#alms

You hold up the cups up, reading the labels, and the handing them out. Judging by the mess of whiteboard pens on the table, they’ve already been at this a while.

“Davis, here's your sugar bomb. Marcelo, the lemonade is the pink one. Noah I didn’t get your order so I guessed.” Noah turns the cup you handed him, trying to read the side of the cup, “It’s a cold brew with vanilla syrup.”

There’s a 50/50 chance he takes it, you knew that when you bought it. Noah purses his lips, his eyes dart to the last cup in the holder.

“Do you want to try mine?”

“What is it?”

“It’s the exact thing I got you with a cinnamon syrup.” Digging through your purse, you find a notebook and pen. When you look up again, Noah's looking at you with a shy smile, your drink in his hand. You pretend to be annoyed, a little huff leaving your lips before you say, “yes, you can have it.”

“Thanks.”

“Ok are we ready to start or are you two still trading coffees back and forth?” Davis teases.

“Done.” You answer him.

The meeting takes its usual cadence. Davis talks about the plans for the upcoming tour. Boxes, logistics, flights, pop-ups. You listen in, cracking a little smile when you see some of your designs in his presentation. Davis is talking about the order quantity when you feel a little kick on your foot.

“Can you focus please?” You whisper to Noah with a gentle kick back.

Instead he steals the pen from your hand, stretching an arm over to your notebook and scribbling a little tic-tac-toe board before pushing it back over to you. It doesn’t matter that the game is over before it starts, the two of you play through X,O,X,O,X. Draw. Noah sets up a second little board. Another draw.

The two of you tune into the meeting, Davis continues on, “Ok guys, so Japan exclusive merchandizing…”

They’ve all been giddy about this portion of the tour for months. The brief tour sounds like a dream, a few stops in Japan with ample time between shows? It’s going to be amazing but not for you. You and Marcelo have to hold down the fort while Davis gets to join them on tour for a few weeks. Privileges of being the boss.

A few more games into tic-tac-toe Noah loses focus and you return to scribbling notes as Davis and Marcelo go back and forth between fabric weights and cost.

——

“Thank you for your time today,” Davis says,closes the meeting. All at once, the room comes alive again. Marcelo and Davis keep talking by the white board while you start packing up your things. Your mind starts going immediately. There’s only about 20 minutes before lunch and you need to email a few documents to Davis now.

“What’re you doing for lunch?” Noah asks.

“I have plans.”

Your eyes wander through the glass walls of the conference room towards Leon's office. It’s an involuntary reaction. Noah’s eyes follow your line of sight before returning to look at you.

Noah gives you a look, not a good one. Not like with the last guy you dated. Then Noah just made fun of the guy a little. He was shy and sweet, Noah seemed neutral there. But now? Noah’s face goes unreadable with every mention of Leon. He won’t say you shouldn’t but he surely doesn't even hint it's a good idea.

“It’s business related.”

His eyes just keep steady on you. There’s no need to say anything.

“Quiet you.”

“Mhm, did you have that conversation?”

There it is. Noah and this fucking conversation. It was only one time that you said it would be nice to be a bit more serious and now Noah won’t drop it. You both know there’s no conversation. It’s just you and a whole lot of hope that maybe, just maybe, and Leon skirting around any serious moments.

“It’s really just casual.”

A lie.

Noah doesn’t bother to hide his disapproval at that.

“There’s nothing wrong with casual,” your eyes follow Leon as he crosses through the office, coffee mug in hand. “You do casual all the time.”

“There isn’t anything wrong if that’s what you really want.”

“Just leave it. Please.” You make sure your voice is firm, calm. Much more serious than how you usually talk to Noah. “Don’t you have to get lunch with Davis anyways?”

Noah nods, his knuckles tapping the table beside you before he starts to walk away, he pauses by the door, turning to you one last time, “I’ll see you at Davis’ place this weekend?”

“Yeah, see you there.”

——

It’s like Noah jinxed it. There’s no other explanation. There is a conversation over lunch with Leon and it is packed with the most cliche one liners you’ve heard. Of course ‘it’s not you it’s him’ and ‘maybe once he has time to find himself’ things might work out but of course he just ‘needs a bit of time on his own’. By the end of it, you take an extra 15 minutes in your car just to recover from lunch.

The rest of the week drags. Every time you look up from your desk it’s like Leon is there. Going from the conference room to your office? He’s getting coffee. A quick trip to the bathroom? Of course he’s by the printer on your way. You’d think that for a man with his own office, he’d just close the fucking door and stay there. This always had a chance of blowing up on you but somehow the secrecy makes it all feel worse. How do you mourn a breakup that didn’t exist?

