26. Charlie #3
“Sure...” Noah pulls the vodka out of the bag that crinkles. “So... this game you have to play. It’s just strip poker plus spin the bottle, right?” He twists the green cap, and it snaps open. A hint of watermelon wafts out, hitting the hairs in my nose. At least he grabbed a good flavor.
“Yeah...”
He dips it against his lips, taking a swig. He smacks his lips, looking at the watermelon label. “I should've brought a watermelon too.” He holds it by the neck, handing it over to me. “Try it. It’s pretty good.”
I take the bottle from his grip and take a sip, and the fruity sweetness mixed with a burn runs down my throat. I gag.
“Are you sure you’re good?” he asks as I press the back of my palm to my face as my nose crunches up. I nod and lick my wet lips. It’s so much easier to chug down seltzer drinks and beers than pure alcohol.
Noah takes the deck of cards and starts shuffling while I dip the bottle to my lips again and take another shot.
My eye twitches as it goes down. He goes over the rules of the game again, but I can’t pay attention to what he says, just the shff, shff of Noah’s hands working the deck.
I’m mesmerized by the way his lips move with each word, and the way his forearms flex.
We sit on the floor, the bottle of vodka between us.
Its icy chill turns into condensation. He passes out the cards.
We go back and forth. A poker face doesn’t exist, and I tend to give away my moves to him.
He points out he can tell if I have a good hand or a shitty one.
Others would be able to pick up on me like prey.
He flops on his first few hands, discarding his shoes and socks.
My phone buzzes on the floor with the little notification I have a text message. Leaning over, I spot Payton’s name.
Payton: I can’t believe you would ditch me again for that asshole.
I ignore it and swiped up to get rid of the notification. But to no avail she messages me again. The phone buzzes on the carpet, and I suck in a breath, and the cards crinkle in my hands.
Payton: Let me guess, you're going to be petty and ignore me as usual.
I flip the phone upside down.
“Who is that?” Noah asks as he plays with the cards in his hand.
I shrug, swiping the notification away with the tip of my finger. “It’s Payton being dramatic as usual.”
“About what?”
“She gets weird every time I meet a new guy.”
“Why is that?”
“With each boyfriend I’ve had, she liked to pick and pull apart their flaws and tell me how awful they are without giving them a chance. I just don’t want to hear her opinion of you.”
“Are you sure she isn’t a lesbian?” he chuckles.
“No, I think it’s her being envious. In seventh grade, we went to the annual Valentine’s Day dance, and of course I met the cutest boy.
Totally the new guy. He chased me around the dance floor.
Plus, Mom bought my first shiny new toy, which was my first cell phone.
I didn’t remember my number, but Payton claimed she knew it by heart.
To this day, I swear she gave him the wrong number on purpose. ”
“I see... she could just find her own boyfriend, right?”
“She’s lusting over my brother. She isn’t gonna date anyone unless it’s him.” I roll my eyes and huff, looking back down at my cards. “Pathetic, I know.”
I wish this could be easier. It’s been almost two months since I broke things off with Brody.
I know there are rules to follow when it comes to a post break-up.
Be depressed, sob into a pillow, eat my weight in powdered doughnuts and chocolate bars, watch every rom-com possible to help me believe true love exists.
No, thank you. I’d rather nose dive into a dumpster and set myself on fire.
But I can’t keep thinking about the past and Brody.
My cards slap against the carpet. “I have a pair of queens,” I flutter my eyelashes with the words.
“I got nothing,” he throws down his shitty hand with a low sigh. He grabs the vodka bottle, dips his head and takes a shot. The vodka sloshes as he puts it back on the carpet, twisting the cap back on. “I guess I have to lose these bracelets.”
“That’s not fair,” I argue as Noah places the brown beaded bracelets by his Converse. “That’s basically cheating.”
“Hey, I’m just following the basic rules.” He holds up his palms, laughing with a twinkle in his eyes.
“I’m only wearing three layers. Take off your pants!” I point down at his joggers.
“Excuse me, Ms. Bossy.” He presses a hand to his chest, blinking at me, and pretending to be offended. “You could have put on more layers. But if you spin that bottle and get it to land on me, maybe I will take them off. But if you don’t land on me... lose yours.” His dark eyes gaze into mine.
“Fine.” I snatch the bottle, gripping the cold glass, giving it my all. It spins in circles, and wobbles a bit, the carpet causing it to slow down more abruptly. It points over towards the kitchen and nowhere near Noah.
