Page 24 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

I licked some salt from my fingers and wiggled them in the air. “Ah, you fell for my ploy—talk shite about myself, so you could jump in and stroke my ego.”

Throwing a fry at me, she said, “That’s literally my job.”

“So, you didn’t mean a word of it?”

“That’s for you to figure out, I guess.”

“I’m telling your boss that you are slipping in your duties as an assistant publicist. Your sole purpose on this tour is to make me feel good.”

Noelle choked and pounded on her chest as she reached for her drink.

Why did my words always come out wrong with Noelle? I felt like that nineteen-year-old goof with crooked teeth and a bad case of stage fright who connected with her on a tour bus.

I nudged her with my elbow. “You know what I meant. It’s your job to pump me up.”

She covered her mouth, and her fizzy drink bubbled out of her nose. “That’s worse. You should go back to saying it’s my job to stroke your...ego.”

Her laughter broke the tension. It always did.

Brushing the salt from my fingertips, I cracked a grin, showing all my straightened teeth. “I can’t help it if you have a dirty mind.”

Or maybe our minds were running along the same track. I don’t know that I’d ever gotten over Noelle. I saw the turn of her head on a crowded street in London. I caught my breath when a brunette pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. My heart skipped a beat when I heard a woman’s tinkling laugh at a party.

I just couldn’t figure out why she never responded to my texts. Why she never followed me to Australia like we planned. I supposed she got tired of life on the road—the screaming fans, the other boys, the way management controlled our image.

Once Baker Street realized we’d hooked up, the company did everything in its power to keep Noelle out of sight and in the background. Management didn’t just target me. They made things so uncomfortable for Ian and his girl from back home, the pressure split them apart. They forced Charlie to cut ties with a close boyhood friend because someone started gay rumors.

It was all so toxic. Had it changed? At least I had a choice now whether to play along with the stunt dating. Didn’t I?

I did have a choice, but if I balked at the fake relationship with Ashley, Noelle would’ve paid the price. After all, she concocted the idea, and Dina, her boss, made it clear that Noelle’s number one job was to polish up Ashley’s image.

I wanted her to succeed at this gig. She deserved a promotion, and I’d do whatever I could do to make that happen for her.

As she shoved crumpled, greasy wrappings into the cardboard box, her phone buzzed. She picked it up by the edges and licked her finger before tapping her display. “It’s Ham. He’s ready to bring my car around. He’ll pick us up here, as he’s driving my nondescript Prius instead of a flashy tour bus. I’ll drop you off at your hotel.”

“Sounds good to me.” I held out my hand for the trash. “I’ll take that.”

I carried the box to the garbage can on the patio and flopped down beside Noelle as another jet roared overhead. I lay on my back and tugged at her shirt. “Come down here. The view’s incredible.”

She reclined next to me as the next airplane made its descent to the airport over our heads.

I pointed skyward. “You can see the outline of the cargo doors and the mechanics of the wing flaps.”

She threw an arm over her face. “As long as it doesn’t dump jet fuel on us.”

“Cool spot though. Glad you thought of it.” Our hands lay so close on the grass, our pinkie fingers practically touched. “Can’t believe you remembered my passion for In-N-Out.”

She murmured, “I remember a lot from those days. It was my first big gig. My first.... My friends were so jealous.”

“You could’ve had a lucrative side hustle by selling the inside scoop to all your friends on our comings and goings so they could ambush us. You told me the offers had gotten as high as two hundred quid for one sighting.”

“That would’ve been unethical. If my boss found out, I would’ve lost my job.” She rolled her head to the side. “Besides, I wanted to keep you...you guys all to myself. Everyone in the office envied me for a change—it felt great. Does that make me a bad person?”

“Naw, although I probably would’ve taken the cash.” The tip of my finger brushed hers.

“Hi, Conor. We love you.”

Two heads hovered above me, blocking my view of the next incoming airplane, and I jerked up to a seated position. I didn’t like people standing over me.