Page 7 of Becoming Us
My eyes burned—but in the best way possible—as I fought against every bone in my body screaming at me to follow that man upstairs and never leave again.
He’s back.
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’scool?”
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 boywasn’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.
