Page 24 of Becoming Us

Heat crept up my neck. I didn’t know why. I was used to people talking about my appearance, but the look he gave me—I only ever got that from girls at school. Maybe one or two guys. But never from someone like him. Or his age.

“Heel, boy,” Melody—his makeup artist—said. She glanced my way and gave me a look. “Don’t mind him. River’s not house-trained yet.”

River.That was it. I knew it was something like that.

“Oh, hardy-har,” River said with a grin.

I had no idea how old he was, but he was definitely older. Early twenties, maybe? We were both in today’s shoot, along with five other guys. Some editorial spread for a designer. Most of the time, I did commercial shoots with people my age. But lately, I’d been getting pulled into more of these.

My mom walked over, leaning her elbow on Garth’s shoulder and looking down at me. “You fixed his brows?”

“Just gel. Those babies are all his.” Garth tilted my face to the side.

“He’s such a look. You did good,” Melody said, mirroring her practiced smile. People in this place usually fawned over my mom. As a former model, she knew everyone—and they all bought into her act.

“My pride and joy,” she said, reaching for my cheek.

I pulled my face away before she could touch me, my eyes flicking to River beside me. He watched our interaction with quiet interest.

“Those eyes—I’m lining them,” Garth declared, digging through his kit. “Might even be prettier than Mommy’s,” he added with a smirk.

The effect was instant. Her smile didn’t drop, but it tightened at the edges.

She hummed softly, neither agreeing nor denying. “I’m going for drinks with the girls. See you at home, muñeco.” Then, witha kiss to both Garth’s and Melody’s cheeks, she clicked away in her heels.

Fuck. Now I’d have to ask her at home.

“I can’t believe your mom is Andrea Ríos. She could be your sister,” Melody said.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Money can buy youth these days,” Garth said with a shrug.

Melody shoved his shoulder, and they both cackled.

I caught River’s reflection in the mirror. His smile crept in slow and easy. I dropped my gaze to my lap, ignoring the heat rising along the back of my neck.

The shoot dragged on for most of the day. I rotated through outfits, sat for retouches, and jumped back into frame. It was nothing new. People micromanaging every pose, every angle of my face, reminding me not to slouch, to soften my jaw, to lift my chin. I was starting to burn out. The compliments were nice, sure, but they didn’t outweigh the constant nitpicking.

I was finally wrapping up, halfway out the door, when River called my name.

“Hey, Noah.”

I slung my duffel over one shoulder and turned. “Yeah?”

He held out his phone. “Give me your number. We’re meeting at a friend’s later—come with us.”

“Maybe. I’ve got stuff to do,” I said, but I still typed in my number and handed it back. I didn’t want to be rude, but if underage parties were already sketchy, I couldn’t imagine what went down at one of River’s.

Besides, the guy had been throwing looks at me all day. Not just flirty—hungry.

“Sure thing, hotshot. Text me if you change your mind.”

Another wink and I bolted.

Was it flattering? Yeah. Creepy as fuck? Absolutely.

I’d figured out a while ago that I didn’t really care what kind of package someone came in. I could be attracted to anyone. And yeah, River was hot—that wasn’t the problem. It was the way he made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.