Girl Online: On Tour (25 page)

I have strict instructions from Leah for once I’m back at the hotel: take a bath, scrub myself clean, shave my legs, and await the arrival of her glam squad. Not having to worry about being backstage feels like a weight has been lifted from me, and it’s a genuine pleasure to be able to use the impressive claw-foot bathtub in my beautiful bathroom. I turn the golden taps and hot water streams out. I drop in a fizzing bath bomb I discovered in the haul from Sephora and watch as rose oil tints the water a soft shade of pink.

While the bath is filling up with hot, steamy water, I text Noah.

Almost immediately I get a concerned text back.

A bath is exactly what I need to clear my head. I lie back and let the bubbles pop against my skin, sifting them through my soapy fingers. As much as this is enjoyable, I ache for home. I couldn’t survive this life permanently—zipping from place to place, barely stopping to smell the roses or, in my case, see the sights and taste the food. I know I could just say the word and Noah would take me away with him forever. I could be by his side, living this life of luxury. The shopping spree I just had with Leah, that could be the norm, not a once-in-a-lifetime event. That could be
my
jet-black credit card. I could hang out with Kendra and Selene, and focus on looking glamorous all the time.

Megan would do anything to be in my position. Heck, so would Elliot, if it meant having all the clothes and hats he was able to buy. But would
I
be me right now?

I sit in the bath until my fingertips begin to look like prunes. Somehow, I don’t think Leah would approve. I wrap myself up in the snuggliest, fluffiest white dressing gown in existence, then fold my hair into a bath towel to dry. When I open the door back into the main room, I gasp. There’s a beautiful bouquet of roses sitting on the table. One of the hotel staff must have come in while I was having a bath.

I read the little card that is sitting beside them:
YOU ARE ALWAYS IN MY HEART, MY FOREVER GIRL. N.

I grin from ear to ear at Noah’s note. I can’t believe I doubted whether we were right together for an instant. Of course we are. Whatever obstacles there may be in the future, Noah and I can overcome them.

I know we can.

There’s another knock on the door, and I wonder if Noah
has more surprises for me. Instead, I open the door and find myself face-to-face with five fierce-looking women who have identical slicked-back ponytails and are armed with black cases of varying sizes. One of them has a hair dryer tucked under her arm. It’s Leah’s glam squad.

They sit me down and start trawling through the Sephora bags, ripping the freshly bought products from their cardboard packaging and applying them to my face. I learn more than I ever thought I would about whether primer comes before moisturizer (it doesn’t; it goes after) and whether to put concealer on before foundation (you can do either, but the lady doing my makeup prefers foundation first). I try to keep at least one eye open at all times, making sure to take mental notes of what they are doing so I can at least have a hope of re-creating the look on my own.

At one point, I have a girl curling my hair with a hot iron, another one brushing purple eyeshadow onto my eyelids, and someone else applying a transfer tattoo to my wrist. I feel like a canvas rather than a human being. These are artists at work.

When they’re finished, one of the girls asks me unceremoniously to drop my dressing gown. I want to cling to it with my life, but when she holds up the dress and I remember how beautiful it looked when I tried it on in the store I relent. These girls have probably seen a lot more women in their underwear than just me!

It turns out this particular girl is also an amazing seamstress. I thought the dress fitted perfectly in the store, but she pins it and sews it until it fits like a glove. I hold on to her shoulder as I slip my feet into the stilettos. Then she spins
me round and walks me towards the full-length mirror. I almost do a double take at the girl staring back at me. Her expression may be blank—or, I should say, stunned—but the rest of her is . . . well, magnificent.

The stylists behind me high-five and hug each other. I turn round and hug the girl who helped me with my dress.

I don’t have any words; the only ones I can grasp are a jumbled mess inside my head. The feeling I had in the shop when I first tried on this outfit was nothing compared to this. I have dry bronzing oil on my legs, which makes them glisten in the light. My hair is full of volume and curled beautifully—there is none of that cotton-wool frizz I’d usually have at my roots. My eyeshadow is a smoky purple to complement the colour of my eyes, and the new, perfectly applied fake lashes are so curly and pretty I can barely stop blinking. My lips have a beautiful pink shade to them and I have an amazing, intricate rose-gold feather transfer tattoo on my wrist.

One stylist whips out a little black bowler hat and pops it gently on my hair, and the outfit suddenly feels complete. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cool in all my life, not even when Elliot styled me, and he
knows
his fashion. I get one last spritz of Chanel perfume and the women surrounding me all grin.

Finally I find my words. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I say.

There’s another knock at the door, and Leah walks into the room. She looks slightly dishevelled—but still stunning. I guess I would probably look a bit out of sorts too, having just come offstage. Catching sight of me, she gasps audibly. “Oh. My. God. Didn’t I tell you these girls were the best in the business? Penny Porter, you look absolutely beautiful.
Noah is the luckiest guy I’ve ever known. You are going to knock him
dead
.”

