44. Charlie
Charlie
The stadium lights still burn behind my eyes hours after the game.
My throat aches from shouting and my legs are like jelly from all the dance moves I did on repeat, entertaining the crowd through every transition.
My mouth hurts so much from smiling through every damn second of it.
I gave it everything tonight – like maybe if I cheered hard enough, I could drown out the last conversation I had with Noah, or Payton will have her “coming to Jesus’ moment” and tell me about Ryder.
But the Uber ride with Payton was already tense as it is. She’s been off since we started arguing, and I haven’t seen her smiling ear to ear every time she drops her gaze to her phone anymore.
“Do you think he still has feelings for her?” Payton asks.
“Who?” I ask and turn my gaze out the window, watching the streetlights passing.
“Ryder and Brittni...”
I scoff and rest my elbow against the door panel. My thumbnail wedged between my teeth. “Why are you even thinking about them?”
“Just curious.”
“I dunno. If he does, who cares? Let him make stupid decisions, he’ll win another stupid prize if he crawls back to her.”
“I’m serious.”
“And so am I. Seriously Payt, I don’t give two shits about my brother and Brittni right now. Just thinking about it is exhausting.”
“What’s up your ass?” she asks.
“Nothing... I just want a drink.”
The Uber drops Payton and I off at an afterparty for our away game, and even walking up the porch stairs, the tension between us is a match being thrown into gasoline.
It’s going to blow up any second now. We’ve never been this distant before.
We’ve always been attached at the hip, she knows all my darkest secrets, and I know hers.
Yeah, we would have fights about makeup or my missing clothes she stole, but this is different.
What hurts even more is that her brain is so attached to Ryder at this point.
I can see it in her eyes when we stroll into the madhouse.
She isn’t eyeballing the other guys on the football team, she's watching my brother get himself a beer. She’s invested in watching how he pops off the beer cap with the edge of the counter, the way he sips the foam, and how Brittni is invading his space, grabbing his biceps as she leans over him to grab a red cup.
Payton looks like she is swallowing her own heart and lungs that are threatening to come up her throat. I can’t deal with this. Not when I can’t even sit down next to her and cry about Noah. I haven’t been able to share much of anything. She can’t even study French with me anymore.
I push through her shoulder, and snag a seltzer from one of the coolers and head outside, where orange lights are strung across the yard and the grass smells like it was just tortured this morning.
The condensation drips down my fingers, but I stand idly by the beer pong tables, watching a game go back and forth.
I’m not much for playing, but I like seeing how competitive the cheer team gets with the beefy football players.
As the ping-pong ball clinks against the cups, Noah’s voice just seeps back into my ears. We can be friends.
Friends.
My nails dig into the tin can. Friends? I thought we were fine.
I barely think about Brody anymore. All I want is to be engulfed by Noah and his baggy black shirts, and the fragrance of dryer sheets that I’m so head over heels for.
I feel stupid for having fallen for him.
Used again. This has to be the reason pretty girls become slutty strippers.
I'm bound to have men watching me dance, hump and come all over a pole.
Men fill our brains with the thought we are their soulmates and bam – they get their dicks sucked, they spray semen all over our faces, and they leave us to clean up the mess, and the emotions with it.
I pull out my cellphone, and all the intrusive thoughts win.
I check my Instagram and my followers to see if he’s still there.
My heart rips down the middle when I can’t find his name.
My thumb goes through hoops until I find his profile and check who he's following, and I realize I’m just losing my damn mind because he's still following me.
When I see the profile picture glowing, I know he posted on his story. I click it and see the band all gathered around on a couch. Omen is holding a banana to his ear, talking into it.
“Get off the banana, your fake girlfriend can wait.” I dunno who said it, but Vince and Tony are punching each other in the shoulders, laughing.
Noah is sitting in the middle, rubbing his hands together. His hair falls over a shoulder before he uses a finger to tuck the strands under his ear.
“So umm...” Noah starts off and gives off this weak half smile. “Do you really have to eat that right now?” He turns his head laughing. “I can hear you fucking chewing dude!”
“What?” Omen mumbles around a large mouthful of banana as he chews. “I’m hungry.”
