Page 17

MILLIE

Brand new information

I’ve made a grave mistake.

Anonymity is a privilege most people don’t realise the value of until it’s gone.

Me. I’m most people.

Apparently, everyone in the universe watches Australian cricket.

Either that, or they feed on gossip like it’s food.

Most likely the latter, but regardless, people have not stopped coming by the café.

I’ve got people I’ve never met calling out my name.

Teenagers popping in and holding up their phones to snap me behind the counter.

All these people figured out who I am and where I work, which is terrifying given my personal social media account is private and my face was on TV for a few seconds.

It’s enough to make me rethink my entire presence online and I’m seriously considering putting a pause on @soursnaps .

When I uploaded the photos from the cricket, I was careful to choose ones that weren’t from our exact vantage point, but it’s not going to take a genius to connect the dots.

“Did these people seriously look up where I work to come and look at me?” I ask Ellis, ducking behind the coffee machine. “Some guy came up to me as I got out of my car this morning to have a chat .”

Ellis shrugs sympathetically. “You’re a hottie. Can’t say I blame them for wanting to see who’s won King Fuckboy’s heart.”

“Don’t call him that!” I hiss. “He’s not even that famous! It’s not like he’s a Hemsworth or a Kardashian. This is insanity.”

“He’s plenty famous. You’ve failed to realise that because you don’t care about anything Hollywood. He’s wooed you with his playboy charm.” Ellis flutters her eyelashes.

If only you knew the mess I signed up for.

“Honestly, I love this for you,” Ellis says, not realising my inner turmoil. “You deserve a bit of excitement and you’re dating Noah King, for God’s sake. I still can’t believe it.”

I force a smile, trying to play it off as sheepish rather than guilt-ridden. The fact Ellis believes Noah and I are a couple is the most surprising. We are so different it’s laughable. Not to mention, I don’t race into relationships. I never have.

“We’re taking it slow,” I remind her. “We’re not even official. We’re seeing if we like each other first. Not that I can tell the world that. Five seconds on national television sitting next to each other and we’re already engaged.”

Ellis grins. “Maybe you’re the change Noah King needs.”

“And what if I’m not? What if it’s over in a matter of months?” I swallow down the lump in my throat.

Ellis looks at me, bewildered. “Would you enjoy it while you can? That’s what I’m doing with Dahlia. Live in the moment.”

Ellis has been saying that ever since she and Dahlia, aka Lioness, exchanged numbers at the barbecue. Dahlia is famous in her own right, but regular day-to-day people wouldn’t recognise her, so the two of them have been able to start a very fun, yet very low-key, summer fling of their own.

I hide my face in my hands. “I’m not very good at living in the moment.”

“Is he a good kisser?” Ellis asks.

I peek between my fingers. “What?”

“You heard me,” she says. “Is he? I bet he’s got a magic mouth and magic hands. Tell me he’s the throw-you-against-the-wall type?”

I close my hands over my eyes again. “You’re meant to be on my side.”

“I am ,” Ellis insists. “And because I’m on your side, I should get the details.”

“No one is getting any details,” I tut, moving past her.

“You have kissed him, right?” she presses. “Tell me you’re not being Padlock Pants with this guy.”

I lift my chin in the air. “There is no shame in being Padlock Pants.”

“I’m all for making them work for it,” Ellis agrees. “But you’ve got to give him something. A little sugar. A little taste.”

“Well, maybe he’ll get lucky at dinner tonight,” I deflect.

Ellis squeals. “Ooh, second night in a row? Where’re you going?”

I duck my head as a couple of people point their phones at me from across the room. “Somewhere quiet I hope.”

Everyone stares at us.

That’s not an exaggeration. From the minute Noah led me into the restaurant, I have felt eyes burning holes into my skin. Apparently, going to a local hot spot for dinner means the chances of getting spotted are way higher than an event which broadcasts around the country.

After a bit of arguing, well, a lot of arguing, Noah agreed our next date could be lower key than something with cameras streaming to every corner of the country.

An outing that’s seemingly normal by all accounts.

Dinner. A simple dinner, which I thought would be an unassuming task, where we would be left alone.

Nope. We are the talk of this entire room and then some.

Not only do we have spectators for dinner and people swinging by Beans , but my phone keeps blowing up from people I’d forgotten I had phone numbers for.

Social media is having a field day speculating about who the ‘real Millie’ is, and nearly every article I’ve read focuses on the fact I’m going to have my heart broken.

