The rest of the mansion was as full with people as the front rooms had been. I had to tiptoe around drunk people and duck to avoid flailing limbs. When I finally found the back entrance to the pool, my dress was spotted with splashes of beer and smears from sticky fingers. I was glad I hadn't worn white.
I found Noah sitting out back, slumped over on one of the stone-carved benches. He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees and a beer in one hand.
"Hey," I said tentatively.
He inclined his head a fraction of an inch, not meeting my eyes.
"What?" he said flatly.
I flinched, but steeled myself. "I thought we should talk about what happened."
"Nothing happened."
"Are you really going to pretend that we didn't…" I looked around surreptitiously, making sure no one could overhear. "Pretend we didn't spend weeks having sex with each other only to have you throw me out during our first fight?"
"Nothing. Happened." He stressed each word carefully. Probably wanted to forget all about his temper tantrum. Maybe he also wanted to forget about the rest of it, too. The thought made my heart clench.
"Fine. If that's how you want to play it. If nothing happened, then that means there's no reason why we can't continue working together as adults."
"Right."
"Okay." I stood there, fuming. "Then I guess I shouldn't mention that song you were playing whennothing happened."
"What about it?"
I folded my arms across my chest like armor. "I liked it. I think you should use it."
"Use it how?"
"Use it for your album. That should be your song."
"No."
I raised an eyebrow at his curt reply. "Why not? It's good. Better than anything the two of us have been able to come up with."
"The stuff we've come up with has been fine."
"Do you want your song to sound fine? Or do you want your song to sound like Noah Fucking Hart?"
"That song sounds nothing like my style."
"It sounds more like your style than you know."
"Because you know me so well.”
"Are we really going to get back into this? As far as I've been able to tell, I'm the only person who's gotten this close to you in a long time. If I can't tell what's a Noah Hart song and what isn't by now, then I should be fired."
"Fine. You're fired."
"You're hilarious." I took a seat next to him on the bench. "You said the song was old. Was it something you composed a long time ago? Before you were with the band?"
"Why do you care?"
"Humor me."
"I've been working on it off and on for years," he said grudgingly.
"So it's not something you wrote because you knew it would sell?"
