Chapter 4 #2
“You say the word, and everyone has to drop what they’re doing to give you what you want.” She talked over me, her tone leaving no space for argument. “Because Noah said so, right? Everyone has to stop and run.”
She moved closer, the energy radiating off her sharp enough to make me shrink in my seat.
I opened my mouth, tried to speak—but nothing came out. The words stuck in my throat.
“Do you ever stop to think that I have a life outside of you?” Her voice climbed.
“Or do I just have to be at your beck and call all the time? Because it’s the Noah Show, right?
Noah, the big star. Whatever Noah wants, Noah gets.
But it’s never enough. All you do is take, take, take. You want the money?”
I stared at her, speechless. “It’s not about the money—it’s the seats—” The words barely escaped before something hit me in the face.
It didn’t hurt. It was the shock that made me flinch, squeeze my eyes shut, and throw my hands up, my phone clattering noisily to the floor.
When I opened them and looked down, bills were scattered across my lap.
She’d thrown cash at me.
She’d thrown a wad of cash in my face.
My hands trembled. My eyes stung.
Slowly, I stood, the money sliding from my lap, fluttering to the floor, their soft sounds filling the silence around me.
“There,” she hissed. “Your fucking seats. Happy now? The world can keep spinning around you. You’re such an ungrateful little shit. This is why nobody in this house can stand you. You suck the air out of every room you’re in.”
I stared at the floor, jaw clenched, every muscle pulled tight.
Then—
A sniffle.
“You see what you make me do?” Her voice cracked.
When I looked up, tears streaked her cheeks, and my chest twisted.
“I’m always the bad guy. The worst mom. Isn’t that right?”
I shook my head and stepped forward, wiping her tears away with the pads of my thumbs. “I’m sorry.” My voice sounded foreign. Small and broken.
She sniffed again, giving me a faint shake of her head. The warm trail of her tears clung to my skin.
“Noah.”
We both turned. My sister stood in the doorway, wide-eyed.
My hands dropped to my sides.
Ilana’s gaze flicked to the floor, then back to me.
Guilt hit me like a wave.
All you ever do is take, take, take.
You’re an ungrateful little—
“Noah.” My dad stood beside her, brow furrowed as his gaze dropped to the mess on the floor.
No.
I rubbed my nose. My face was wet. I scrubbed at my eyes, trying to erase any trace of it.
Our eyes met. Was he mad? Disappointed?
This is why nobody in this house can stand you.
“What—”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I blurted, turning back to her. “I won’t do it again.”
Her face softened just enough. She gave me a small, barely there nod.
“That’s okay, muneco. Pick up the mess, won’t you?” She tilted her head with a smile. Then she turned and walked off, heels clicking down the hall.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
The whole room spun, and I was hyperaware of my dad and sister still watching me, stunned.
“What happened?” Dad asked.
No. Can’t do this. Push it down.
“I’m leaving.” I grabbed my phone, shoved it in my pocket, and rushed past them.
“Noah, wait—where are you going? What happened?”
I didn’t answer. Kept walking toward the front door, refusing to look back. No tears. No listening. The noise in my head was already too loud—I couldn’t take more.
Why did my chest hurt so fucking bad?
“Noah, stop.”
My hand reached for the door, but Dad caught my shoulder, stopping me.
“Stop and tell me what happened,” he said, firm but not loud.
“Nothing.”
“Illana said you and your mom were fighting. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Noah, just—”
I spun around. “Nothing, Dad.”
Maybe he wasn’t mad. Maybe. But he always took her side.
This is why nobody in this house can stand you.
“You’re upset.”
“We fought. It was my fault. I said sorry, okay? I just need to go. I need air or something. Just—please. Let me leave.”
He studied my face, and I begged myself not to cry. One more second and I would. If he didn’t let me go, I would fall apart right here.
His hand loosened.
I didn’t wait. Just pulled the door open and ran.
The place was packed and way too hot. Smoke hung in the air, making everything look foggy and blurry. Not that it wasn’t already.
I’d run to Holly’s, and from there, we’d ended up at some friend’s house for a party. It was PG—just beer and not much else. Luckily, I always had something to smoke on hand.
River had texted, and an hour later, here we were. Drunk. High. Numb.
Couldn’t forget numb. That was the whole point.
“This is such a bad idea. It’s like the epitome of bad ideas. Can we go home?” Holly’s nostrils flared as she glanced around.
People were scattered across couches, others pressed against walls, making out or moving lazily to the music. The air felt heavier here, thicker somehow—the kind of place you went when you wanted to forget you existed.
