“Oh. OK.” Ollie nods and takes a step back.
“I’ll be right back.” Before he can say another word, I race from the room.
Once I’m safely locked in the bathroom, I start pacing up and down—which is pretty difficult as the room’s only about six feet long.
Ollie likes me. Pace, pace. What does he mean he likes me? As in like, likes me? Oh no! I actually groan out loud as I think back to my conversation with Noah. Everything really has changed since I’ve gotten back from New York, because for years I’ve dreamed about Ollie saying something like that to me. So many nights I’ve lain in bed, running through Ollie-telling-me-he-likes-me scenarios in my head. But I never, ever thought it would happen. And I never, ever thought that if it did by some miracle happen, I would end up feeling . . . nothing. All of the scenarios I played through in my head ended in a passionate kiss. But meeting Noah has made me realize that my feelings for Ollie were only a crush. They weren’t based on any reality. They were all based on my fantasies.
But this isn’t a fantasy. This, right now, is very, very real and I have to deal with it immediately. I splash my face with some cold water and look at myself in the bathroom mirror. You can do this, I tell myself.
When I get back into my bedroom, Ollie is, rather worryingly, sitting on my bed.
“Please tell me you don’t have a crush on him too,” he says, nodding toward the picture of Noah on my mirror.
“What?”
“Noah Flynn. Megan won’t stop going on about him and that stupid “Bridge” song. I keep telling her that he’s madly in love with Leah Brown but she won’t listen.”
Just like the moment before the car crash, everything starts happening in a weird slow motion. I hold on to the back of my chair to steady myself. “What did you say?”
Ollie nods at the picture again. “The singer Noah Flynn. Have you got a crush on him too?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I focus my gaze on Ollie and try to ground myself. The world hasn’t just turned inside out and upside down. There has to be some kind of explanation for this. “I—I know him.”
Ollie smiles. “Yeah, right.”
“I do. I met him in New York.”
I sit down at my dressing table, my brain going into overdrive. What did Ollie mean, do I have a crush on him? And why did he say Noah was madly in love with Leah Brown? Leah Brown is a mega-famous pop star.
Ollie leans forward, looking really impressed. “Seriously?”
I nod.
“Wow, Megan’s going to be so jealous when you tell her. What was he like?” Ollie’s now looking at me so wide-eyed, it’s like I just said I met the president.
“He was—is—really nice. I don’t get what you said before, though—about him and Leah Brown . . .”
“Oh, they’re dating. And apparently he’s written a track for her next album or something.”
Ollie says this so casually it almost makes me want to laugh. This is all so ridiculous. So unbelievable. Or is it? I feel a horrible sense of unease as the conversation I overheard between Noah and Sadie Lee pops into my head. Was this what she was saying he ought to tell me? But it can’t be. This is way too big. There’s no way Noah could be famous, and have a girlfriend, let alone a world-famous drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend, without me knowing about it. Ollie must have the wrong person. It must be a coincidence.
“Are you sure it’s him?” I say.
Ollie gets up and studies the picture. “Yeah, definitely. He’s got the same tattoo on his wrist.” He turns and stares at me. “Why are you asking that? You must know it’s Noah Flynn if you met him.”
“Yes, I . . .” It suddenly dawns on me that Noah never told me his surname.
“I—I’m not feeling too good,” I say, sitting down on the bed.
“Oh no.” Ollie puts his hand on my shoulder, making me wince.
“Really, I think you should go.”
“What—but—you were fine a minute ago.”
“Yes, but now I’m not.” I don’t care how rude I sound. I just need him out of here. I need to get to the bottom of this.
“Oh. OK. But I was going to—I wanted to ask you if . . .”
How can Noah be a famous singer? It doesn’t make sense. Yet in a horrible way it does. His incredible voice. The song he wrote for me. But why would he write a song like that for me if he was with someone else?
“Would you like to come out for a pizza or something?”
“What?” I look at Ollie, horrified.
“It’s all right, Penny—I know how you feel about me,” he says. “I’ve known for years. Megan told me.”
OK, now I feel as if I’m trapped inside a horror story that just keeps on getting worse and worse with every twist.
“And I think I might—well, I think I might finally feel the same.”
Finally? Seriously?
“I need you to go,” I say abruptly.
“OK, but is that a yes?” Ollie looks at me hopefully.
“No! It’s a no. I’m sorry. Please can you leave?”
Ollie looks at me for a moment and there’s a terrible silence. “Right,” he says curtly. “See you in school then.”
“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.