Find You In The Dark Part 6

Chapter Nine.

The weeks that pa.s.sed after Melissa James's party on the whole were pretty uneventful. My friends and I fell into a routine of school and hanging out. Daniel was off again with Kylie, so he was around a lot more than he had been, much to Rachel's delight. I was also happy to see that the two of them seemed to have called a cease fire. Since Rachel's drunken verbal vomit and my advice for caution and sensitivity, Daniel had been doing just that. He was thoughtful and polite. In other words, nothing like himself.

I noticed the change in Clay almost instantly. The Monday after his Oscar- worthy freak out he was subdued and expressionless. He interacted some, but he had a perpetual stoned demeanor that was really hard to get used to.

I felt guilty for thinking that I too liked happy Clay off meds. But then I just had to remember him crumpled on his bedroom floor, sobbing uncontrollably and I put those thoughts firmly away.

The medication also made him really sleepy. He was having a hard time staying awake in his cla.s.ses and at lunch time. Instead of eating, he would often put his head down on the table and nap, pulling his army jacket up over himself.

During one such lunchtime nap session, Rachel poked him in the arm, soliciting no response. "I have never seen someone sleep like he does. What is his deal?" I glanced over at him. He hadn't touched his pizza. He never ate much anymore and I could see that he was losing weight.

"He's just tired. Leave him alone." I snapped at her. Rachel looked hurt by my tone. "I was just asking. No need to bite my head off. Well, while we're on the subject. What is up with you lately?"

"Huh?" I asked, genuinely confused as to what she was talking about. Rachel took a bite of her chicken salad sandwich, then delicately patting her lips with a napkin. "Don't you 'huh' me. I'm talking about your emergence as Super b.i.t.c.h. Well at least where Danny and I are concerned. Clay, on the other hand, gets all the suns.h.i.+ne and roses." I looked at Daniel and he just shrugged a shoulder and went back to reading his sports magazine.

"I'm not grouchy all the time. Sorry if I've been less than my usual uber fun self." I joked. Rachel snorted in annoyance. "Well, whatever, just stop taking your p.i.s.sy moods out on the two of us. You know if there's stuff going on you can talk to us." Rachel looked pointedly at Clay who was starting to stir. I ignored her remark, refusing to acknowledge, even to her, that there was any sort of problem.

Clayton sat up slowly, stretching his arms over his head, causing his s.h.i.+rt to ride up over his flat stomach. My insides did that funny little twist that often happened when I allowed myself to focus on how beautiful he was. Why did I have to be all "let's be friends?" Because watching Clayton rub his eyes and run his fingers through his delicious curls made me really question my own sanity.

Clay wiped at his mouth. "I didn't drool did I?" He smiled sleepily. I rubbed his bottom lip with my thumb, reveling in the feel of his mouth. G.o.d I wanted to kiss him. Clay gave me a slow, s.e.xy smile as if he was reading my mind and I dropped my hand. "Nope, drool free." I told him, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

"Here guys. Don't forget to buy your tickets all this week after school." Lila, Rachel's friend appeared at our table, dropping a brightly colored flier in the middle of our lunch trays. "What's this?" Clay asked, picking up the pink paper. "It's the Fall Formal. We have it the last weekend of October. You should come; it's a lot of fun." Lila batted her eyelashes at Clay, who was oblivious to her flirting. He was studying the information on the flier intently.

Lila, clearly disappointed by his lack of interest, gave us a halfhearted wave and headed to the next table. I leaned over Clay to have a closer look at the paper. I allowed myself to brush his arm with mine; feeling little p.r.i.c.kles of awareness as our skin touched.

"You guys going?" Clay asked. Daniel and Rachel looked at each other and then back to us. "Well we usually go to the Fall Formal as a group. We save the whole date thing for Prom. It's much more fun to go with friends. We go out to eat somewhere really cheesy like Pizza Hut, purposefully wear horrible formal wear and buy the ugliest corsages we can find. It's a lot of fun." Rachel told him, looking excited.

Clay looked at me. I realized how close our faces were and I backed away a bit. "You go to this? I can't see you doing the whole dressing up thing." Clay said. I frowned, not liking that he seemed to have difficulty seeing me doing something girlie. I was by no means a tom boy or anything. Maybe I wasn't as into the whole appearance thing as Rachel and other girls at the school, but that didn't mean I was lacking the required chromosome to enjoy it.

Clay realized he must have said something wrong and started verbally backpedaling. "No, I just meant that it seems a little lame. I just can't see you doing something like that. You know, because you're too cool for a school dance." He squeezed my knee under the table in unspoken apology. I covered his hand with mine and squeezed back. "Nice save." I whispered and he grinned.