“Just for a little while. Let me say hi.”
We wandered through the crowd, passing people doing shots, smoking. I pressed my palm to the wall, steadying myself, feeling the ridges of the wallpaper scratch against my skin.
After five minutes, I finally spotted him in the kitchen. Our eyes met, and his grin widened.
“Well, if it isn’t Seattle’s new hotshot,” River said, waving me over.
A couple of guys from today were there, along with some girls I recognized from other shoots. We said hi, and before I could finish, River tugged me back by the shoulder, making me stumble and lean against his chest.
He was all skin and bones—more uncomfortable than not—but he handed me a shot, and that made it better.
Holly hovered nearby, trying to catch my eye. I avoided hers.
“I saw you in the Dion Marchetti shoot, right?” one of the girls asked.
River threw his arm around my shoulders in a half-hug. The stench of alcohol clung to him, barely masked by his cologne, which he’d apparently bathed in.
“Yeah. With Chuckles, the photographer,” I said, and they all cackled.
“Oh my god, I know! He’s the absolute worst,” the girl replied, still laughing.
“And handsy too. Ugh, I hate that,” another added.
“Nothing worse than handsy photographers,” River said. His voice rumbled against my back, and I shifted on my feet.
I glanced up. Holly’s eyes were locked on us, her expression tight.
“Handsy assholes are the worst,” she said, staring River down.
He laughed. “Do you work too? Haven’t seen you around.”
“Nope. I’m still in high school—just like Noah,” she said, pointedly.
River didn’t miss a beat. He just laughed again and tightened his arm around my neck. “So cute. Your friend’s a riot,” he murmured into my ear.
Someone passed me another shot. I took it.
“Noah, what about Galesburg? Worked with him yet?” another girl asked.
I rolled my eyes. “The close-up guy? He has the worst coffee breath I’ve ever smelled.”
Their laughter roared. Probably drunk, high, or both—everything I said was apparently hilarious. They didn’t seem to notice how hollow it all was. And I couldn’t bring myself to care.
At the very least, they could stand to be around me.
So we stayed. The longer we did, the more we drank. Eventually, I could hardly stand. Holly stuck by me until her mom started calling and she stepped away to take it.
As soon as she left, River leaned in close and whispered, “Come with me.”
He took my hand and led me up a flight of stairs to what looked like the master bedroom. We passed the bed and headed straight for the bathroom. The entire time, his fingers stayed laced through mine.
He shut the door behind us, and I climbed up onto the marble counter. The whole world spun. I should’ve stopped drinking four shots ago. Well, too late now.
I chuckled into my hands, rubbing them over my face.
“You okay, hotshot?”
I leaned back against the wall. “Been better.”
River was handsome—he had to be to work in this industry. But something about his face didn’t add up for me. High cheekbones, thick brows, full lips. And yet…nope. Couldn’t place it. The spinning didn’t help.
“Need a pick-me-up?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus. “Don’t know what that means.”
He dropped a hand on my thigh, standing right in front of me—way too close. This guy had no concept of personal space.
He waved a baggie in front of my face.
I frowned. “Is that…like, blow?”
He nodded, his hand sliding slightly higher. “Snaps you right out of it.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He stepped to the side, bent down to the counter, scooped out a line with something hanging from his necklace, and snorted it. “That does the trick.”
“I’ve never done it before.”
He leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine and staying there. “That’s a shocker.”
I rolled my eyes. “What the fuck is it about me that makes people always assume the worst? Seriously. I want to know. The hair? The clothes?” I leaned my head back and let it hit the wall with a dull thud, eyes closed.
River cupped my face. He was back to standing close. I hadn’t even felt him move.
“I didn’t mean to make you question your existence. You’re hot, Noah. That’s why I’m surprised. Guys who look like you usually know how to have fun.”
I pressed my hand to his chest, and he finally took a step back. “I’m fifteen.”
“And isn’t that a fucking pity?” he said. “Anyway, I was around your age the first time I took a bump, but it’s up to you.” He turned to the mirror, casually scooping out another line.
I could feel myself sinking deeper into the drunken void. I had no clue how I’d make it down the stairs, let alone all the way home. What harm could it really do?
What the fuck else could hurt me at this point? I was maxed out.
I held out my hand. “Fine. Hand it over.”
His lips curved. He stepped back between my legs. I reached for the bag, but he brushed my hands away, lifting the little spoon that hung from his necklace.
“Hold your nose—just one side. Then up.”
I did as told, grimacing. Fuck, it tasted foul.
“Another. You’re too far gone.”
Couldn’t argue with that.