Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
BEFORE
“Ithink I’m in love,” I said, eyes on the clouds above.
A sharp pop of bubble gum sounded beside me.
“What else is new? You’re in love every other fucking week,” Holly muttered, eyes still on her phone.
“I’m serious, Hols. She’s so cool.” I rolled onto my stomach and peeked over her shoulder. She was scrolling through songs. Snatching the phone from her hands, I rolled away before she could grab it back. “Why are you listening to this garbage?”
She yanked it free, giving me a flat look. “Don’t be a snob. She’s so cool? That’s why you’re in love with Dana? Because she’s cool?”
I sighed, heavy and dramatic. “Her name’s cool. And she’s got amazing taste in music.”
“Still not reasons to love someone.”
“Are too.”
“Are not.”
“Well, they are for me. The love of my life will have incredible taste in music, a hot-as-fuck name, and together we’ll humiliate you with our combined awesomeness.” I rolled onto my back, grinning.
“Oh no. I’m trembling with fear,” she deadpanned.
“I’m sneaking out to see her tonight. Her parents are out of town,” I added, waggling my eyebrows.
“She’s a slag. That’s why you love her?”
“Well, it doesn’t hurt,” I said, laughing as she shoved me.
“Don’t get caught, Noh. Dana’s class president, and your mom would have a fit if she found out you were defiling a state senator’s daughter.”
“Just imagine the headlines: Bad Boy Noah Rossi Bangs His Way Through the Cabinet.”
Holly snorted. “Bad boy Noah Rossi? You’re the opposite of a bad boy. You listen to love songs twenty-four-seven and daydream about first kisses and weddings.”
“Yeah? Tell that to my mother.” I pushed up from the floor, trying to shake the thoughts starting to spiral. “Or the principal. Or the state senator.”
It wasn’t exactly accurate—bad boy wasn’t the label she used—but it was close enough.
Still, the sting lingered.
Apparently, I used to be a good kid. She had no idea what went wrong, no explanation for why I’d become so “difficult.”
I was used to it by now. Every time I wanted something that felt like mine, she pushed back. I didn’t even play drums with other people—what was the harm in wanting to take lessons again?
She married a guy who once wanted to be in a rock band, for god’s sake. Why was it such a big deal that I wanted something even remotely close?
“Wanna come over?” I asked.
“Can’t. I’ve got a dentist appointment. Send my love to the future missus,” Holly said, waving me off.
We went our separate ways, and I walked home, tugging on my headphones and shutting out the world, one song at a time.
As soon as I pushed the door open, I was greeted by the telltale sign of a gathering—soft, generic jazz drifting through the house. My mom loved playing that kind of music whenever she had friends over.
The faint scent of white florals and expensive candle wax floated down from the foyer chandelier.
I stepped inside, shoes clicking against polished wood floors so clean they practically glared and peeked into the living room.
Sure as shit, there she was, laughing loudly with four of her friends, wine glasses in hand.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The charm was on full blast.
I took a step back, hoping to escape before she noticed me.
“Muneco! Come in here, say hello,” she called.
No such luck.
I pressed my lips together, plastered on a fake smile, and stepped inside. She tugged me close as I offered a polite hello.
“Noah, look how big you’ve gotten!” one of them cooed.
“So handsome. You’re the spitting image of Andrea,” another chimed in.
I was used to that one. She lit up every time someone made that comparison.
“Isn’t he? He’s getting called in for the big jobs too—just like his mom,” she gushed.
“Really?”
“We’re doing a shoot for Vogue next month.” She lifted her chin proudly, taking a slow sip from her glass.
“That’s amazing, Noah. Are you excited?”
They all turned to me, expectant.
“Oh yeah. Can’t wait.” The lie came as easy as breathing.
“He just needs to keep watching what he eats, and he’ll keep this streak going for sure,” my mom said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and tossing me a wink, like it was some fun little inside joke between us.
And there it was again—that dull ache under my ribs.
A laugh escaped me, hollow and automatic. Too practiced to sound real, but they didn’t notice. They just chuckled along like parrots.
