Page 123 of Dirty Chorus

Heart bleeding from someone else’s names

You looked at me like I wasn’t broken

Like the cracks were just windows

Letting the light through

I never meant to love you

I only meant to breathe around you

It’s been three weeks since Charlie went missing. My throat is still raw, but I need to sing again. Omen taps his guitar pick on his strings and the music strumming out of the amp feels like home. Verses I wrote bounce off the walls and we’re running through new songs, fine-tuning riffs, arguing over the beats of the drums. We’ve got a month before we start recording in a real studio, and of course Omen thinks every small mistake is the end of the world.

But for fuck’s sake, we would go around the house finding random items in the house to make a song too. One of our fan favorites has sounds of us smacking flipflops together. When we finally take a break, I step outside, letting the cool air hit my face. My shirt’s stuck to my back, my fingers are sore. I check my phone and hover over Payton’s name.

We’ve been hanging out a lot lately. Cooking together, mostly. Something about being able to eat is comforting. I found this old recipe book in the apartment, so we tackled a bunch of dinner recipes – and a lot of them have been bomb. Never had so many orgasms in my mouth before.

Yesterday was her big day. She came running out of the DMV, waving her new license in the air like she’d won a gold medal. Her grin was huge, and I can see Charlie radiating out of her. I think she needed to smile regardless of what was happening. Maybe I did too.

I call her, leaning against the garage door. It rings a few times before she picks up.

“Hey, Noah,” she says, a little out of breath.

“Hey, Princess,” I tease. The nickname still sticks after those ridiculous bedsheets. “You doing anything? We’re practicing today.”

There’s a pause on the line. I hear muffled voices in the background.

“Um,” she starts. “Actually, I’m talking to Ryder right now.”

I blink. “Oh...” I scrape dirt off the driveway with a foot, kicking pebbles into the grass. “How is that going for you?”

She laughs softly. “Yeah. I mean, I think we might... we might work things out. We’ve been passing out flyers today, and I dunno. It just feels right with him. I always, and I mean I’ve always, wanted to be with him. I just didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

I let her words hang there for a second, not sure why they even sting a little. I mean I don’t see her that way in the slightest. There’s a faint hint that she has some sort of impression I’ve been hitting on her, which hasn’t been it at all. Typical. Too many girls think that any guy that wants to talk or hang out just wants to fuck.

“Payton,” I say, pushing a hand through my hair. “You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t see you like that. We’re friends. That’s it.”

She exhales, relieved. “Okay. I just didn’t want to make things weird. You’ve been there for me a lot lately, and...”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt. “Really. You should do what makes you happy. But umm... you know you can come talk to me anytime about anything. I’ll always be a friend if you need it.”

There’s a quiet beat between us. The phone ruffles on the other end, and I hate the silence. It’s like the call is lost, but then you still hear the faint noises in the background.

“Thanks,” she says finally, her voice soft.

“I mean it.”

“Yeah,” I reply, smiling faintly even though she can’t see it.

“If you need anything, just let me know.” We say goodbye and hang up. I stare at the screen for a moment before sliding the phone back into my pocket. I’m not upset, not really. Maybe a little. Like I’d been holding onto something that was never supposed to be mine in the first place. I wanted to be close to Charlie, and she was the closest person to her, so it was like getting a small dose of Charlie when she was around. They both act the same in a way. Immature, and a bit too quirky.

I turn back toward the garage, where Omen’s yelling at Vince for tuning the bass guitar wrong again.

“Let’s run it from the top!” Omen shouts.

I grab my guitar, sling the strap over my shoulder, and nod. “Yeah,” I say, voice steady. “From the top.”

And just like that, the noise takes over again, and I let it drown everything else out.