“Yes.” I can barely think straight as I practically bundle him out of the door.
As soon as he’s gone, I go straight over to my laptop, click out of my blog, and Google the name Noah Flynn. This has to be some stupid mistake. I don’t know how or why, but Ollie must have been mistaken.
“Oh no!” I clap my hand to my mouth as a load of results come up. There’s an image next to the second one. It’s Noah, holding a guitar. I click on the link feeling sick to my stomach.
Sony Signs Internet Sensation Noah Flynn, the headline reads. I click on the article, overcome with shock and disbelief. Apparently, about two years ago Noah started posting songs on YouTube. He ended up getting over a million subscribers to his channel. Then a couple of months ago the record label Sony signed him. I feel a burst of pride as I read a quote from an executive at the label talking about Noah’s “raw talent” and how excited they are to be producing his first album.
But then I remember what Ollie said about Noah and Leah Brown. Surely that can’t be true. Leah Brown is a major star. A “travels in a private jet, headlines big festivals, and sells out arenas” kind of major star. Tom and his friends saw her at the Isle of Wight Festival last year. Hands trembling, I type Noah Flynn and Leah Brown into the search engine. A page of results fills the screen, mostly from American gossip sites. All of them are from about a month ago and all of them say the same thing: Leah Brown and Noah Flynn are an item. I’m so tense now I can barely breathe. About halfway down the page I see a result from Leah Brown’s Twitter page.
Chillin’ with @noahflynn at venice beach
I click on her page, my heart pounding. Her most recent post is wishing her fans a happy new year. Then there’s one plugging her new single. And then . . . I shudder as I read it.
Merry xmas @noahflynn so looking forward to seeing you when I’m back from LA Xo
I scroll down again. It’s like I can’t stop now, no matter how much it hurts.
With my baby @noahflynn at the sony xmas party Xo
This one is attached to a photo of Leah Brown standing behind Noah with her arms draped around him. It’s dated the day before I met Noah. Seeing this actually makes me retch.
I go to Noah’s Twitter profile in search of more incriminating evidence, but he’s only ever made three tweets and all of them are about his record deal. I look up at the photo of him on my mirror and my eyes fill with hot, angry tears. How could he have done this to me? How could he have lied so convincingly and so coldly, all the time knowing that he had a girlfriend? And not just any old girlfriend—a world-famous girlfriend who is madly in love with him. And how could Sadie Lee have let him do that to me?
My text alert goes off. I have a moment of horror at the prospect of it being Noah. What am I going to say to him? What am I going to do? I pick up the phone with trembling hands. But it’s from Elliot.
Not in the mood for going into town. Think I’ll stay in and do my math homework instead x
I stare at the screen. So he isn’t sorry at all for writing that comment on my blog. He doesn’t even want to see me. I bet he would if he knew this latest twist. I suddenly feel overwhelmed by anger. I’m glad Elliot doesn’t want to go into town. I’m glad I don’t have to tell him what’s happened and see the look of pleasure on his face. And then it feels as if all of the foundations in my life have started to crumble. All of the strength I’d built up while I was away begins to dissolve.
I get into bed, burrow right down under the duvet, and start to sob. And once I start I can’t stop because I keep on thinking of more things, more evidence that Noah was lying to me. The girl who’d kept staring at him when we went to the vintage store to get the tiara. What was it she’d said into her phone? “It is’’? It is what? It is him? And the way she’d started coming over toward us when we got in the truck. And the way Noah had sped off. Had he realized she’d recognized him? But then he’d taken me to the art gallery and introduced me to his friends. Why would he do that if he was lying to me about everything? But even that takes on a more sinister meaning now. When the woman we met in the corridor said well done to him, she must have been talking about the recording contract. It hadn’t been to do with not having a girlfriend at all. He’d barefaced lied to me.
I feel feverish with shock and embarrassment. But I can’t stop the awful realizations from coming. The way he’d cut Antonio off in the café and hurried me out of there when we’d finished our lunch. I squirm as I remember how happy I’d been, thinking that he’d wanted to spend more time alone with me, but it had actually all been to protect his lie. I think of him hugging me in the darkened corridor and how special that moment had felt, and my embarrassment is replaced with fury.
“Liar!” I yell, getting out of bed. I go over to my dressing table, tear the picture off the mirror, and rip it into pieces. “Liar! Liar! Liar!”
I sink down onto the floor, sobbing my heart out. I’d actually thought I’d escaped my curse; that I could be myself and be accepted and loved. But it was all based on lies and deceit. And to think I’d actually blogged about it. I actually told the world I’d fallen in love and met my soul mate. What was I thinking?
I spend the next few hours lying curled up in my bed. Unable to move. Unable to do anything apart from cry into my pillow. Thankfully, Mum and Dad think I’m sleeping off my jet lag so they’ve left me alone.