Page 204 of Becoming Us
Shared jokes. Stupid reels. Little things that felt like ours.
I used to think talking to him was hard, but it wasn’t at all. As Atty relaxed around me, everything just…softened. Sure, there were silences, but they were the good kind—the comfortable kind. And when I ranted, he actually listened.
He asked about the music I liked, and he showed me what he played on his PlayStation. He even taught me how to join him—patiently—even though I was absolutely fucking terrible at it.
And somewhere in all that, I started to feel like maybe, just maybe, one day, I’d be good enough for him. Like, one day, I’d say screw it and just kiss him. And just keep doing it for the rest of our lives.
Until reality came back and slapped me straight across the face.
We were at my place with Holly, lounging on the couch, talking about nothing in particular. Maybe I was leaning in closer than I should’ve been, but he kept sneaking glances. Kept smiling at me in a way that made every butterfly in my stomach riot at once.
Then my mom called.
My phone started buzzing in my pocket. I checked the screen, tried to ignore it. But it kept going. And going.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” I said quietly.
Atty nodded, and I reluctantly peeled myself away from him—even though our knees had just been inches apart. Holly was still scrolling on her phone, not really paying attention.
I stepped out onto the terrace. “Hi, Mom.”
“Muñeco, I’ve been trying to reach you for hours!” she snapped. It had been, what—two minutes? But sure, who’s counting.
“I was busy.”
“Fine, be that way. It’s not like I’m your mother,” she added, her voice tight with sarcasm. Laughter floated behind her—she was probably out with friends again.
“What do you need?”
I heard her heels clicking as she stepped away from the noise. Great. This was already going downhill.
“I’m going on a trip with my friends. I need more this month to cover it.”
“Your allowance is more than enough to cover trips, Mom.”
“Well, I had extra expenses.”
“Like what?”
She let out a sigh, sharp and theatrical. “Wow. So now I have to justify how I spend my money? I can’t believe how little you trust me.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “You do if you’re spending more than you need. It’s only the tenth, Mom. You shouldn’t be out.”
Silence.
She was choosing her next move. Either hang up or go for the jugular.
“How many times do I need to remind you that I’m your mother?”
Jugular it was.
I hummed, bracing myself.
“I gave up everything for you, and this is how you treat me? Sitting there in your nice little apartment while I rot alone in mine?” Her voice shifted, catching—like she might cry. “Honestly, Noah, do you even have a heart?”
That edge in her tone always got me. Wounded. Accusatory. LikeIwas the one who’d done something wrong. LikeIhad abandonedher.
Guilt twisted low in my gut, hot and familiar.
