Page 7 of Noah
Maybe it would make me forget the way it had felt when he took me in his arms and pulled me against him, his breath hot on my neck and his hands wandering across my hips.
Though I doubted it. I didn’t think my body was ever going to forget that part.
By the time I was out of the shower and getting dressed again, I’d found a way to put the memory of Noah’s hands in a corner of my mind I never looked at. And with my emotions out of the way, my brain had gotten back to work. The ugly truth was, I had to get rid of the hangover Noah had created and get on with my day. I didn’t have time to sit around crying about how he made me feel. I’d spent my entire life, more or less, tagging along behind him and letting him tell me where to go and what to do. When we were kids I’d done it because he was my protector. My hero. I realized early on that life was just easier if he was around, and having him around was easier if I did what he told me.
It wasn’t hard math. It was a deal I’d been happy to make.
But then we grew up and it got a lot harder to try to be everything he needed all the time. He’d become more and more demanding, and though he was still there when I needed him–mostly–the trade had started to feel awfully one-sided.
I was tired. And starting to feel like a shell of a person, rather than a whole being. I needed a break. Or maybe a fresh start. Or maybe...
My phone pinged and I jumped, then hurried to check who was trying to reach me. Two jabs at the screen and I had my email open. Two more and I was reading the email I’d just received.
Dear Molly, it read.Thanks so much for reaching out and sending along your portfolio. I don’t have to tell you how impressed we were by what we saw. I suspect you already know. If you don’t, you should. Your stuff is really, really good, and we’d love to do one more meeting with you to confirm some details. I’ll call you at 12 noon, your time, to discuss some last HR concerns. As long as we can get that settled, we’ve seen enough.
In short, you’re in.
Welcome to Tempest. Please report to the office in LA on Monday to start your new life.
My jaw dropped open and I read the email again, trying to figure out what I’d missed.
When I got to the bottom, I read it one more time.
I hadn’t missed anything. Tempest, the biggest women’s magazine on the west coast, had emailed me back and offered me a job. They wanted to go over some HR stuff, and then I was to report to their office in LA.
To start working for them.
Oh. My. God.
I’d started shooting photographs for the band when they formed, and had taken classes at the local community college whenever we had any down time. When I heard Tempest was hiring new staff photographers I’d sent them my portfolio on a dare from Anna and Noah.
I hadn’t expected to hear back.
Then they’d called and asked for an interview, which turned into two interviews, and then three. And now they were emailing me and offering me a position.
Holy fuck.
I whooped, too excited to use actual words, and ran for the door, shoving my phone into my pocket and completely forgetting my shoes. I threw the door open and sprinted down the hall, my mind on only two things.
Tempest was hiring me as a staff photographer. Finally, finally I was going to be doing something real! Someone else wanted me and they were the biggest magazine in the country, or at least close to being one of the biggest. And they wantedme!
I was going to be a Real Live Photographer.
And I had to tell Noah. He’d been pushing me to do this ever since I picked up a camera, and he’d be out of his mind with excitement. All the fear, all the confusion of the morning flew right out of my mind at the thought.
He was my best friend in the world.
God, I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say about this.
Irounded the corner into the hallway at a flat out sprint, my mind racing through what I was going to say. Noah had bought me my first real camera after I complained abut the quality on my phone, and he was the one who’d told the managers I’d be traveling as the band’s official photographer. When I told him Anna had dared me to submit my portfolio to Tempest, he’d shouted in laughter, but then picked me up and twirled me around, saying I was going to knock their socks off.
He’d been right.
He was going to freak the fuck out.
Then he came strolling out of his room, smoke billowing around him. He put the cigarette to his mouth, took a deep drag, and then exhaled again, blowing the smoke through his nose until it filled the hallway in front of him. He walked through it like he’d been planning the whole thing, his stride lazy and his eyes half closed. Broad cheekbones and sharp chin, his hair messy and falling down over his eyes. Wide shoulders. Narrow hips. Arms covered in ink.
Gorgeous enough to stop any girl in her tracks.
