26. Charlie
Charlie
This is awkward. More than it needs to be.
My legs shake under the booth nestled against smudged windows, and I’ve been staring out into the parking lot since we arrived.
I played around with the salt and pepper shakers and moved the metal napkin holder to the edge of the table.
Cutlery clinks on tables, scratches plates, and waitresses rush past us carrying several plates at a time.
There’s bacon wafting in the air, eggs, the sweet taste of syrup in my mouth as people pour it over their pancakes.
I’m starving and nauseous all at the same time, but I’m more queasy when I glance up at Noah clinking a spoon in his mug while pouring a bit of sugar. The only words that came out of his mouth this morning was a single question.
Do you want breakfast?
My answer wasn’t any better, with a plain, sure.
All I want to do is crawl into a hole, take a knife, and cut out the tight fingers clenching my lungs, so I can breathe for two seconds.
My head pounds, and every five seconds there's the memory of sucking on his dick harder than I’ve ever attempted on any guy.
Usually I don’t want a dick two inches from my face, but I wanted all of him, and he just told me no again.
I’m just waiting for him to say he doesn’t want to talk or hang out anymore.
We need space. Anything to get away from me.
What I did was awkward and weird, and I’m mentally insane.
It will forever be tattooed in his brain as the girl who sat in the bathroom giving Brody all of my attention, when Noah deserved my time more.
If he ever finds out I threatened to slice my wrist with a butter knife over Brody, he’d throw down money and walk out of this cute diner hiding around the block, and I’ll never see him again. I don’t want him to disappear.
Noah takes a sip of his coffee and flips the laminated menu over.
“I’m sorry about last night...” There it comes off my tongue, and I twist the brown paper napkin in my hand until it tears down the middle.
He releases a stifled breath, holding onto the cup. His tattooed fingers that have touched me, already becoming a distant memory. The bulge in his jaw spasms, and it’s sinking into the pit of my stomach. I’ll never come across another guy who can pull off a messy bedhead bun better than me.
I use two fingers and clean out the gunk in the tear ducts again.
I know there's a matted nest of hair on one side of my head, my makeup smeared. I’m the kind of girl who makes sure I’m picture-perfect before going out anywhere; yet here I am, wearing yesterday’s clothes, probably have a stench coming off my armpits.
God, he isn’t saying anything. He just places the menu on the table.
“Do you know what you want to eat?” he asks with the bulge of his throat wrenching up and then down.
He avoids it. He absolutely dismisses my pathetic attempt to make amends.
“I always liked the pancakes here.” His eyes go back to the menu I haven’t even looked at.
All my eyes do is blur over the words, and the prices turn upside down.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore.” I sit on top of my fingers and let them tingle and go numb. I’m starting to bite off the dead skin on my lips.
“How long did you want to wait?” He sips his coffee again and as places the yellow mug on the table, it sloshes, and bits of coffee splatter over the table.
“How long?” I shuffle my feet under the booth and my feet hit the toe caps of his Converse.
“What was your rule when it came to dating?” He still isn't meeting my gaze and unravels his napkin. “You're half a virgin. Why didn’t you go all the way with that asshole?” His silverware clanks as he dabs the napkin over the small spill he made.
“I wanted to date for a whole year...”
“Then I’ll wait a year.” He crosses his arms on the table, and his gaze moves outside to the parking lot.
I stare at my lap, my wrists turning red from how long I’ve been sitting on my fingers. “Yeah...” I say, and my heartbeat drops to the tips of those same fingers. “... I’ve had plenty of guys tell me they would wait, and look where it got me.”
“I’m not some high schooler who just graduated.”
“Neither was he...”
“Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not.”
“Listen to yourself. You dated a complete asshole. I don’t understand your intentions with me other than trying to take advantage of me. I can’t tell if you're trying to sabotage yourself or what. I’m not going to sit here and cave into it.”
“You almost did...”
“And you would have hated me for it. I’d just be like all the other guys, right? I’ll wait a damn year.”
“I have only two weeks before I don’t have a choice. I can’t wait.” I wiggle my hands from underneath my bottom, cross them over the table, and throw my head down. “I have to play Dirty Roulette.”
“No you don’t. He’s just some asshole having a power trip. You don’t need to do anything.” He doesn’t realize Brody said he was going to set fire to the record store, and with how he’s been stalking me around town, I don’t think he's just spitting words.
