Page 47 of Dirty Chorus

“I don’t want to be a virgin anymore,” she says between my legs. “Please...”

“I can’t...” I grasp her forearm, standing her up, but she kisses me. I’m as frail as tin and my hands cup her cheeks as she lets me slip my tongue back into her mouth. When she pushes away, my fingers trace her neck, finding her pulse with a thumb.

“Why? Please tell me why you can’t.”

“You’re going to ruin me.” I brush my lips against hers, and she hums. “You realize that, right?” She scans my face. “I’m not going to take something like that from you.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll go...” She slips out of my grip, taking my shirt and throwing it over her head. It’s long enough to be a dress as she slips back into her underwear.

“Wait.”

“I’ll see you around.” She heads to the door, and I grasp her forearm.

“I’m not like him. I swear I’ll never put that pressure on you.”

“Yeah...” She unlocks the door, and it creaks open. She hesitates, holding the handle, and turns to me. “You’re different, but I get it. I’m just never good enough for anyone,” she says.

I let her go, and she scurries out. Her footsteps creak on the floor, and I hear the front door open and close. Shit.

Chapter 20

Charlie

Isit at the kitchen counter shoving a mouthful of macaroni into my mouth, and the front door closes. Ryder comes in with a Home Depot bag. He places it on the beige granite countertop, pulling out putty knives, and that pink spackle container to fix the holes in the hallway.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” he asks.

It must be written on my face. I stab the fork into the macaroni and mutter, “I guess.”

I don’t care much about the holes in the wall. Or that Mom and Dad had an argument resulting in the said holes. I’m mainly sick to my stomach that I went down on Noah, freaked out and left. But I’d rather not talk about either subject with Ryder.

“You know you can tell me what happened. You don’t have to bottle it all up.”

I stop chewing, my mouth watering, and I don’t know if I can swallow. I grasp the glass decorated with white geese wearing blue ribbon bows and chug down the water.

“There’s nothing to say...” I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and place the fork on the counter.

Yesterday, Ryder fixed one of the pumpkin-orange cabinets. I’m not sure how that broke, but half of the plates and bowls were thrown around the kitchen. I ended up cleaning that mess after glass nicked my toe.

Ryder kneels down by the hallway wall, starting to cut out the drywall patch.

My brain goes straight back to the last night when Dad stopped by to get the rest of his things. Ryder was out working, and Payton was sleeping over. I cupped my ears with the pillow, staring up at my ceiling covered with glow-in-the-dark stars, waiting for them to stop.

Eventually, my wrists burned from how hard I pressed the pillow to my ears. But it made no difference. They wouldn’t stop yelling, and nothing would drown them out. Then things crashed around.

“You talk about how you’re constantly in pain like I’m not miserable too!” Dad argues.

“I lost my father, my mother and my sister. They’re dead! And you’re cheating on me! Fuck you. Just take all your shit and leave!” Mom shrieked.

“Don’t touch my stereo!”

“I’m just helping you out so you can play your fucking music for that bitch instead!” And I heard Mom scream like she was being stabbed repeatedly, and things banged around and crashed like thunder striking next to the bedroom window. I should've kicked off my sheets and told them to stop, but it was like someone pinned me to the bed, holding me hostage.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Yeah, you better run.” Dad’s words still ring in my brain as if he said it seconds ago.

I watched the shadows underneath my door as footsteps pounded down the hallway and doors slammed shut. I listened to my mother sob in her bedroom. Hearing her hysterical crying left me in bed drenched in sweat, and my heart pounding.