Noah turns back to the camera. “We wanted to announce we just got signed by Metal Blade Records and...” Noah is cut off by the guys cheering, and there's that cute smile again. “So, uhh yeah, our demo is out... but we are actually going to be recording our first official album, it’s not going to just be us playing at the bars anymore. We don’t have any dates yet, but we are going to tour, so, um, yeah, we’ll keep you guys updated. ”
The video ends, and I think I might faint. I’m so dizzy. My hands tremble as I click around on my phone and find Noah’s name, writing him a message.
Charlie: You got signed? And didn’t even tell me. I found out through your Instagram.
It doesn’t take two seconds for the read receipt to pop up with the timestamp. There are no little dots popping up to tell me he's writing me back.
Charlie: Can you at least write me back?
Charlie: You tell me you’re fucking terrified of me then just randomly leave me out of nowhere. What the hell! You said you would try to make it work.
That one just stays on delivered. I tell myself I’m not gonna cry about it. I’m gonna pretend everything is fine. But I’m blinking back tears as I push the phone into my uniform top, between my sweaty boobs and the stretchy top.
“Damn,” a voice drawls behind me. “I forgot how sexy you look in that uniform.” I turn, and my stomach twists.
God it’s Brody. He’s leaning against the wall like he never broke me, like he has every right to undress me with his soulless eyes.
Those brown irises are hazy as he sips on his beer.
I can tell he’s drunk by the way he bites his bottom lip and the Mmmms coming out of his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” He asks. I turn on a heel, but he pushes himself off the wall and manages to stand right in front of me. “Did that faggot finally dump you?” He puts a hand underneath my chin, lifting it up to meet his gaze.
I stiffen, gripping my can tighter. “Like you would care.”
Brody laughs, the sound low and mean. “Relax, I’m just sayin’.
You were way too good for that loser, anyway.
” His gaze drops down my body, slow and familiar.
“You know... we could fix things. You and me. Go back to how it was.” He grabs my hip, pushing me to walk backwards until my heels hit a dead end.
My back is pressed against the jagged brick wall, and I hear myself swallow the bulge caught in my throat.
“That’s tempting and all... but no.”
He tilts his head, smirk fading. “No?”
“It’s not happening.”
His jaw tightens, and I can see the switch flip. His hand clutching a beer rests on the wall as he leans into me. His warm breath reeks of intoxication.
“Right. Of course. You’re too busy screwing that emo fuckboy, right?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because it should be me.”
“Well, it’s not.”
“Guess he got bored. Can’t blame him.” His voice drops.
“You always were a slutty bitch when you wanted attention. I’d love to give you some attention right now.
” His free hand takes a fistful of my right breast, and he presses his groin against mine.
He groans under his breath. “Fuck, I missed these.”
Then he smirks again, a cruel spark lighting in his eyes.
“Oh, speaking of sluts.” His hands move from my breasts, skating down to my navel, and grabbing my ass.
“You might wanna check the bathroom. Your best friend’s in there.
” He groans again, his hands digging into my asscheeks.
“With Ryder. Quite a few people were laughing at how loud she was. Didn’t think she was the moaning type. ”
My breath catches, and I use my strength to shove him off me. “What?”
“Yeah,” he stumbles back casually, sipping his beer. “Didn’t you know? Payton and your brother have been hooking up. Guess she finally got what she wanted, huh? Must feel great knowing your best friend’s screwing your brother.”
For a second, I can’t breathe. His words blur in my ears. Payton, Ryder. Together. No, he’s lying. He has to be. They would have told me. “Go ahead. See for yourself.”
Something hot surges through me. I can’t put a thumb on it – anger, betrayal, maybe both.
Or I’m just going insane. I don’t know what it is, but I feel hot and heavy everywhere.
I throw my drink onto the patio, liquid splashing everywhere, and push past him.
The crowd blurs around me as I storm down the hallway, every heartbeat thudding against my ribs.
I reach the door and press my ear against it.
I hear it, the moans and grunts from someone on the other side.
I have no choice. I bang on the door with a hard fist, hard enough that my hand stings.