Page 100 of Becoming Us
“Good to know. Thanks.”
He placed his phone on the counter. “Give me your number—I’ll text you all the details.”
I took it and started typing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at Ezra, who was talking to another guy, carefully pretending not to notice us.
I smiled to myself. “Here you go,” I said, handing the phone back.
He slipped it into his pocket. “Thanks, Noah.” He reached out again for a handshake. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then his gaze flicked to his soda, and back at Ezra.
“Don’t worry about that—I’ve got it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Very. Plus, the barman’s my roommate. Sodas are basically free.”
“Oh.” He drew out the word, casting one last look at Ezra. “Thanks again,” he said with a small smile before walking away.
Ezra returned to clear his glass. “So how’d that go?” he asked, too casual.
I grinned. “He’s hot?” I teased, laughing as Ezra rolled his eyes.
“Well, he is. I can’t help but point out the obvious.”
I kept ribbing him while my chest swelled with something warm and light. I was excited—genuinely excited—and I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened without it being about Atty.
Back at Atty’s apartment, the sun was starting to set. The open-concept space was small but airy, filled with little signs of him. Neatly folded laundry on the armrest of the couch, a worn copy ofSlaughterhouse-Fiveon the coffee table, and his favorite hoodie draped over the back of a dining chair. The air smelledfaintly of laundry detergent and whatever citrusy cleaning spray he used religiously on every surface.
I jumped up onto the kitchen counter while he rinsed off the plates in the sink. The cool marble pressed into the backs of my thighs as I prattled about songs and thought about what I might play tomorrow. Then I noticed the slight downturn of his lips. He’d been quieter than usual the whole ride here, but I’d figured he was just listening—taking in all my chatter about the band and everything I’d picked up from my borderline-creepy cyberstalking.
“So they play at a club called La Cueva, the second Saturday of each month. Have you heard of it?”
He hummed, shaking his head.
I bit down on my lip. “Paxton said you could come watch us practice if you wanted.”
Another hum. A small smile, like he was trying for my sake.
“Is something bothering you?”
He finished loading the dishwasher, closed the door, and pressed a couple of buttons. The quiet rush of water filled the background.
“Stuff with my mom,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the counter.
“I thought that was my line,” I teased.
That at least got me a real smile. “We’re not fighting or anything like that. She’s just having problems with the house, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Tell me about it.”
He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath before saying, “The house you went to?”
I nodded.
“That’s a rental, but we’ve been there for the past six years. It’s the best place we’ve had—the ones before that were rough, to say the least.” His eyes were downcast, focused on the counter.“My mom got a call last week from the landlord about selling the place, so they’re not going to renew her lease.”
“Can she make an offer?”
Atty shook his head. “The guy asked if she wanted to, but she doesn’t have the funds. The hospital’s cutting down on her shifts, and she’s got other debts. She texted me a little while ago to say the bank rejected her loan. That’s what’s bothering me,” he explained, finally meeting my gaze for a second before looking away again.
