Page 18

NOAH

Say that again

I am a cock-up on most days, but I really thought I was doing better with Millie. I’m more myself and I’m relaxed. So much so, I go and stick my goddamned foot in it. Dan’s right, I do need a full-time buffer.

She was an outstanding talent with a camera at school. Some of the photos she took circulated online over the years, taken from the yearbook when people wanted to know what I was like as a kid.

It’s taken me an embarrassingly long time to put the pieces together.

I’ve been so self-absorbed my entire life I can’t remember someone who was there for nearly every one of my senior year achievements.

How many other people have I ignored, forgotten or discounted because I was too focused on myself?

I stab at my food again, chewing on another piece of steak with much more vigour than a minute ago, when a tall blonde woman approaches me in a sleek black dress. “Excuse me, are you Noah King?”

I nod, mouth still full of food.

She giggles and flips her hair. “I knew it. I told my boyfriend it was you, but he didn’t believe me.”

I clear my throat and smile, still chewing.

She hovers by the table, arching her back as she waits for me to swallow my food.

Her fake breasts are way too big for her frame and the way her gaze lingers on my face confirms she’s into me, despite her boyfriend.

She’s the type of woman I’d ordinarily flirt back with, despite her boyfriend, but for some reason, I don’t get the same urge to jump into my usual tricks.

“You’re amazing on a surfboard,” she purrs.

“Thank you,” I say, managing to chew through the last of my food.

“Could we get a photo?” she asks, fishing her phone out of her bag. She goes to snap a selfie of us and a noise of protest escapes my throat.

I hold up my hand. “Whoa, hold up a sec.” She lowers her phone as a flush creeps across her cheekbones. “I really appreciate you coming up to say hi,” I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “I’d love to have my meal without any photos, but I’d be happy to take a photo with you afterwards.”

I’m not sure the woman hears anything I’ve said, because she’s backing up, her cheeks now flaming. “Whatever. It’s all good.”

As she scurries away, I remind myself I was polite in setting a boundary with her. If I say yes to one person with food in my mouth, before I know it there’s a queue of people. Maybe that’s presumptuous of me, but Mack always told me to be kind, but direct. You can’t say yes to everyone.

Millie returns a few minutes later, sitting down at the table and collecting her glass of wine. Her mouth droops at the corners, and she doesn’t eat.

I nod to her plate. “You didn’t like the food?”

“I loved it, thank you. I’m full.”

My gaze shifts to her hands, where she’s pressing her nails into her palms. I am killing it with women today.

“I’m full too.” I drop my napkin on the table. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

I settle the bill and walk beside Millie out of the restaurant, ignoring the swivel of heads as we leave. As we head outside into the warm air, I’m desperately racking my brain about how to make it up to her, when three men hanging near the entrance catch my attention.

“Oi, King Fuckwit.”

“Creative,” I reply, stepping ahead of Millie. I curve my arm and steer her slightly behind me. “Excuse me gents, we’re heading home.”

By the look of their fancy suits, they’re patrons from the bar who have come outside for a smoke break or to confront me. Or both.

“I knew you were a wanker, but to find out for sure is such a letdown,” one of the men says, blowing out smoke from a vape. “It’s one lousy photo, bro.”

“If you’re referring to the woman who asked me for a photo, I didn’t say no, bro ,” I reply. “I said I’d prefer not to in the middle of my meal.”

I sense Millie looking between the two of us, and her hand squeezes my arm.

“You’re a wash-up anyway,” the guy snickers.

Heat prickles under my collar, but I school my expression the best I can. “Again. Your insults are second-to-none. Now, please excuse us.”

The guy steps forward, blocking our path. “You are such a cocky piece of shit. You ride a surfboard and think you’re better than everyone else?”

“I don’t think I’m better than everyone else.” I meet his daring gaze. “But I know I’m better than you. Move out of my way, dickhead.”

The guy’s eyes flash with fury and I notice his two buddies shift behind him. “What did you say?”

“Are you stupid and deaf?” I spit.

I know that look. I can sense the urge to fight in anyone.

It takes one to know one, after all. Fiery heat pumps through my veins and my fingers flex instinctively, my body bracing for receiving or throwing a hit that’ll unleash venom and power only a primal fight can.

This guy’s after a fight and I’m happy to give it to him.