"But I do go to the Fall Formal. Me, Danny, Rachel, Ray and Clare when they decide to come to these things, and sometimes a few other people. We all go together, it's a good time. And there's usually a party somewhere after." I realized my mistake as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Clay's mouth tightened at the word "party" and we both remembered his disastrous turn at the party over the weekend.

"Or maybe not." I said quietly, letting him know that partying wouldn't be on the agenda. Clay smiled weakly. "Well, can I come with you guys?" He asked shyly. Rachel giggled. "Of course. You don't have to ask to come along." Daniel nodded in agreement. "Yeah man. The more guys the better. These girls can get pretty crazy." He grinned at Rachel who flushed.

Clay smiled at me, putting the flier into his pocket. "Sounds cool." My stomach siezed up at the thought of going to a dance with him. But I affected my best nonchalant smile. "Yeah, cool." I replied.

"So do you want to see the dress I picked out for formal?" I asked Clay two weeks later as we sat in my kitchen after school. Clay lazily flicked through my dad's Librarian Today magazine. Riveting reading, I'm sure.

He looked up at me, and c.o.c.ked that adorable eyebrow of his. "Isn't that bad luck or something? To see the dress before the night?" He asked. I laughed. "That's weddings, dork. The groom isn't supposed to see the bride in her wedding dress before the wedding. I don't think there are any superst.i.tions tied to formal wear." He chuckled and closed the magazine, putting it back in the pile at the end of the counter.

I loved having him in my house. I had eventually succ.u.mbed to parental pressure a week and a half ago, and invited Clay over for dinner. So my parents could interrogate, I mean meet him. It had started out fine enough. Clay had shown up promptly at 6:30 for dinner. I had opened the door and struggled to stop my jaw from hitting the floor.

He had dressed in perfectly pressed khaki pants and a blue stripped b.u.t.ton down s.h.i.+rt. His black curls were slicked back, showing off his incredibly handsome face. He held a bundle of beautiful flowers that looked like they had cost as much as a small village.

"Hey, Maggie." He said quietly after I had let him in the front door. He seemed really nervous, not that I blamed him. This whole thing reeked of awkwardness. "Those are beautiful." I commented, indicating the ridiculously large bouquet.

"They're for your mom. You know, to b.u.t.ter her up. Figured I needed all the help I could get. Lord knows I can't impress her with my amazing charm." Clay quipped in that self-deprecating way of his. I had lightly punched his arm. "They'll love you as much as I do." I told him and almost swallowed my tongue.

Had I seriously just admitted to loving him? Dear G.o.d, I wanted to run out of the house and far away from the humiliation of the moment. But luckily, Clay was too nervous to catch on to my earth ending slip up. He had only given me a shaky smile and followed me into the kitchen where my mom was finis.h.i.+ng up the chili she had made.

My dad was getting plates and gla.s.ses out of the cabinets, but he looked up when we entered the room. "Mom, Dad, this is Clayton Reed. Clay this is my mom and dad." I gently tugged Clay into the room by his s.h.i.+rt sleeve.

He wasn't exactly digging his heals in, but it took some strength to get him moving. My mom turned around and bestowed on him her dazzling smile. She wiped her hands on a towel and came over to greet him. "Nice to meet you, Clayton. We've heard a lot about you." Clay shook her hand and shot me a look.

"I don't talk about you that much, geesh." I muttered, embarra.s.sed. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Young. Thanks for having me over for dinner." He handed her the bunch of flowers. "These are for you." My mom's eyes brightened. She was such a sucker for them. Clay had unknowingly made the perfect move. "These are lovely, Clayton. Thank you so much. Let me put these in some water."

My mom went in search of a vase, which left us with my normally mild mannered father who currently looked anything but mild. He was looking at Clay as though he were under a microscope. "How are you, Clay?" My father asked, shaking his hand. Clay winced as he pulled his hand from my father's grasp. Had my father seriously just squeezed Clay's knuckles together? Was he channeling Arnold Swartzenegger?

s.h.i.+t, this was going to be worse than I thought. "Fine, sir." Clay replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. "So, Maggie tells us that you just moved her to live with your aunt. Where are your parents?" I wanted to smack my father. He couldn't build up to the big questions like a normal person. No, he had to go right for the jugular.

Clay s.h.i.+fted a bit uncomfortably on his feet. He hated talking about his parents, so he never did. But he looked my father in the eye and answered him honestly. "My parents and I don't get along, sir. So, they had me come and live with my mother's sister Ruby. I like it a lot better here in Virginia."