I angled myself toward the door. “Speaking of which, I haven’t had lunch.”
“Tell Jasmine to make you something.” And with a wave of her hand, I was dismissed. I guessed she was done with the show-and-tell.
I slipped into the kitchen, ignoring the sting like always. My dad and Ilana were both there.
“Hey,” I said, heading to the fridge.
“Hey, Noh,” Ilana replied without looking up, grabbing her plate and making a quick exit.
She especially hated it when Mom had people over. I got to be the spitting image; Ilana got labeled the “smart one.” And lately, that didn’t sound like much of a compliment.
I stared into the fridge, sorting through shelves while my stomach twisted. I bypassed anything remotely filling and grabbed a Coke, not thinking too hard about it.
“That supposed to be lunch?” My dad arched a brow, unimpressed.
I shrugged, dragging my soda closer. “I had chips earlier.”
He glanced at the door to the living room, then pushed off the counter. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You’ll what now?”
“If you’re going to keep doing this modeling thing, I’m not letting it fuck with your head. Eat, hijo. You’re still growing.” He was already digging through the fridge, jars knocking together as he searched.
I hopped onto the counter, smiling to myself. I’d maybe seen him cook once. It hadn’t ended well. “Maybe cold is best.”
“Safer,” he agreed with a chuckle.
I sat there quietly, watching him piece it all together. He wasn’t a man of many words, but lately, he’d been trying.
It started small, asking what I was listening to when I had my headphones on. Then he’d stop by my room to ask about my day. Now, we’d apparently graduated to sandwich-making and kitchen small talk.
It was…nice. I wasn’t used to him being around.
“I might head out tonight. That okay?”
“Where to?”
“Dana Jiménez’s.”
His eyebrows made a valiant effort to touch his hairline. “Those Jiménezes?”
I bit down a smile. “Yup.”
He slathered mustard on the bread and nodded. “Is it a party?”
“Nah, Dad. She’s my girlfriend. I’m just going to hang out.”
“Girlfriend?”
I laughed. “Yeah, it’s new.”
“Well, hijo.” He capped the mustard, wiping his hands on a towel before glancing back at me. “That’s a good choice.”
He slid the plate my way, and my chest filled with something unexpected. Something that felt a little like pride.
“Thanks,” I said, softer this time.
It looked big. Maybe too big. Mom was supposed to be on that shoot this weekend too. The photographer was some old friend of hers and I had to wear a swimsuit.
“And, Noh,” he added.
I met his gaze. We shared that. Even if most of me looked like her, our eyes were the same.
“Don’t let this bullshit get to your head.” His brows pulled together in earnest. “If you want out, I can get you out.”
I considered that, trying to imagine how that conversation would go. I’d never hear the end of it.
Picking up the sandwich, I took a big bite and hopped down. “It’s fine, Dad,” I said around a mouthful.
“Manners.” He gave me a half-smile, shaking his head.
I swallowed. “Thanks. For the food and the getaway vehicle. I’ll keep it in mind.”
The smile stayed fixed on his face. It was tight, like most of his were. Lately, I’d seen some that reached his eyes. This wasn’t one of them.
I turned and headed to my room, trying to shake the weight in my chest.
Closing the door behind me, I set the plate on my desk, left the sandwich untouched, and made my way to the shower.
Honestly, I wasn’t all that hungry anyway.
I caught my breath as I watched the curve of her back. She sat on the bed, facing away from me, snapping her bra into place. Dana was beautiful.
“I swear I have a million things to do. I can’t handle the stress. Mr. Briggs gave us another essay on top of everything, and I still have that blood drive campaign to organize,” she said, breaking through my haze.
“What?”
She looked over her shoulder and flashed me a quick, playful glance. “You weren’t listening to a word I said.”
“I was, I swear.” I tilted my head toward her, aiming for an easy, teasing tone. “Just…in this moment, I was maybe expecting pillow talk, not politics.”
She rolled her eyes as she slipped back into her pants.
