Girl Online: On Tour (16 page)

“No problem, doll.” She blows me a kiss and walks out of the room. As I listen to the click of her heels, I hear another voice chatting back to her. I’d know that voice anywhere: it’s Noah.

He emerges from the doorway, looking sheepish.

“Pen, I am
so
sorry.” He sits down next to me and grabs my hand. “Blake practically forced me to go out to this bar he’d found and, before I knew it, it was four a.m. and we were walking back. Then I set an alarm for this morning and I must have turned it off in my sleep! I’ve ruined what should have been a perfect day out.”

It’s at this point that Blake strolls in, hood up, shades on, smelling like a rotten mix between a brewery and an ashtray. “Honestly, Penny, it was the
best
night. I hooked up with this German chick who I met after the gig last night, and we hung out with her and her friends. Dean was dancing on tables; Noah was
so
drunk. I’ve never seen him like that before—we had to carry him home!” He laughs hysterically.

Noah gives me a pleading look as Blake carries on chatting away about how crazy their night was. I can’t tell if Noah wants the ground to open up and swallow him . . . or Blake.

Noah squeezes my hand. “We’ll have an amazing day at the next city, I promise. All the cake and culture you could ever ask for.” He’s lowered his voice so that only I can hear, but he’s out of luck—Blake has caught the last bit of the sentence.

“CAKE AND CULTURE? Are you joking, Noah? You’re on tour, not a school field trip! How lame can you get?” Blake glares at Noah, then at me.

“Blake, please. Just be quiet for one minute.” Noah looks exasperated.

“Why? Your head pounding?” Blake bursts into laughter again, but then mercifully leaves the room. Now it’s just Noah and me.

Noah rolls his eyes and turns back to me. “Penny, please. Say something? I’m sorry, I really am. This won’t happen again. I got carried away.”

All I can think about while this is happening is what Leah said to me about how it’s so easy to get swept up in everything. I can’t stop him; I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that type of girlfriend. He’s eighteen, he’s living his dream and he’s having fun. I have to be happy for him, or else I’ll lose him forever.

“It’s fine, don’t be silly, Noah. I found lots to do and I had an awesome day regardless. I’m glad you had a fun night out.” I smile, placing a kiss on his lips and ruffling his hair. Then I wrinkle my nose. “Not going to lie, though, you absolutely stink!”

Noah grimaces. “I didn’t have time to shower. Larry woke me up and I came straight here.” I throw him a towel. Noah grabs it and kisses me as he heads towards the shower, taking
off his T-shirt. My eyes open wide and I can’t help but gawp at his strong back muscles, honed by many hours jumping up and down onstage and working out at the gym.

He smirks and throws his smelly T-shirt at me, and I grimace as it lands square on my face, ruining the good view.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It’s late by the time we get back to the hotel after the gig, but Noah is still buzzing with adrenaline. We order burgers from room service and we’ve barely sat down on my bed when there’s a knock at the door.

“That was quick,” I joke, as Noah opens the door to Dean.

“Hey, Noah. Hey, Penny—found you. I’ve got something for you. I think this is all of it,” he says, and, with a grunt, he hauls a huge black bag into the room.

I turn to Noah and frown. I don’t understand why Dean has brought Noah a bag full of rubbish.

“Oh, wow! Thanks, man!” Noah grabs it and opens the top of the bag. It’s full to the brim with notes and gifts that Noah’s received from his fans. “This is crazy! Is this all from tonight?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, they’ve been leaving stuff all day! Thought you might want to get a look at it now before there’s even more. I know how you like to stay on top of this stuff. I think I even saw some envelopes with your name on it, Penny.” Dean winks at me.

“For me? Really?” I stare at the black bag like it might be radioactive. Who on earth would write to me?

Noah lifts it and empties the contents out onto the bed. The notes and gifts cover almost the entire surface of the crisp white duvet. I pick out a piece of artwork that has caught my eye—it’s a portrait of Noah, done in ballpoint pen. It’s so incredibly detailed and lifelike, every feature, even down to the dimples in his cheeks, is perfectly rendered in dark blue ink.

“Wow, your fans are so talented!” I say, breathless—and a little overawed.

“Hey, look,” Noah says. “There’s one for you here.”

He slides it across the duvet towards me. It’s a pale yellow A4 envelope. I tentatively undo the sticky seal, and I’m filled for some reason with trepidation about what it might contain. Who would be sending
me
fan mail?

I tip the envelope upside down over the bed, and a few sheets of paper fall out. I open them up, and it’s a printout of one of my blog posts from
Girl Online.
There’s a handwritten note in the margins.

