Star-Crossed ✔️

11

- 11 -

"I know what I want to do in Atlanta."

We were back on the road. I was playing a video game with Dustin. He was doing well back at home, just visiting his grandmother in the hospital during the day and keeping his mom from losing her mind (bless her soul).

I looked over at Noah, who was smiling deviously at me from the table. He had been considerably more chipper since the day of the dolphin tour. I hadn't done much partying, either. Granted, it had only been less three days, but still. Hanging around with Noah felt a little bit . . . relaxing, for lack of a better term.

"What's that?" I asked, sliding my headset off of one ear. Dustin was grumbling about whoever killed him in game and I wanted to hear what Noah said.

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Six Flags."

I pressed my mouth into a straight line. "Really?"

The last thing I wanted to do was knock the smile off of Noah's face, but I did not want to go to Six Flags. I had limits, too, you know.

He faltered. "Well, I could go."

And then I got the pitiful image of a lonely Noah Russo riding the Batman ride all by himself, a drooping stick of cotton candy in his hand. His poor little pouty lips stuck out in an unrealistic manner. My heart skipping a beat in my chest.

"No, no," I mumbled, disrupting Chester, who was laying pressed up against my leg on the couch. "We can go, I promise."

Noah squinted at me. "What's wrong with Six Flags?"

"Nothing!" I sighed, gripping my controller. He stared at me so intensely that I couldn't take it anymore, looking away with a grumble. I muted my microphone so Dustin wouldn't hear me, though I was sure he already knew the truth. "I'm afraid of heights and will not ride any roller coasters."

I didn't look at him for a moment, just focusing on the TV so I wouldn't have to see his reaction to my embarrassing confession. It wasn't the end of the world. I didn't have very many instances where I was at a great height, except for plane rides. But those didn't freak me out as much. Riding a rickety cart with a bunch of other people, barely missing the weight limit, doing loop-de-loops and drops? Abso-fuckin'-lutely not.

When I did meet Noah's eyes, he was unsuccessfully fighting a grin. I rolled my eyes.

"But . . . you're Theo Thorne?" he said with a giggle. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything!"

"If your stupid cat wasn't sleeping on me, I would get up and hit you," I said, but I was smiling, too. Dustin asked about how the show in Miami was, so I unmuted my microphone and told him all about it.

I pretended, for his sake, that everything was off without him here. The truth was, I was having a blast with Noah. I loved touring with Dustin, don't get me wrong. He was my rock, my best friend.

But just hanging out with Noah was new. And fresh. I couldn't explain it.

"I'll be on your European leg, bro," Dustin said before yelling profanities at the other team. "Mark my words. I don't know what my grandma got planned, but she better figure it out."