- 21 -

When Noah was twelve, he was everything. He was rambunctious, and loud, and lively. He was kind, and funny, and could light up the room. He was smart, but not too smart, and witty.

He was everything except reserved.

The day I was scheduled to meet him for our very first table read, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I didn't have half of a clue what Road to Serendipity was even about. All I had was the audition script to base my guesses off of. I knew I'd have a costar with a nondescript age and gender and that was it. In all honestly, I was expecting a girl.

But then Noah showed up and I couldn't imagine anyone else sharing the spotlight with me. He just made the perfect Peter to my Max. His eccentricity, his mannerisms and the expressions on his face: he was perfect. For the role, I mean. I had never had that kind of chemistry with a costar before. It was electric the way we could control the room together, keep everyone's eyes on us.

And off set, he was even more amazing. His energy, the way that, even at twelve years old, he could make anybody stop what they were doing and listen to what he had to say. He was a flame burning brighter than any I'd ever seen.

I did not notice when that flame began to flicker even though it was right under my nose. For four years, that happy boy morphed into a broken young man. As we got more famous, the less we saw of each other. I could have noticed the flickering flame eventually snuff out—if I had been paying any attention. Then when we stopped talking at sixteen for whatever stupid fucking reason, I forgot about Noah.

Whether it was on purpose or from the hands of time, I pushed the entire friendship to the very back of my mind. I should have been there.

I looked at him closely, my eyes always finding the curve of his top lip as a focus point when he spoke. He was rolling up a joint for the two of us to share before the weight of our impending conversation collapsed on our shoulders. Noah sucked his bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it to lick the rolling paper.

"Stop staring at me or I'll pussy out," he said, not even looking at me. The corner of his mouth was curving up, though, so I knew he was half-joking. Still, I followed his orders and looked away. I didn't want him to shut down again. "Can you put something on the TV? This is awkward."

I put some random Youtube music radio on and, ironically, my song came on. "God damn it," I mumbled, changing the station.

"It's so weird to me how famous you are," he said, twisting the end of the joint and inspecting it for any tears.

"Me, too," I said honestly. "You are, too."

"Not for the same reasons," he mumbled, reaching for the lighter to his left. "I get tagged in screenshots of my mugshot and things like, 'Child Stars who Fell Off the Face of the Earth.' You get tagged in videos of your world tour and red carpet pictures. We are not the same."

"I know, I'm sorry."

Noah lit the joint, the red cherry lighting up his face and sending orangey shadows under his eyes in the dimly lit bus. While it was daylight outside, I had drawn the curtains to give us a more intimate, private feel for our conversation. It was just to make Noah feel comfortable and safe.

I watched the smoke filter past his lips. "Guess I should just start," he chuckled nervously, no humor detected in the sound. I shrugged as he passed me the joint. "I just . . . I've only ever talked about this in therapy, okay? I'm gonna get into some fucked up stuff and you can't—" He paused, sighing frustratedly. "Just don't feel bad for me, okay? It is what it is and . . . yeah. Just shut up and listen, okay? That's all I ask."

He didn't sound rude, just desperate. I pretended to zip my lips and throw away the key.

"Alright. Uh, yeah, so . . . David was my manager until I was eighteen. My mom didn't know what the fuck she was doing when she was signing the paperwork so she just signed her name without reading anything. I signed on with David when I was . . . eight? I think?"

I didn't like how he called him David. Like they were on such personal terms. David MacNeil wasn't someone any child should be close with.

Noah took the joint back and hit it once before continuing, the smoke falling from his nose between words. "I think my mom was just so blind from the money that she didn't realize what was happening behind closed doors. She would drop me off with David whenever he called a meeting—spoiler alert, there was never actually any meetings—and go to the casino. I didn't profit much before RTS because she kept blowing it all on shit like our first house, her new car, new clothes. And really, all of that would have been fine if she had just been paying attention to what was actually happening, you know?" He scoffed, passing back to me.

I smoked slow, listening to his story silently.

"I know you know what David was like when we were younger," Noah muttered, glancing at me and waiting for me to nod. "It was always private meetings and he'd just spoil the fuck out of me and touch my shoulders . . . I didn't have a dad, but I thought that was what it would be like."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head as the joint dwindled down to nothing between my fingers. I discarded it in the ashtray on the table and we curled into the blankets on the couch. He tilted his head so he was mostly looking at the ceiling, but he'd steal a few looks in my direction every so often.

