Time to swallow my pride and just get out of here. “Sorry,” I said to his date, “I just need to . . .”
She didn’t move her legs and in fact kept them close to the seat in front of her, as if daring me to hop over her. Did she think I wouldn’t?
Not sure of how Shelby would want me to handle this, I just stood there awkwardly and weighed the pros and cons of going either direction. Whatever I was going to do, it needed to be soon. I was running out of time.
Noah had pulled out his cell phone and sat back down, which made the choice for me. Now that I didn’t have to worry about being sandwiched between him and the seat in front of him, this would be the best way out.
I tried with his date again. “Excuse me. I just need to get past.”
But she was also on her cell phone and ignored me. I tried nudging her legs, but she didn’t budge.
Fine.
I hiked my dress up to my thighs and stepped over her legs, which apparently surprised her so much that her knees shot up into me, which made me lose my footing and fall headfirst against Noah’s legs.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he reached out to help me.
“I’m fine,” I said, brushing his hands away. I could feel dozens of eyes on us as I struggled to stand back up. He tried again to help me back up to my feet, and I resisted both him and the urge to kick his girlfriend in the ankle.
When I stood up, the only thing between me and the aisle was a still-seated Noah.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked with what sounded like real concern in his voice. He was such a good actor, putting on a show for everyone around us. Most likely for the benefit of his girlfriend.
“I told you, I’m fine.”
I could see a smile hovering around the edges of his mouth. “Okay. Well, when you get backstage, remember the food goes in your mouth and not on your neck.”
My hand flew up to my throat in surprise. Was the chocolate stain still there? “Listen up, you smug, arrogant, condescending pain in the—”
I was cut off by the lights coming back up, and a spike of adrenaline coursed through me.
They were back from the commercial break and I was stuck with no chair to sit in, and even if I climbed over Noah, there was no way to get backstage in time.
So I did the only thing I could think of.
I dropped to the floor at Noah Douglas’s feet.
CHAPTER THREE
“What do you think you’re doing?” his date asked before kicking me in the leg. She was not wearing sneakers, and it hurt.
“Ow!” I protested.
Noah put out his arm between the two of us. “Hey, Hannah. That’s enough.”
She let out a huff of indignation and then turned her body as far away from me as she possibly could, which was good, since it gave me some breathing room.
He leaned forward and asked, “So what is the plan here?”
“The number one rule is I either have to be in a seat or backstage when the lights come on, and obviously I can’t do either one of those things right now. So I’m . . . here. Until the next commercial break.”
“Which makes you . . . what? Schrödinger’s seat filler?”
Okay, that made me smile. The man could be charming if he wanted to be. “You can’t look at me or talk to me. Just pretend like I’m not here.”
“Gladly,” Hannah said, but it was like Noah hadn’t even heard her. Or really even registered that they were, like, on a date, but I was the one he was talking to.
Why was that thought making my heart flutter?
Then he leaned forward and I wondered how I hadn’t noticed before how good he smelled. Clean and crisp, with some kind of expensive, masculine, woodsy scent. “You know, when I said that thing about women falling at my feet, I didn’t mean for it to be an invitation.”
He said it so flirtatiously I couldn’t even get mad. I just sat there on the floor, feeling extremely stupid. This was one of the most humiliating experiences of my entire life. Easily top five.
But not number one. Nothing could ever be more humiliating than number one.
And at some point a camera operator was going to realize that Noah was chatting with the floor and the jig would be up. “Look, I know I don’t have the right to ask for any kind of favor, but I will get someone I love in trouble if you keep talking to me. You really do have to pretend like I’m not here.”
He studied me for a moment, then gave me a little half smile. “Sure thing. But you owe me one.”
What? I owed him one? What would that even entail? This night just kept getting more and more bizarre.
I heard one of the presenters say, “And the nominees are . . . ,” and almost flew into a blind panic. What if it was Noah’s category? And he won? Then there would be cameras everywhere and they would definitely catch me and Shelby would never speak to me again!
But it wasn’t his category. I let out a sigh of relief.
This floor was gross. It felt sticky underneath me. I was definitely going to have to pay that stain-removal fee to the rental place, and there went my food budget for the next two weeks.
His date kept her distance from me, hostility radiating out of her every flawless pore, but it was almost like Noah had forgotten that both of us were there. Although he did keep accidentally bumping into me with his large feet and shooting me apologetic looks. Which surprised me, given that our conversation had begun with him accusing me of stalking him. And if anything was stalking behavior, I was pretty sure this was it.
Especially when I noticed he was wearing socks with pizza slices on them. That was unexpected, and I may or may not have accidentally brushed my fingers against them just to make sure they were real. He didn’t seem to notice.
And despite telling myself not to stare, I kept sneaking glances at him. Even though he’d spent most of our brief time together being the worst, there was just something about him that made it so I had to keep looking. Like he was subliminally pulling me in and I was powerless to resist.
He seemed to always be in motion, crossing and uncrossing his legs, flexing and unflexing his huge hands, shifting from one side of his seat to the other. I wondered if he was bored. Or was just one of those people who had so much pent-up energy they hated sitting still.
Then he ran his fingers through his hair, and the gesture made my stomach quiver and my mouth go completely dry. I’d seen him do it a hundred times on-screen, but it landed completely differently in person.
To distract myself I tried listening to the speech of the winner, but it was almost like the entire world had faded away and Noah Douglas was the only real thing in it.
What was wrong with me?
Fortunately this winner was brief and to the point, and the lights went back down. Noah quickly got up and offered me his hand.
This time I took it, and it was like a thousand tiny atom bombs exploded across the surface of my skin. “Thanks,” I said, and it shocked me how wobbly my voice sounded, how shallow my breathing had become. We stood there, our hands clasped, and something happened. Something I didn’t recognize. And was most likely entirely one-sided.
I wondered if I should apologize for my earlier behavior or thank him for not making a scene and getting me in trouble or whether I should say goodbye or . . . I didn’t know what to do, so I just let go and darted out into the aisle, wanting to put this entire evening behind me and hopefully leave with whatever dignity I still had left. I thought I felt his eyes watching me walk away, but I was too chicken to turn around and check.