Page 74 of Dirty Chorus

“For Christ’s sake! They will hurt you and humiliate you. There’s no coming back from this once you walk into the room. How come you don’t understand that?”

“Can you get off my ass?”

“If you go to that party and take Payton with you, then you're a real shitty friend.”

“Fine, I won’t go.” The lie slips off my tongue, and I bring my hand to my face, cleaning out the dirt underneath my nails. “Happy now?”

Ryder stands there, and we are silent. His face softens a bit as he kicks boxes aside and takes heavy steps up to me. I refuse to meet his gaze as I keep a stoic expression. My eyes fall to the floor, and I stare at his feet. One of his socks is halfway on, and of course it has those permanent brown stains on them. When Ryder reaches me, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.

“You’re annoying as shit, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” he says and I roll my eyes and pat him on the chest to cue him to let me go.

Payton slips on her Korn T-shirt, and we are twins, matching with the same denim shorts. The only difference is I have red heels, and I plan on walking like a queen in them. Then it starts to settle inside me as Payton gussies up in the mirror. Payton is coming with me. It’s a textbook fact that she's a virgin.

She’s only made out with me for shits and giggles, and she’s never dated a guy or given one the time of day. Anxiousness crawls up my spine, creeping like ice, freezing my veins. I’ve been so wrapped up in my plan with Noah and the fragile hope he’ll win me. I never once stopped to think about Payton.

She applies eyeliner, her mascara, and then she casually fixes her hair, completely unaware we will play roulette. I’ve dodged the questions, and brushed her off. To her, this is just another night out, just a party. But I know better, and I have for a while.

The tightness in my chest constricts my lungs. My stomach lurches as everything falls into place. I know how to play the game, but she doesn’t know the rules of roulette. I don’t think she’s even played a single game of poker.

“You almost ready to go?” I ask her as I lean into the mirror, making an O shape with my lips and making sure my lipstick doesn’t smear or cake up into my teeth.“Yeah, I’m almost done.” She stands on her tippy toes, leaning so close to the mirror her nose could touch it.

“I just can’t get this eyeliner to do what I want. I dunno why I even try to give myself wings.”

“Wings are overrated anyway.” I ruffle my hair, swaying back and forth to check myself out. These shorts are tight as hell, but I love how they showcase my thighs.

“So how are we going to get to this party, anyway? Your mom took the Honda, and your brother is at work.” Payton places the eyeliner on the cluttered counter.

I press my shoulders up to my cheeks, fluttering my eyes. “We are stealing his Jeep.”

Payton laughs through her nose. “How?”

“I got us an Uber. But I think, with how late we will be staying out, we may not be able to order a ride back.”

“He’s going to kill us.” Her mouth drops open.

“He’ll live... and we have to do one more thing,” I say.

“What’s that?” Payton asks. In the back of my pocket was a little note that Brittni slid me during orientation this afternoon that made me want to vomit.

“We need to stop by seven-eleven for some drinks.”

Chapter 33

Noah

It’s a few minutes past midnight. The roads are thin and crammed with parked vehicles all over the block. Groups flock in and out of the house as I rest a hand out the truck window. My cheeks burn like fire as saliva saturates my mouth. Tonight’s homemade hot wings churn in my stomach, and I’m unsure what type of chaotic clusterfuck Omen and I are about to walk into.

“Why are you doing this?” Omen asks as he glares out into the darkness of the neighborhood. Most porch lights are off, and the one street light flickers as if an unholy ghost haunted it. Everything is still and dead, and I might as well be too. I can’t speak a damn word to Omen because it’s like someone sliced off my tongue.

We’ve idled in the truck outside for over twenty minutes, listening to crickets and a nearby house booming with loud music and voices. I can back out at any second, text Charlie I’m not into this type of petty drama, but another part of me is demanding I stay.

I watch the sidewalks carefully, checking my rearview mirrors and poking my head out the window, looking for Charlie like a pathetic dog waiting for its owner to come home. The ache for her buries deep into my bones, and no doctor is capable of cutting me open to remove the infection she stabbed me with.

The truck engine hums as I let out a deep, annoyed sigh, tapping my fingers against the metal of the driver’s side door.

“I’m serious. We’ve always focused on music, and this is insane. I spent all evening helping you clean up the store, and you didn’t even call the cops.” Omen holds out his palms, and he’s about to froth from the mouth with how this conversation is going. But I’m not backing down.

I grasp the truck keys, my knuckles turning white as I shut off the engine.