Once Saturday arrives, you’re committed to one thing and one thing only: your apartment. No stupid boys here, no one to run into, no awkward moments in the break room. You move maybe 10 paces all day. From bed to the fridge, to the door for uber eats, and the couch. You make sure there’s nothing to do but eat and sleep. Maybe watch a movie or two in between naps.

Halfway through a movie your phone rings. You don’t even need to look at it to know just who it’s going to be. You send it to voicemail and it rings again. Fine. You pause your movie, pressing the phone to your ear, you answer with a flat voice, “Yes Marcelo?”

“Mi amor! The BBQ at Davis’ place. Where are you?”

Davis paired the two of when you were first hired, Marcelo handles the financial logistics of the merchandising while you handle the artist feedback and Davis supervises somewhere in the middle. It works most of the time— until these two don’t seem to be able to get along without you.

“At home, in bed.” You don’t feel a bit of guilt in the answer. It’s not a company sanctioned activity. The idea of seeing Leon is more daunting than whatever shit you’ll get for just skipping the whole thing.

“But, my love, we have food for you,” Marcelo tries again.

“I’m already tucked into bed.” It’s an exaggeration but you’re still in PJs with ratty hair.

“Come on, we’re being good,” Davis shouts from somewhere nearby.

“No. I’m not dealing with you demons today.”

“Fine.” Is all the answer you get. No doubt Marcelo is pouting on the other side of the line but he stops arguing, “See you at work.”

“Sounds good, love you!”

With that, you hang up the phone and toss it back onto your bed. Not 5 minutes later it vibrates again.

Noah: Please? He’s not even here.

You: No.

Noah: For me? I got you if he does show up.

You: No.

Noah: Marcelo made that chimichurri you really like and Davis made tri-tip

Noah: ...

Noah: Jess is bringing the baby, you can finally meet him.

You: This is emotional manipulation

You're still hesitant. You know you can keep it professional with work, nobody is the wiser. Still the idea of being uncomfortable because he shows up…

You: You promise he’s not there?

Noah: There’s not even a whiff of him. I promise.

You: Fine. I’ll uber, send me the address.

Noah: Pack an overnight bag. I’ll drop you off in the morning

Noise beckons you into the backyard when you finally get there. Davis’ went all out with the set up today. The louder part of the party is set up by the grill and pool while Michael and Noah seem to have taken up a quiet table in the corner, a bit further away from everyone else.

“She’s here!” Marcelo is loud. “You need to catch up, cariño!”

“What am I walking into?” You ask, hugging Davis.

“Shots.” Davis shoves a tiny shot cup into your hand before you can register. Behaving? Sure. You shake your head as you do a quick scan of the back yard, it's a lot fuller than you expected. No sight of Leon. Thank god.

“What is this?” you ask no one in particular, too afraid to smell the mystery liquid.

“Just take it,” Marcelo says, tapping his plastic cup against yours.

You take a deep breath and commit to downing the entire thing. Marcelo doesn’t flinch but you frown at Davis.

“You’re the fucking worst.” You make a sour face as the liquid burns its way down your throat. Whatever it is tastes like rubbing alcohol.

“You’ll be fine.” Davis tells you.

“Oh you’re gonna be fine when I finally quit on you.”

“Not until after the tour.”

Marcelo is instant on feeding you even if you swear you’re not hungry and Davis shows you a fancy garlic sauce he made. You feel yourself relaxing into things, saying quick hellos and giving a thousand hugs. Maybe coming out will do you some good.

That is a very short-lived belief. Your heart squeezes when you hear his voice and you can’t help but grimace. When you brave a look towards the fence , you lock eyes with him immediately. And of course, a date on his arm. What did you expect? This was a mistake.

You put on a fake smile and start to plot an exit. Just lie. Tell them you feel sick. Before you can commit to running out, Noah wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into a hug. He hides his face in your hair, whispering, “hug me and laugh.”

As though on autopilot, you do just that. When you pull away, Noah still holds you close, too close. You plant a hand on his chest to keep some distance.

“Are you hungry?” Noah asks, his hand still gently rubbing your back. You want to ask him just what he thinks he’s doing but then you catch sight of the glance Leon gives the two of you.

“No, I’m ok.”

Without another word, he takes you by the hand back to his table. Settled between Michael and Noah, there’s a little sigh of relief. It’s still not as comfortable as going home but honestly from this little corner it’s easier to accept your fate.

