7. Noah
Noah
Why did I agree to come here again? Right, Tony.
I could be at home munching on a banana and posting blurry pictures of Pat Morita telling people he’s my dad.
Maybe I’ll sprinkle in that he just left to go get some milk – he’ll be back.
My followers would eat that shit up. But nope, I gotta spend the evening with Amy, and have a ten foot pole between us.
Knowing her though, she’s gonna force herself on me.
I barely squeeze through the front door of a classic house party.
Tightly packed bodies dance with red cups held in the air.
The bass of the music shakes the floor, and neon lights flash along the walls.
It doesn’t take two seconds before I get a whiff of body odor, and someone in desperate need of deodorant.
It’s hard to move. This is just as bad as getting in front of the stage before the main gig is about to play, and I’m someone who likes to watch the wall of death at a distance.
With every step I take, I’m bumping into someone else. Drinks slosh, guys lift their chins up at the pretty blondes in tight, skimpy dresses. The girls are no better, they eat up that attention. The people here aren't my type of crowd.
“Hey you!” Amy’s voice cuts through the throng of voices. A half empty red cup sloshes its blue contents over her hand. “Did Tony convince you to watch me again?” Her smile is lopsided and she stumbles into me.
“Jesus, how much have you had?” I catch her elbow.
“I just graduated, hello!” she slurs, her words running together. “Plus, I’m eighteen and I can do whatever I want.”
“I realize that but...”
She cuts me off. “I want you to come with me.” She walks her fingers along my chest.
“I think we should slow down and you need some water.” I attempt to grasp her red cup.
“No, no, no.” She waves a finger at me. “Come on.” She takes my hand and tugs me through a pulsating living room down a dim hallway. I bump into other people and the music fades to a dull throb. Amy shoulder opens a door, and pushes me into a bathroom.
“Amy...”
She bites her bottom lip. Great, here we go again.
The door slams shut, and the party is now muffled, and all I hear is the rhythm of my heartbeat.
Her red cup slams along the clean countertop. Before I could say another word, she spun and shoved me against the counter, her eyes glassy with intoxication.
“It’s barely ten.” She fists my shirt, her lips puckering attempting to find mine.
“How much did you have?” I ask between her mouth.
I’m leaning away, but she keeps lathering the side of my mouth with her drunk kisses.
My hands go to her shoulders, not just to push her away, but also trying to shake some sense into her.
“I told you we can’t be doing this anymore. I like you as a friend, and I...” She ignores me and drops to her knees, fingers fumbling at the button of my jeans. “Amy!” My zipper goes down as she tugs.
“I... fuck.” Her hands are already inside my boxers, her cold fingers wrapping around me.
I suck in a sharp breath. Damn it. A low groan escapes my lips despite myself.
I lean back against the counter, knocking over her red cup, her drink splattering on the floor.
She didn’t seem to notice, her parted lips slick with gloss.
Yep... I’m about to be assaulted. Then her mouth was on my dick.
All I see is her head bopping up and down, working extra hard just to get that bad boy to rise.
Amy’s blue eyes glance up at me to get my reaction, and it’s like I black out for a second.
The room goes dark and I see her. Just a flicker of her in my memory.
It’s Trouble. It’s her grey eyes gazing at me with that Sharpie, her tits nearly falling out of that halter top.
Oh...fuck...I harden completely in Amy’s mouth, thickening against her tongue.
It was hot. Unbelievably, intensely hot and wet.
A soft, slurping sound filled the silence between us as she took me in, her tongue swirling around my dick.
The sensation was a direct jolt to my nervous system.
My head thumped back against the mirror.
God. My fingers tangled in her hair and I’m not guiding, just holding on as a wave of pure physical pleasure crashes over me.
I imagine how soft Trouble’s hair would be fisted in my hands. Fuck, why does this feel so good now?
My hips give a gentle, involuntary thrust, pushing myself deeper into the warm, willing wetness of Amy’s mouth. My eyes slide shut, giving in to the feel of it. The slick friction. The pressure. That’s when I heard the click of the door opening. My eyes fly open. And there she was.
Trouble.
“Ah fuck!”
It’s the damn girl with a Sharpie. Out of all the times to see her again, it’s when Amy is drunk and choking on my dick.
Trouble doesn’t even budge, she just holds the door handle, her body half-turned as if she’s about to flee, but her feet are rooted to the spot.
Her cheeks flush a deep, furious red, her lips, her plump, perfectly bowed lips, are parted as if she were in shock.
Her wide, glistening grey eyes are locked directly on me.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The only sound was Amy's mindless, wet sucking and the frantic hammering of my own heart. Charlie’s gaze isn’t horrified.
It isn’t disgusted. It’s... fixated. A reckless, dangerous heat flares in my balls, hotter than anything Amy is doing. My grip tightens in Amy’s hair.
“Fuck!” I grasp the base of my dick the second Amy sucks downwards and pull it out of her mouth. “I can’t!”
“Oh come on!” Amy paws at my jeans as I tuck my dick back inside my boxers, zipping up my jeans before stumbling and almost tripping over Amy herself. “I wanna make you feel good.”
Charlie’s eyes flicker up to meet mine, and she doesn’t look away. The blush on her cheeks deepen and I swear I hear her heartbeat within my own ears. She doesn’t say a damn word, she just stumbles back, yanking the door shut with a deafening slam.
“Noahhh,” Amy stands up, wiping her lips. “You spilled my drink,” she continues.
“Sorry, but you really should drink some...” she's out the door again. “...Water.”