"When I turned twelve, he landed me RTS and neither of us thought it would do very well, but it did. And so he expected some form of thank you, you know, for getting me famous. It was the first time he made me . . . I don't want to say it."

"You don't have to say anything," I said, feeling the anger simmering below the surface. But I knew I couldn't let it rise any higher than that.

Noah was quiet for a moment. Reflecting, maybe? What a horrid thing to reflect on: losing your innocence to a scumbag you were supposed to trust. To celebrate Road to Serendipity doing fifty million in the box office, my sister and I went to Disneyland. It was a sick and twisted fate that Noah and I couldn't have done it without one another, but one of us suffered for it. My stomach lurched and I felt nauseated.

"Yeah, so, David saw what I could do, on and off screen, and wanted me for himself. He didn't put much effort into finding me more jobs. It was all about different ways he could control me after that."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Did you tell your mom?"

Noah laughed again. "Even if I did, it wouldn't have mattered. We were finally rich and that's all she cared about. I was pretty much raised by David and my nanny, Kelly while she disappeared for a year at a time," he said. "She died in 2015, anyways."

That was news to me.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be," he replied without missing a beat. "She was a bad mom. It took me years to be able to say that without feeling guilty about it, but it's true."

My mom wasn't a saint, but she did her best. It was probably not the wisest decision to put me into the industry from the start. Any child star's history could tell you that. But she just wanted the world to see how cute her son was. The rest was just the domino effect. However, my mom could spot what a creep MacNeil was from the beginning and would never leave me alone with him. That was the difference between her and Noah's mom.

"So back to David. My therapist from rehab said I was brainwashed, which doesn't feel right. I knew what I was doing and that's the disgusting part. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting him . . . y'know, but how could I have known? I didn't have any kind of compass. All I knew was to please David and he would buy me things, or get me into celebrity parties, or whatever.

"I started drinking when I realized I could basically get whatever I wanted. When I was underage and going to eighteen-plus clubs, all I had to do was walk up to the bar and I'd be served. You know all about that, though. I just maybe took it too far, too soon. Then David let me try coke for the first time and that was the beginning of everything, really. I was sixteen."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling a bit sweaty under these blankets but I didn't want to throw off the comfort. Every word he said was making me angrier until I was feeling violent. I wanted to stop him right there, cancel my show, and go find MacNeil.

But I needed to let him finish.

"Don't look at me like that," Noah said, an edge to his voice that almost sounded accusatory. I looked away, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. "I told you not to feel bad for me."

"I'm trying," I said honestly. It wasn't so much that I felt bad for him, because I knew what this life could do to someone so vulnerable. It was just disappointment in the fact that we, as a whole, let Noah down. Myself included.

He sighed and pulled the blanket up to his chin. This story shouldn't be told while he looked so sweet. Even though his face was still battered and he was anything but, it was just the innocence of his whole being that made me feel worse.

"I started getting in a lot of trouble. Shoplifting, fighting, DUIs. But things with David were good—if you could call it that. So he'd cover for me. It was never out to the public when I was a minor, I was let go with a slap of the wrist every time. It made me feel indebted to him, so I was still at his beck and call when he needed me."

When he needed me.

Sick bastard.

Noah shifted. "I knew it was wrong, what he was doing with me, but I felt like I owed him. I felt like . . . like he had done so much for me, so it was the least I could do." His voice started to waver. "I think I started to . . . love him."

My heart was pounding. I couldn't hear any more, but I had to. I had to listen to him because if I didn't, who the fuck would?

"I knew he was married. And I knew he had other boys he would keep around, like me. But I also knew I was the most compliant. Like if I gave him everything he asked, I wouldn't risk losing him, even though he wasn't mine to lose.

"So like I said, it was good with him. But then it started getting really bad. He was getting violent and more demanding and threatening me, so I tried to distance myself from him. This was when I was . . . seventeen, I think? It wasn't long after my mom died. Everything went to shit and I didn't want to do it anymore.

"When I turned eighteen, my contract was over. I thought I could get away from him. I thought it would all be over. The abuse, the fucking late night calls, the gaslighting. I thought he would be done with me because . . . because I wasn't a kid anymore."

I was going to puke.

"But it wasn't. Being legal almost made it like a game for him. We weren't in business anymore and I was an adult, so what did he have to lose? I was already known to the public as a problematic recluse. I had been to rehab once already—this was before the second time. And I was fucked up almost every hour of every day, trying to cope with the reality of everything. I was alone. I had no friends, no family. All I had was David and I fucking hated that."

