Page 15

NOAH

I never noticed

What’s better than when your team wins in sport? When the hard launch of your fake girlfriend goes spectacularly well.

I hoped enough people would take notice of us and take a few sneaky pictures. The fact we made it onto national TV was way better than I could’ve asked for.

I gently steer Millie in the direction of my car and to my surprise, she entwines her fingers with mine without comment, staying close to me as we exit the stadium.

A few people have their phones out as we pass by, and I smile and nod, pleased no one says anything about my recent antics.

A few people ask for photos or shout out my surname with enthusiastic waves and back slaps.

Whatever the public opinion is of my recent behaviour, I’m grateful people err on the positive side this evening.

When we make it back inside my car, we close the doors and release a collective sigh.

“Holy shit,” Millie huffs, leaning back against the headrest.

“You okay?”

She nods. “That was fun. Full on at the end there, but fun.”

We get about fifty metres down the road before our phones buzz simultaneously. Signal inside the stadium wasn’t great, but now we’re in clearer air, notifications fly in. “Stop worrying,” I tell her, sensing her tension.

Millie sighs and clicks her phone off, instead deciding to wring her hands together. “I’m new at this.”

“This is a first for me, too.”

“Fake-dating maybe, but being in the public eye isn’t,” she replies. “You’ve had people knowing who you are for the better part of a decade. I don’t know how you’ve done it for so long and kept a clear head.”

I laugh. “I hardly think partying every night and acting like a world class wanker is keeping a clear head.”

Millie gives me a stern look. “That wasn’t due to the world knowing your business. You didn’t cope well with a break-up and happened to be mildly famous at the same time.”

“I appreciate your vote of confidence, but keeping a clear head hasn’t always been my strong point. Trust me.”

Dan is a big part of why I stayed relatively out of trouble for so long in my younger years.

Fame and status eventually got to me and my stupid ego.

I became addicted to the high life of drinking and travelling and VIP treatment.

Being a professional surfer is like getting the best of every world without any of the Hollywood drama, until you let the Hollywood drama in.

“Were you really that bad?” Millie tilts her head, her eyes narrowed like she’s trying to read my thoughts.

“Yes. The flack I got was warranted. I’ve got no one to blame but myself.” I shrug. “I’ve finally learned to let go of things I can’t control. Like what others think of me.”

“Says the man who is paying someone to help change his image because he wants people to like him.” Millie rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile playing on her lips.

“I want to be in charge of the narrative,” I explain.

“Sometimes people say they don’t buy into what the media say, but that’s a load of shit.

People talk. Opinions are formed and swayed by tittle-tattle.

I have things I want to do with my life after surfing and it took nearly losing everything to realise how much I had to lose. It might even be too late.”

Millie quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“This.” I wave a hand between us. “This is a longshot, I know that, but I’m hoping to whatever god there is it helps me get back into people’s good graces.

Not because I’m a greedy fucker or that I care about people liking me, but so I can stay in this industry long after I’ve retired.

That I can make enough money to take care of my family and the next generation of Kings.

Plus, I want to . . .” I suck in a breath.

“You want to . . . ?” Millie prompts.

It’s not that I’m embarrassed by my ideas outside of my career.

Far from it. But it’s that they’re only ideas.

I made sure to add a non-disclosure agreement in our contract and Millie doesn’t strike me as the type to blab regardless, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t let some information slip.

And I don’t want to share those things without having a plan first.

“I want a life after surfing,” I finally answer. “I’m not going to be able to do this forever.”

I can sense Millie surveying the side of my face, but she doesn’t push the subject. “That’s smart. It’s good to have plans in place.”

“What about your plans, Maelstrom?” I deflect. “What’re you going to spend my hard-earned cash on?”

She pulls her camera from her bag. “It’s going to cover off some of my aunt’s medical bills and go towards a renovation of the café. Ellis floated the idea of selling it.”

I glance at her. “What do you think?”

Millie hums as she thinks. “I grew up there. It’s my childhood, my adolescence. It’s my second home. My aunt is in the walls of that store, and it’s filled with wonderful memories. But sometimes I wonder if I hold on to things when I should let them go.”

She stares down at her camera before sensing my gaze on her. “This is getting too deep. Let’s talk about your foolish partying ways again.”

I laugh and I oblige her, giving her the run-down of some of the most intense experiences of my life on the way to her house. Competing against some of the world’s biggest names in surfing, hanging backstage at Coachella, having promiscuous sex with supermodels and actresses alike.

When we arrive and I kill the engine, she looks surprised at how much I’ve divulged. “I thought sex-parties peaked during the time of the Roman Empire. I’m obviously living a very sheltered life.”

“Sex parties can be great. Using too much cocaine during a sex party? Not so much. As a man you, uh, struggle to perform.”

Millie shakes her head in disbelief. “How did you not get busted for drugs during the competitive season?”

“Cocaine doesn’t stay in your system for very long,” I reply. “I was doing it recreationally and not near competition dates. It was a short-lived bad habit of mine, I swear. Still, so stupid.”

“At least we both agree on that,” she quips.

I jut my chin at the camera still clasped in her hands. “Did you get any good ones?”

She looks surprised, almost as if she forgot she was holding it. “I hope so. I’m going to go straight inside and comb through them. I’ll send you any good ones.”

