s curly and untamed ebony hair frames her heart-shaped face. Her cheeks always seem softly flushed and her lashes are so thick I could swear they were fake like the ones Sofia used to wear.

Her eyes widen. “Now what are you doing?”

I smile. “Gazing at you with love and adoration.”

Millie wrenches her hand from mine and slaps both of hers to her face. “I am never going to survive this.”

As much as part of me wants to rile her up, I know it won’t help her relax around me. Gently, I peel her hands away from her face. She looks defeated, almost grimacing at our closeness. “Not only will you survive, but you’ll thrive at this. I have faith in you.”

“Because that means so much,” she says dryly.

“You need to practice. Let’s try again.”

I step back and hold out my hand, patiently waiting for her to ride out the battle currently going on behind her big brown eyes. “It’s just a hand, Millie.”

She exhales loudly before sliding her small hand back into mine. I offer what I hope is a comforting smile as I manoeuvre my fingers around hers, so they’re intertwined. She watches them with apparent fascination.

“Good job,” I say. “Now, let’s try something else.”

I reach up with my other hand to push a lock of curls behind her ear—and she slaps my hand down before I even make contact.

“Jesus, Millie.” A choked laugh escapes my throat. “You’re acting like you haven’t been touched by a man before. Wait, you have been touched by a man before, right?”

“Of course I have!” she snarls.

“Just checking,” I assure her.

She blows her fringe out of her eyes in frustration. “I’m overthinking this. I know that. But you’re a stranger to me. A stranger is trying to touch me and it’s weird.”

She’s got a point. I might be affectionate from the get-go, but Millie is clearly not.

“I’m coming at this the wrong way.” I take a step back from her. “We wouldn’t be rushing this if we were a real couple, right? It’d happen organically.”

She nods. “Right.”

“Let’s hang out here for a while,” I suggest. “Get used to being in each other’s space and see if we can handle handholding once we’re more comfortable.”

I see the war waging in her eyes, before she reluctantly agrees. “Give me a tour.”

“Give me a tour, please .”

I grin as she huffs and makes her way across the living room without waiting for me to lead her. This might be a disaster, but it’s going to be fun niggling her while she’s here.

MILLIE

It’s only a hand. A large, manly hand.

“Would you relax?” Noah hisses.

I dig my nails into his flesh, and he flinches, tightening his grip in response.

Noah and I ended up holding hands for about twenty minutes.

He took me on a tour of his home, from the main suite to the guest bedrooms, to the office, which he said Mack uses the most when he stays over.

He gently grabbed my hand when we made it to the garage to see his actual surfboard collection.

It was hard to act like I wasn’t impressed.

It was basically an art gallery inside his home.

“This is the most stupid thing I’ve ever been a part of,” I tell Noah as we make our way down his street.

Noah insisted we start small and head outdoors to practice our fake relationship skills, explaining we don’t have time to go any slower than we are already. We’re walking to a collection of shops near Noah’s house under the guise of buying food for a home-cooked meal.

“Coming from the smartest person I’ve ever met, that doesn’t really say much,” he replies. “Everything’s dumb to you.” He grips my hand and swings, but I yank on his hand to knock it off.

“No, it’s not,” I huff. “But this? This is the dumbest of dumb things.”

“And yet, you agreed to it,” Noah says, smiling down at me smugly. His eyes flash with warning. “Signature and all, Miss Schofield.”

I dig my nails into his palm again.

As we reach the main road, the shops come into view. My hands grow clammy as I note the number of people milling around the carpark, doing their own shopping or stopping to buy lottery tickets and cigarettes. I want to vomit.

“Your hand is sweaty,” he mutters.

“I’m not apologising for that,” I snap.

Noah slows his steps and spins me so I’m facing him, his free hand settling on my lower back. I tilt my head to meet his gaze and almost jump back at his intensity.

“This doesn’t have to be a chore,” he says. “You’re allowed to have fun, you know.”

“Call me old-fashioned,” I reply. “But my version of fun rarely involves forced interaction with someone I barely know.”

“I’m going to tuck your hair behind your ear now,” he warns.

My eyes widen in panic and Noah’s lips twitch, as if he knows the control it’s taking me not to react.

The hand at my back comes to the side of my face and slowly he pushes a wad of wayward curls behind my ear, sending tingles down my spine. “What do you do for fun?”

I blink a few times. “For fun?”

“Yeah, you know, your hobbies, for instance?”

“I recently got back into photography,” I reply.

Noah winces. “I’m sorry again about the camera. I didn’t realise how important it was to you.”

The pained expression on his face tugs at my heartstrings the tiniest bit, and I offer him a half-smile.

“I’ve got plenty of sentimental things from my aunt, don’t worry.

Beans is one of them. Although the truth is I’m working long-ass days at the store or I’m at home thinking about how to keep the store functioning, so there’s not much time for photographic dabbling. ”

Noah wrinkles his crooked nose. “Did you end up studying health science? I read in the yearbook you wanted to go into that industry after school?”

My mouth drops open. “You can read?”

“Shocking, I know. Did you study it?”

“I got my degree in pharmacy.”

Noah looks at me expectantly. “And?”

