Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
BEFORE
He brushed a powder over my skin with a fluffy brush. The smell hit me—sickeningly sweet, like a vanilla cupcake on steroids. Grimacing, I pulled my jaw from his grasp.
“The more you move, the longer it takes, sweetums,” Garth said in his sing-song voice.
“Why does it smell like that?”
He let out a breathy laugh. “Fuck if I know, but it’s bougie AF, so be grateful you’re getting the good stuff.”
I grumbled under my breath and looked down at my phone, using the small window while he turned to rummage through his kit.
Me
I swear this is the last fucking time I’m doing one of these
Holly
you’ve said that at least ten times now
Me
they’re powdering my face with frosting
Holly
yum
do I put the seats aside for them?
I need to hand that list in tomorrow at the latest
I exhaled loudly, clicking my tongue.
Me
I’ve asked my mom like a million times
still no word
she’s here with me
I’ll ask again
Holly
good
that little minx from the planning committee is driving me up the wall
I looked up and spotted Mom across the room, laughing with the photographer. She’d dressed up for the occasion, like she always did when she tagged along to my shoots. Always a little too ready, like she was just waiting for someone to ask her to step in.
Holly wasn’t exactly Ms. School Spirit, but she’d been roped into the events committee, and now they were planning some charity ball.
I was supposed to get my parents to come—just like everyone else—but my dad would, unsurprisingly, be out of town.
And my mother… Well, if it wasn’t about her, she tended to tune out.
I could ask her now, while she was in a decent mood.
Lately, she’d been prickly—sharp-edged in a way that made even simple things feel tense.
She’d been planning this big family trip to Dubai, and my dad canceled last minute.
It didn’t seem like a huge deal—we could go anytime—but it had sent her into a tailspin.
All week, she’d been impossible. The last thing I wanted was to trigger another storm. But this was just one night.
I closed the chat and sighed.
“All that brooding isn’t good for your skin. What’s got your panties in a twist?” the model next to me asked.
I glanced his way as Garth returned, sponge in hand, dabbing at my face like it had offended him. Stormy? Mountain? It was one of those nature-inspired names—I just couldn’t remember which.
“School stuff,” I grumbled.
“Right, forgot you’re still a baby,” he said, chuckling.
“I’m fifteen,” I corrected, but that only made him and the two makeup artists laugh harder.
“Honey, that’s a baby. A crawling, teething baby with an attitude,” Garth said, wagging his brush.
My brow furrowed.
“Doesn’t look like a baby, though,” the model added, tossing me a wink.
Heat crept up my neck. I didn’t know why. I was used to people talking about my appearance, but the look he gave me—I only ever got that from girls at school. Maybe one or two guys. But never from someone like him. Or his age.
“Heel, boy,” Melody—his makeup artist—said. She glanced my way and gave me a look. “Don’t mind him. River’s not house-trained yet.”
River. That was it. I knew it was something like that.
“Oh, hardy-har,” River said with a grin.
I had no idea how old he was, but he was definitely older. Early twenties, maybe? We were both in today’s shoot, along with five other guys. Some editorial spread for a designer. Most of the time, I did commercial shoots with people my age. But lately, I’d been getting pulled into more of these.
My mom walked over, leaning her elbow on Garth’s shoulder and looking down at me. “You fixed his brows?”
“Just gel. Those babies are all his.” Garth tilted my face to the side.
“He’s such a look. You did good,” Melody said, mirroring her practiced smile. People in this place usually fawned over my mom. As a former model, she knew everyone—and they all bought into her act.
“My pride and joy,” she said, reaching for my cheek.
I pulled my face away before she could touch me, my eyes flicking to River beside me. He watched our interaction with quiet interest.
“Those eyes—I’m lining them,” Garth declared, digging through his kit. “Might even be prettier than Mommy’s,” he added with a smirk.
The effect was instant. Her smile didn’t drop, but it tightened at the edges.
She hummed softly, neither agreeing nor denying. “I’m going for drinks with the girls. See you at home, muneco.” Then, with a kiss to both Garth’s and Melody’s cheeks, she clicked away in her heels.
Fuck. Now I’d have to ask her at home.
“I can’t believe your mom is Andrea Ríos. She could be your sister,” Melody said.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“Money can buy youth these days,” Garth said with a shrug.
Melody shoved his shoulder, and they both cackled.
I caught River’s reflection in the mirror. His smile crept in slow and easy. I dropped my gaze to my lap, ignoring the heat rising along the back of my neck.