The guy’s a bit shorter than me, but he looks solid under his fancy dinner attire. I have agility on my side though, and speed which no one ever sees coming.

“Noah.” Millie’s voice is a gentle, calming reminder cutting through the storm brewing in my chest. Her fingers entwine with mine and she tugs down on my hand. “Let’s go.”

My instinct to jump into a fight should be alarming, but all I can think about is tackling this guy to the ground. “Noah,” Millie repeats. There’s no panic in her voice, just a firm plea. A steadfast tone.

I turn to the right and am met with wide brown eyes. She nods encouragement and pulls me away from the danger at the edge of my fingertips

“Listen to your keeper,” the man jeers as I turn away. “I hear she’s good at taking care of charity cases and cancer patients. Maybe she’ll nurse you on your deathbed, too.”

White hot rage envelops me, and I turn back, but before I can reach him, Millie steps ahead and slaps him sharply across the face.

Her eyes narrow with laser-focus and her chest heaves with shallow breaths, the sound of her palm hitting his cheek echoing into the night.

The surprise on the guy’s friends faces likely mimics my own, the three of us stilling as Millie stares down the ringleader, who’s holding his cheek in apparent shock.

“Say that again,” she seethes. “I dare you.”

I slowly step forward, interjecting before this goes any further.

The guy’s friends must be thinking the same, because they pull their buddy back.

I flash them a look, grateful they don’t want this to escalate.

We don’t need any further violence, even though seconds ago I was aching for it. “Millie, let’s go.”

Millie’s eyes are glistening, her jaw clenched so hard it’s pulsating. She lets me steer her away, my arm wrapped around her shoulders as we make our way silently to my car.

Once we climb inside, the tension is razor-sharp. I glance at Millie, who’s staring wide-eyed out the windscreen. “Are you okay?”

“I slapped someone.”

“Yes, you did.” I nod. “It was badass.”

She glances at me. “That’s assault. I can’t believe I did that.”

Millie’s panic-stricken face unnerves me, and I reach out, placing a hand on her cheek. She turns her head to face me properly. “Listen to me. Take a deep breath.”

Her wide eyes blink a few times, so I take a deep breath, motioning for her to follow my lead, and she does. “Another,” I order.

Her focus stays on my eyes, drifting to my lips to follow my cues to breathe.

Her breathing gradually slows into longer, deeper drags, her eyes softening as she becomes more aware of her surroundings.

It’s one of the more intimate things I’ve done with a woman, staring into her soul and helping bring her back down to Earth so she doesn’t spiral out of control.

“Thank you,” she whispers. Her eyes are still glistening, and I pray she doesn’t cry. I can’t handle it when women cry.

I remove my hand from her face and her head falls into her hands. “I’m sorry. You wanted my help to clean up your image and I did the one thing you’re trying to avoid.”

“Maybe we’re more alike than you think.” She looks up and I give her my best reassuring grin. “I love the fact my fake woman stands up for herself.”

“With violence?” she cries, her bottom lip trembling. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m so ashamed.”

“Hey, don’t do this to yourself.” I lean over and take her hands in mine. “Yeah, look, violence isn’t always the best solution, but in this situation? I think it was warranted. He made comments about your character and your aunt. I was seconds away from punching him myself. You beat me to it.”

She’s quiet as she watches me, before lifting her lip slightly on one side. “You weren’t really going to punch the guy, were you?”

“Fuck yeah, I was. He deserved a good slap. Punching people is a bad habit of mine.”

“He must have known that,” she muses. “He was trying to get a rise out of you. Out of both of us.”

“He had it coming,” I assure her. “Stop beating yourself up. No pun intended.”

She manages a tiny smile before closing her eyes. “What if someone saw? What if there’s footage? He knows who I am. He could press charges, and he’d have every right. He could?—”

“You’re spiralling,” I cut in, and she smacks her lips together. “Look at it this way, if you hadn’t slapped him, I would’ve punched him and then we’d be in a world of trouble. You saved me from making a complete ass of myself and hurting someone.”

“Maybe we should’ve stipulated the use of violence in the contract,” she says. I smile at her, and she finally releases a grin. It removes some of the tension in the cab, and I turn the car on, the engine roaring to life.

I pull out of the parking space. “You regretting that contract yet, Maelstrom?”

“King, I regretted it before we even started.”

I bark out a laugh.

The sound of Millie’s hysterical giggles is the soundtrack for our drive home.