Once Rubie and Noah had both gone inside, Morgan had me get out of the car, probably under the assumption that nobody would care about me once the stars had left. She gave me a badge to wear and told me to guard it with my life, because it provided me with all access to the venue.
She took me backstage, and I really enjoyed listening to Noah talk about his role in the movie. He was witty and self-deprecating and intelligent and all-around delightful in his responses. Someone from the crowd yelled out, “Malec Shadowfire lives!” and he responded by laughing and saying he loved Malec and missed playing him.
After he finished, they brought out Rubie, and she was equally charming and also had the audience eating out of the palm of her hand. They were both skilled performers, on-screen and off.
I watched as the president of the film festival presented them with their awards and they said a few words from the podium, thanking their professional teams, the cast and crew of the movie, the festival board members, and the fans for their support.
Morgan turned toward me. “Noah might take a little while to catch up with you. He’s still got some press to do and festival board members to thank personally. I can take you across the street to his room to wait for him.”
“Okay.”
There were so many people gathered on the streets, and I could smell funnel cake and hear the screams of people on rides. The carnival sounded fun, and I wanted to take Noah and check it out.
But then I realized I wouldn’t be able to do that. He had this room because he couldn’t mingle with everyone else and had to wait for the roads to clear up. That made me sad for him.
It made me sad for us.
At the hotel, Morgan gave me a key and told me the room number. That was another thing that I had forgotten about when it came to Noah—how often his life was handled and overseen by other people. It made the fact that he’d taken off for Vegas even more amazing.
The room was much plainer than the suites we’d stayed in. More like a regular hotel room, but with a big sitting area. I noticed a small blue-and-white cake on the table that again had the words Mazel tov written on it. I giggled, took a picture of it, and sent it to him with a question mark.
I’d been right in my assessment. He was absolutely the cutest. Even though either he or Kyle had forgotten about things like plates and forks. So I stole a very tiny (okay, not so tiny) chunk off the back, licking the frosting off my fingers.
Deciding that I probably shouldn’t eat any more until he joined me, I sat on the sofa and pulled out my phone. I played a couple of games to distract myself but then ended up doing something I’d told myself I wouldn’t—I googled Noah.
The most recent images were of him and me together. The one from Vegas was in such high definition that you could see all the flaws he didn’t have. There were also some from the kids’ birthday parties. The blogs were speculating about who I was and if I was dating Noah. I didn’t even bother looking at the comments, because I knew there wouldn’t be anything I wanted to see there.
It felt strange, almost surreal. He was this public person that the whole world knew and loved, but he was just Noah to me. Yes, he was an actor and had these roles, and while my brain understood that he was famous and had been before we’d ever even met, none of that mattered to me.
I looked at his picture from Las Vegas, the defiant look in his eyes, his firm lips, his strong hands, his broad shoulders, and couldn’t believe that I got to touch him, got to kiss him.
That I wanted to keep doing those things indefinitely.
About half an hour later, the door swung open, startling me. I’d been lost in thought, pondering my relationship with Noah and what I should do. I hadn’t arrived at any definitive solutions, but it struck me all over again how incredibly sexy he was when he grinned at me. “Sorry for taking so long.”
“It’s okay.” And it was. I was willing to wait for him.