I failed him so bad.

"Did you break it off with him?" I asked. "Since you didn't have to see him anymore."

"He controlled every part of my life. His name was on the lease of my first apartment, he had control of my finances since my mom died and left me in his care. Everything I did was under his control. I couldn't leave until I figured out what to about that, so I did.

"I hired a lawyer and he helped me get David's name off of everything to do with me. By the time everything was finalized, I was twenty-one. So you'd think there was nothing stopping me from just blocking his number and never seeing him again, right?"

I nodded, afraid of where this was going.

He made a face and paused. I could tell he was avoiding my eyes. "He has videos."

Oh, no.

The brakes of the bus squealed as we pulled to a stop. We were probably at the venue, but I wasn't fucking getting off this bus any time soon. His eyes were glistening as he tried his best to hide behind the blanket. I scooted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him into my chest. He could probably hear the sound of my heart slamming against my breastbone.

"Every time I try to fight him, he just threatens to post them everywhere. I can't— I can't give the world one more reason to scrutinize me, Theo. I'm already known for the worst shit imaginable. To have a leaked video of me out there would be it. I don't think I could keep going."

I felt him slide his leg over my lap so he was on top of me, his head on my shoulder and faced away. I held him tightly, my hand flat against his warm back. This was the most I had ever gotten of Noah and it was the worst possible scenario.

"I haven't actually seen him in person in months, thanks to you. But he calls me every day, makes me say things I don't want to say. I have to send him pictures and . . ."

He let out a choked sob.

"I can't do this anymore."

My body froze. He was crying, his hands curled up between us and gripping my shirt. I pressed my lips against his head. "We're going to figure this out," I breathed, a numbness cascading over my entire being. I didn't know what it stemmed from: anger? fear? love?

. . . What?

"Do you still have that lawyer?"

Noah collected himself off my chest and pushed himself up so he was literally sitting up on my lap, but didn't move. "He was just a finance lawyer," he frowned. I reached up and cupped his cheek, my thumb finding the corner of his downturned lips.

"I'll find you the best lawyer there is and we're gonna keep MacNeil the fuck away from you," I said, watching his expression change, but not by very much. "You hear me?"

"I don't want to burden you with my drama, Theo. I just wanted to tell you about it because I . . . I don't want to hurt you anymore," Noah sighed, looking away from me. I was so aware of his hands resting idly on my stomach and his warmth over my body. "I'm just so tired."

"I know," I murmured, running a hand down his shoulder then his arm. "I'll have Travis arrange a driver and a bodyguard to bring you to the hospital, okay?"

Noah nodded, eyes on me curiously. I didn't move as he paused meticulously. I could see the gears turning in his head while he calculated his next move and I hoped it was what I thought it was. His hand found mine resting on his thigh and he wove our fingers together, his eyes still on my face.

His words came out a whisper, "Can I kiss you?"

I gulped. As if you even need to ask. With a slow nod, I sat up just a bit and met him halfway. He took a shaky breath, one that rattled the bones beneath my skin. My free hand lifted to card my fingers through the messy curls on his forehead, swimming in those warm brown eyes that never ceased to render me breathless.

And then he kissed me.

It was the first time we kissed that I felt like we both were ready for it—that we both needed it. It wasn't like the chaotic kiss at the 4th of July party, or the kiss last night when he was just responding to my care. This kiss was real and raw and everything I could want.

I had to hold back because his lip was still swollen. He wrapped his arms around my neck and sighed through his nose, parting his lips ever so slightly to slot into mine.

My Noah.

His back was warm against my hesitant fingers trailing up his spine and over his shoulder blades underneath his shirt. I could feel every curve of his bones, the muscles moving under the silky smooth skin. While we kissed, I was keenly aware of how perfect our bodies moved together.

He pulled away and looked down between us, but I didn't stop there. I kissed his left cheek and temple and his hairline, peppering him with the love and affection that he deserved. He fucking deserved it.

"I'm sorry for everything," he said softly. I pulled away to meet his eyes. He licked his bottom lip and lowered his hands to rest on my shoulders while I stared at him intently. "I know I've been a pain in your ass, but I think . . . I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." 

I would have died for him.

—

i suck really bad at writing story-telling chapters like this. i hope i did okay. this chapter took me like a week and a half to write. i just want to squeeze my sweet noah babie to death i love him so much