We Make Mayhem [boyxboy]

Chapter Twenty-Five

I texted Marina while I sat, all soggy and cold, in art class.

Riley: Hey, would it be okay if Noah Lord came to the studio this afternoon? He's cool, I promise.

Marina: Yeah, that's fine! Probably for the best, actually.

She didn't elaborate, and that's when I knew that she had already gotten tips about us.        

Noah was sitting across the room from me, first thing in my sightline when I looked up. Ms. Warren was taking us through a slideshow of Salvador Dali's work. Noah watched, fascinated, his legs crossed under the table. I was glad the lights were off; I could watch him as closely as I wanted. Already, there might be people in this class who had heard the whispers. I only had one more day where I could pretend to ignore them.

At the end of the day, I had the usual routine—madly running through the halls to drop one thing off to one teacher, take a form to the office, reschedule a recording session with one of my podcasters, who grabbed my arm in the hall and told me he had a dentist's appointment next Thursday. Once all the bullshit was done, I went to the studio. I was the first one there. I turned on the lights, sat down in my chair, and thought, finally.

I was ten minutes early for the session. Josiah and Marina would be there any minute, and so would Noah, but for now I had a few minutes to myself. I spent it breathing. I closed my eyes, leaned against the soundboard, and inhaled deeply. The studio smelled like plastic, but it was a comforting, wholesome smell. It smelled like work I was proud of. It smelled like long days and the kinds of laughs that hurt your facial muscles. It smelled like going home and showering to get the sweat and grit off my hands and falling into bed, exhausted. I loved it.

But it also reminded me of Chloe. So much of my podcasting life revolved around Chloe and hating Temptr. I took a deep breath and all those old feelings flooded in. I used to feel so angry, sometimes, sitting in this seat. Sometimes I was righteously angry, feeling like I was right and everyone else was wrong and Chloe and I were doing God's work. Sometimes I had cavernous feelings of doubt and fear. Now, mainlining that nostalgia straight into my nostrils, I could feel it, but I could let it go. I was in a new place. I felt good. My past was a part of me, but it wasn't all of me.

The door opened, behind me. Whoever it was didn't make a sound. They dropped their bag, came up behind me, and wrapped their arms around me. I smelled Noah—leather, new clothes, some kind of hair gel, and clothes damp and cold from the rain. He snuggled into my shoulder. I immediately felt safe.

"Hey, you," he whispered. I got shivers up my arms.

We had a blissful few minutes together. Noah sat down in the chair that we kept around for studio guests, and we kissed and talked about nothing until Josiah arrived.

"Hey, my dudes," he said uncertainly, dropping his backpack in the same place as Noah's and mine. "What's up?"

I felt bold. "Have you heard?"

"I've heard. Marina has, too."

"We figured," I said.

Josiah glanced down at my hand, which was holding Noah's and resting on his lap. He grinned.

"Then let's do this," he said.

Marina arrived, and within minutes we were recording. She went through the stories that were less scandalous first, because she obviously had to leave the best for last. Noah watched, absolutely rapt. I felt super important as I adjusted dials and clicked around on the studio computer and felt his adoring eyes watching all of it.

"This is so cool," he said during a break where Marina had a drink and used the bathroom. "You're a total badass."   

"No, you're a total badass," I said.