Page 101 of Dirty Chorus

“It’s not that. You can stay for as long as you want. I’d just hate to see your friendship get ruined over this.”

“I just don’t like being lied to.”

“No one does.”

Chapter 46

Charlie

Noah convinced me to study. To come back to the dorm after spending a week with him. I’m sprawled across my bed, attempting to cram for my French exam tomorrow. Mom is still locked up in a psych ward. I guess something happened, and she's refusing to take her medication.

Of course, Payton is nowhere in sight, but I don’t blame her. I forced her to play roulette, and I didn’t tell her anything about what I was up to this summer. But sleeping with my brother? That’s fucking low. She’s had every opportunity to fess up. At this point, I could write a book on how to fuck up a friendship with only five syllables. Charlie Henderson.

I look down at my phone at my text messages from Noah that afternoon.

Noah: How is it going?

Charlie: Idk, I miss you I guess.

Noah: Do you wanna come over tomorrow?

My head at this point is spinning, and I’m waiting for my head to fall off.

A knock echoes off the walls in this tiny dorm room. Groaning, I push myself up, unlocking the door, only to be met with the last person I wanted to see. Brody. His arm leans against the door frame, with that cocky smile.

“What do you want?” I ask. Before I can process anything, he pushes his wide shoulders past me, stepping into the dorm room. “You can’t just walk in like that!” He ignores me, reaching behind to slam the door shut, locking it.

My heart pounds in my chest, as if seeing Brody was like meeting death. A muscle flicks in his jaw, and his face is bone-white. His eyes send a shiver down my spine. They’re so cold, so dark I don’t even think he has a soul anymore.

He reaches behind his back and pulls out a gun nestled between his jeans. He cocks it back, and it clicks. A barrel points directly at me. The metallic glint of the weapon sucks all the air from the room.

“Brody...” I step back, holding up my palms. “Why do you have a gun?”

“It’s a fucking beauty, isn’t it?”

I can’t breathe. There’s no oxygen. I’m suffocating as my lungs get tight. My eyes dart to my phone on the edge of the mattress. “This isn’t funny...” I breathe out the words with a nervous laugh. He says nothing, just takes another step forward, and my feet creak on the floor. My palms are trembling and suddenly slick with sweat. He takes a step closer, and I can feel the air getting thinner, the walls closing in.

“We need to talk, Charlie,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “Get on the bed.” My breath hitches in my throat, a knot forming in my stomach.

“Talk?” My voice trembles. You have a gun pointed at me. This is definitely not how we talk. This isn't talking. Time seems to slow to a crawl as I stare at the gun, then back at Brody’s face. Not a single hint of emotion, just me and the devil having a face-off.

“Get on the bed, Charlie,” he orders again, his voice not faltering one bit. My legs are lead, but I back up until I hit the edge of the mattress and collapse onto it. The springs creak under my weight, the sound amplified in the suffocating silence.

“Hmm...” He licks his lips, smoldering at me. “Fuck... take off your shirt.”

“W-What? I...I... What?”

“I said, take it off.” His finger hovers over the trigger.

I’m shaking all over. “O...o...okay.” I do what I’m told and grasp the seam of my shirt to pull it over my head.

“Now take off those shorts.”

I’m sweating. My face burning, my chest on fire. My palms are so sticky that I’m fighting with the button. “Hurry up, baby.” He hums under his breath, and I notice the large bulge in his pants as he suddenly has an erection. “Hmm, fuck.”

I manage to unzip them and kick them off onto the floor. “I wanna see your tits, and that pussy.” He keeps the gun pointed at me as he strokes his hard-on through his jeans.

“B...br...Brody...”