Page 49

MILLIE

I don’t think I can keep pretending

Less than three weeks to pull off the impossible.

Naturally, Ellis is stoked about the exhibit the minute we tell her and springs into action to help set it up.

She makes calls to our catering contacts, selects the décor we’ll need and points out the photos on my Instagram account she thinks I should display.

Ellis and Noah’s enthusiasm and encouragement help me start to believe in myself.

My photos are good. No, I’m not a professional, but I’ve done my research and upskilling over the years.

My account has a decent following with active engagement.

The thought of putting my name and face to my images still terrifies me, but after the risks I’ve been taking lately, it feels more manageable.

While I’m busy organising the exhibit, Noah trains like a madman, prepping for the surf season with a strength and conditioning regime that makes me want to vomit.

He opens up about his plans for his surf camp, excitedly showing me the research he’s done and what he wants to create.

Surfing lessons for kids and teenagers, to pair up with local community groups such as the Disabled Surfers Association, and to provide opportunities for local children.

He wants to hire cabins near the beach, offer nutrition and cooking classes, and free time for the kids to bond and play. His face lights up when he talks about it and my heart soars. Not only that he’s sharing his dreams with me, but to see how much it means to him.

We’ve fallen into a routine of sex and sleepovers.

We’re effortlessly acting like a couple in public, Noah’s fans taking snaps and even calling out to me occasionally, before we retreat indoors and continue the act like it’s natural.

Noah’s popularity is back on the rise, with online news outlets fawning over his surf skills, his upcoming opportunity for a championship and whether his new girlfriend is the reason he’s settled down.

Neither of us has broached the subject of what happens when he leaves.

Every time I try, I chicken out, because the truth is, I’m not ready for any of the potential outcomes.

Rejection and our arrangement ending before it needs to.

Both of us wanting to give this a go and realising long-distance never works and ultimately ending up resenting each other.

And there’s the added complication of the payment.

I mean, do I still take that money? Do I even want it anymore?

So, I do one of the things I’m good at. That I’ve been good at since I was a kid. I quash down those intrusive thoughts and instead focus my energy on the now. On spending time with my friend who sometimes gives me orgasms.

I hope and pray with blind ignorance it doesn’t come back to bite me.

“Dan, try to give me a smile.”

I focus the lens on the four tanned, shirtless men in front of me, grinning to myself as Dan grimaces behind his beard.

Callum, Mack, Noah and a begrudging Dan have been my subjects for most of the morning, surfing in the waves at Duranbah Beach, throwing a frisbee in the park, and trying to candidly laugh as they hang out on the sand.

We’ve had people stop to watch all day and every time someone whips out their phone to film them in action, Mack flexes his pecs while Dan harrumphs. He’s not a spotlight person either.

“These photos are supposed to encourage people,” Noah reminds him, playfully shoving Dan’s shoulder. “We want them to think we’re fun to hang out with and trustworthy with kids. Not serial killers. Show everyone those pearly whites.”

Dan glares at him, his expression unchanged, as I snap several shots in quick succession.

“Nothing will get him to crack,” Mack snickers.

“Uncle Dan!”

We hear Willow’s melodic squeal and turn to see her running up the beach towards us, a toy in each hand. I turn back and snap photos immediately, Dan’s face having lit up like a Christmas tree at the mere sound of her voice.

Dan drops the surfboard he’s been using as a prop (but mostly to hide behind) and scoops Willow up. I take more photos of the two of them looking absolutely blissful, beaming to myself. These are going to be perfect promotional shots for Noah’s camp.

“Should’ve known she’d be the one to break him,” Callum says.

Jared heads towards us, a bag stuffed with what I assume is more toys and supplies for her. He kindly agreed to let his daughter be in the shoot today, playing the role of earnest and eager young child ready to learn to surf. Fun fact: Willow can already surf and isn’t afraid of anything.

As the boys head over to Jared, Noah sneaks up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. I want to melt into the sand beneath my feet.

“Thank you for doing this,” he mumbles, pressing his mouth to my neck.

I shudder as goosebumps ripple down my spine and hold the camera so he can see the screen. “You’re welcome. I’m going to use some of these in my exhibit.”

“You should.” He straightens up and spins me to face him, encasing my hand with his and holding it to his chest. “The camp might be a long way off, but seeing the photos and having meetings in place with potential partners . . . it makes it more real. It makes me want to work on it.”

“I’m really proud of you.” I run my hand over his cheek. “And I’m glad I could help before . . .”

He pushes my hair away from my eyes. “Before, what?”

I didn’t mean to say that part. “Nothing.”

His brow furrows. “I thought we were getting better at communicating?”

I give him a small smile, warmth seeping through my chest at how much he’s trying.

“Before you leave,” I reply. “Before the Tour starts.” There is so much in those few words.

Before the contract is up and you travel for a year.

Before this entire farce is over and we have no contractual obligations to stay in touch.

Noah’s thumb runs over my cheek, his eyes searching mine, almost as if he can hear the things I’m not saying. “We should talk about that.”

My gaze falls to the sand beneath my feet as I exhale quietly, my voice coming out in a whisper, “Yeah, we should.”

“Hey.” Noah’s hand drifts to my chin, and he tips it up so I can’t avoid his attentive gaze. “I can see your mind working a million miles a minute.”

“You don’t know me,” I joke.

Noah’s left eyebrow quirks. “Don’t insult me.”

It’s hard to believe how much Noah does know me.

How much we know each other. We’ve become so close over the past few months; I struggle to remember what life was like before he came back into it.

But I know it was grey and routine and somewhat dull and the thought of returning to any semblance of that, loosens the chains on the words at the tip of my tongue.

I bite the inside of my mouth, before whispering, “I don’t think I can keep pretending.” I hold my breath as I wait for Noah’s response, focusing on the cloud-shaped birthmark on his chest.

“Millie.” Noah ducks his head to force my gaze to his, butterflies bashing furiously within my body. “This stopped being pretend a long time ago.” He pulls me to him, his hand clenching the nape of my neck, forcing me to look up into his earnest green eyes. “I know I can’t keep pretending.”

With that, the tightness in my chest loosens and I lean into him as his mouth finds mine, his tongue sweeping softly inside my mouth.

I cling to him, my nails digging into his flesh, our surroundings disappearing as we slowly melt into each other.

Kissing Noah has become one of my favourite past-times.

A whistle pierces the air and we break apart, turning to see our friends, as well as several onlookers, watching us. I don’t miss the phones in their hands, and I shut my eyes, imagining the footage they captured of us with our tongues down each other’s throats.

“My child doesn’t need to see this display!” Jared hollers as Dan covers Willow’s eyes with his giant hands.

Noah grins. “Come on. Let’s finish this shoot. We’ll talk more tonight.”

“You have a meeting tonight,” I remind him. Noah takes my hand, and we start down the sand dunes towards the group. “And I’m getting set up for tomorrow.”

“Goddamned meetings,” Noah groans. “What time do you want me there in the morning?”

“You don’t need to come,” I assure him. “Stay home and get focused for Salt Skin. I’ll see you at my exhibit.”

Noah squeezes my hand. “I want to be there. What time?”

“Five?”

He leans down and kisses me on the nose. “I’ll be there.”

I melt a little bit more.