“I feel a million dollars. Thank you, Leah.” I give her a huge hug, probably squeezing her a little too hard, but I don’t care.

“You are so welcome. Now, ladies, I need you to fix me up too! I am a disaster and I need to look unbelievable for this after-party!”

Amid the huge array of feelings I have at that moment, one of the main questions that buzzes around my head is how I can find my own glam squad to do this for me every morning. But I decide that even if this Penny Porter is for one night only, she intends to have the time of her life.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I wobble nervously towards the door of the nightclub where the after-party is being held, holding on to Leah for dear life. She probably thinks I’m getting a little
too
appreciative and wants me to stop being so clingy, but I know that if I let go, or loosen my grip even slightly, I’ll probably fall over. The cobbled streets of Paris are very beautiful, but
wow
are they hard to walk on in four-inch stilettos! I’m determined not to start this evening off by falling flat on my face.

I’m the epitome of sophistication right now. Clumsy Penny has retired to the hotel room and is staying tucked up in bed this evening. Instead, Parisian-chic Penny is out on the town and, although she probably won’t be the coolest girl at the after-party (Leah still holds that title), she at least stands a good chance of feeling like she belongs—and her boyfriend might think so too.

We are ushered straight past the bouncers at the entrance to the club, with Callum holding up his jacket to shield Leah from the flashing cameras of dodgy paparazzi. For once I’ve left my camera at home. In fact, I don’t even have a clutch
bag with me—my hotel-room key is tucked into a tiny pocket inside my dress.

I’m actually somewhat disappointed once we pass through the darkened doorway and into the club. I start to think all this hard work might not have been worth it since it’s so dark and dingy.

Leah spots Noah first, over in a VIP booth. Luckily, the lighting is slightly brighter over there—all the better to show off who is in the club, I’m assuming. She nudges me towards him. “Go on, this is your big moment. I have to go find my manager.”

I give her hand one last squeeze. “Thank you so much for everything today, Leah.”

“Honestly, don’t mention it. Now, go show him what he’s been missing.” She winks, and I take a deep breath.

Noah is sitting in the centre of the booth, with his band mates and friends in a semicircle round him. I force myself to unclench my fists and walk nervously towards him. I jerk to a stop as a waiter carrying a trayload of champagne flutes filled to the brim with bright, effervescent liquid swerves in front of me. It’s a breathless moment, but nothing spills.

Yet my gasp must have been loud enough for attention to be swayed in my direction. Then, the moment I’ve been waiting for is unfolding. It’s exactly like something from a movie, a scene where everything is happening in slow motion. Noah looks up from his drink and locks eyes with me. I watch as his mouth falls open, then the mouths of his band mates following suit. They look like a shoal of fish all sitting there together, faces agog, not saying anything and just staring in disbelief.

“Penny . . . HOLY COW. I—how—you look—” Noah jumps up from the booth to greet me. He clings on to my elbows and looks me up and down. “You look absolutely breathtaking,” he says, finally finishing his sentence.

He kisses me so passionately it’s like we haven’t seen each other in months. It feels absolutely electric; the hairs on my body stand on end and my goose bumps are so intense it feels like the air around us has dropped a few degrees.

“I missed you,” he says. “You had me worried when you said you weren’t coming to the concert.”

“I might have . . . bent the truth a bit. I felt fine, if only a little scared of Leah’s glam squad!”

“Leah did all this for you? Tell her I say thanks!” He wraps an arm around me and we walk over to the booth. I sit down next to him and he introduces me to everyone as “my girlfriend, Penny.” He even introduces me as his girlfriend to the Sony execs who we had a run-in with last time.

I do my very best, most polite handshaking and greeting, but I can’t seem to wipe the giant grin from my face. I have a feeling that this is going to be the best night ever.

“Well, Penny, let me just tell you—we are very impressed with your boyfriend here,” one of the Sony execs says with a smile. There’s something about the way she says
boyfriend
that jars—like she’s talking to a child. I grit my teeth and smile back. The way Noah is clinging on to my waist, like he’s terrified to let me go, is definitely
not
childlike.

“I think he’s all right too,” I reply, not sure what to say.

“You should tell Penny the good news,” the exec continues, looking at Noah intently.

Noah shifts in his seat, then with his free hand laces my
fingers in his. “Oh, yeah, right.” He looks me straight in the eye. “The Sketch and everyone are really pleased with how things are going on the tour . . . with the dynamic, you know? It’s just working for all of us. So they want me to continue with them—like, beyond Europe—on their world tour. Dubai, Japan, Australia . . . for the next three months.”

I can see behind his sparkling eyes how excited he is, and I throw my arms round him. “Noah, that’s great!” I’m genuinely excited for him. This is his dream come true all over again.

“That’s not all, though,” he says, looking hopeful. “I want you to come with me.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight