No, Iโm not!โ I say quicklyโpanickyโwith darting eyes that make me look like a squirrel trying to
protect a precious acorn secret. I want to stuff that secret into my cheeks and run.
He doesnโt flinch. โYes. You are.โ
โNope.โ I give a serious shake of my head. โI donโt even
โwho is that singer, anyway?โ I donโt quite make eye contact with him. Iโm not a cowardโIโm just not particularly courageous.
โNever said she was a singer.โ
I scrunch my nose. Looks like Wilderness Ken has me cornered.
โOkay. Youโre right. Itโs me,โ I say, letting my hands rise and then fall back to my sides. I refrain from tacking on a dejected and angsty,ย Now what do you want?ย But I canโt say that because Rae Rose is never rude to fans.
I was thrilled when he looked at my face outside and didnโt seem to know who I am. It was a stroke of good luck that made me feel as if maybe this adventure wasnโt a completely terrible idea. Now Iโm back to doom, gloom, and terror. Donโt get me wrong, I love fans, and I love getting to know them. I just prefer for our introductions to happen
when I have a security team around and not when Iโm alone in the middle of the night with this somewhere-over-six-foot man.
And now this is the point where fans either pretend they know very little about me, but I catch them staring at every turn, or they start flipping out and crying and having me sign random stuff. Sometimes Iโm asked to call their mom or their best friend. Take a picture. Just something that lets them prove to their friends that they really met me. Maybe I could just go ahead and preemptively offer him a trade: one VIP ticket in exchange for not murdering me tonight? Seems like a good deal to me.
I step back into my Rae Rose skin. Itโs softer, gentlerโ more regal than mine. Rae Rose is everyoneโs best friend. Sheโs pliable and easy to love. โWell, since the cat is out of the bag, Iโd like to offer you a VIP backstage ticket to an upcoming concert in exchange for letting me stay here, as well as financial compensation, of course.โ
I look into Noahโs eyes. Theyโre bright green. Startling, sharp, and almost unnatural in their intensity. Theyโre nearly the exact color as the stripes on a wintergreen peppermint candy. Pair those eyes with the strong set of his scruffy jaw and the stern pinch of his eyebrowsโand the effect isโฆunnerving. But oddly, not in a frightening way.
With his arms still crossed, he raises and lowers a shoulder. โWhy would I want a VIP ticket?โ
Thatโs not a question I was expecting. I flounder, and when I speak, itโs a bumpy delivery. โUmmโฆbecauseโฆ youโre a fan?โ
โAlso never said I was a fan.โ Right.ย Wow.ย Okay.
Silence drops between us like a grenade. He doesnโt feel compelled to say anything else and Iโm uncertain of what to
say, so we just stare. Propriety tells me I should feel upset right now. Offended even. Curiously, Iโm not. In fact, thereโs a giddy sort of sensation building in my stomach. It makes me want to laugh.
We watch each other closely for a long moment, chests inflating and deflating in a perfectly mirrored rhythm. I know why Iโm cautiously taking him in, but what I canโt figure out is why he looks so concerned. As if Iโm about to snatch his throw pillows and lamps and run away with them in the night. The Pillow Bandit on the run.
Okay, so he doesnโt want to come to my concert, but surely he knows I can afford my own throw pillows?
The longer I stand here and watch his flexing jawline, I get the distinct feeling that heโs not only Not A Fan, heโs the opposite. The normal glowing adoration I see in peopleโs eyes is replaced with annoyance in his. Just look at that deep crease between his brows. Itโs surly. Grumpy. Agitated.
I donโt suspect heโs going to hurt me, but he seems to have a low opinion of me. Maybe itโs because I parked on his grass. Maybe itโs something else. Either way, itโs absolutely and wonderfully new for me, and because itโs late and Iโm slightly hysterical, I decide to press his buttons.
I mimic his pose. โI see what it is. A ticketโs not good enough?โ I give him a smile like weโre in on his secret together. โYou want me to throw in a signed poster, too, donโt you?โ I wiggle my eyebrows. Thereโs no part of me that believes he wants a poster.
He blinks.
โTwoย VIP ticketsย andย a signed poster? Wow. You drive a hard bargain, but Iโll comply for my biggest fan.โ
His face doesnโt change a bit, but something in his fierce eyes sparkles. I think he wants to smile but wonโt let himself. Sometimes people decide not to like me for the most arbitrary reasons. Sometimes itโs just because Iโm famous, and successful people make them uncomfortable. Sometimes itโs because I voted differently than them. And sometimes itโs because I frowned outside their favorite yogurt shop and now they want to cancel me forever because they think Iโm against yogurt. I canโt help but wonder if Iโve found one of those very people. Usually my very elaborate security detail is around to protect me, but thereโs no one standing between me and Noah right now, and I canโt say I hate it. A thrill zaps its way through my veins.
Noah shakes his head lightly and looks down to pick up my bag again. Heโs done with this conversation.
โFollow me,โ he says.
Two words. A command. No one commands me anymore
โoh, they still tell me what to do, but they phrase it so that it sounds like itโs my idea.ย Rae, you must be exhausted. The guest room is right down that hallway, perhaps it would be nice to go on to bed now and get some rest?
Noah Walker is too confident for manipulation.
Follow me.
He takes my bag with him down a hallway off the foyer and disappears into a bedroom. I want to wander around a little, but most of the house is dark, and it seems like invading someoneโs home and flipping on lights, opening some cupboards and digging around might be a weird thing to do. So I settle for walking down the hallway after Noah just as he instructed.ย Follow me.
