Page 42 of Finding Noah

Her face was painted with an unimpressed expression. “You know what I mean. No drinking, no smoking, and also, if anyone has any pills, don't take them.”

I gave her a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

“I mean it, Noah,” she said, exasperated.

“You act like I'm stupid—you know that?”

“I just don't want you to get yourself hurt or in trouble.”

“Yeah, well, good thing you married the only felon in town to keep me on the path to upstanding citizenship,” I replied sardonically, smirking.

She pressed her lips together, holding the basket tighter to her body. “You're not funny.”

“You know I'm kidding. I'm not gonna do anything. I never do anything,” I pressed, looking down into her eyes, somehow barely remembering that I had once been so small that I had to look up.

Mom released a sigh of resignation and nodded. “Okay. Is Jay driving?”

“Yeah, he's picking me up.”

“Don't let him drink either. And if he does—”

I groaned and dropped the body spray onto the dresser before standing in front of her and putting my hands on her shoulders. “Take his keys. I know. You worry too much.”

“About you?” She scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “You're my baby, you'll always be my baby, and I could never worry enough.”

“Yeah, well, you don't have to. I'm too smart to do anything too stupid,” I replied with a quirk of my lips as Jay's rusty, old car beeped outside. “Don't wait up, okay? I'll be back before midnight.”

***

“Hey, Giselle. Who's this?”

A black-haired girl sauntered over to where I stood with Jay and his girlfriend in the crowded living room. She held a drink in her hand that was just a bit too full, its contents sloshing onto the carpet at our feet.

“Ash, this is Noah, Jay's friend,” Giselle said, wrapping her arm around mine, acting as though we were close friends or something when she hadn't even remembered my name when they picked me up earlier.

Ash's eyes glinted with mischief as she pressed a long-nailed fingertip to the center of my chest. “He's cute,” she purred as that finger traced a line downward toward the waistband of my shorts. “Noah. That's a sexy name.”

I furrowed my brow with amusement and shot my gaze toward Jay's. “Uh, thanks … I think.”

She giggled, pulling her finger away from my waistband to clench my T-shirt in her fist. “You don't have a drink,” she declared, stating the obvious. “You need one.”

I shook my head, even as she turned and gave my shirt a tug, leading me away from the only people I knew. “I, uh … I don't—”

“Have fun!” Jay called, and I glanced over my shoulder to see him wiggle his fingers in a little wave.

Fucking hell.

Ash brought me to the kitchen, where she hurried to grab an empty plastic cup from the counter, then filled it with something pink from a large pitcher.

“Here,” she said, passing the cup to me. “It's sweet as hell, and you'll get so fucked up.”

I stared at the drink in my hand, swallowing hard and thinking about what Mom had said earlier, what Dad had said last weekend.

“No drinking …”

“Get into stupid crap, but not … too stupid.”

But did I want to get fucked up?