26. Charlie #2
“Okay...” Payton lets out a sigh on the phone. “Well, what are you going to do with this friend?” I can imagine the air quotes she's using right this second.
I yank on the other drawers as if that would magically make the sexy underwear appear.
“I’m playing poker and swimming,” I say, picking up a light pink pair with two fingers, debating if I should change my approach.
I’m sure all the girls Noah’s slept with wear black.
Barbie pink might brainwash him into finally touching me.
I about faceplant onto the mattress. What’s wrong with me? I hate how much power Noah has over me.
“Can you just tell me who you're hanging out with?” Payton demands.
I even manhandle my laundry bin and dump it onto the floor. They're not anywhere in sight. “Just someone...”
She scoffs on the other end of the phone. “That someone being Brody?”
“No.” Maybe they're on the bed. I yank back the comforter and manage to uncover a lonely scrunchy.
“You’re such a liar.”
“I’m not lying,” I laugh. Payton is crawling under my skin, and I can’t always give her my undivided attention.
“Is Ryder home?”
“No, he’s working another double, and Mom left this afternoon. She isn’t coming home either. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you could hang, so I made other plans.”
“You're dating him again, aren’t you?” I can already picture her pinched eyebrows, her cheeks cherry red. I’m sure she's pacing back and forth in her bedroom.
“I’m not.” I lean my head back and groan.
“I can’t believe you! But I’m not surprised either.
You won’t even delete the pictures of you two from Instagram.
Whatever. I’ve gotta go.” The call ends abruptly, and it takes me a good thirty seconds to process her classic Payton tantrum, which is entirely her.
I’ll give her five minutes, and she’ll be messaging me again.
I kick around my clothes on the floor and, voilà, the black panties I’ve been on the hunt for have emerged.
I fist it with my toes, tossing it up into the air and catching it.
My phone buzzes on the mattress as I plop down, stretching the soft, lacy fabric as I put one foot and then the other and let the elastic snap.
It fits snugly on my hips. I snatch my phone, swiping up.
Noah: Hey trouble
Charlie: Hi you. Where are you? I’m sooo lonely.
Noah: I’ll be there in five minutes.
My palms are clammy. I search around for the bra I needed to match, and now I can’t find it either.
My patience runs thin. I gather all the clothes on the floor and shove them into my hamper and plant it in the corner of my room.
I’ll go without. I put on a thin black crop top with short sleeves and low-rise denim shorts.
I managed to shave every inch of my body and I’m smoother than a baby drenched in powder. This time, Noah isn't leaving without touching me.
The knock at the front door was softer than I expected, barely audible over the frantic beat of my heart. I smooth down my shirt trying to stop my nipples from being pointy, hard nubs, but there's no use.
I race down the hallway, and as I open the door, it dawns on me. I haven’t even brushed my soaking wet hair. Noah lifts up the plastic thank-you bag with the glass bottle of vodka in his hands.
“I got it.” The low, gruff rumble of his voice sends shivers down my thighs. He steps into the house, and I use my back to close the front door.
“No one will be home for a while.” I bite my bottom lip and I deadbolt the lock. I’m sucking in a breath as the warm lights in the home highlight his features. They catch the gold flecks in his eyes, and the shy smile on his lips makes my legs shake.
“How long do you think we have?” he asks.
“My brother won’t be home until midnight.”
“Cool. We should have enough time to play a few rounds.”
And practice. As in practicing for him to take my virginity.
Yes please. I have a stash of condoms in my top drawer.
I’m so ready for this. And with him wearing his black baggy shirt and slim-fitting joggers, I’m definitely ready.
He's already making me so hot. I might pass out. I’m already fanning myself with a hand, imagining him pulling off his shirt, revealing his toned chest, and I’ll stare at his abs covered in tattoos.
Even glancing down at the drawstrings of his black joggers, I spot it.
The outline of his dick, and I’m picturing its throbbing pink head centimeters from my face. I wipe the thought from my brain.
My mouth turns dry, and I swallow nothing but dust coating my tongue. What is wrong with me? Someone needs to slap me. I’m not usually an unfiltered pervert. But I can’t help it.
His hair isn’t in a bun right now. It’s just falling over his face. I’m melting into a puddle as his long fingers tuck away hair behind his ears, and I think my mouth is hanging open, but now I’m just thinking about those fingers digging into my thighs.
Oh, shoot. How long have I been standing here? It’s been far too long. Things just got awkward.