My father blinked in surprise at Clay's candor and some of the rigidness seemed to melt away. I wanted to smirk at my dad's own awkwardness. I could tell he didn't exactly know what to say to that. Well, take that Dad.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you like Virginia. It's a lovely place to live. Uh. I think your mom is done with the chili. Why don't we have a seat at the table." My dad indicated for us to sit down. Clay looked at me and grimaced in apology. I squeezed his hand, letting him know it was all right.

Mom came back with the vase of flowers and placed them on the table. She fussed over them and positioned them so they were perfect. Clay and I sat down beside each other, mom and dad across from us. Mom served us our bowls of chili and homemade corn bread.

"This is delicious, Mrs. Young." Clay said between mouthfuls. My mom glowed at the compliment. For someone who claimed to not be charming, he was doing a number on my mother. My dad had let up on his cool att.i.tude, but continued to watch Clay closely.

"Thank you, Clayton. Well, the reason we wanted to have you over was so we could meet you. We don't like Maggie May riding around with boys we don't know." My mom said, pa.s.sing Clay the basket of bread.

My dad leaned forward on his elbows and stared at Clay. "We don't know anything about you and parents can't be too careful about their children these days. There are too many crazies out there." I closed my eyes and bit down on my sigh. This was mortifying.

Clay swallowed his food and looked at my parents. "I totally understand. You can't be too careful about the crazies." His words were sarcastic and I shot him a look that clearly asked what the h.e.l.l he was doing.

My mom cleared her throat. "Well, tell me, Clayton. You're from Florida, right?" She asked, trying to move the conversation into another direction. Clay stiffened beside me and his entire demeanor changed. Little did my mom know this was the last topic Clay wanted to talk about.

"Yeah, he's from Florida. But he loves Virginia. We had a blast at the outdoor market in Charlottesville last weekend. Remember that crazy vendor with the bird feeders made from gourds? They were too funny." I rambled desperately.

My mom looked at me questioningly, but my dad hadn't taken his eyes from Clay. I nudged Clay with my elbow, trying to get him to talk, but he remained stoically silent. "I love that outdoor market! Your Dad and I need to get back down there soon." My mom started telling me about this lady who made homemade jams and I tried to pay attention.

But I was too worried about Clay. He hadn't said anything else. The rest of dinner pa.s.sed with my mother and I making ridiculous small talk while Clay stared at his bowl and my father stared at Clay. When Clay got up to help my mother clear away the dishes, I gave my dad the glare of death.

"What is your problem, Dad? You're making him uncomfortable!" I hissed. My father looked at me levelly. "I'm just getting to know him." Was all he said. I c.o.c.ked my eyebrow. "Getting to know him? You're staring holes into his head is what you are doing. Just stop it okay? Clay is my friend and I want him to feel comfortable being here."

My dad frowned. "I'm just watching out for you, Maggie May. You're my only child. How much do you really know about this boy?" He asked me quietly. I looked at Clay as he helped my mom get dessert together. He still seemed closed off and distant, but at least he was talking to my mom.

"I know a lot about Clay. Probably more than most people. And I like him, so just let it go." I urged, giving my dad the pleading eyes he could never say no to. My dad softened a bit but didn't let the subject drop.

"There's something about him. I'm not sold, Maggie. Just keep your head about you with that one." He advised as Clay and mom returned to the table with a chocolate cake and plates.

Clay had left right after dinner, despite me asking him to stay and watch a movie. I think he wanted to get away from my dad's eagle-eyed stare. I walked him to his car and stood in the driveway with my arms wrapped around me. It was chilly and I could see my breath.

"Sorry if that was weird." I said as Clay got into his car. Clay shrugged. "It was fine, Maggie. I'll talk to you later." And with that he left. And I hadn't heard from him for the rest of the weekend. I had tried calling him all day on Sunday, but his phone kept going straight to voice mail.

But then Monday morning, Clay was at my locker like nothing had happened. We never mentioned the dinner again. My mom had let me know that Clay was welcome at the house. My dad had stayed resolutely silent.

But I made sure Clay only came around when I knew my dad was at work. Clay never questioned why I was specific about the times he could come over. I don't think he wanted a repeat encounter with my dad.

But he had started waiting for me to get out of cross country practice so he could take me home when he wasn't working at Ruby's shop. Today, he had brought over his Calculus homework and was trying to get it done while I worked on dinner. My mom was going to be home late and dad was still at the library.

Clay tried to stifle a huge yawn. He was looking haggard today. I reached over and ruffled his hair and he smiled at me. "You look tired." I commented. Clay rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands and sat up straight, trying to wake himself up. "It's one of the side effects of my medication. Extreme lethargy. Sure I'm out like a brick at night. But I could probably sleep all day as well." He looked at me as if to say, see, this is why I hate being on medication.