“Ugh!” I dip my head back, annoyed.
“Whelp, I’m keeping my pants,” he says, and I grab the stack of cards, tossing them into his face. He holds up a palm as I grab more cards, chucking them at him. “Hey, hey!”
“You’re a cheater!”
“W-what!” He dips his head back and laughs. “Hey, we made a bet. Take off the pants!”
“Fine.” I prop myself up on my knees, cursing under my breath, and fight with the button and zipper.
The denim is skin tight, and the second I yank them down, it takes the panties with them as they fall down my ankles.
Time stops, and I freeze in place as I realize what I just did. I’m beat red in the face.
“Oh...” Noah’s eyes linger on my bare thighs as a deep burning flush creeps into my chest.
“No!” I laugh as I gather my panties tangled up in my shorts, pulling them back up. “That doesn’t count.”
“Nah, too late, you don’t need to put those back on,” he says in a whisper as my fingers stay at the seam.
His eyes gloss over, his breath catching.
I fight with the fabric, pulling it down my legs and kicking it off with my toes.
I don’t even wait for the next hand of cards.
I pull my shirt over my head and toss the shirt to him. “I forfeit!”
“You’re beautiful... fuck my heart.” He runs a hand over his mouth. His eyes soften in a way that’s different. It was as if every hard edge in his gaze melted. His pupils widen, drinking me in as if I were a rare sight that might vanish if he blinked. A guy has never looked at me like this.
“Remember the last time you asked me if I would go swimming?” he asks as he swallows.
“Yeah...” I say, and his eyes never abandon mine.
“I’d like to go skinny-dipping with you,” he says.
“Really?” I whisper. He stands up, untying his jogger straps, pulling them down to his ankles. Then he reaches for the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head.
I admire the bits and pieces of his ruggedly handsome face.
His chest is clean of any hair, and I study one of his tattoos.
It’s a bloody heart with a knife stabbed in the dead center, angel wings, and a crown of thorns wrapped around it.
I’m left with the sight of his boxer briefs as he folds his clothes and puts them neatly on the futon.
“So where’s the pool?” he asks and pulls them down. I take a deep breath in and eat all the nerves crawling along my skin. I glance at his face and do not dare let my eyes glance down for one second. I don’t want him to think sex is all I’m thinking about again.
“Umm... This way.” I grab his index finger, and my naked ass pulls him through the kitchen, and to the sliding glass door. The moonlight glimmers off the still pool water. The floaties coast around. I step out onto cool concrete, and he follows behind, making sure the screen shuts behind us.
“I’ll race you.” He leans into my ear, and his warm breath runs down my neck.
“Okay.” I bite my bottom lip and run off into the grass.
“Wait, that’s cheating!” He chases after me.
“You cheated first!”
His footsteps are heavy behind me as I run across the pool deck and jump in with flying arms, squealing at the top of my lungs.
The sharp pain of cold water rips across my skin, and I hear him crashing into the water shortly after me.
I kick my legs and reach the surface and push away the hair on my face.
“That wasn’t fair!” Noah runs a hand down his face, spitting out water and then proceeds to splash me in the face.
I turn my head, splashing him back, but he overpowers me. I’m spitting out water in the midst of laughing. My eyes shut as I swim closer to him. When we are inches apart, I dip my head halfway into the water, filling my mouth with chlorine and chemicals, then spitting it into his face.
He holds out his hands. “That’s playing dirty!” He splashes me again, but I grasp his shoulders, giggling. “Shhh... It will all end soon.” I push hard on his shoulders, and he gets the hint. I’m trying to drown him. He sinks underneath the water, blowing out bubbles, and pops his head back up.
“Help! She’s trying too...” His head fell back down under, and he blew bubbles again. I let him go, and the water goes still as he lets his body float up, clearly playing dead. He’s got the whitest ass I’ve ever seen. The moonlight really highlights it.
“Nice ass.” I whistle, and it catches his attention as he lifts up his head and treads the water swimming closer to me.
We swim for a while, and he tells me stupid jokes, and I throw him sassy remarks.
We end up coasting across the pool, both of us clinging onto the same floaty as we chat non-stop.
Silly movie topics, the best-flavored wings in existence, and if pineapple belongs on pizza.
The argument is heated about pineapples, but I convince him his dick will taste amazing if he eats it.
Noah’s shoulder brushes mine as we drift side by side, our bodies weightless, our skin covered in goosebumps. His lashes glisten with beads of water, and his hair’s slicked back, darker than usual under the moonlight.