You listen in to Noah and Michael argue about some Star Wars thing, leaving you to be quiet.

“Are you doing alright?” Noah’s voice softens when he turns to you. This feels worse than being lectured at. Is he just going to treat you like an injured animal all the time now?

“Yeah, fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s no way you could’ve known.” You focus on your bag in your lap, finger nails pulling at a little loose thread. The idea of looking at Noah is out of the question, you can hardly handle how nice he’s being. If he’s looking at you with pity, you might just lose it altogether.

“Want to head out?”

You swallow down the feelings that threaten to escape and nod, “Yes, please.”

Noah stands and then he pauses, turning to you with a mischievous smile, “You want to make him jealous?”

“What?” you laugh uncomfortably, unsure what he means by that.

“Just smile and hold my hand.”

“Noah, I don't think that’s a good idea.”

His fingers run along your palm before threading between yours. His hand is warm and firm. It’s surprisingly comforting. Then he turns to face the backyard, bellowing, “See you later, Jesse!”

You inhale sharply, remembering how loud Noah can be. Embarrassment makes your chest flood with heat. It would’ve really been so easy to just sneak away. Noah loves his Irish goodbyes. Why does he have to do this today?

But then you see Leon. His head turning to the source of the noise. Then he stares at your clasped hands and then they meet your eyes. Noah knows what he’s doing and he’s damn good at it.

“You’re such a little shit,” you turn to him and laugh. Then you commit to the bit, turning to Jesse and shouting, “Bye guys!”

It’s not nearly as loud as Noah’s but still it earns you a chorus of goodbyes. Noah smiles at you proudly. “Lets get out of here.”

The drive is quiet. Music fills the air as you settle into his front seat and Noah pulls up directions. No doubt half the fucking party turned when Noah said goodbye. It'll be an interesting Monday trying to explain to Davis why you left holding Noah’s hand.

“When did he cut it off?” Noah’s question snaps you back to reality.

Thankfully it’s dark out and Noah can’t see how hot your face feels and the way your eyes still water every time you think about it. You let out a sigh as you remember that conversation.

“The day you asked about it.”

“Did you bring it up?”

“No.”

He gives a disapproving hum.

“Noah please don’t hate him. He technically didn’t do anything wrong, it's really my own fault for getting my hopes up.”

God you feel like a fucking clown. Even today a part of you was still hoping that Leon would magically change his mind but then he shows up with a whole new girl. Now you’re sitting here waiting for Noah to start lecturing you too.

Instead, for the second time that night, Noah finds your hand, giving you a little squeeze.

“It’ll pass,” you reassure him and yourself. Instead you focus on the good, if not a little ridiculous, part of the afternoon. It’s surprising Davis hasn’t texted you yet nosey as he is, “I really owe you one for tonight.”

“About that…”

“About that?” The question squeaks out of you.

“I have a question.”

“A question?”

“Yes, we have a dinner– for the label– in a few weeks and I’m not allowed to miss it…”

“Okay.” You nod, trying to speed this up. If it’s for the label, Leon will be there. God why is your brain like this?

“It’s a gala type thing. Would you want to go with me?” Noah knows he’s fine going alone but maybe for once he can take a date, avoid the girlfriend questions, avoid everyone trying to set him up. Today wasn’t intentionally a practice run but in his mind if it worked so well briefly today, it’ll work there. What else are friends for?

“And what? We just pretend to be dating?” the question comes out choppy, the way the idea feels in your brain.

There’s got to be a ‘just kidding’, right?

When you look at him he nods calmly. “Just like tonight but a more new folks.”

“OK.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Ok? Yes?”

“I mean, I do owe you one,” you shrug. You’re unsure what told you to answer but it’s done. How hard can one night of pretend be?

——

You wake up early the following morning. It’s impossible to sleep in with the natural light in the spare bedroom. You should probably get home early anyways. You pad down to the kitchen, hoping Noah's restocked the pantry from the last time you stayed over. When you make it downstairs you’re surprised to see Noah's up before you. Papers with his messy handwriting are strewn on the table. By the smell of it, the coffee pot is already on. Did he sleep at all?

“Good morning!” you say, trying to make sure you don’t scare him.

“Morning,” he scribbles on a piece of paper, “Coffee’s still good. There’s oatmeal and some sourdough too.”

“Mhm, thank you.” you pour yourself a cup of coffee. You don't really feel like it but it feels nice to have something to hold.

