Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
BEFORE
Music thundered through the room.
That was me. I was making it happen.
It wasn’t about force. Sure, there was power pulsing through my arms, begging me to chase the next beat, but it wasn’t about that.
It was about the rhythm. The song. Each strike landed with purpose, like I’d locked into something deeper than sound.
My sticks danced across the kit, guided by instinct, while something else—something wordless—took over.
I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t anywhere but here.
Blissfully blank.
The drums vibrated up from the floor into my heels, through my knees, along my spine, and out through my fingertips. Each beat gave me a little more air, like I was inhaling rhythm instead of oxygen.
A call pierced through the music. “Noah!”
I stopped short, the rest of the track still roaring from the speakers.
“For fuck’s sake,” my mother snapped.
I turned toward the doorway, blinking like I’d surfaced from underwater. Holly stood just inside my room, her hand on the doorframe, while my mom reached for the speaker and lowered the volume.
I dragged my sweat-slicked hair away from my hairline, trying to catch my breath. “What?”
Her expression was pure exasperation. “Holly’s been here for ten minutes. We’ve called your phone and knocked on the door. I had to get Jaz to unlock it.”
“It’s fine, Ms. Rossi,” Holly said quickly. “I’m used to it.”
“Why are you even playing before class?” my mom asked, arms crossed.
“I’m auditioning for a band.”
She rolled her eyes. “You could be making better use of yourself, Noah.”
I plastered on a sugarcoated smile. “Yeah, well, wasting away my talents seemed like a fun thing to do today.”
“Just answer your phone next time,” she muttered, already turning away.
Holly watched her leave with a tight expression. “One might argue you’re not supposed to use your kids for anything, but who am I to judge?” she said under her breath.
“Sorry. I’m done. Just need to grab my stuff.”
She dropped onto the edge of my bed. “Take your time.”
I grabbed my backpack, hands still buzzing from the adrenaline.
My heart was racing, but not from the music anymore.
I was nervous—ridiculously so—for the audition later.
I had no idea why. Colin was the one who’d forced the conversation and set it up.
I didn’t even know the other guys in the band.
They were all seniors, and two didn’t even go to our school.
Holly drove us, like she always did, and pulled into the lot. I still had classes ahead of me before the audition, but the nerves didn’t go anywhere. That tight feeling clamped around my chest like something had already gone wrong—I just didn’t know what.
My latest therapist had called it anxiety. Given me breathing exercises. Prescribed pills. I’d been on them for a week, and so far, all I’d noticed was a constant dry mouth and a desperate craving for water.
“What time are you meeting them?” Holly asked as she shut her door.
“Four.”
My phone buzzed. A message from James, one of the only people I still talked to from my modeling days.
James
come hang out Noah
Marci said she wants to see you
unlimited vodka
that’s your thing right?
Me
not tonight man
got a family thing
tell Marci I said hi
James
if you change your mind
i’ll have a drink with your name on it
No can do, sir. Still on the straight and narrow.
“Oh, looky there—one very handsome lacrosse player,” Holly said in a sing-song voice.
I looked up. Shane was crossing the lot, tall and broad, his stride casual.
“Who? Douche Face?”
“What? That’s done? Already?” she asked, looking stricken.
“Shane Gallagher is a total asshole, Hols.”
She tugged on my shirt, stopping me mid-stride. “No, wait. What happened? Two days ago, he was still Prince Charming.”
I leaned against the wall, knowing she wasn’t letting this go. And fair enough—it had lasted less than a week. Shane was one of those no-kissing guys, which should’ve been my first red flag. Kissing was half the fun—and he was weirdly strict about not doing it.
I shrugged. “We had sex.”
She yanked me farther from the building, eyes wide. “You what?”
“Calm down, it’s not a big deal. Probably the most underwhelming experience of my life. He was crap at prepping—like, genuinely useless. I had to do everything myself. And when we finally got to it, he barely got an inch in before he came. Total fucking flop.”
I wasn’t even sure it counted as sex. We hadn’t really started before he groaned out my name and rolled off.
The really sad part was that, after a week of rushed hand jobs and the occasional blow job, he finally leaned in and kissed me.
And even though he wasn’t great at that either, it felt like a wall had come down.
I thought it meant something. That maybe he’d finally opened up.
Sure, the sex had been terrible, but maybe with a little practice, he’d get used to it and be better.
But apparently, practice wasn’t part of his plan. He blocked me that same night and hadn’t looked at me since.
I told Holly all of that, and her expression shifted to the soft, sad face I hated more than anything.
“It was a fling, Hols. I called Virginia yesterday—we’re going out this weekend. No need to cry over precariously spilled cum.”
“Oh my god, that’s terrible,” she said, laughing despite herself and bumping my shoulder.
“Whatever. Shane sucks. Let’s move on to the next one, shall we?”
“Aren’t you sad?”
