Page 62 of Dirty Chorus

Payton: Let me guess, you're going to be petty and ignore me as usual.

I flip the phone upside down.

“Who is that?” Noah asks as he plays with the cards in his hand.

I shrug, swiping the notification away with the tip of my finger. “It’s Payton being dramatic as usual.”

“About what?”

“She gets weird every time I meet a new guy.”

“Why is that?”

“With each boyfriend I’ve had, she liked to pick and pull apart their flaws and tell me how awful they are without giving them a chance. I just don’t want to hear her opinion of you.”

“Are you sure she isn’t a lesbian?” he chuckles.

“No, I think it’s her being envious. In seventh grade, we went to the annual Valentine’s Day dance, and of course I met the cutest boy. Totally the new guy. He chased me around the dance floor. Plus, Mom bought my first shiny new toy, which was my first cell phone. I didn’t remember my number, but Payton claimed she knew it by heart. To this day, I swear she gave him the wrong number on purpose.”

“I see... she could just find her own boyfriend, right?”

“She’s lusting over my brother. She isn’t gonna date anyone unless it’s him.” I roll my eyes and huff, looking back down at my cards. “Pathetic, I know.”

I wish this could be easier. It’s been almost two months since I broke things off with Brody. I know there are rules to follow when it comes to a post break-up. Be depressed, sob into a pillow, eat my weight in powdered doughnuts and chocolate bars, watch every rom-com possible to help me believe true love exists. No, thank you. I’d rather nose dive into a dumpster and set myself on fire. But I can’t keep thinking about the past and Brody.

My cards slap against the carpet. “I have a pair of queens,” I flutter my eyelashes with the words.

“I got nothing,” he throws down his shitty hand with a low sigh. He grabs the vodka bottle, dips his head and takes a shot. The vodka sloshes as he puts it back on the carpet, twisting the cap back on. “I guess I have to lose these bracelets.”

“That’s not fair,” I argue as Noah places the brown beaded bracelets by his Converse. “That’s basically cheating.”

“Hey, I’m just following the basic rules.” He holds up his palms, laughing with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I’m only wearing three layers. Take off your pants!” I point down at his joggers.

“Excuse me, Ms. Bossy.” He presses a hand to his chest, blinking at me, and pretending to be offended. “You could have put on more layers. But if you spin that bottle and get it to land on me, maybe I will take them off. But if you don’t land on me... lose yours.” His dark eyes gaze into mine.

“Fine.” I snatch the bottle, gripping the cold glass, giving it my all. It spins in circles, and wobbles a bit, the carpet causing it to slow down more abruptly. It points over towards the kitchen and nowhere near Noah.

“Ugh!” I dip my head back, annoyed.

“Whelp, I’m keeping my pants,” he says, and I grab the stack of cards, tossing them into his face. He holds up a palm as I grab more cards, chucking them at him. “Hey, hey!”

“You’re a cheater!”

“W-what!” He dips his head back and laughs. “Hey, we made a bet. Take off the pants!”

“Fine.” I prop myself up on my knees, cursing under my breath, and fight with the button and zipper. The denim is skin tight, and the second I yank them down, it takes the panties with them as they fall down my ankles. Time stops, and I freeze in place as I realize what I just did. I’m beat red in the face.

“Oh...” Noah’s eyes linger on my bare thighs as a deep burning flush creeps into my chest.

“No!” I laugh as I gather my panties tangled up in my shorts, pulling them back up. “That doesn’t count.”

“Nah, too late, you don’t need to put those back on,” he says in a whisper as my fingers stay at the seam. His eyes gloss over, his breath catching. I fight with the fabric, pulling it down my legs and kicking it off with my toes. I don’t even wait for the next hand of cards. I pull my shirt over my head and toss the shirt to him. “I forfeit!”

“You’re beautiful... fuck my heart.” He runs a hand over his mouth. His eyes soften in a way that’s different. It was as if every hard edge in his gaze melted. His pupils widen, drinking me in as if I were a rare sight that might vanish if he blinked. A guy has never looked at me like this.

“Remember the last time you asked me if I would go swimming?” he asks as he swallows.