Dana was a year older than me, and definitely smarter, considering everything she did.
She volunteered at every shelter, signed up for every event, and was top of her grade.
She was a catch. I was still a little stunned she’d agreed to go out with me.
Though, technically, we never actually went out.
At the two parties we’d gone to together, she stuck with her girlfriends and gave me maybe five minutes of her time.
The rest? Spent in this room. I’d been here a lot the past few weeks, and this week, we’d seen each other every day, so things were finally looking up.
“Well, I’m still stressed. I need to start working on that essay. Why do they always pile things on at the last minute? I swear I’m going to lose it if I have to add one more thing to my list.” She pulled her shirt over her head and started digging through her stuff.
“Are you going to do it right now?” I leaned back slightly, thrown off.
“Noah, I have so much work to get done.” She pulled her hair into a messy knot, loose curls flying in every direction.
“Day, it’s almost nine. Do it tomorrow.”
“I should probably work on the form for the shelter too…” she mumbled, distracted.
“Babe, why don’t you come back to bed, and I’ll do my best to de-stress you?”
She let out a sharp, startled laugh and turned toward me. Her eyebrows arched, and something twisted in my stomach.
“Babe?”
I let the corners of my mouth lift. “What’s wrong with that?”
She smiled back before turning to her desk again. “It’s weird coming from you. Babe is a boyfriend–girlfriend kind of thing. That’s definitely not us.”
Her words landed like a gut punch. Small mercy she wasn’t facing me—she didn’t see how fast my expression dropped. I didn’t know how to answer. The first thing that slipped past my lips was a quiet, “Right.”
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, Noah. You’re so much fun to be around. But can you imagine me asking you to come meet my parents? You’d hate it, wouldn’t you? They’d probably kill me if I did.”
My mouth went dry. I sat up and started pulling my clothes back on.
“Plus, do guys like you even have girlfriends?” She spun in her chair just as I zipped up my pants.
Guys like me. What was that supposed to mean? I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
I shrugged. “If you’re going to work, I should probably leave.”
“Wait.” She stood quickly, grabbed my arm, and pulled me back onto the bed beside her. Her expression softened, and I stilled, tense. “I wanted to ask you something first,” she said, lacing her fingers through mine.
“What?”
“Well, you know this whole stress thing. I figured you could help me make it better.”
I met her eyes. “How?”
“Well, those people you hang around with—the models—could they sell you Adderall? Or tell you who does?”
A hollow feeling sank into my gut. “Why the hell would I know that, Dana?”
Her eyes widened, round as saucers. Holly never liked her. She said Dana was manipulative. I never saw it. I didn’t think it applied to me.
I was so fucking stupid.
“You smoke weed, don’t you?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“And you drink. You go to those parties. They have all sorts of stuff. You could just ask.”
Another person to add to the growing list of people who thought Noah Rossi was a bad boy. The list just kept getting longer.
I slipped my hand from hers and forced a smile. “Sure. I’ll ask around,” I lied.
Her grin made her look vapid. “Thanks, Noah! You’re the best.” She kissed my cheek and stood from the bed again.
“Same. See you around, Day.”
“Text me whenever,” she chirped.
She’d said the same thing when I asked her out the first time. It didn’t sound nearly as promising now.
As the elevator took me down to the lobby, I stared at my reflection.
So what if she didn’t want me like that? So what if I wasn’t boyfriend material? It’s not like I was in love with her.
My chest tightened and I swallowed the knot lodged in my throat.
This was nothing. A blip.
And it was fun—I couldn’t say it wasn’t. I’d probably misread everything, and now here I was, holding it against her. Maybe we could still see each other again.
The bell dinged, and I blinked at the image in front of me.
What was it? What did they see? Was it the same thing she did?
I blinked a few more times.
“Hey, kid. Are you going up or down?” a man asked, cutting through my daze.
“Sorry. Off.” I stepped out quickly.
He gave me a once-over, exhaled heavily, and shook his head.
The doors closed, and I watched my reflection distort in the brushed metal.
Did he see it too?