“You good?” Noah asks.
“Yeah...yeah...” I massage my neck as I tilt my head to the living room.
“We can play in here,” I say. We finally got a small futon, so now our living room doesn’t look as terrible as it did before.
There still isn’t a television, and the carpet needs a good cleaning, but he’s a guy.
Hopefully, he isn’t secretly judging me.
Noah puts the bag down on the coffee table with a thud. He plops down on the futon with his arms stretched out over the armrest. His legs spread apart, and I soak in how tall and big he is against the throw pillows and cushions.
“How tall are you?” I ask.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m five-eight.”
I blink half a million times as he deadpans me. “You’re way taller than that.” I eyeball him as his legs spread out, and he sways his knees back and forth.
“Okay, okay...” He holds out his palms. “You got me. I’m five-nine.” He lifts his chin and smirks.
“You're over six feet tall. Stop messing with my head.”
“Anyone would look over six feet tall if they were as short as you.”
My mouth drops to the floor with the remark. “Excuse me.” I press a hand to my chest and scoff. “You forgot the shorter the girl, the crazier they are.”
“I know, you’re nine hot and ten crazy.”
“Did you just call me a ten crazy?” I ask, letting out little short bursts of laughter.
He drops his head down shaking it and chuckles with me.
“Wait... wait,” he taps his index finger on his lips. “Do you really want to know how tall I am?” he asks.
“Duh, loser.”
“Six-three, but no one ever believes me until they meet me.” He shrugs his shoulders and smiles at me.
In those two seconds, I catch the tiny crooked tooth on his bottom front teeth, and my insides grow warm and mushy.
Out of all the little pieces that make him Noah, I don’t spot a single flaw.
All I feel is my heart thumping, and each beat sparks something in my bloodstream as if Noah sets fire to everything he touches.
I press a hand to my chest as if it might calm the beating in my chest. I dip my head to the hallway. “I’m going to get the cards real quick.” I laugh between each word, walking backwards.
“You alright, Trouble?”
When I spin around, I nearly faceplant into the wall, but manage to catch my balance before scurrying off down the hallway to my room.
Oh, god. I rake my hands through my hair. “Calm down, Charlie,” I whisper to myself. We’ve played before. It’s not a big deal. We’ve done more embarrassing things around Noah, and there's no use in panicking now. Breathe. I think I forgot how to breathe. Why am I so nervous right now?
The box of cards sits on top of my nightstand, which is cluttered with everything a girl needs. Unfinished snacks, earrings missing a pair, chapstick, a million scrunchies. The box is underneath it all, and I snag it. I open the flap as I make my way back to the living room.
The second Noah’s eyes met mine, they lit up, the smile on his face came too easily, and the pounding in my chest just became a hundred times more intense than it was before. I take the cards out of the box. They magically explode out of my hand, falling all over the carpeted floor.
“Are you nervous or something?” He tilts his head to the side as he asks. I drop to my knees, picking up the cards scattered about.
“No... I just wanted to play Fifty-Two Pickup.” I press all the cards to my chest and dump them onto the coffee table next to the vodka bottle.
“Am I making you nervous, Trouble?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A hot rush crawls up my neck, pricking my skin with heat. I might be blushing all over my body. “I just forgot how to play, is all.” Good one Charlie. Cover it up. Maybe he’ll buy it.
“Oh...” he says and lifts a brow.
“Can you run me through the rules again?” I flutter my eyelashes on purpose, and flash him a cheeky smile knowing I’m breathing harshly between my teeth.
“Yeah... let’s just get your poker skills down first. We don’t have to worry about the vodka part if that bothers you.”
No, wrong words. I want us to get naked. That’s the whole point of this entire night. Noah. Me. The headboard breaking. Maybe he can fuck me on the carpet and I can have rug burn on my back.
“No, we can have a few shots.” I reach for the vodka, but he looks at me a bit differently this time. A softer look in his eyes.
“What is it?” he asks.
The delicate look in his eyes tells me I can say anything.
I could tell him right now I have a tiny...
no, that’s a big lie. I have a big crush on him.
I’m in grade school again, where I can’t formulate the words or confess my feelings, and I stutter.
They're stuck there inside my chest, and my head spins so fast it might pop off.
“Do you wanna deal the cards?” I sit on the carpet floor, crisscross my legs and sort the cards, putting the deck back together so he can shuffle them.