The air just feels awkward. Something uncommon between the two of you. When you sit next to him at the table, Noah’s stare just lingers weirdly. He’s not talking, not leaving, not settling in his chair. Jts uncomfortable.

“You ok?” you ask gently.

“I just wanted to make sure that you’re ok with next weekend.”

“...yeah. I told you last night it’s fine.”

“And the…pretending?” he whispers it like someone is going to overhear it in an empty house.

“Yes Noah.” Maybe it’s because it all feels so ridiculous that you’re not nervous. Even last night you thought of it like coworkers. You can have a night out like that. “You know it’s really like we’re coworkers there.”

He looks relieved, giving you a small smile. “I thought maybe we could set some ground rules?”

The first thing Davis told you upon getting hired is that Noah is a control freak. Reformed, allegedly. He’s constantly saying he’s better but then…he does shit like this.

He shuffles through the papers on the table, collecting a handful before he and puts them in front of you. Oh this isn’t a joke or some whim. He really thought about this.

“I wrote down some ideas.”

“I can see that.” You look down at the first sheet of paper. It has ‘approved pet-names’ written across the top. You snort as you start to read down the list.

“Noah you did not.” You shake your head at the list, “Cariño? Who taught you that?”

“Marcelo.”

“Of course he did.” You’ll have to tell him to knock it off with the Spanish lessons later. You continue down the list stopping at another, “honeybee? Bro you're like 6’3”.”

“Bro is not on the list, buttercup.” He punctuates the ‘P’ with a pop, really driving home the ick.

“Ew no!” You pick up a pen, scrawling a few extra pet names on the bottom.

“No. The point of pre-approved is we don’t change it.” Noah takes the paper, reading your additions, “No, sweet cheeks.”

“Well then I get to veto some too!”

“Give that back,” flustered and frustrated he reaches towards the paper. You turn away in your chair before he can grab it. “Can you please take this seriously?”

“Fine, silly goose,” you say, handing it back.

His lips twitch into a quick grimace as he takes your pen crossing it off his list.

“Any other concerns?” You ask him. Clearly he’s thought of this much more than you have.

“A few ground rules.”

“Ok, let’s hear them.”

“Don't tell anyone, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Limit physical contact.”

“I can do that,” The plan is keeping your hands to yourself anyways, “How’d we meet?”

“Work.”

Plain and simple. Perfect excuse.

“Anything you’d like to add?”

“Not really.”

You chew on your cheek. You know what you want to ask but it feels so embarrassing, desperate. Just forget about it.

“He’s probably going to be there. Is that ok?”

“Yeah, I see him at work anyways.” You push the conversation along, asking, “What’re you going to wear? What do I wear?”

“I’m wearing black pants and a black shirt so you can wear anything really.”

“Black on black? Revolutionary.”

“Shut up.”

—

It’s kind of fun getting ready for the gala, it’s like you get a second prom. You style your hair in loose curls, Noah always compliments you when you do your hair this way. You do your best with your makeup but it fights you as usual. So your eyeliner is sisters not twins? It’s ok, you tell yourself as you start to feel nervous. What if they sniff you out? What if Leon says something? You feel yourself start to spiral.

Your brain quites the moment you set eyes on Noah. It’s hard not to stare. His outfit is simple but not quite what you’d imagined. A collarless black shirt is tucked into black slacks, the cool silver of a belt buckle drawing your eye to his waist. You crack a smile when your eyes reach the hem of his pants. His socks peak through clearly from under pants that are just a touch too short.

“What?” He asks, looking down for some issue with his outfit.

“You and those damn highwaters.”

“Mhm, got to show off a little ankle for you.” He jokes. The thought of that makes you feel dizzy. Ok, you still have to put on your dress. Focus. You have somewhere to be that isn’t lingering on that thought.

“Hey, just give me like 5 minutes to change and we can go.”

You slip away to your room, putting on the dress but the zipper of course gets stuck. Panic grips at your chest. It’s ok. You can fix it. And you try but after a few minutes. you’re sweating, and now the panic is really making you a little nauseous. Finally you cave in, calling for Noah.

A soft knock lets you know he’s outside your bedroom. “Did you call?”

You open the door letting him in. “I’m really sorry, can you help me? The zipper got stuck.”

“Let me see.” He steps close to you, his hand gently moving your arm so he can see the zipper. A shiver runs down your spine at his gentle touch. Get it together woman. You inhale deeply, trying to calm your nerves but from this close all you get is his cologne. Warm leather and tobacco. You wonder if you have something that’ll complement it.

