Page 85 of Dirty Chorus

Charlie: Can I come see you?

Noah: Sure. Bring a swimsuit.

Charlie: Be there soon.

I head home and immediately paw through one dresser, debating which swimsuit to use. I could go for hot pink, the leopard pattern, maybe the ones with polka dots, but I end up picking the black one. Noah likes black, so maybe he’ll like me in black.

As I drive over to Omen’s house, my head spins with different scenarios on how I can make up for my obsessive-compulsive calling the other day. I did need to earn brownie points, not be so mentally unhinged. There’s no doubt he thinks of me as some nut job. Clearly putting my breasts in his face, and messing around with him isn't going to win him over. When I park on the opposite side of the road, I immediately step into a mini concert – the guitar strums, the drums pound, clashing onto the cymbals. The garage door is only partially open, but the gap is large enough for me to duck under.

Noah sits on a swivel stool, using one foot to sway back and forth as he clicks his mouse pad on the computer. “This song is done, though it’s still not as clean as I would like it to be.” Noah presses his lips together with his face inches from the screen.

“We don’t have a recording studio.” Omen leans over with his hands on his thighs.

Noah glances up, and he’s wearing a gold pair of vintage round eyeglasses. I’m taken aback by them. I didn’t realize he needed glasses. They're straight out of Harry Potter. The nerds wear those, and my heart is beating ten times faster, and I’m sweating.

“Hey...” Noah gives me half a smile.

“What did I say about the demo?” Omen licks his bottom lip.

“We have three songs recorded. We can record two more and pick which ones are the best,” Noah says as Omen shakes his head and walks off, kicking the garage door open and storming into the house. Tony and Vince follow and when it seals shut, Noah runs a hand through his face.

“Sorry, did I come at a bad time?” I ask and then point a thumb at the Honda. “I can leave if you need to finish recording. I don’t want to be in the way.”

I step back, clenching onto my bag filled with swim gear, but Noah is quick to use his feet, scooting closer to me, the wheels struggling to roll across the floor littered with black wires and amps. He reaches out and manages to grasp the seam of my tank top, stopping me from leaving.

“No, he’s uptight. I think he wants this more than I do...but...”

I step forward, and he leans his face into my belly, his hot breath seeping through the fabric. He grasps my waist and it sends shockwaves through my body.

“But what?” I ask.

“What if a stage becomes a prison? I don’t want everyone knowing my face, but then so many people do now. And for fuck's sakes we are recording in a garage.”

“Isn’t being a lead singer your dream?”

“Yes and no. I just have fans that are making me and the band their entire life, and sometimes I just want to buy a cabin in the woods and just never come back.”

I run my fingers through his brown hair, shining in the dim orange light. It’s silky smooth as there isn’t a single knot my hands get caught up in.

“My back is killing me. Do you want to get changed and we can chill for a bit?” he asks, glancing up at me with his dark brown eyes glowing. His lips are a perfect shade of pink. He’s shaved off the patches on his face, but there's a little stubble on his skin and upper lip.

“Yeah.”

He pats a hand on my waist before scooting the stool away, and standing up. I follow behind him as he hits the garage door button, closing it shut and leading me inside. Tony and Vince are playing a game of pool in the living room. Beers pile up on the dining table and kitchen counter. A black labrador sits with its head perked up, its tongue sticking out as it breathes heavily, and its tail wags back and forth.

I dip down the hallway and head into the bathroom to change. After spending too much time in the mirror fixing my hair and putting a new shade of lipstick on, I step out into the hallway, almost feeling completely naked.

I practically tiptoed to the sliding glass door, and it’s heavier than I expected. I have to use two hands to pry it open with a whoosh. Laughter fills the summer air, and I step out onto the concrete with bare feet.

Noah’s arms are spread over the hot tub with his head tilted back. Omen steps in with two other girls having giggle fits. They have beer in hand, and it’s like I’ve been thrown into a movie I wasn’t cast in. Water splashes as the dark hair girl with fair skin slips in. She trips and uses Noah to steady herself. When his hands grasp her waist, she stumbles and falls into the tub. I recognize her... The girl sucking him off at that party.

The other girl with beach blonde hair who I don’t give two shits about, sits next to Omen, sipping her beer.

I step to the edge of the tub, its jets bubble. The air was thick with the smell of chlorine. I tap my fingers along the edge, and the sound of their easy banter washes over me, making me feel small and out of place.

“Hi!” the dark hair girl says. She got those short, perfect pixie bangs and they actually work on her. “I love your swimsuit. You’re so pretty.” Her cheeks are rose pink as she brings her shoulders to face.

“Thank you,” I say back but all I can think about is her sucking off Noah.