“Hols,” I said, stopping short. “What the fuck?”
“I don’t know, Noh. You seemed like you liked him and—”
“No. Shane was a distraction. A plaything. Would I rather he wasn’t a dick? Sure. But I’m not heartbroken over him ghosting me.”
“But—”
“We’ve established I’m not boyfriend material. What I am is a fantastic lay, and I’m not about to waste that on Mr. Two Seconds, even if he is hot.”
She still looked skeptical. “If you say so…”
“Do you want to do something after the audition?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Like key Shane’s car?”
I laughed. At least Holly was always on my team.
The day passed in a blur. Maybe the pills were working, or maybe my mind was just stuck racing over the audition. Either way, I had to force Holly and Colin to stop trailing behind me and let me go alone after class.
The band’s practice space was usually in one of their apartments, but since this was a one-time thing, we were meeting in one of the school’s music rooms. It was quiet at this hour. When I got there, the door was slightly ajar.
You can do this, Noah. If you fuck it up, you just go back to playing alone. No harm, no foul.
I took a deep breath and grabbed the handle.
“I just don’t get why we have to go through with this,” someone said inside.
I went still.
“Because we need a drummer, Perry. How many times do we have to go through this?” That was Jake’s voice—the guy Colin knew. The other one must’ve been Xander Perry. He was the only other one I knew went here.
“Yeah, but Noah Rossi? Come on,” Xander complained.
I shifted back a step. I should probably knock. Make my presence known.
But I didn’t move.
“Colin said he’s a decent player—”
“He’s a fucking junkie. He’ll leave us hanging the first chance he gets,” Xander cut in.
The feeling came back, sharper this time. The one that whispered, You’re fucking this up.
This is your fault. Made your bed, lie in it, Noah.
“Junkie?” another voice asked.
“He’s just pissed because Noah pulled Hanna last month,” Jake said.
Hanna? As in Hanna Trevor? She’d been the one looking for me in the first place. As far as I knew, she wasn’t with anyone.
“That has nothing to do with it!” Xander snapped. “Being in a band is about image. And he’s just gonna ruin it.”
“I think he’d actually help on that front. Plus, his mom is hot as fuck.”
“Oh yeah? Everyone knows Rossi’s new money. His dad’s a fucking hack who made it by ripping people off. They just haven’t caught him yet. He’s trash, just like the rest of his family. The only reason that guy married up was probably because he paid for it.”
I pulled my hand back from the door. My heart was pounding, anger pressing hot against my ribs, begging me to walk in and punch him straight in the face. Who the fuck does he think he is?
“Oh yeah? I had no idea,” someone else said, voice thick with interest. Of course. Give them gossip and they’ll chew it to the bone.
“What the fuck does that have to do with the band?” Jake asked, tired.
“He’s not just a junkie. I heard from a friend he was selling pills last year at a party—Adderall or something like it. We can’t have that.”
Silence.
My stomach dropped. The sweat on the back of my neck turned cold, sliding down my spine.
“He’s a dealer?” a voice asked.
“I can’t be in a band with a dealer. My dad would kill me,” someone else added.
“Noah’s in junior year. Are you sure about that?” Jake asked.
“I’m sure. Hanna told me some of her friends bought pills from him for SAT prep.”
I took a step back.
“And are you seriously doubting it? Just look at the guy—he looks like he belongs in rehab.”
Another step.
A long breath out.
“That really crosses the line for me, Jake,” someone said.
“Me too,” another chimed in.
“Fine. I’ll text him we found someone. And you better fucking find them, because we’ve got a—”
I didn’t hear the rest. I’d already started walking, their voices fading behind me.
Is that what everybody thinks of me? Is that why nobody wants me?
Who the hell would want someone like me if the whole school believes I sell drugs, apparently following my daddy’s shady footsteps?
I hadn’t touched a joint in months. I hadn’t had a drink. Didn’t matter. They all saw the same thing.
How do I stop that? Who do I have to talk to, what do I have to say, for someone to believe me?
Would they even care? It’s not like you haven’t done drugs before. Passed joints around.
But not in months.
And what did that get me? Treated the same. No—treated worse.
Fuck this.
Fuck them.
Fuck the stupid drums and this fucking school. I’m done.
Me
still on for that party tonight?
James
still on
I stared down at my phone, finger hovering over the screen.
Me
is River going to be there?
James
yeah
he asked about you last time I saw him
That fucking creep. Still kinda fun how much he was essentially gagging for it.
My dad’s face flickered across my thoughts—but the pressure in my chest only tightened.
Me
text me the address
I wouldn’t do blow. That was the rule.
Just a drink. Maybe a little weed. He didn’t have to know.
I looked back at the classroom door for a beat longer, then walked away.
Rubbing my hand over my chest, I hoped to hell this fucking feeling would go away if I took enough of those pills.