"It's fine. We'll get it done and it'll be awesome."
"How can you be so sure?"
Noah eyed me silently for a few moments, long enough that I began to get nervous. It was in that curious way he'd been doing since the beginning.
"Why are you giving me that look?"
"What look?"
"That look you always give me. Like I'm a puzzle to be solved."
"It's odd," he mused. "You play multiple instruments. You've composed professional pieces. Your professors all recommend you. And yet you're still filled with all these doubts." He tilted his head, giving me a penetrating stare. "It makes me wonder."
"Wonder what?"
"Why you don't have a big ego. Anyone else would have one. Hell, every person Naomi hired to work with me before had one."
I fidgeted with my hands in my lap. "You make me sound much better than I am."
"You were chosen to work with someone you look up to as a musical genius. You were chosen out of hundreds of applicants. You were considered worthy enough to work with Noah Fucking Hart. How can you doubt yourself after all that?"
"I don't know." I shifted uncomfortably. "I guess I've just got a good head on my shoulders. Come on. Let's go."
I stood from the table and grabbed my purse before he could continue. I didn't need Noah probing me.
I didn't need him picking at old wounds that had barely scabbed over.
