Page 105 of Dirty Roulette
She smiles slightly, “I’ll never get over that New York State accent of yours.” She puckers her lips and nods her head. “Fair enough though...” She slurps on her coffee, as the twin girls argue over some toy car. “I don’t think you should quit college.”
“Kinda hard not to...”
“But then you let this Brody asshole win. Do you realize how many celebs have leaked sex tapes?”
“Yeah, but they are famous. They still make money and profit from it. I had to turn off my phone last night. Guys are disgusting. I had some voicemail of some sicko jerking his shit.”
“Lovely.” Phoebe lifts a brow.
How do I put my feet back on the ground? Cops can’t do shit when it comes to the internet. Once it’s posted, it’s like the needle and ink of a tattoo. It’s permanent. I can scrub it and tear my flesh off, but it’s not going away.
“At some point, it will catch up with that asshole. He’s gonna mess with the wrong person and they’re gonna tear him to pieces.”
“Yeah... Well. I guess I’ll go shower. Do you mind driving me back in a little bit?”
“Yeah. I’ll take you.” She smiles.
We leave within forty-five minutes. I keep a low profile and stay in the vicinity of people and security. Cops are still all over campus. No matter where I went, one was talking to students, holding a photograph of Charlie.
I try to focus, but my brain refuses to think straight. Nothing can remove the knife lodged in my chest. Nothing feels normal or the same. It’s all backwards. I try to figure out when I died and was put into another reality to finish my mission on this stupid planet I’ve been cursed to.
My last class ended up being canceled, but the assignments were still posted online for us to complete. I sit down at a bench by the parking lot, putting in my information to grab an Uber to head back to my cousins when text messages pop up on top of my screen.
Noah:Can you swing by the store? I need to talk.
Payton:Sure. I’m leaving campus right now.
Noah:Okay, I’ll be here.
Smokey Vinyl was a short ride. When fresh air hits my nostrils, I hightail it away from the Toyota Prius. It looked like a tampon on wheels, and it reeked of smelly feet and too many people catching rideswith him. The Uber driver was singing along to Mariah Carey, and my ears were bleeding.
The front door is covered in new posters for bands playing locally and different upcoming concerts. The bell chimes as I walk in. The familiar scent of cigarettes burnt into the carpet greets me.
Noah uses a switchblade to cut open a box of new merchandise. It looks like a bunch of shirts in a variety of different colors and sizes.
“Hi...” I say. Noah looks up at me, pushing a long strand of hair behind his ears. Gosh, he puts my locks to shame with how shiny and undamaged his ends are. I test the waters with a lame joke to break the tension, “have you ever thought of making your last name Fence?”
Teeth peek through his lips in the smallest of smiles as he blew a laugh out of his nose. “Screw you.” The switchblade waves at me.
“Noah... Fence... get it... No offense.”
“I’ve heard that a couple of times. Shit ain’t happening.” The brief smile sinks and dissolves quicker than a raccoon washing cotton candy. His lips curl out dejectedly.
Sweat puddles in my palms as I coil them into tight balls. “Are you okay?” I ask.
His dark eyes stare at the box, picking at the tan tape sealing everything inside. “I thought she would have turned up by now. ”
“I know...” I swallow hard.
He places the knife on the counter and takes a lungful of air. His eyes glance away like they are starved and everything inside him is beaten to nothing.
“She broke up with me, and it didn’t make any sense...” He pauses, curling his lips over his teeth and staring into the carpet. I’m tangled up in the pain tattooed on his face. “She came over that morning and we...” He swallows, the words dripping off histongue. “I... we...fuck...” He runs both hands through his hair. My heart batters, bruising the flesh inside my ribs. Not another word needed to be said.
“I’m sorry...” I lick my chapped lips, my tongue dries up sticking to the roof of my mouth.
“The whole time... she told me she was in love with me.”
Everything inside me rots hearing what he says. Charlie never uses the L word with guys. A host of emotions crisscross his face, mixed with pain and anger. None of it makes sense. Tears gum up in my throat, it burns, and the saltiness meets my taste buds. “That doesn’t sound like her.”