I stop when I get to two rooms opposite each other in the hallway. One door is shut, and one is not. In the open
room, I find my bag sitting on the floor, and Noah parachuting a fresh white sheet onto a queen-size bed.
I watch him in the doorway for a minute feeling very dreamlike. I ran away from my life of fame today, and now Iโm standing in a strange manโs house watching him make up a bed for me even though he dislikes me. His actions are as much a paradox as that butter soft sheet is to his scruffy jawline. Susan would undoubtedly at this moment tell me to get out of this house immediately and go somewhere safer.
โNoah,โ I say, leaning my shoulder against the doorframe. โHow do you feel about yogurt?โ
He pauses and sends a look over his shoulder at me. โYogurt?โ
โMm-hmm. Do you like it?โ
He turns his attention back to the sheets. โWhy? Are you going to offer to throw in a tub of yogurt with the tickets and poster and money if I say yes?โ
Aha!ย There is humor under that annoyance. I thought so. โMaybe.โ I smile even though heโs not looking at me. โWell, donโt. I donโt want yogurt or the other stuff.โ
I take a big fat Sharpie and mark offย Angry because of yogurt shop picture.
Noah spreads a well-loved patchwork quilt onto the bed. It looks like itโs been passed down through several generations of loving family members. My heart tugs and twists to get away from the feelings the sight of that quilt evokes in me. I wonder if my mom even read my text message earlier.
โCan I help?โ I ask, taking a daring step into the same cage as the bear.
He glances over his shoulder again and when his eyes land on me, his frown deepens. He turns back toward the bed and begins tucking the top sheet under the mattress. I
donโt tell him Iโll immediately untuck it before I get in. โNope.โ
I was reaching for a corner of the quilt, but when his single-syllable answer barks at me, I raise my hands and take a step away. โOkay.โ
Noahโs eyes bounce to my lifted hands and for a fraction of a second, I see him soften. โThank you. But no.โ And then we fall into silence again.
Iโve done hundreds of press events over the past ten years, interacted with thousands and thousands of fans during meet and greets. Was live on Jimmy Fallon just last month where I sang an ad-libbed song in front of a studio audience without a momentโs hesitation. And yet, standing in front of Noah Walker, Iโm not at all sure what to say. But I donโt feel like being polite. Or gracious. That thrill pulses harder.
I hover somewhere between the door and the bed so I donโt get in his way, watching as he silently retrieves a pillow and slides a pillowcase onto it. This is all so normal, and domestic, and it feels wildly out of place to be sharing it with a stranger who doesnโt like me.
I glance around the room and then over my shoulder and register the closed door across the hall. Suddenly, a thought strikes me. Is Noah married? Maybe thatโs why heโs being so prickly and standoffish? He doesnโt want me to get any funny ideas. Heโs seen a movie, or the covers of tabloids, and assumes all of us famous types are amorous home-wreckers.
I clear my throat, trying to find the right segue to let him know I wonโt be trying to jump his bones tonight. โSo, uhโNoah. Do you have aโฆspecial someone?โ
His eyes dart in my direction and now he looks
considerablyย agitated. โIs that your way of asking me out?โ
I do a hypothetical spit take. โWhat? No! I justโฆโ I have zero amounts of Normal left inside me to give tonight. I was trying to put him at ease, and somehow, Iโve managed to make it worse as well as apparent that I donโt know what to do with my hands. I wave them back and forth like a T. rex trying to land a plane. โNo.ย I just wanted to make sure before I spend the night here that Iโm notโฆstepping on anyoneโs toes.โ I grimace. Itโs getting worse. โGahhh, I donโt mean stepping on their toes because Iโm spending the night withย you. I know Iโm going to be sleeping in here alone. Iโm not really into one-night stands anyways because theyโre always so awkwardโฆโ
Oh nooooo. Iโm saying too much. I officially entered sex into a conversation for the second time tonight with a stranger who doesnโt like me. Iโm absolutely floundering, and Iย neverย flounder.
Noah sets the freshly cased pillow onto the bed and finally turns to face me. Wordlessly, he walks closer. I have to tip my chin up, up, up to see him. Heโs not smiling, but heโs not frowning, either. Heโs the Unreadable Man. โI am single, but Iโm also not on the market.โ
He continues to stand there as my face turns hot as lava and melts right off my cheekbones. That was the softest, most polite letdown Iโve ever received in my entire life, and I wasnโt even asking him out.
Thank goodness none of this matters. Iโll leave tomorrow morning, find the B and B, and Wilderness Ken will never have to be annoyed with me again.
But then why is he still standing in front of me like this? Why do I feel an instant connection to him? Thereโs something inside me, tugging me closer to him, begging me to raise my hand to his chest and run my hand over his soft cotton tee. Heโs not moving. Iโm not moving.
Noahโs expression suddenly turns awkward and he gestures toward the doorway that I didnโt realize I had sunk back into. โI canโt get through with you standing there.โ
Oh.
OH!
Polite, polite, polite.ย โYes! So sorry! Iโll justโฆmove.โ His solemn expression does not crack as I step aside and gesture dramatically toward his exit.
โDrinking glasses are in the cupboard beside the sink in the kitchen if you need water. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. Iโm headed to bed. Feel free to lock your door, I know I will.โ
โSmart move. Wouldnโt want to let the Pillow Bandit strike,โ I say, feeling that thrill surge once again after saying exactly what I wantโuntethered and without filter.
Maybeโฆjust maybe this adventure wasnโt a mistake after all.