“I will lose everything. I won’t have a scholarship.”
“Then I’ll come to the party,” Noah says. I lift up my head, resting my chin on my arms, and I watch him pick up his coffee mug, steaming.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to get in.”
“Why are you making this more difficult than it needs to be? I’ll hop the fence. I’ll fall down the chimney in a Santa suit. We can practice spinning a bottle and playing poker. Maybe we’ll beat the algorithm and I can just win you and get you out of there.”
“But we’d have to...” I pause, with it stuck in my throat mixing with bile. “And I have to film it.”
“It’s easy to fake it. Keep the bra on, throw a blanket over us, and you pretend you’re Samantha Jones. We will count to sixty and call it good.”
I cover my mouth with a giggle. “Sixty seconds?”
He crosses his arms and leans back in the booth, shrugging his shoulders with puckered lips.
“I’ll do it for you, and I’ll wait a year for you if you honestly give me a chance, but you have to realize I don’t date.
I’ve never been serious with a girl, and you’re the prettiest thing I ever found, and you might be a little unhinged, but I’ll stick around. I’ll try.”
“I don’t want to wait a year.” I sit up, putting my hands in my lap and playing with them. “Maybe I need a different rule.”
“Okay, and what would that be?” he asks.
“When we both know it’s the right time?” I bring my shoulders up to my cheeks with a big smile on my face, knowing that I really need to brush my teeth. But he flashes me a crooked smile.
“And you need to be sober... and you need to let me initiate it. I’ll come around, but we need to slow down.”
We are quiet for a moment, and I glance at my untouched coffee and find the little bowl of creamer and start peeling back the seal, pouring several until the coffee is at the brim.
Noah is staring out the window again and sits up straight.
His brows furrow as an engine revs outside the café, a camaro pulls into the parking lot. “That’s him again?”
I darted my gaze out the window, and the Camaro with tinted windows parks crooked. Noah is sliding off the seat as our waitress comes over with her pen and notepad.
“Fuck this guy!”
“No... don’t!” I scoot to the edge of the booth, but it’s too late.
He slides past the people waiting to be seated and throws open the front door.
I scoot closer to the window, and even the waitress behind me tilts her body to look outside.
Noah holds up his arms, shouting, as he walks into the parking lot.
I can’t hear or make out any of the words.
The only sound is the Camaro revving its engine, tires squealing, speeding forward, and Noah leaps up onto the sidewalk, slamming both fists into the hood of the car.
The windows roll down, and there it is, a middle finger and Brody popping his head out, spitting in Noah’s direction.
But before Noah can even round the vehicle, Brody reverses and peels out.
I sit still with my heart shutting down to a dull beat as the front door dings and Noah slides back into the booth.
“So, uh... yeah...” The waitress lets out a nervous laugh. “Are you two ready to order?” She blinks a million times.
“Yeah, I’ll take your big breakfast.” Noah’s chest heaves as he scoots back to the window, looking left and right, then slides back to the middle of the booth with his fists clenching until his knuckles turn white.
“Pancakes and bacon, please...” I stare at Noah, his eyes furious.
“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Payton asks as I push a plethora of panties and socks around in my top drawer.
“Just hanging out with a friend.” I throw panties left and right, and each one isn’t the perfect pair that has magically decided to pull a Houdini.
“A friend?” she questions. “You’ve been messaging me all morning, and my mom finally said I can stay over.”
“Yeah... sorry, I just made other plans.” That came off harsher than I expected.
“Oh... well, you could have at least told me.”
“Shit, where the hell are they?” I complain and slam the top dresser drawer shut.
“Where the hell is what?” She asks. I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear as I scurry around my room, pacing back and forth in circles.
“My black lacy undies.” I’ve been on the prowl for the last fifteen minutes, and I’m about to grab a brown paperback to hyperventilate in.
My hair is saturated, dripping all over the floor and skating down my naked back. I’m still butt-ass naked, and Noah will be knocking on the door at any second. I’m wasting seconds I don’t have.
“Who are you hanging out with?”
“Hmm... you know just someone cool.” I put Payton on speaker and toss the phone on the bed. It’s time to go feral. I head back to the dresser and start tossing every garment out of every drawer.