The shoot dragged on for most of the day.
I rotated through outfits, sat for retouches, and jumped back into frame.
It was nothing new. People micromanaging every pose, every angle of my face, reminding me not to slouch, to soften my jaw, to lift my chin.
I was starting to burn out. The compliments were nice, sure, but they didn’t outweigh the constant nitpicking.
I was finally wrapping up, halfway out the door, when River called my name.
“Hey, Noah.”
I slung my duffel over one shoulder and turned. “Yeah?”
He held out his phone. “Give me your number. We’re meeting at a friend’s later—come with us.”
“Maybe. I’ve got stuff to do,” I said, but I still typed in my number and handed it back. I didn’t want to be rude, but if underage parties were already sketchy, I couldn’t imagine what went down at one of River’s.
Besides, the guy had been throwing looks at me all day. Not just flirty—hungry.
“Sure thing, hotshot. Text me if you change your mind.”
Another wink and I bolted.
Was it flattering? Yeah. Creepy as fuck? Absolutely.
I’d figured out a while ago that I didn’t really care what kind of package someone came in. I could be attracted to anyone. And yeah, River was hot—that wasn’t the problem. It was the way he made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Holly was the only person I’d ever told about that part of myself.
Not because I was ashamed. It was just that my mom was a little too Catholic to handle it, and I didn’t want to make it into some big thing.
I didn’t need the whole family lighting candles for my soul like I was some kind of lost cause.
I got home at eight.
My dad was in his office, talking on the phone loudly. Not mad—just his usual volume. I spotted my mom in the kitchen and peeked my head inside.
She glanced up.
Hmm.
Brows knitted, nostrils flaring. She was in a mood. Great.
Still, I had to get this over with. Holly had already texted me three times about the damn thing.
Leaning against the counter, I cleared my throat. “Mom, hey.”
“How was the shoot?” Her voice was clipped and cold.
“Good. Long. I’ve got homework to catch up on now.”
“Can you believe how fucking impolite they were?” She rolled her eyes for emphasis.
I sighed. “Who?”
“The producers. They didn’t even give me special seating for the shoot. I couldn’t stay there.” The heavy gold bracelets on her wrist clicked as she waved a hand through the air.
“Oh, right. It was kind of mid anyway,” I offered, making it sound like I was on her side.
“It wasn’t like that when I was behind the camera, that’s for sure.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, already bracing myself. “Mom, remember the seats for the charity gala? The form’s due tomorrow. They just need your signature and a check.”
She looked away. “I’ll give it to you on Monday.”
My stomach sank. That wouldn’t work.
“Why?”
She rolled her eyes again. “Always with the why. Why can’t you just accept what I say and stop arguing?”
A little harsh—but not unexpected.
“Because I asked you two weeks ago. Everyone’s parents are going. This isn’t me bugging you—it’s a school function, and there’s a deadline.” I tried my best to keep calm, to keep my tone unthreatening.
“The school can wait.” And she started walking away. Fuck.
“No, Mom, the school can’t wait. That’s why it’s called a deadline. Are you actually going to come? You said you were going to,” I pressed, knowing I was probably pushing too hard. But it was one night. One night. And it was a dress-up event—she usually lived for those.
“I’m busy, Noah.”
“Busy to sign a form?”
“To sign a form, to write a check—I said I’m busy. I’ll give it to you Monday.” Her tone sharpened with every word. She didn’t even look back. Just marched to her room and slammed the door. Like a fucking child.
Disappointment roiled through me, morphing into anger.
I knew I shouldn’t, but the words flew out before I could stop them. “Just because you’re not looking at me doesn’t mean I disappear into thin air. I need the fucking form, Mom. I need it by tomorrow morning.”
Silence.
Fine.
Fuck this.
I stormed to my room and dropped into the chair by the desk, pulling out my phone, ready to come up with some excuse for her.
Why did she only want to play mother when it suited her?
When I actually needed something, she vanished.
This wasn’t what a mom was…right? Moms were supposed to do the responsible things, not pretend they were your age and turn everything into a fucking competition.
My eyes stung, but I blinked hard, forcing it down. I wasn’t going to cry over this. Not again.
The door slammed into the wall with a sharp bang.
My heart jumped and I pressed my phone to my chest.
She stood in the doorway. Face flushed. Eyes blazing. She was really fucking pissed. And for a second, it scared me more than it should have. I had the urge to run.
“You think the whole fucking world revolves around you.”
“Mom, what—”