Page 8

MILLIE

You’re a moron

“You want what?” My voice rises in near hysteria.

“For the summer, I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Noah smiles. “Exactly.”

He leans against the balcony like he’s asked for a piece of gum after rattling off his insane idea. Naturally, I give him the reaction any normal person would in this situation. I laugh. It’s my goofy, uncontrollable chortle and I slap my hand over my mouth to suppress it.

Noah simply smiles wider. “Go on, get it out of your system.”

A snort escapes my nose and Noah starts to chuckle, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he watches me.

As I catch my breath, I register the look on Noah’s face. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Noah nods. “My friend Mack had this idea that if people see me out and about with someone who’s . . . the opposite of my ex, it’ll be good press.”

I dart my eyes to the ground in case Noah looks straight through me.

My late-night scrolling of Noah King included tumbling down a rabbit hole of his ex-girlfriend, Sofia Carlson.

I learned the lipstick I use is the wrong shade for my skin tone, I should be double-cleansing and using a retinol serum.

She explained this in a video, whilst making me feel like it was only me and her.

She’s articulate, sweet and seemed genuine. Ouch.

As if he can read my mind, he holds his hands up in reassurance. “What I mean is, someone who’s not an influencer. Someone who’s not part of that world. Mack seems to think sponsors will like me a little more if I’m away from the Hollywood scene.”

“Is he right?”

Noah gives a half-shake, half nod. “Maybe. He’s my manager and agent and a public relations whiz.

Not to mention Hollywood sucked me in and spit me out.

Mack’s ideas can be over-the-top sometimes, but he might be onto something with this.

” He slaps his phone into my hand, where a flagged email in his inbox shows on screen.

I open it and scan read as Noah continues to talk.

“Mack sent me these this morning. Links to different articles written about the photos of us. They’re gossip and bullshit, but they’re positive.”

I shake my head, still in disbelief I’m being shared across international websites. I hand his phone back. “So?”

“Maybe you don’t know anything about me,” he murmurs. “My reputation has taken some hits recently. You could say it ramped up during the past six months or so. I’m not exactly in everyone’s good graces right now.”

I do know this. Part of my late-night perusal included the partying and debauched behaviour Noah has got himself into.

Rumours swirled of excessive drinking and drug-use, a new woman on his arm every night, sometimes more than one.

After one particularly rowdy night, the police arrested him, and he has a sexy as hell mug shot for everyone to see.

“Somehow, these photos have done some good,” he says. “People are glad to see I’ve moved on from Sofia. That I’m back home where I can get my priorities straight. Some said I seem calmer. Happy, even.”

“They got that from a couple of grainy photos? We’d only just met when the photos were taken.”

Noah shrugs. “Hollywood’s fickle.”

“Why me?” I ask. “Surely you could get one of your Hollywood friends to play this role for you.”

“Maybe I’m wrong, but I think dating someone the public doesn’t know will be more believable than someone who’s in the spotlight. People would call us out straight away. Someone who knows the business will spend too long trying to put out their best angles. There’d be doubt.”

I tilt my chin up at him. “So, I’m the perfect choice because I don’t know how to put my best foot forward?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re a moron.”

Noah looks at me with mild surprise and I wonder if there’s a part of him that can’t believe I haven’t fallen to my knees with gratitude at the prospect of hanging out with him.

I start to head back inside, but Noah blocks my path. “Maybe I should’ve opened with this. I’d pay you.”

This is getting ridiculous. “You’d pay me to hang out with you?”

Noah frowns. “Well, it sounds pathetic when you say it like that.”

“This whole thing is pathetic.”

“Ouch.” Noah grins. “Look, I know what I’m asking seems weird, but when you’re in the public eye, the same rules don’t always apply. Only money applies. You can buy your way out of almost anything. Break someone’s camera, throw a few dollars at them.”

I cross my arms across my chest. “Your pea-sized brain must’ve forgotten that didn’t work on me.”

“I know, but you see my point, right?” Noah asks. “Money makes everything turn, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

I survey his expression for hints of insincerity. Surely, he’s about to tell me this is one giant prank.

“It’s purely transactional,” Noah continues.

“We hang out for the summer. Go out in public. Upload some photos. The payment would help alleviate any inconvenience you experience from lying to friends and being in a few online articles. Once I lock in my sponsors and win over the bigwigs in the surfing world, we can wrap it up and get on with our lives. Both of us better off than when we started.”

It’s a few seconds before I realise, I’m considering it. Getting photographed? Lying to everyone? Pretending for the sake of some money?

“I’d pay you thirty thousand dollars.”

I balk. “Excuse me?”

“Fifty? Whatever you need to cover your debts and get this place up and running. You name your price.”

How much money does this guy have?

“I couldn’t even take a wad of cash for the camera you sent to the depths of the ocean,” I choke out. “I could never take that money.”

“If anything, I’m underpaying you,” Noah says. “I’d make it back ten-fold with sponsorships and advertising once people like me again. Millie, this is a two-way deal.”

“No way in hell.” I hold up a finger in warning. “And don’t even try using your charm and one-liners on me. I’m not interested in whatever voodoo you use on women to make them bend over tables for you.”

There’s something about Noah that spurs my brain to blurt out whatever it is I’m thinking, and it once again surprises me.

Noah doesn’t seem offended like yesterday. “So, you do know who I am.”

I take a deliberate step forward, so there’s barely any space left.