I race out in pursuit, my hard-on straining against my jeans. My balls are on fire, and of course Amy disappeared. All I can make out is a school of mindless sardines getting wasted. Crap, I was supposed to be watching her.
Someone yanks off my beanie, smacking me across the top of my head and I do a one-eighty and spot those pink nails dangling it like bait.
It’s Trouble. She stands on her tippy-toes to reach my ears and shouts, “Are you stalking me or something?” She glances at me from head to toe and stops at the bulge in my pants.
I straighten out my jeans to adjust the fabric.
“I think it’s the other way around. You barged in on me!” I point a thumb to my chest.
“You did it first!”
“It’s not like I meant to walk in on you!”
“Shut up and come with me!” She grabs the collar of my shirt and drags me through the crowd.
We escape into the kitchen, where the garbage overflows with beer bottles and empty plates. Someone leans back in a chair in a graduation gown with vomit all over their shirt, and I think there’s a half-digested French fry lodged in their eyebrow.
We head outside to a backyard lit with string lights. There’s nothing out here other than empty beer cans lying in the dirt, old patio furniture, and a group of people playing beer pong.
“Why are you here?” She wiggles my beanie onto her head. “Hmm?”
Shit. She's wearing my beanie. I should steal it back, right? No, it looks good on her.
“Why were you fucking staring at me like that?” I ask.
“Like what? hmm?”
“Don’t fucking toy with me. I saw it in your eyes.”
“Saw what?” Charlie folds her arms. “Ever heard of just locking the door?”
“Ever heard of knocking?”
“Knocking!” She doubles over and laughs. “You walked in on me using the bathroom not even a week ago.”
“You liked it, didn’t you?” I ask, and that’s bolder than my usual self to ask that type of question.
She pauses, visibly swallowing before running her front teeth over her bottom lip. She smirks and shakes her head as she says, “It’s kinda hard not to stare when a guy is...” She clears her throat, and my heart starts thumping. “I guess that’s your girlfriend.”
She puckers her lips that are a perfect shade of nude and my imagination takes over again. It was her instead. It was Charlie on her knees. They were her plush lips stretched around me. They were her grey eyes, heavy-lidded as she took my length in her moaning mouth. Fuck. No. Snap out of it Noah.
“I dunno about that.” I swallow. Charlie’s eyes drop to my jeans and I adjust myself again. At least he’s a half chub now, but it’s like I was sack-tapped. My nuts radiate, an aching pain in my legs and stomach. It’s gonna get worse if I don't crank one out.
“So umm...” Charlie rocks on her feet. “Do you just hook up with girls you don’t even date?”
“Where is your boyfriend?” I scan the backyard, and a group of people huddle around a beer pong table. She's quiet, holding her posture and biting her bottom lip. The energy just shifted.
“Umm...” she huffs and crosses her arms. I’ve caught her off guard. I scan all the little groups huddled up with drinks in hand.
“Do you come to parties like this often without your boyfriend?”
“Well...” She inspects the ground. “I just graduated and the football team at GCU always holds a party every year for recent graduates transferring. He’s the... the quarterback”
Of fucking course he is. “Oh, I see...”
“I’m gonna...” She points a thumb over her shoulder. “Do you want a beer?” she asks, and my mouth goes dry.
“Sure, why not.”
I slip my hands into my pockets and follow behind her to one of the ice box coolers. She digs through the ice and pulls out a Bud Light and hands it to me. It’s cold to the touch, and her fingers are scorching hot. I notice the thrum of her heart on the side of her neck and it's pounding hard.
“You graduated from high school tonight?” I pop open the can, foam fizzles out, and I take a sip of the bitterness.
“Yeah... me and your... girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend. But do you know Amy?”
“No...I don’t hang out with the drama kids. Half of them are fucking weird.”
“Well, how does it feel? Graduating and all.”
She gives me a half shrug, getting her hands on a White Claw. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. What was yours like?”
I take another drink, letting the cold beer coat my throat. I’d rather chug the pineapple-flavored White Claw she cracks open, but I don’t want to come off like a seltzer-drinking pussy. “I’ve only walked across a stage to sing a song, never touched a diploma.”
She blinks several times, and her lips press into a line as we stand in silence.
I proceed to take several large sips. That’s one fact about myself I hate admitting to.
I don’t have a diploma. When she shifts weight from one foot to the other, I can read her mind.
It’s screaming at her that I’m a red flag.
No education, a starving musician, looking like a complete bum.
Girls don’t dig that, but I don’t plan on going back.
“I’m sure your boyfriend was really happy to see you walk?” I sip again..
“I guess...” A strained chuckle slips off her lips. “... if he had actually showed up.” She mumbles out the words, and she taps her fingers against the metal can. “You seriously never graduated from high school?” She scowls at me as if it’s not a common occurrence.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“No... No...” She points a finger at me. “Why didn’t you graduate?”
Because I became an orphan at fifteen years old and decided to leave only to come back to take care of my grandfather and his record store.
But let’s not dump that type of nuclear bomb on her.
Either way, it would make her feel sorry for me, and I don’t like people pitying me.
“No reason at all,” I say. “Why didn’t your boyfriend show up at your graduation? ”
Her jaw muscles tighten. “Shit happens, but umm...” She glances behind her shoulder and starts to walk backward, and the pit of my stomach fills with stones. Yep, I'm about to get ditched. “So, umm... I should go find my boyfriend, and you should go find your girlfriend?”
Charlie uses an index finger to point at the beerpong table where Amy is squealing her brains out holding her hands up as a group of guys drink from their cups.