Say You Won't Let Go Google(43)

Heather’s head twists, and when she looks back at me, her grin is wide. “Yeah, God definitely made them.”

“I can’t go out there,” I stammer. “I’ll never be able to speak.”

There is not a chance in hell I won’t make a total fool of myself.

“You have to!” Heather grips my hand. “He’s expecting a reporter friend to interview him.”

My stomach drops. No, no, no, she didn’t.

“You told him?” I scream the question.

She laughs and drains her glass. “Of course we did. Trust me, it’s better he knows. We explained you’re one of my best friends and that you wanted to talk for a bit. Eli said he was more than happy to do the interview for you.”

Jesus. I’m going to kill her.

I grab my drink and throw it back. My throat burns, and I cough as the warmth starts to flow through my veins.

“Easy!” She warns while slapping my back.

“This is going to be so embarrassing,” I whine.

Heather laughs as she pours another drink. “Yup. Yup it is, but oh so entertaining.”

Maybe I can duck back out and no one will ever know. There’s nothing saying I have to do this. My boss is, like, twelve, I’m sure I can come up with something plausible. Celebrities aren’t known for being reliable.

Ugh.

I need this job, though.

Before I can make a move either way, the glass door slides open and Noah walks through the threshold.

My legs start to quiver as his eyes meet mine. All I can think about is how I’d like to climb him like a tree and shake his coconuts. I thought he was hot in the photo, then he was better through the window, but up close, he’s otherworldly.

“Hi.” Noah’s throaty voice floats around me. “You must be Kristin.”

Instead of speaking, I stand here with my mouth hanging open. Some small sounds that could be words escape, but they aren’t coherent.

Kill me now.

“Noah, this is my best friend, Kristin. Who we told you about.” Heather elbows me.

“Yes. Me. Hi. Kristin. I. You. Hi.”

Smooth. Someone should video this because I’m sure it’s highly entertaining.

“Right.” Noah flashes a blinding smile. “I hear you’re a reporter?”

Okay, Kristin, you have to speak in more than one-word increments or grunting noises.

I grab Heather’s glass she just poured and hope it’ll act as a talisman. “Yes, for a small blog, but I’m that. A reporter. For a blog. I write.”

And a bumbling idiot.

Noah’s green eyes are filled with humor. He moves a little closer and places his hand on top of mine. “Eli filled me in a little. I’m happy I came.”

I’m pretty sure I just came. At least we’re all coming.

“Me, too.”

His lips turn up as his eyes rake my body. “See you out there.” He winks and walks back out.

My ovaries have officially disintegrated.

I turn back to Heather, who bursts out into a fit of laughter. “Oh, that was epic. You all said I was starstruck when I met Eli? You should’ve seen that!” Heather continues to laugh at my expense. “Yes. Me. Um. Blog. Er—” She mocks.

“Shut up.” I laugh—because, really, what else can I do—and bump her hip before moving around the bar and grabbing a glass. “Now, pour me a shot before I drink straight from the bottle.”

There’s only one way to get through tonight.

Alcohol.

Lots of Alcohol.