Dear Penny,

I just wanted to say what a huge inspiration you were to me when you were writing your blogs. I especially loved your blog about when you first started going out with Brooklyn Boy. It gave me hope that love could be real and maybe it will happen to me! I also thought you were so brave at the start of the year . . . but I am sad you had to close your blog.

I started writing my own blog, because of you. It’s nowhere near as good as GIRL ONLINE, but if you want to check it out then I’ve left a link below.

Your friend,

Annabelle

I hug the letter to my chest. I can’t believe someone has written to me! This fills me with a warm, fuzzy feeling, and I know I’m going to treasure this letter forever.

“All right, you crazy kids, I’m heading to bed,” says Dean. “Remember, early start tomorrow—no one is missing that bus.”

I didn’t realize he was still standing inside the doorway.

“You got it, Dean-o,” says Noah.

Dean grimaces at the nickname and waves as he shuts the door.

Noah is quiet, his brow furrowed in thought. I know he feels overwhelmed by all this attention—it’s still not something that he’s used to, even after all this time. I wonder if he will ever get used to it? In a way, I hope not. This could
never
be normal!

I look back down at the huge pile and I’m surprised to see another envelope with my name on it. This one feels slightly squishy, like it has bubble wrap on the inside. I tear into this one with more excitement.

But that excitement turns to fear when I read the note. I drop it like it’s on fire, tossing it as far away from me as possible.

“What is it?” Noah looks up abruptly, his eyes wide with alarm.

I just shake my head and point to the letter.

He picks up the discarded note—it’s a printout of some of our private text conversations. Some of the words have been circled, and when you read them together it says:
Go home, Penny, or else.

At the bottom is the signature:
TheRealTruth.

I feel shaken and confused—this is what I was afraid of. I thought the first message was just a one-off, but obviously not. Does that mean TheRealTruth is in Berlin?

To my surprise, Noah doesn’t look angry or even vaguely annoyed. He looks relieved. He reaches over and grabs my hand, pulling me towards him.

I’m reluctant at first—why isn’t he more bothered by this?—but then I know that nothing will make me feel better than a hug from Noah.

He kisses my forehead. “This has proved it to me—it’s just a crazy person, nothing more. They can’t hurt you, I promise. Now that we have this letter, we can give it to Larry and he can keep an eye out. This is kind of part of the deal.”

I nod, and pull his arms tighter round me. This is real. We are real. That letter is just a sick fantasy. “You really think there’s a fan out there who wants me gone?”

Noah gives me a funny look, and I realize how silly I sound. Of
course
there are some fans who would rather I wasn’t on the scene. I’ve seen the adoration and the love for Noah in the crowd, which is bordering on the fanatical. How many of them picture themselves in my position?

“Please don’t leave me tonight. I don’t think I can sleep if I’m on my own.” I know Noah is reluctant to break the rules
my parents set, but I
also
know he’s way too respectful of my feelings to try anything I’m not ready for. I trust him.

To my relief, Noah nods. “I’ll clear all this up and then we can get some sleep. I can look at it on the bus tomorrow.”

I head into the bathroom and wash my face. It feels good to scrub myself clean of the day—the reappearance of TheRealTruth makes me feel dirty, even if it is just some crazed fan, like Noah says. I brush my teeth and change into my cosiest pyjamas. I think of all the girls who would rather be here, and it makes me feel a little sad. Would they still want to if they knew how hard it is?

“Did you know you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen?” Noah says, as I emerge from the bathroom in my pyjamas. “You keep me grounded through all of this.” He gestures to the huge fan-mail bag, which he’s tidied away into the corner of the room. I sit down on the bed next to him. “You don’t deserve what’s happening to you,” he continues, “and I promise you that, when these crazy two weeks of tour are over, we can hang out, just the two of us. No more creepy letters and anonymous hotel rooms and non-stop travel. You can finally see New York in the summertime! It’s just as magical as at Christmas—if not, dare I say it, even better.”

“It sounds lovely,” I say, drifting off to sleep as he strokes my hair.

“Just remember, Penny. It’s you and me against the world.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

When I wake up in the morning, it’s still early. Our arms and legs are interlocked like we’re a human jigsaw puzzle. I gently lift Noah’s arm, which has fallen across my waist, and wriggle out from underneath it, sliding on the sheets until my toes find the carpeted floor.

I pick up my phone from its perch on the bedside table and quickly scroll through the updates from last night. On Instagram, there’s a picture of Kira at Brighton beach, dipping her toes in the sea. I can almost feel the rush of the waves, the wind whipping through my hair, the screech of seagulls . . . I can’t believe I miss that pebbly stretch of beach, but I do.