Page 2 of Dirty Chorus

A guy with nothing but black clothing in his closet, ink on his skin, who screams lyrics into a mic probably isn’t her vibe.

“What’s your name?” she asks, pumping the soap dispenser. It drips all over the counter and I grimace.

“What’s yours? Trouble?”

Through the mirror, she bites her bottom lip and uses a palm to turn on the faucet. She tosses her curls over her shoulders, scrubbing away.

“You’re funny.” The black crochet halter top gives me a sneak peek of her cleavage, and sweat peppers my forehead. “My name is Charlie, actually.” She finishes washing her hands and uses her shorts to dry them off. I didn’t realize “Sunday’s Best” turned into booty shorts and a top that made me stare a little longer than I wanted. Then again, it’s a Wednesday night, and most people coming in are here for Bible Study classes.

My sneakers squeak against the damp floor as I step forward. She stands still. Her eyes blink as I inch closer until I’m right in front of her. I grasp the little silver heart charm on her necklace with a toggle clasp. “A boy’s name? Interesting.”

“Ha, ha. Cute. What’s yours?” She smacks my hand away and grips her purse tighter.

“Noah...”

She laughs and digs around in her purse. “Oh, built any arks recently?”

“Cute. But you should probably go into confession and admit you’re vandalizing the church.”

“You’re the one staring at me half-naked. You need it more than I do.” The king-size Sharpie reappears as she bites on the cap, yanking it off. She grabs my palm, scribbling numbers down and says, “Call me sometime.”

“But you have a boyfriend.”

“I’ll see you around.” She puts the marker back into her purse and proceeds to wiggle her fingers as she struts out of the bathroom, the heavy metal door slamming behind her.

Chapter 2

Charlie

He’s late. Of-fucking-course he is.

Streetlights hum above the cul-de-sac, washing the asphalt in a tired orange glow. My heels crunch under the gravel as I lean against the door of my brother’s Jeep parked on the side of our house. I pucker my lips in the side mirror reapplying lip gloss, and use a finger to get rid of the cakey chunks of mascara caught up in my lashes.

Brody texted me he was on his way and it usually only takes him ten minutes to grab me. When he didn’t show, I asked him if everything was okay, but he left me on read. I’ve called him only to be greeted by an instant voicemail box.

We haven’t seen each other in ten days, and it’s starting to catch up with me. Even last weekend he said we would hang out, but nope. His plans changed, and I really thought this time would be different. But I have to remind myself that he’s going to be a senior at GCU. He’s captain of the football team and the quarterback. Life has to be super busy for him, even in the summer.

This isn’t the first time he’s left me high and dry. I think I’ve lost count. But this one is hurting worse than the others.

My heels ache from pacing back and forth. I’ve been chewing on my thumbnail so hard I’m starting to tear into my skin. The night air is thick and damp, clinging to the curls I spent too long perfecting so there wasn’t a single strand of frizz, which I’m sure the humidity has ruined by now. Every passing car makes my stomach jump, then sink again when it’s not him. I’ve smoked several cigarettes just to numb my nerves that he’s going to ghost me, again.

My phone screen lights up with nothing. No new texts, no missed calls, just that last message I sent staring back at me like a lie.

Brody’s not on his way. We aren’t celebrating our six-month anniversary. It was stupid of me to ask him anyway. I try calling him again, my chest getting tight as the phone rings in my ears, but it's instant. The voicemail box.

Brody can’t be doing this to me. I tell myself not to cry. I whisper it under my breath, over and over again, but I start scrolling through our chats from this afternoon. Seeing them just adds salt to the wound expanding in my chest, and my eyes water, blurring the words on the screen. My face feels hot and cold at the same time.

Brody: I can’t wait to see you.

Brody: I’m going to take you out.

Brody: Just trust me. It will be an amazing night.

Brody: I love you baby, we’ll spend all night together.

Then my phone finally buzzes in my hand.

Brody: I’m sorry. Something came up with the team. I promise we can try again another day.