Page 135 of Becoming Us

“Oh, hey!” he called.

I turned as he tilted his head, giving me a once-over. “You’re the new drummer from Echo, right?”

I grinned. “Yeah. Noah.”

“Oh fuck, man. You weresogood tonight!” he said, clasping my hand and tugging me toward the group. “Yo, guys—this is the drummer,” he shouted, and a few of his friends turned to greet me.

Then I saw it.

As I turned, my eyes dropped from their smiling faces to the table in front of them—neat white lines of powder staring back at me, looking unnaturally bright under the fluorescent lights.

My heart stumbled. My mouth watered.

“Sorry, man. You want one?” he asked, motioning to the table.

One of his friends leaned down and snorted a line. The sound was muffled by the music but clear enough. I could almost taste it—sharp, chemical. Almost feel it numbing my gums.

The words lodged in my throat. Refused to move.

A hundred voices erupted in my head, layered on top of each other until they blurred into static.

Get out.

You’re celebrating. This is what people do.

You don’t do this anymore. Get the fuck out.

What’s one?

You don’t want this. This isn’t you—not anymore.

Leave.

Just for fun. Just for the party.

GET. THE. FUCK. OUT.

I forced myself to look at him again, pretending the cold sweat down my spine wasn’t there. My hand twitched to my nose, holding—an old reflex I still hadn’t broken.

And that?—

That snapped me back.

I took a step away from them. “Nah, man. I’m good. Nice to meet you.” I gave them a forced smile, a wave—and ran the fuck out of the room.

My breath came in short, shallow pants as I weaved through the crowd, dodging bodies and pushing toward the nearest light source—anything that wasn’t that room. I muttered rushed apologies when I bumped into people. Finally, an opening—I stepped outside and took a deep inhale of humid air.

Eyes shut tight, hands braced on my hips, I shook my head.

This was nothing. Just a reaction. Normal. It was normal to want it. But I didn’t. That was what mattered. Right?

I didn’t do it.

Yeah, but you wanted to.

My thumb and forefinger pinched my nose, holding, then releasing. I sniffled and groaned, scrubbing my hands down my face like I could erase the craving.

Cut it out!