“Mhm. There’s a little bit of fabric stuck in it. Let me just…,” his fingers gently pull it down and you sigh in relief when you finally feel the zipper start to move.

He zips it up the rest of the way before stepping back to take you in. It’s a simple dress, a pair of straps dropping into a low V in the front, the soft satin hugging your curves without accentuating anything you’re uncomfortable with, and in your favorite color. You know it’s not just the dress that has you feeling like a mess. Noah, the gala, Leon, it all just feels like such a snowball of weird things.

“Is this dress alright? I didn’t want to underdress but I've never been to one of these galas.”

His hand comes up to one of your straps, fingers gently running under it to smooth it down against your skin. Then he takes a step back, his eyes looking you over head to toe. He doesn’t even try to hide it. It leaves you feeling exposed.

“It’s perfect. You look beautiful."

“Thank you. You look great too.”

"You know I got a little nervous for tonight,” he admits with a shy smile.

“Did you?”

“I always do. It’s so many people, so many variables. I’m really happy you’re coming with me.”

“Of course.”

—

Immediately upon arriving, you understand why Noah hates these things. Everyone smiles so politely at each other but nobody seems to be having a good time. There ends up being a lot of new faces and a few familiar. A lot of the execs that come into the quarterly merch meeting.

You lose Noah at the start to one of those execs. You default to your party tactics, small talk, exchanging compliments and niceties until you find him. You exhale in relief when you see his familiar tattooed hand from across the room. It takes effort to keep a steady pace. You’re so focused on that that it takes a moment to register that Leon is also in his group.

You stand to Noah’s side, settling your hand in the bend of his elbow. Noah locks in immediately. Tucking you into his side, a secure arm wrapped around your waist.

“Tyler, this is my date, Y/N,” Noah gives Leon an intense stare. “Leon, the two of you are familiar, right?”

The small group waits for his answer but nothing comes. Instead you do your best to bulldoze past the awkwardness before it settles. “Hi Tyler, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tyler looks like he might be an older version of a lot of the men you work with, his hair is neater now, the salt and pepper hair is settling in, well styled, and tattoos still peek out beneath a dress shirt. He’s not nearly as tattooed as Noah but it’s still there.

“Nice to meet you as well,” he extends a respectful hand out to you, “It’s nice to see Noah finally bring a date.”

“You mean one that isn’t Davis?”

Tyler gives you a laugh with a real smile, one that reaches his eyes. You decide you like this guy.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t stray too far. I’m Davis’ assistant,” that one earns a wholehearted laugh. You feel Noah's hand press more firmly against your back. Ok, got it, pull back. Don’t get in trouble with jokes.

“Well aren't you a delight?” Tyler says. “Where are you two sitting?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t have a chance to find our table. Did you, baby?” Noah’s locked in. His smile stays steady as he looks down at you, but you see the way the top of his ears gets the smallest touch of pink.

“It’s over by the musician’s area, silly goose,” Noah’s smile only grows when he sees a flash of disgust behind your smile. His eyebrows just barely twitch upwards almost like a taunt. That one for sure wasn’t on his list.

Tyler cuts off your game, “Nonsense, come sit with us. My wife is going to love you. I’ll have them move you to our table.”

“Is that alright?” Can he just rearrange you like that? Noah’s hand presses light on your back again. He’s not one to question, ok. Understood.

“Of course it’s alright. Unless you don’t want to?”

“Oh, no no. That would be lovely.” you plaster a calm smile on your face but immediately feel a fire start in your brain. Fuck this was supposed to be a smile and wave situation.

It’s in that moment that you realize you and Noah spent more time arguing over fake couple names when you should’ve really studied the people who were going to be here. Noah must realize it too. He takes your hand in his and squeezes a bit too hard. Lovely. Both of you panicked helps nobody.

Noah only let’s go of your hand long enough to pull out your chair and settle to your right. Once you’re both settled, his hand finds its way back into yours, settling in your lap. You hope it looks cute because it feels like your only anchor into this world with the way your stomach is in knots. You thumb gently runs over the ring on his index finger as you try to settle your anxiety.

Everyone starts with the usual niceties about work and their day before talking about work. For a moment it feels like maybe you can just disappear. This is Noah, he’s the important one here, please let me blend into the background.

“How did the two of you meet?” Tyler’s wife asks you. Was her name Britney or Tiffany? It ended with a Y you’re pretty sure.

