Page 53 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

I stretched my lips into a fake smile—we were faking everything else, why not a smile? “Hey, Ashley. I guess there were some crossed wires last night. I didn’t see anyone at the Social Club.”

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and put a finger on her chin. “Except Conor.”

A swath of heat raced up my chest to my face. “Y-yeah, we were the only two there. I don’t know what happened. Shanice told me the meet-up time, and Conor heard it from you. We both left pretty quickly after we realized no one else was there.”

“Except the paps.”

“Unfortunate, but they really couldn’t know that others from the tour weren’t in that club with us.” I gripped my coffee cup so hard, I was afraid the lid would pop. “Those pics barely made it onto the socials.”

A laugh bubbled from Ashley’s lips. “Oh, girl. Don’t look so scared. I’m not mad about it. Shit happens. I’m all in on the plan.”

“Good, good.” My shoulders sagged. “Because I think it’s working. Tonight’s show sold out this morning, and there are only a few tickets left for Phoenix.”

“Yeah, people like me and Conor as a couple. All his goodness is rubbing off on me.” She gripped her upper arms, hugging herself, as if she could feel the goodness now.

“I’m glad that’s settled, and meeting the bus like you did yesterday strengthened the narrative. I appreciate your efforts.”

“Hey, we’re all in this together. And Noelle...” she touched the corner of her eye “...lose the glasses.”

“Of course.” I plucked my cotton sweats from my thigh. “Just threw some things on to get coffee.”

“I understand.” She tapped the toe of her Louboutins—at nine in the morning—obviously not thrown on. “Still, I like to maintain a certain style on my tours, from the stars to the...lowliest support staff. I mean, look at Tomo over there.”

I glanced across the room at the fit dancer, sporting a pair of baggy black pants with a contrasting white, clingy tank top to show off his muscles. His high-top sneakers were blindingly white, and he’d gathered his long hair in a half up, half down do.

Sensing our scrutiny, he looked up and waved. We waved back, with Ashley wiggling her fingers in the air.

“He does look good.” I raised my coffee cup. “I will now slink back to my room to avoid embarrassing the tour further.”

“Oh, Noelle. You’re so...funny.”

I scurried out of the coffee house, not so much to avoid insulting Ashley’s aesthetic sensibilities, but to get out of her way before she changed her mind about those pictures.

Because I found them on social media, and they only served to increase the buzz from the concert pictures. Instead of longing looks, this time the fandom decided we were having a lovers’ spat.

Were we?

The last thing I remember before the paparazzi flashes exploded was Conor trying to tell me he texted me every day from Australia. What a load of bollocks, as he’d say. Was his memory that bad, or was he straight-up lying to me for some reason?

The fans weren’t wrong. It was a spat—just not between two lovers.

Either Ashley missed the in-depth analysis of those photos or she didn’t care. She just might be thinking any publicity was good publicity. But I didn’t want those sleuthing fans getting anywhere near the truth.

That Conor and I still had feelings for each other—no matter how much I wanted to deny it.

***

Ji-yoon practically skipped off stage after her set, and I gave her a quick hug. “You killed it.”

She squeezed back, trying to shout above the roar of the crowd. “Thank you so much, Noelle. You’re so sweet...I don’t care what people say.”

“What?”

Ji-yoon jogged down the steps and into the arms of her manager without turning around as he whisked her away.

Did I hear her right? Were people on the tour badmouthing me? I massaged my temples. Dina warned me that the job took its toll. Not everyone loved the publicist.

The stagehands rushed past me to transform Ji-yoon’s set into Conor’s more pared-down set, and I didn’t need to be swooning for him at the side of the stage. If he decided to sing that song again tonight, I didn’t want to be in his line of vision.