We began moving to the music, our hips bumping together.

"And you told me you can't dance," I said. "You're doing fine."

"We're dry humping standing up."

"Exactly."

Noah's hands slid down my hips to the tops of my thighs, fingertips caressing the exposed bare skin below the hem of my skirt. He dragged his hands back up, bringing the skirt with him until my panties were nearly exposed.

"What are you doing?" I asked needlessly.

"I thought this is what you wanted?" he murmured in my ear. I felt the curve of his smile against my cheek. "Practically having sex on the dance floor?"

"This wasn't what I meant."

Mostly I wanted to see if Noah would consent to being seen with me in public. He rested his cheek on the top of my head and swayed with me. Little butterflies of happiness fluttered in my stomach.

Noah Hart was holding me with gentle arms. We were dancing together in a club. We were acting like a couple in public in a way that had nothing to do with sex.

I felt his hardness press against my stomach.

Well. Maybe it had a little to do with sex.

I knew eventually the other guys would come looking for us. Cameron would no doubt give Noah a hard time if he found us entwined like this. I was going to enjoy every second of it I could, trying to convince myself there was something real between Noah and I.

"Thank you," he whispered into the hair at the top of my head.

"For what?"

He tightened his arms around me, squeezing tight. "Agreeing to stay."

I laid my head on his shoulder as happiness burst through my chest.

Maybe Noah actually did care for me beyond my usefulness as his sexual muse.

Chapter Fourteen.

I was about ready to pull my hair out.

Scratch that. I had already tried pulling my hair out and had now moved on to banging my head against the piano keys.

"This is impossible," I muttered. I fought to suppress a heavy sigh. I remembered Noah wasn't in the apartment - he'd gone to pick up his leather jacket from the dry cleaners - and decided to indulge myself, letting out a deep melodramatic sigh.

Of course, that was the moment Noah walked in.

"You freaking out again?"

"I can't do it," I moaned, my forehead still resting on the piano keys.

"Yes you can." The words were impatient but I could hear a concerned note in Noah's voice. "Remember what I said? We're going to write a song together and it's going to fucking rock."

I was beginning to doubt that. I'd been working so hard, trying so hard, but the pieces just weren't coming together. There was something missing in our song and I couldn't pinpoint what it was. It drove me crazy.

I tilted my head to look at Noah. He still stood in the doorway, brows furrowed as he stared at me with a curious look. As if he were dissecting me. I sat up straight, avoiding his eyes.

"I need a drink," I declared.

He raised an eyebrow. "It's four in the afternoon."

"Never stopped you before."

"Have I succeeded in corrupting you?"

"Looks like it."

"Want to go to Walt's?"

I made a face. "That sketchy bar of yours?"

"Do you really want to go out in public and watch me get attacked by a flock of fangirls?"

He had a point. Darkest Days was famous enough that going to a regular bar or pub would be risky. As the front man, too many people might recognize him.

"Fine. Sketchy biker bar it is."

"Look on the bright side. Maybe Jessie will be working and you two can gossip about me again," he said sarcastically.

When we arrived, I saw that Jessie was working, but she was too busy to talk. The bar was surprisingly packed for a mid-week afternoon.

The moment we walked through the door Noah groaned, halting in the doorway. I almost bumped into his back.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Great," he muttered. "Just what I need."

Peeking around his shoulder, I saw about a dozen men and a handful of women standing near the small stage at the back of the bar. I hadn't noticed it the first time.

"You guys have live music here?"

"If you can call it that," Noah muttered. He went straight to the bar where Walt was pouring the beer on tap into glasses. I followed, craning my neck around to continue watching the stage. Jessie was there, fiddling around with what looked like an old fashioned stereo and TV.

"Two beers," Noah told Walt.

"You really gonna stick around?" Walt grunted. "You hate karaoke."

I choked back a snort. "Karaoke? This place?"

"This guy hates listening to amateurs," Walt said, speaking to me. "Too stuck up for his own good."

"Noah Hart."

I turned to see Jessie grinning at Noah from the stage.

"Is Mr. Cranky Pants here to show us all how it's done?" She spoke into the microphone, speakers amplifying her voice.

"You sing karaoke?" I asked Noah, trying not to laugh.

"Hell no."

"Aw, c'mon," Jessie cajoled.

