Page 67 of Dirty Chorus

“Don’t say that about him. He doesn’t use drugs!”

“No! Absolutely not! First you date that disgusting pig who only has brain function when it’s below his belt, now you want to date Noah? He doesn’t even have an education. He’s way older than you.”

“He's twenty-one! It’s not like he’s a forty-year-old.”

“You sure know how to pick guys.”

“You can’t tell me who I can and cannot be with!”

“Yes, I can! I’m your mother! You're leaving in less than a week for college, moving out, and you’re drinking and hooking up with God-knows-who, whenever you please. Just look at him, he's covered in ink, he doesn’t wear anything nice to church. He has no future!”

The room is shaking all around me. The surrounding anger vibrates, and it’s the only thing swirling in the stale air of this home. My lungs ache, my chest heaving as I take in mouthfuls of air. “Just because your marriage ended doesn’t mean you can dictate who I’m with!”

“Charlotte!”

I storm to my nightstand, yank my phone from the charger. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold on to the contraption. I shoulder check my mom as I leave my room, with feet pounding down the hallway.

“Where do you think you're going?” My bedroom door slams against the wall as her shadow hovers over me with each step I take.

“As far away from you as possible!” I find my sneakers by the front door and slip them on without tying the laces. I grab the car keys on the hook and I slam open the front door.

“I’m trying to protect you from making a big mistake!”

“Noah’s not a mistake!”

“All guys covered in tattoos like that are shooting up heroin. The next thing I’m going to be dealing with is you starting to use with him!”

“Stop talking about him like that!” My sneakers hit the wet pavement hard, splashing tiny puddles with each step. “He doesn’t use drugs!”

“Charlotte!” Too late, I'm throwing open the car door, and dropping into the driver’s seat. My eyes blur so badly I can’t even find the ignition. I suck in my bottom lip as I suck in a tremor, my hands shaking as I finally slam in my keys and rev the engine.

Chapter 29

Noah

I'm not sleeping tonight as I sit on the wooden dining room chair with my legs sprawled out. I made a cup of that nightly night-valerian root tea. It makes my nose twitch with the taste, and I drowned it with honey hoping it would kick in, but I know it’s gonna be insomnia tonight. I might as well not torture myself by lying in bed counting the headlights that pass by my window.

I can’t tell if it’s my balls aching or if I don’t know how to deal with my emotions. I could try to eliminate one of the options and jerk off in the bathroom, but then I’m gonna be fantasizing about Charlie, which is definitely the second problem. After I help Charlie out with this stupid hazing game, I'm going to have to break it to her. My gramps is going to pass away. I know I'm getting a record deal, and she’s about to start college. There’s no room for a relationship between us. There isn’t going to be a random happy ending. It’s reality. And at the same time, she’s the only girl that stumbled into my life that I would want to try with.

The second she asked What do I gotta do to be with you? I choked up.

As I take a sip, there's a soft tap on the door. I place the cup on the coffee table and throw myself off the chair and peek through the peephole.

I do a double take. Rubbing my eyes as I glance back out.

Charlie.

I unlock the door, opening it, and my heart lurches before my brain can catch up. Pieces of hair stick to her face. Mascara runs down her cheeks. She’s sucking her bottom lip and crying. Each breath she takes is jagged, and uneven.

It’s because of me.

It has to be. I just flat-out rejected her when I knew I shouldn’t have.

I stand there like a complete idiot, holding onto the door frame with the door barely open. Shit. What do I do? A girl is crying. Ask what’s wrong. Tell her you’re sorry and that it’s all your fault. It’s me. It isn’t you. Wait, no. That’s when you break up with a girl. Either way, I'm going to lose if it’s about me.

“Do you wanna come in?” I ask and hold open the door. She bites her bottom lip and steps in, and uses the back of her hands to wipe away her tears. “I just made some tea... do you want a cup?”

“No...” she sniffles, and she shakes her head. She blinks several times, and more tears build up on her eyelashes. I think my brain was just ripped out of my skull and thrown into a blender.