We climb out of the car and walk towards her front door. “Thank you for tonight,” she says. “I don’t know what can of worms we’ve opened, but here’s hoping I don’t regret it.”

“People are nosy and curious, but you don’t need to worry,” I assure her.

Millie gives me a flat smile. “You know, every time you tell me not to worry, my anxiety goes up a level?”

I grin. “You’ll trust me soon enough.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves a dismissive hand, stopping at the door. “Thank you for taking me out on my first, first date in years.” Millie holds her hand out and I raise my eyebrows.

“If Ellis looks out the window or someone followed us home, a handshake is going to look dodgy as hell.”

She drops her hand and looks around, concern etched on her face. “You think we were followed?”

“No. I don’t think I’m that interesting, but when we’re outside, we should keep up the act to be safe.”

Millie nods. “Got it.”

I lean in and press my lips to her warm cheek. I hear her swallow, and I almost make a comment on how her shyness is endearing, but I keep it to myself.

“Thanks, Maelstrom,” I reply, backing away. “Remember, don’t obsess over anything you see online. That’s my job.”

“Sure,” she says dryly. “I’ll turn off my raging anxiety for the most anxiety-inducing thing I’ve ever participated in, in my life.”

I cackle as I head back to the car.

After a long, hot shower, I finally collapse into bed and dare to check my messages.

The group chat with the boys has blown up, with Mack being the main author, unsurprisingly.

Several images fill the conversation, including screenshots from gossip sites of Millie and me on the big screen, smiling and cheering.

There are several short video snippets of the evening and mention of ‘notorious playboy Noah King’, but most of the chatter is about people seeing me back on home soil and smiling.

The comments about Millie by my side are a mixed bag, from ‘poor girl, she doesn’t know what she’s in for’ to ‘ lucky girl, you can tell she’s a sweetheart’.

Mack

[Image sent]

Mack

[Image sent]

Mack

You made it to the big screen. The commentators were frothing you.

Callum

My mum messaged to say you need a haircut, King. Has also not stopped asking me about the beautiful young woman next to you.

Mack

As your manager, do not cut your hair.

Callum

He could shave his head and no one would care. They look like nervous teenagers in love and people are living for it.

Mack

KING. DO NOT CUT YOUR HAIR.

Also, you do look like teenagers in love. Swear on your life she slid into your DMs and you’re not paying her like I suggested.

Callum

Stop trying to take credit for their happiness.

Mack

But it’s proof I have good ideas.

Dan

Could you both STFU?

Mack

You’re right. They’re probably banging right now.

Noah

I’m more anxious opening this group chat than I am reading comments on social media.

Mack

So, you’re not banging Millie right now?

Callum

He’s playing the gentleman card.

ME

Ditto to what Dan said. Shut the fuck up.

I close my phone and go over the events of tonight in my head. Millie had a good time, getting amongst the sport and cheering along with everyone else. She handled the attention way better than I expected and by the look of it, the public and my friends found it convincing.

I swallow down the tiny bit of shame that threatens to engulf me. It would be so easy to tell my friends the truth, but I know it’s best for everyone to keep it to a minimal amount of people.

My phone buzzes again, but this time it’s from Millie. When I open her messages, my mouth breaks into a grin.

Millie

I haven’t edited these yet but thought you might like the raw versions.

She’s sent through multiple photos from tonight.

Several of the crowd under the dazzling lights, one of the woman as she captures the ball, a shit-eating grin on her face, and one of me.

It’s of my side profile and I’m lifting my cup to my lips, looking out at the field and smirking, as if having a dirty thought or reacting to something Millie said.

Me

You don’t need to edit these. They’re incredible.

Millie

This is what I want from my fake boyfriend. More compliments.

Me

I’m serious. Can I post some of these?

Millie

Sure. Don’t tag me though. I’ve reached my publicity limit for today.

Me

Haha sure thing.

I select the photo of me, adding a caption about sweat and men and balls. People will start sleuthing even without the tag, but I don’t tell Millie that as I post it to my feed. Likes start coming in almost instantly.

Me

You’re going to wish I tagged you when you see how much traction this gets.

Millie

I’ll let you take the spotlight. Night, King.

Me

Good night baby x

Millie

Ew. No.

Me

Babes? Sexy? How about munchkin?

Millie

GOOD NIGHT.

Me

Schnookims. Bubba. I’ll keep brainstorming.

Chuckling, I grab the yearbook still sitting on my desk, skimming through the pages again and land back on Millie’s graduation photo and cheesy smile. Who would’ve thought the two of us would be brought back together to carry out something so bizarre?

I flip to the section that covers athletics and scan the photos, smiling to myself as memories surface of me winning at sports carnivals and surfing at camp.

Dan went to a different school, and I met Mack and Callum after I graduated, so the people I’m grinning next to, or running races with are people I barely recognise.

It’s shocking to think how little of others I remember.

My gaze travels to the captions under the images, snagging on the one in the bottom right-hand corner. Photographer: Millie Schofield.

Frowning, I turn another page and there her name is again. Under photos of me at the swimming carnival, the ones of me on the podium after cross country. The photos of the art kids, the drama students and the home economics class. Millie’s name is underneath every picture.

She took every single photograph in this book.

And I never noticed.