Wanting to change the subject, I put the vegetables I was chopping up in the pot on the stove and set it to simmer. "Come up to my room. I want to show you this dress. It's hysterical!" Clay got to his feet. He curled his arm around my waist and pulled me into his side. My breath hitched in my throat. I always got this way when he decided to be touchy feely. Which was a lot more frequently now, I noted with giddiness.

"Your bedroom, huh? You sure you want me up there?" His voice was husky and I had to stop myself from s.h.i.+vering. d.a.m.n straight I wanted him in my room. I wanted him in my room, naked, and in my bed, preferably.

I flushed at my rated R thoughts. I gave him a playful shove. "Just come on." I tried to affect a playful tone and led him to the stairs. Clay had never been upstairs in my house. Maybe because having him in my bedroom felt too intimate. There was this unspoken line between Clay and I that we were both hesitant to cross.

Sure we were close; he had become one of my best friends. But it didn't stop me from l.u.s.ting after him and wanting something so much more. And some instinct told me that he felt the same. Even when he could have any girl in the school, he chose to spend his time with me.

But we were still holding back. Clay was still trying to get a handle on his issues, trying to do what he needed to do to be healthy. There were days that he still fell into depressions, times he shut me out completely, even with the medicine. I had talked to him about going to see a therapist. I knew he needed more than the medicine to get a handle on things.

To say Clay was unwilling was a bit of an understatement. He had told me emphatically that he had had his fill of "head doctors" when he was hospitalized. I tried to not get frustrated with how stubborn he was about his mental health. But he was insistent, stating he knew what he needed and the meds were enough.

Though I didn't believe him, and I suspected there were still days he didn't take them. I hated not trusting him about something so important but I knew he still hid so much.

"This is your room?" He asked in surprise. "Yeah." I said defensively. Now I remembered the other reason I had never let him up here. The excessive amount of pink left over from my childhood was more than a little humiliating.

Clay went over to my window seat and picked up Mr. p.r.i.c.kles, my stuffed porcupine. "Cute." He said wryly. I grabbed Mr. p.r.i.c.kles from his hands and hugged him to my chest. "Don't make fun of Mr. p.r.i.c.kles. He is priceless." I put the porcupine on my dresser and turned to my closet. "I wouldn't dream of making fun of Mr. p.r.i.c.kles." He joked, moving to my bed.

I hadn't bothered to make it today and I was just thankful I had cleaned up my bras and panties off the floor before leaving for school that morning. "Have a seat." I told him, a lump forming in my throat at the sight of him on my bed. Yeah, that had been a central image in a number of my fantasies lately. Though with a lot less clothing.

G.o.d, I was turning into a s.m.u.t queen. Focus, Maggie! Focus!

Clay leaned back on my pillows, his eyes already looking heavy. "Show me this dress of yours." He said drowsily. "Well, I don't want to keep you awake." I said sarcastically. Clay took his fingers and held his eyes open. "I'm awake, I swear!" I laughed. "No need to be all Clockwork Orange about it." I reached into my closet and pulled out the dress sheathed in a plastic covering.

"You ready for it?" Clay gave me a thumbs up. "I was born ready." With a dramatic flourish and I pulled off the cover to reveal a bright teal, knee length dress with a huge bow in the back and one shoulder bared. The other shoulder was capped with a large white puff. Clay covered his mouth, trying not to laugh. "Seriously? You're going to wear that?" He looked at me as if I were kidding.

I snickered. "We told you that the girls wear the most horrendous dress they can find. We like to make the whole experience extremely tongue in cheek." Clay gave in and laughed. "Well, I can't imagine anyone looking more...tongue in cheek...than you."

I took his comment as a compliment and quickly covered the dress up again. "You should see Rachel's. It's hot pink with this s.l.u.tty slit up one thigh, covered in these horrible sequins. She bought these nasty velor high heels to go with them." Rachel and I were going to make quite a pair at the dance. The fact that we didn't take the whole thing seriously made it even more fun.

I went to sit at his feet on the bed. I shook his leg playfully. "That just means your suit had better be epic. Epically awful, that is." Clay grinned. "I'm planning to go over the weekend. Now that I've seen your masterpiece, I know what to go for." He let loose another mouth splitting yawn.

He patted the bed beside him. "Come lay with me, Mags. Just for a little bit." I looked over at my alarm clock. "My dad is going to be home soon and he will flip if I have a boy in my room." I said uneasily. I think that was a bit of an understatement, given his less than jovial feelings about Clay. But more than that I was nervous about lying down with him, being that close. I felt like such a silly girl around him sometimes.

