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Chapter Thirty-Two

As annoying as it was to admit, Noah had been right. Even travelling by tube, our day out in London together had been good fun; wandering around aimlessly and taking in the sights I'd never had time to visit, even though I'd been living in the capital for over six months.

Noah was almost an encyclopedia when it came to the buildings and landmarks we passed. But neither of us discussed the underlying basis of his knowledge; the thought of him spending entire nights out on those cold, uncaring streets gripped too painfully around my heart.

We ate cheap falafel burgers in Portobello Market and drank craft beer while we made up back-stories for people walking by. Noah talked, and I mainly listened. I listened to stories about how he used to hang out in the market back when he had nothing else, chatting with stall holders and waiting until the end of the day when they'd give him free cartons of food before closing up.

I listened to his tales of how he'd spend all his free time as a kid practicing guitar, piano, bass, cello, any instrument he could convince his parents to buy for his 'hobby'. And, most of all, I listened to how much he missed his carefree days of jamming songs up in his room with his younger sister when his parents were out at yet another gala dinner or country club social.

The mention of her name had taken me by surprise. I had always assumed that, like me, Noah was an only child. But, as he began to talk about Eloise, laughing as he reminisced about the memories they shared, more pieces of the Noah-shaped jigsaw fell into place. The pain etched deeply within him at having walked away from her, as well as his parents, was written across his face.

As Noah changed the subject and began to tell me how The Ambition had secured a meeting with a major record label the next week, I couldn't shake the image of him as a young boy, with all the world ahead of him, from my mind. I wanted to reach out and hold him, to tell him that it wasn't too late to try and make amends; how nobody ever knows what tragedy may be looming on the horizon. But it still didn't quite feel like my place to delve further into the part of his life tucked away neatly in a wooden box, labeled 'family'.

After finishing our third beer, we decided to head back to mine to watch a film. Strolling through the bustling streets, my senses were assaulted as though it was my first time in London, my eyes soaking in the rich cultural melting pot that hit them from all angles.

Old eccentric rich folk mingled with tracksuit-wearing youths and music blared out of every shop, cafe, and market stall we passed. Noah took me to his favourite vinyl stall, where the owner grabbed him into a bear hug and started singing his praises as 'one of the best young guitarists London's got to offer right now'. The faint flush of pink that spread across Noah's cheeks didn't go unnoticed, and he smiled awkwardly through the barrage of compliments.

I couldn't help but enjoy the sense of pride that swelled within me as we strolled past the pretty pastel houses on our way back to Notting Hill Gate station. With Noah striding confidently next to me, our fingers entwined without ever acknowledging the fact he held my hand in his. There was no denying that he was the kind of guy women, and men, couldn't help looking at when he passed.

I'd not seen him wearing the faded leather bomber jacket he'd picked out before, but with a white T-shirt and his skinny black jeans and beaten-up boots, he drew glances from all directions. The wind had caused his hair to blow wildly in its swept-up side parting and, in the crisp sunset that hung like a cowboy-film cliché over London, I would have stood up in court to contest that he was the most beautiful man walking its historic streets at that moment in time.

As we headed down the escalator into the deepest underground, however, my euphoria at being out in the open with Noah by my side started to fade. It was six o'clock on a Saturday, and the tourists, shoppers, and day-trippers had all seemed to congregate within one small, Victorian station.