Page 61 of Dirty Chorus

“Duh, loser.”

“Six-three, but no one ever believes me until they meet me.” He shrugs his shoulders and smiles at me. In those two seconds, I catch the tiny crooked tooth on his bottom front teeth, and my insides grow warm and mushy. Out of all the little pieces that make him Noah, I don’t spot a single flaw. All I feel is my heart thumping, and each beat sparks something in my bloodstream as if Noah sets fire to everything he touches.

I press a hand to my chest as if it might calm the beating in my chest. I dip my head to the hallway. “I’m going to get the cards real quick.” I laugh between each word, walking backwards.

“You alright, Trouble?”

When I spin around, I nearly faceplant into the wall, but manage to catch my balance before scurrying off down the hallway to my room.

Oh, god. I rake my hands through my hair. “Calm down, Charlie,” I whisper to myself. We’ve played before. It’s not a big deal. We’ve done more embarrassing things around Noah, and there's no use in panicking now. Breathe. I think I forgot how to breathe. Why am I so nervous right now?

The box of cards sits on top of my nightstand, which is cluttered with everything a girl needs. Unfinished snacks, earrings missing a pair, chapstick, a million scrunchies. The box is underneath it all, and I snag it. I open the flap as I make my way back to the living room.

The second Noah’s eyes met mine, they lit up, the smile on his face came too easily, and the pounding in my chest just became a hundred times more intense than it was before. I take the cards out of the box. They magically explode out of my hand, falling all over the carpeted floor.

“Are you nervous or something?” He tilts his head to the side as he asks. I drop to my knees, picking up the cards scattered about.

“No... I just wanted to play Fifty-Two Pickup.” I press all the cards to my chest and dump them onto the coffee table next to the vodka bottle.

“Am I making you nervous, Trouble?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A hot rush crawls up my neck, pricking my skin with heat. I might be blushing all over my body. “I just forgot how to play, is all.” Good one Charlie. Cover it up. Maybe he’ll buy it.

“Oh...” he says and lifts a brow.

“Can you run me through the rules again?” I flutter my eyelashes on purpose, and flash him a cheeky smile knowing I’m breathing harshly between my teeth.

“Yeah... let’s just get your poker skills down first. We don’t have to worry about the vodka part if that bothers you.”

No, wrong words. I want us to get naked. That’s the whole point of this entire night. Noah. Me. The headboard breaking. Maybe he can fuck me on the carpet and I can have rug burn on my back.

“No, we can have a few shots.” I reach for the vodka, but he looks at me a bit differently this time. A softer look in his eyes.

“What is it?” he asks.

The delicate look in his eyes tells me I can say anything. I could tell him right now I have a tiny... no, that’s a big lie. I have a big crush on him. I’m in grade school again, where I can’t formulate the words or confess my feelings, and I stutter. They're stuck there inside my chest, and my head spins so fast it might pop off.

“Do you wanna deal the cards?” I sit on the carpet floor, crisscross my legs and sort the cards, putting the deck back together so he can shuffle them.

“Sure...” Noah pulls the vodka out of the bag that crinkles. “So... this game you have to play. It’s just strip poker plus spin the bottle, right?” He twists the green cap, and it snaps open. A hint of watermelon wafts out, hitting the hairs in my nose. At least he grabbed a good flavor.

“Yeah...”

He dips it against his lips, taking a swig. He smacks his lips, looking at the watermelon label. “I should've brought a watermelon too.” He holds it by the neck, handing it over to me. “Try it. It’s pretty good.”

I take the bottle from his grip and take a sip, and the fruity sweetness mixed with a burn runs down my throat. I gag.

“Are you sure you’re good?” he asks as I press the back of my palm to my face as my nose crunches up. I nod and lick my wet lips. It’s so much easier to chug down seltzer drinks and beers than pure alcohol.

Noah takes the deck of cards and starts shuffling while I dip the bottle to my lips again and take another shot. My eye twitches as it goes down. He goes over the rules of the game again, but I can’t pay attention to what he says, just the shff, shff of Noah’s hands working the deck. I’m mesmerized by the way his lips move with each word, and the way his forearms flex.

We sit on the floor, the bottle of vodka between us. Its icy chill turns into condensation. He passes out the cards. We go back and forth. A poker face doesn’t exist, and I tend to give away my moves to him. He points out he can tell if I have a good hand or a shitty one. Others would be able to pick up on me like prey. He flops on his first few hands, discarding his shoes and socks.

My phone buzzes on the floor with the little notification I have a text message. Leaning over, I spot Payton’s name.

Payton: I can’t believe you would ditch me again for that asshole.

I ignore it and swiped up to get rid of the notification. But to no avail she messages me again. The phone buzzes on the carpet, and I suck in a breath, and the cards crinkle in my hands.