I shrug. “I don’t think pharmacy is for me.”

Bitter disappointment drips down my throat as I say those words. No one warns you what it feels like to be laser-focused on a goal, only to have it not meet your expectations at the end.

Noah must sense a shift in my mood, because he curls a non-existent lock of hair behind my ear again.

I fire a warning shot at him, and he grins.

“Have a think about what might be for you. Let’s figure out what you like and help you make time for some more hobbies.

After you help me, of course.” He grabs my hand again and pulls me towards the grocery store.

I stew on his words as we near the doors.

In high school, I was so much more involved with life.

I wasn’t athletic like Noah, but I was busy.

At school, you’re forced into trying new things and opportunities are laid out for you; school newspaper, concert band, organising charity events.

I got so into photography, for a while I thought I’d make it my profession.

I used to spend hours in the library, reading every book that had beautiful photos of animals and cities and waves. Especially, waves.

My life as an adult has been nowhere near as fruitful and it’s not because my aunt got sick. I wasn’t doing anything exciting before life shifted with her diagnosis. How have I let the things that used to bring me immense joy slip away as if they were nothing?

We enter the store, and Noah greets the cashier jovially, grabbing a shopping basket on the way past. She smiles brightly at him and when her eyes shift to me, they widen, as if she’s in on a big secret.

Noah continues to act like it’s normal and pulls me into his side, curving his arm around my waist as he steers us towards the Asian import section.

“On the subject of hobbies, cooking is one of mine,” Noah says, releasing me to crouch down. He thumbs through the packets on the shelves with ease, selecting items he needs like he’s done this a million times.

“This is how you woo real-life women, isn’t it?”

Noah grins without looking my way. “Are you not a real-life woman?”

“You know what I mean.”

Noah puts his items in the basket and stands up to face me. “Yes, I cook for the women I’m dating. Research shows women love a man in the kitchen.”

I snort. “Another cliché.”

“You act like clichés are a bad thing, but it’s a fact that a man cooking is effective.” Noah winks at me. “Now, act like it’s effective on you. ”

I plaster on my best fake smile and lean into his side. “Like this?”

Noah’s free hand reaches up and skims my chin unexpectedly. A gasp of surprise slips out of my mouth and my fake smile vanishes.

“Exactly like that,” he murmurs darkly, his green gaze flickering over my shoulder. “Don’t move yet. The girl from the front counter is very un-subtly filming us.”

My body locks in place as a steady thrum dances its way from Noah’s hand on my chin up my jawline. I’m grateful my back is to the camera. I have no doubt my face would give us away.

Noah curls an arm around my waist, pulls me into his side so there’s no space between us and leans down. He angles his head, and my body goes rigid with panic, right before he kisses me on the side of my face.

His mouth moves to my ear as he pulls me closer. “I promised I wouldn’t kiss you without your permission. Stop panicking.”

God. It’s been so long since I’ve been close with a man, I’ve forgotten what to do, how to act. This seems so easy to Noah.

After we grab our remaining items, we head to the register. Noah’s hands touch me gently, but consistently. Naturally . I have to consciously think about not locking up.

“Hey, Mia,” Noah greets the cashier again.

“Hi, Noah,” she replies with a smile. Her eyes flash to me and I offer a smile in return. She processes our items, and Noah pays for our things, keeping the chat light and unimportant. He steers the conversation away from himself and puts it back on Mia, who is flattered by his attention.

“With any luck we’ll be all over TikTok tonight,” Noah says as we leave the store.

I glance back at Mia and sure enough, she’s on her phone, tapping and swiping furiously.

A wave of nausea threatens to stop me in my tracks.

Any sense of anonymity is now officially gone.

Publicly I am always going to be a notch on Noah King’s belt, even if we both know nothing like that will happen.

We make our way back to Noah’s house in a surprisingly pleasant quiet. I’m not sure what Noah’s thinking about. Perhaps he can see the worry in my eyes and is giving me space to process what the hell I’ve signed up for.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Noah asks as he walks me to my car. “I meant what I said about me being a good cook.”

“I’ve got to get back to help Ellis.”

“Suit yourself,” he replies. “We hard launch with my friends in two days. There’s a get-together happening just over the border. You’ll get to meet Mack and Callum and a few people in the surfing circle. Bring your cousin. If we’re going to make this believable, our friends need to be involved.”

Panic flutters in my belly. “Already?”

“I introduce the women in my life to my friends straight away.” Noah runs a hand through his hair, his shirt lifting to expose the tight muscles underneath. “I want their honest opinions.”

“And if they don’t like me?” I query, averting my eyes. “Shouldn’t we have checked this before we entered a legally binding contract?”

Noah shrugs. “I don’t always follow their advice, but I always want their opinions. They’re going to be suss if I don’t introduce you.”

“Tell them you’re trying a different tack,” I offer meekly.

Noah shakes his head. “There’s no getting out of this one. We’re ripping it off like a Band-Aid. I’ll send you the details later tonight. I think it’s at two, but not sure if that’s Queensland or New South Wales time.”

I unlock my car and throw my handbag across to the passenger side. “No one’s going to believe it.”

Noah grins. “Just you wait.”