Page 55 of Dirty Chorus

Chapter 25

Noah

Trouble is drunk.

Stupid drunk.

Almost going to heave into the toilet drunk. I’m no better. I dunno how much I drank, I lost count, and there’s a random bottle of rum I became best friends with and this jug of cranberry juice. It’s fucking pathetic. I only drank this much because of her and I hate my emotions squeezing my chest cavity with how I feel. It’s the best way for me to describe it. I want to erase that guy’s name out of her memory bank, have her completely forget about his existence, only remembering me, but I’m a petty son of a bitch.

I’m an asshole, and I know it. Charlie follows me around like a shadow, hugging me, burrowing her head into my chest. Begging me to forgive and forget, but she locked herself in the damn bathroom over him.

I’d hug her back each time her forehead meets my back. But my blood is boiling into steam, and soon there’s not going to be anything left. The number of times she’s wrapped her arms around me is another stab wound right into my chest. The best thing to give her is no part of me until I know exactly why she went into a fetal position in the bathroom to sob about her ex. But Omen likes to exaggerate, give me most of the details, throw in his assumptions as facts and leave me with only questions.

But I know talking right now isn’t an option. I hate attempting to have an honest discussion while drunk. Feelings are always mixed up and real, but my head won’t be able to handle anything if it’s not something I want to hear. I guess that’s where my mind is heading. She’s going to stop talking to me on a random Tuesday, and the next thing I’ll realize is that she’s back with him, and I’m a stranger again. I’ll lose my way in the fiery depths of hell wondering what happened to the girl with a damn Sharpie.

Omen and the gang step outside and go into the hot tub after the last round of pool, while I eat an entire box of pizza on my own. Charlie stumbles into the kitchen after using the bathroom. This time, the toilet faintly flushes and gurgles. She wobbles on her feet and collapses onto the counter, knocking over the clean pots and pans stacked by the side of the sink.

“I just want...” she hiccups, as she leans down to pick up one of the pots, but falls backward onto her bottom and lets out a chuckle. “I want another.” She tilts her head back and groans.

I throw the uneaten crust into the box and stumble over, using the counter to help keep me steady. My vision blurs, my head spinning. “I think we are done.” I hold out my hand covered in remnants of pizza, and she grabs it. I attempt to pull her up, but her ass just slides across the floor. She lets out a cute giggle, but I rein it in. I’m not about to let her sink into my heart.

“No...” I tug her across the kitchen and attempt to pick her up. She plants her ass on the ground, her feet squeaking against the wooden floor, but the second I get her ass off the floor, she falls right back down.

“Get up!”

“Not until you actually hug me back and actually mean it.” My grip tightens around her wrist, knowing I can throw her up over my shoulders if I need to, but I’m so unsteady on my feet she might do a backflip over my shoulder and break the dining table in half.

“Why... fuck, Charlie...you...” I stutter as her feet plant themselves on the floor, squeaking as I pull, yanking her. “You’re texting that fucking asshole... he cheated, god damn I wouldn’t have... I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I...” She uses her strength to pull me back as if this is some kind of game of tug of war. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you gonna take him back?” I yank.

“No.” She tugs back.

“Why are you messaging him, just be with me instead.”

“You don’t want me, you made that... you made that very clear. You don’t date. Remember? God Noah! He’s been driving past my house several times a day, and he was at the movie theater. I dunno if he followed me there.”

I release my grip and stumble back. My feet tangle together, and my back hits one of the chairs, causing it to scrape against the wood. I fall hard onto the floor. My head leans against the legs of the chair, and I’m sprawled out.

“He won’t leave me alone, I blocked him, and he just ends up having another number to stalk me with,” she hiccups, using the palms of her hands to help her scoot across the floor closer to me. “He won’t leave me alone. He...” She flutters her eyes, blinking away tears.. “He has videos of me blowing him.”

“That’s fucking lovely.” I sit myself upright, knowing I’m going to have some random-ass bruise somewhere on my back tomorrow that will leave me questioning my life choices until it heals.

“He’s telling me he’s going to post them if I don’t...” she pauses, biting her bottom lip.

“If you don’t, what?” I ask, my brain fogging up with the words coming off her lips, and I’m not sure if I can follow, or I’m going to pass out right here. I’m so far gone right now that at any second my eyelids are going to be too heavy to keep open. Omen and Vince are gonna need to drag me across the floor to one of the guest rooms to sleep it off.

“If I refuse to play this hazing game... he will... he’s gonna post them.”

“A hazing game?” I try to register the words. “So what... he’s going to make you run across a field naked, drink until you drop and make you do some extreme exercise?”

“No... I have to fuck someone and film it. Play this stupid strip poker, spin the bottle game, and I’ll have to sleep with a football player. I’m a virgin... I can’t... he’s going to make me land on him. I don’t want him near me. I don’t want him to touch me.”

“Wait...wait. That’s why you wanted me to teach you how to play poker? That's why you sat there trying to get me to sleep with you?”

“No... no I like you.”