Page 86 of Dirty Chorus

“This is Amy.” Noah tilts his head to her. “Tony’s sister, she comes over every once in a while.” Then he snaps his finger pointing at the blonde.

“Blake.” She bites her lip but turns her attention back to Omen, pressing her palm against his chest. She’s one of the girls from the party, the one Omen left with.

Oxygen fills my lungs back up as I don’t want to mention I recognize her. “Oh.” I glance back at Amy, she's pretty in her own unique way. Her tits are way smaller than mine, she’s much skinner, her face thinner, but her blue eyes are huge, and those definitely are her natural long lashes.

She’s touched Noah too. The thought claws at my throat and she's right next to him, and I feel ugly inside, an old feeling creeps into my chest and crawls all over my skin.

The conversation flows around me, a mix of band talk and inside jokes I only half understood. Something about Omen being obsessed with eating bananas, and Noah claiming some famous Asian fighter is his father, and something about a Daminals yogurt drinking contest. Amy is touchy-feely with Noah, splashing him in the face, and pushing him in the shoulders while laughing at his cocky jokes.

I chime in when I can, trying to keep the awkwardness at bay. Noah wraps an arm around my shoulder, scooting me closer. Our knees occasionally brush together under the water. Each accidental touch sends a jolt searing through my legs.

Once the sun sets and it gets dark, everyone besides Noah and I goes inside. Moths flutter around the hanging porch lights, and my head dips partially under water, blowing bubbles.

“I don’t like her that way,” Noah says, gazing out into the string porch lights hanging throughout the backyard. “You’re easy to read.” The jets shut off and the bubbles subside. “Just like when you play poker.”

I pick my head up and sit on the other side of the hottub. “But she’s the one I caught giving you head?”

“Before I was seeing you.”

“Were you two doing more than just random blow jobs in the bathroom?”

“I don’t know what it was.”

“Oh...”

“I was drunk, and it just sorta happened a few times. I broke it off that night you walked in.”

“Did you like her?”

“Are you jealous? Because I told you how I feel about her.”

“I’m not jealous.” Liar. Amy seems super witty and overly bubbly. Me, I’m a bitch. She’s a bit loud when she laughs. But then I mock people. And she was pretty. Not like a runway model, but like a natural pretty, where she doesn’t have to wear makeup. I wish I felt more secure in my own skin and I didn’t need to cake on fifty pounds of foundation daily.

“Why do you feel insecure?” he asks, shaking his empty beer that he shoved a metal can cap in.

“I’m not...”

“You are.” He’s so nonchalant with the remark.

I want to wring my fingers around his neck, but I snap out of it. “You slept with her before, and she clearly still has a crush on you.”

“We are gonna walk inside, and I bet you anything she’s got her hands all over Vince, then she's going to be sitting on Omen’s lap. She’s like that with every guy, I’ve known her for years. We were just screwing around with no strings attached. I felt nothing for her.”

“Still... it’s...”

He tilts his gaze at me, his brows furrowing. “It’s what, because I’m not into her.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me.” He starts to crush the can, the metal bending it in his fingers.

“You don’t really date anyone, so you wouldn’t understand.”

“We are going to spin in circles. Talk to me, what the hell is spinning inside your head.”

“I thought he was different...okay... and how she’s all over you just reminds me of how I felt all the fucking time with him.”

“Brody?” His jaw twitches, and the veins in his neck throb. The anger is laced within the expression on his face, but I swallow it down.