Noah turned his back on her, facing the bar.

She laughed into the microphone. "Alright boys, who's first?"

A large, muscle-bound man in a leather vest stood from his table with a swagger. Moments later he took the stage to sing a barely passable rendition of Aerosmith's Dream On. I couldn't help wince at his missed high notes.

"Can't believe I'm sitting here listening to this," Noah muttered into his beer.

"You're the one who chose this place."

"Worst mistake of my life."

I suppressed a giggle. "You sure you don't want to get up on stage? Show those guys a thing or two?"

"Why don't you get up and sing, if you're so hung up on it?" he shot back.

"No thanks. I'm good."

"Got stage fright?" he smirked.

"I'm not a very good singer."

"No one here is."

"I'd rather not."

Noah got an evil glint in his eye. He grabbed my hand and dragged me to the stage. I protested the whole way, digging my heels in. It was no use.

"Jessie," he called out. "Got your next one."

Jessie looked beyond thrilled. "This is going to be a nice change."

Somehow I found myself on the stage, microphone in hand. I looked out at all the faces staring up at me. I caught Noah standing right in front of the stage, arms crossed, still smirking. I glared at him, that jerk. He made a waving motion with his hand, as if to say, go on, get to it.

With a heavy sigh I decided to give in and just do it. I flipped through the song list, not sure what I should choose. I had been telling the truth when I told Noah I couldn't really sing. I supposed I wasn't awful, but I was certainly no Noah Hart.

I stopped when I saw one song in particular. It could be a great choice or a terrible choice, depending on how you looked at it. I decided to go for it anyway, programming the song into the karaoke machine.

I had a few moments before the song began. I cleared my throat. I didn't want to stand there awkwardly in silence.

"Um. Hi." I winced as the speakers gave squeaky feedback. "My name's Jen. Um. I chose this song because..." I paused, hesitating, before powering on. "I guess because it helped me through some tough times. So I guess I dedicate this song to Noah Hart. This is Beyond The Lies."

The song started and I began to sing.

I extend my hand Our fingers touch My voice shook at first. The words reminded me of my teenaged years. The words reminded me of too many things I'd buried deep down.

Cold and damned You crumble to dust I felt tears sting the back of my eyes. My voice wavered.

Only two remain In innocent eyes By the chorus the crowd was cheering and clapping, encouraging me. Noah had been right that these guys weren't so bad. Once I got through the sorrow of the first chorus, I was able to cling to the hopefulness of the last verse. Cling to the words I had heard Noah Hart sing to me a million times.

I'll take you away Beyond the lies The song came to an end and I rushed off the stage, my cheeks flushed.

Noah was there to greet me. I was about to grumble and complain at him for making me sing in public, but I stopped when I saw the look on his face. It wasn't his usual bad tempered expression. Neither was he gloating, pleased with himself for forcing me to go up there.

His head was tilted and his lips parted as he scanned my face. His eyes were bright and shining as he gave me a curious look.

"What?" I asked nervously. "Why are you staring at me?"

"It's nothing," he said with a shake of his head. "Your beer's still waiting for you."

As we made our way to the bar, a handful of biker guys and punk rock types clapped me on the shoulder with nods and whistles. I couldn't help but grin. As nerve-wracking as it had been, it had also been kind of fun. I couldn't hate Noah too much for forcing me to take part in Walt's karaoke night.

We sat at the bar again. Noah handed me my half finished drink. He called Walt over for another beer. He took his own and chugged down a few gulps. I didn't know how many he'd already had, but his eyes were beginning to fog over.

Noah and I sat and drank and watched as various guys and girls went up and did their thing. Some weren't all that bad, actually. I found that I was actually enjoying myself. It was enough to help me unwind from the stress of trying to compose.

"Did you mean what you said up there?" Noah asked suddenly after a while.

"Mean what?"

"About my music helping you."

I nodded slowly. "I went through some hard times as a teenager."

"Your mom?" he guessed. "You said she was depressed."

My chest ached, like I was picking the scab off an old wound. I could practically feel the letter in my purse burning a hole through the leather.

"Yeah," I choked out. "My mom... it was tough." I left it at that. "When your debut album came out, it spoke to me. I felt like someone understood me. Understood the pain I was feeling, the stuff I was going through."