Noah’s significantly taller than I am, so I have to tilt my head right back.

“You might be able to throw around money and play stupid games, but I don’t have that luxury.

I’ve got a business to run with a heartbroken cousin and the memory of an aunt slipping from my grasp little by little, every day.

I don’t have the patience or time for a real boyfriend, let alone a fake one. ”

Noah’s expression glimmers from cheeky to sombre, but it only makes me more steadfast in my resolve. Blind anger courses through my veins, fury crackles in my ears.

“Not to mention, your plan is pure crap,” I hiss. “Absolute idiocy.”

He watches me silently, patiently. My chest heaves with rapid breaths and I take a step backwards, lifting my hands behind my head. I know plenty about the stages of grief, but I thought I’d done most of the work already. Apparently, they can come up at any time they feel like.

“Are you alright?” Noah asks softly.

“No, I’m not alright.” I wipe away a wayward tear and peek over Noah’s shoulder. “Stay where you are. I don’t want Ellis to see me like this.”

“You’re allowed to show emotion,” Noah protests.

I sigh. “I can’t deal with any more shit right now, Noah.”

“This won’t add to it,” he insists. “I swear. Maybe it could be the distraction you need and when it’s finished? You’ll be financially free. Financially ahead, anyway.”

I tilt my head to survey him, wondering how he can be serious about something so insane.

“I promise you, there are no ulterior motives here,” Noah assures me.

“You don’t have time for a relationship and I sure as hell don’t want one.

I’ve got my career to salvage and that is honestly all I care about.

Women get me into trouble. Except you, it would seem.

I need your help to keep me on the straight and narrow.

Let some of that nerdy, do-gooder charm wash over me. ”

I sigh, rubbing my eyes with vigour. Is this the most stupid idea in the world?

Almost certainly, yes. To play devil’s advocate, what’s the worst that could happen?

I have to tell a few white lies to the few people I know, and, at the end, I get out of a tonne of debt, which also helps Ellis. Maybe I could finally take a holiday.

“Even if I agree to this, I don’t think it’ll work the way you hope it will.”

“How about I prove it to you?” he offers. “I’ll get Dan to snap another photo of us and I’ll send it to a site anonymously. If it gets a good response, you’re in.”

Noah stills, waiting for my reply, an arrogance in his eyes.

“Go ahead,” I tell him, pushing past to go inside. “You’ll be wrong.”

I was wrong.

After I begrudgingly swapped phone numbers with him, Noah had Dan snap a candid photo of the two of us on the balcony.

I got the sense Dan was not keen on the idea.

He looked furious when Noah asked him to do it, and some quiet but stern words were exchanged before he reluctantly headed out.

I felt incredibly dumb, having a conversation with Noah while his friend stood in the foliage below, presumably zooming in on us.

But my feelings are now irrelevant, because the photos worked wonders in every sense.

Gossip sites eat it up, Noah’s fanbase is receptive, and we’ve had people swinging by Beans all week. No crazed fans or paparazzi or anything. Mostly people taking an interest and staying for coffee and cake. I’ve had a few people glance my way, but I’ve done my best to ignore that.

By closing time on Friday, we’ve had one of the busiest days in months. Lauren, one of our staff members, slumps against the bench. “If hanging out with Noah King for a couple of hours can do this, we’re going to need more staff. And food. We sold out of banana bread in an hour.”

I haven’t mentioned Noah’s proposal to anyone. Not even Ellis. Despite the fact that it appears to be giving him good press, the entire thing seems stupid, and I don’t want her to feel conflicted like I do.

As I make my way out the back to the storage area, I discover Ellis sitting in the middle of the room on an upside-down milk crate, a polaroid of her and my aunt in her trembling hand, her other hand pressed to her mouth, sobs bursting through as she shakes.

“No one tells you how shit death anniversaries are,” I say softly.

Ellis lifts her head and laughs, waving to her running mascara and shirt dirtied from her snot and tears. “Do I still look pretty?”

I walk over and help her up, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “Always.”

She sighs into my hair. “I can’t believe we’re both orphans.”

“Your dad is still around,” I point out.

She scoffs. “He bailed twenty years ago. It’s safe to say he’s not coming back any time soon. Ergo, orphan.”

She wipes her makeup-stained face with the sleeves of her shirt. “I miss her, and I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m doing. As much as I love everything my mother did for us, leaving us with her business and medical debt isn’t one of them.”

I grimace. Australia has an amazing healthcare system, but you don’t realise how many additional fees and costs are involved until you’re directly impacted.

Chemotherapy, radiation, hospice, carers—all of it added up.

Our money provided for Donna, which we had no qualms about, but everything else suffered.

Bills, the mortgage, the lease on the store .

. . Donna’s cancer was a surprise, and she deteriorated rapidly.

There wasn’t enough time for careful planning.

Ellis and I took out loans and now we’re falling further into debt.

“We might have to sell this place, Millie,” she whispers.

“No—”

“It’s okay,” Ellis assures me. “I don’t want to work in this shop forever, but I wish we could do something with it before selling it to get ourselves out of shit. I want to sell it on my own terms, but I don’t think we have that luxury.”

Ellis, usually confident and upbeat, positive and jovial, is now a blubbering, crumpled mess.

“We won’t have to sell,” I assure her, rubbing her back. “We’ll figure this out.”

Me

I need the money

Noah

I need the help

Me

Just for the summer?

Noah

Just for the summer.