The video of us at the cricket has been cut into bite-sized footage. We look convincing. Even I’m impressed with my acting abilities. The comments, however, are a mixed bag:

Cuties.

Da fuq is this chick dating my future husband?

Girl, run.

It’s true what they say about there being a real person behind the photos. It hits differently when hundreds of people are putting their two cents in on your appearance and basing that on whether you’re a good match for their sporting hero.

Noah told me not to obsess over what I saw online and not to read comments if I could help it. But I’m a sucker for punishment.

“Hey.” Noah’s soft voice pulls me from my trance. “You okay?”

My gaze drifts to him across the small table at the edge of the dimly lit room. He looks so handsome this evening, in a crisp white dress shirt, brown chinos and slip-on shoes. I was speechless when I saw he’d swapped out his surfing attire for something so formal.

I nod. “I’m fine.”

Noah quirks an eyebrow. “We’re not meant to lie to each other, remember?”

“It’s not a lie. I am fine, it’s . . .”

His brow creases. “It’s what?”

“It’s a lot,” I admit. “People talking about us, wondering who I am. I’ve got hundreds of friend requests from people who’ve found my profile and some guy came up to me as I was getting out of my car yesterday to ask about us.”

Noah scowls. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I’m telling you now.”

The sharpened edges of his jaw look dangerous in the candlelight as he glowers at me. “Be serious. You have to tell me if anything like that happens as soon as it happens. Your safety isn’t a joke.”

“Thanks dad, I’m well aware,” I snap, my cheeks flushing.

“My safety is important to me too, you know. He wasn’t dangerous.

It’s the online stuff that concerns me the most. The comments from people I’ve never met, and don’t even start about the whole not looking online. Of course, I’m going to look.”

Noah looks contemplative as he chews on his steak, glancing around the room. The restaurant is private, with fake candles turned low and tables with plenty of room in between. One would almost call it romantic if we were an actual couple and people weren’t casually peering at us every other minute.

“I should’ve picked somewhere more lowkey,” he admits.

“I figured you’d choose somewhere with people. I didn’t expect you to choose the fanciest place on the Coast every busybody goes to.”

Noah grins. “You clearly don’t know me well enough yet, Maelstrom. I live for the attention.”

“And you clearly don’t know me well enough yet, either. I do not .” I sip my wine, relishing the warmth it brings to my cheeks, which feel as though they’re constantly warm from the spotlight.

Noah’s lips twist in thought. “You prefer to be behind the camera.”

“Bravo,” I sigh.

“No, you actually do. You took nearly every photo in our yearbook.”

I tilt my head, confused. “You act like this is brand new information.”

“I had no idea you’ve been into photography this entire time,” he explains, continuing to hack away at his meal. “You took some great shots. I’m even in some of them.”

I blink at him in surprise. I only started taking photos more consistently in the past few years.

There wasn’t any dramatic reason I stopped.

Life happened. After high school, Ellis and I enjoyed the new world of being eighteen and meeting new people.

I studied for four years and helped out in the store when I could.

I took photos here and there, but never as much as I did at school.

When Donna got sick, taking care of her became the most important thing in my life. Photography always took a backseat.

But that’s not the reason I blink at Noah in surprise. It’s that Noah truly has no memory of me from school. At all.

He doesn’t remember me taking photos of him winning age champion at every swimming carnival.

Or getting up at sunrise to snap him and his friends surfing at school camp.

He doesn’t remember any of the awards I received for my photographs or that my work was featured in a newspaper when I was sixteen.

I wasn’t popular at school, but I wasn’t an outcast either. I knew I was in the far reaches of most people’s thoughts and didn’t stand out, but that didn’t bother me. I’ve never liked the attention.

But realising with clarity you had zero effect on someone’s past when you remember their key achievements, is a sucker punch to the gut. We are the typical stereotype of popular boy meets nerdy girl.

My throat tightens. “You don’t remember me taking any of those photos?”

Noah shakes his head.

“Wow.” I lower my cutlery to the table and dab my napkin to my mouth, my appetite vanishing.

I didn’t recognise Noah immediately when we reunited on the beach, but I’ve since remembered a lot. He’s confirmed what I already suspected, that even after spending time together, he doesn’t recall me being in his life before now. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”

I grab my purse with a shaky hand and stand before he can respond, heading toward the bathroom. My cheeks are still warm, but there’s no way that’s because of the wine.