You start to open your mouth to answer and Noah jumps in. “We met through Davis. They both work in merchandising.”

“Oh how sweet, similar to how Tyler and I met.”

“Really?” You ask her hoping she’ll take the attention back.

“Mhm, did you two hit it off immediately?”

“No.” Noahs quick answer comes off rude.

You squeeze his hand, hoping he understands when you answer again, “no, we were friends for a while. What like two years almost?”

Noah nods, turning to you, “I think so baby.”

“What changed?” She asks you.

Well fuck. Think brain think.

“It was all so gradual. I’m not sure what changed,” You force down a sip of wine trying to buy yourself time to think, “he came to the office one day to review some merch samples. Davis was out that day so we went to lunch, just us, and things were different. I can’t tell you why. I looked at him and I think we were at a place where we both really needed a partner through this phase of life.”

“We got a coffee afterwards and things really took off from there.” Noah says reigning the story back in. Damn, maybe you aren’t too bad at this, you turn to him and smile.

“Yeah, once we got through the crunch exterior he’s a big softie.” You adjust a strand of his hair, staring up at him with a smile.

“I’m surprised we haven't crossed paths at their shows before,” Tyler cuts in.

“Things are just so new we’ve been keeping things quiet.” All you can hear is how fake your voice sounds in to ears, “you know how things are in the industry, we just want to invest time for a solid foundation. I’ve been around but I hang back helping in the merch booth most of the time.”

Tyler and his wife both nod, his wife saying whistfully, “Wouldn’t I know? We were the same way at the start.”

Finally, an out. You turn to them with a bright smile, raise your voice an octave, “Really? You’ve got to tell us about how you met!”

Tyler and his wife look at each other as they start their story. It’s clearly one that’s been told a few times over, each one having their own parts to tell and their playful elbow nudges. Noah’s hand relaxes in yours as you listen.

The rest of the dinner goes off without a hitch. Theres standard questions about your work with Davis and merchandising but it’s mostly focused on Tyler and Noah’s work. The upcoming Asia tour, their upcoming music. A few awards and speeches burn the last hour of the event.

Music starts letting you know the speeches have come to a close. The finish line comes into view. This will all be over soon.

It takes everything in you not to leave the second that’s an option. Instead you follow Noah’s lead, milling around a few minutes while politely saying a thousand goodbyes until you see Tyler and his wife again.

“We'll see you at the showcase, right?” Something in Tyler’s invitation makes the obligation clear. It’s posed as a question out of politeness but you’re expected. Be there.

You already have the perfect excuse out of this one, they never pay for the assistants to attend shit.

“You’ll see Noah, of course, but not me. They only expense travel for Davis and Leon for those events.”

“Oh bullshit! Noah, reach out to my office and we’ll sort something out in the budget,” Tyler answers. Well there goes that.

“Then I guess I’ll see you there,” you smile. Now there's more? You’ll have to figure it out later.

“I’ll reach out,” Noah smiles politely and extends a hand to Tyler, “I think it’s about time we head out. Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you so much for everything.”

With that, Noah takes your hand in his again and holds onto you rather firmly. The way his hand grips yours feels like you're one misstep from being tossed over his shoulder and carried you out. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in these heels.

Leon cuts off your beeline to the door, his eyes lingering on you, “Some of us are heading to a little bar nearby for a night cap. You two in?”

Never in a thousand years could you have imagined this. Not only is he here but that’s jealousy in his eyes. Your heart feels ready to leap out of your chest but you steady yourself.

You make a show of it, placing a hand on Noah’s chest before peering up at him and saying, “I think we’re done for the night, right babe?”

Noah doesn’t miss a beat, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. He stares at you like there’s no one else in the room, his eyes drifting to your lips and then back to your eyes, “Yeah we were thinking of heading home and straight to bed.”

You hum in agreement.

“I guess I’ll see you on Monday then. We still on for the tour merch coordination meeting?” Leon asks. When has he given a fuck about joining any of your meetings?

“It’s on the calendar,” you say. It’s working. It’s really working. The adrenaline feels insane at this point but you remind yourself to act uninterested. “See you Monday.”

Noah takes your cue and starts walking again. By the time you make it to the car, you feel like a very well dressed wreck. Fragments of the night swim in your mind. Good. Bad. A little embarrassing. And the way Leon just looked at you.

“You know, we aren’t too bad at that.” Noah says it like it's an afterthought, his mind on other things.

“I know right?” You say, taking a spot beside him and resting your head on his shoulder.

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