He patted the bed again. "Just for a minute. Please. Trust me, I don't want your dad catching me up here any more than you do. I just want to hold you for a bit." He said softly, His voice scratchy with tiredness. There he was again, tip toeing that line we had drawn in the dirt. His brown eyes were heavy and he looked at me in that way that made my knees go weak. I never had any resistance where Clay was concerned. He was everything I craved and knew I shouldn't have. But none of that mattered. Just the fact that he wanted me near him as much I did.

So I crawled up beside him and he slipped his arm underneath me, pulling me onto my side. I spooned up beside him, my head on his chest, my hand resting lightly on his stomach. My legs were suddenly tangled with his and I found myself extremely comfortable.

Clay pulled my arm off of his stomach and tightened it around his waist so I was practically plastered to his side. He smoothed my hair off my forehead and rested his cheek on the top of my head. I wondered if he could feel the frantic beat of my heart as I lay nestled up against him.

He let out a gigantic sigh and relaxed into me. "This is nice." He murmured, his other hand running slowly up and down my back. Whoa. Lying here like this with him, it made me forget all of my reasons for not jumping in with both feet. I mean, I loved him. Completely. I thought he at least cared about me. So why wait?

Clay's hand slowed until he rested it on my lower back, right underneath my s.h.i.+rt against my bare skin. The warmth of his fingers seemed to shoot tingles crossed into my flesh. I could hear his breathing deepen. I chanced a peak up at him and saw that he was almost asleep. I tried to move out from his embrace but his arms tightened around me. "No, please stay. I like you close." He whispered sleepily. So I lay back down on his chest and quickly fell asleep.

Chapter Ten.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on in here?" I sat up suddenly, feeling groggy from being pulled out of a deep sleep. I looked over and Clay had opened his eyes, looking confused. I turned to my doorway and felt the color drain from my face. Dad.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. "It's not what it looks like, Dad." I tried to explain. My father looked furious. I don't think I had ever seen him this angry, at least not directed at me. He held his hand up, shutting me up. "I don't want to hear it, Maggie. You know the rules." My dad turned his steely eyes onto Clay who was still trying to wake up.

Thankfully he realized that we were in a bit of trouble, so he got off of the bed as quickly as he could. He walked over to my dad and put out his hand. "Hi, Mr. Young." My father looked at Clay's hand as if it were a snake and would bite him. He didn't shake it. I couldn't believe my dad was being so rude.

"Clay, we have rules in this house. A big one being that no boys are allowed in her bedroom when we aren't at home. And definitely not with the door closed." My dad pushed the door open as wide as it would go.

Clay dropped his hand to his side, and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry sir. Maggie was just showing me her dress for the formal and we fell asleep. That's it." I was proud of how Clay stood his ground with my father. Many a guy would have simply high- tailed it out of there. But Clay was being respectful and showing my dad he wasn't some h.o.r.n.y teenage boy there to deflower his daughter.

Though, that would be nice too.

I intercepted my dad's cold stare. "Dad. Seriously, it's not like we're having crazy s.e.x up here or anything. Chill out." Okay, bad choice of words. Clay turned bright red and looked as though he wanted to fall through the floor. My dad's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he stuttered for a few seconds before finally saying. "Well whatever it was, you know your mom and I don't allow this. You kids are to stay down stairs when we're not here. Is that clear?" Clay and I both nodded. "Now, Clay, I think it's time for you to go."

My dad turned and went back downstairs and I was finally able to breathe again. Clay grabbed his book bag off my vanity stool. "Did you have to bring the word s.e.x into it? I mean seriously? I know your dad hates me as it is." Clay looked as if he wanted to throttle me. I did feel bad for embarra.s.sing him like that. "Sorry." I muttered, following him down the hallway.

Once downstairs, Clay respectfully told my father goodbye and I threw a look of death in my father's direction once Clay's back was turned. My dad looked blandly back at me. I accompanied Clay to his car.

After throwing his bag into his car he turned around to face me. "Well, that was a rude awakening, huh?" I was relieved to see his small smile. "Yeah. About gave me a heart attack." I joked. Clay chuckled and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer. "And I was sleeping so well too." He said, his voice deepening.

I swallowed thickly. Then I glanced up at the kitchen window and saw my father standing there like a d.a.m.n voyeur or something and pulled away.

"Sorry about my dad. He's just being a little...um...over protective." Clay opened his car door. "I understand where he's coming from. If you were my daughter I'd want to most definitely protect you from guys like me." He seemed a little sad as he said that. I touched his shoulder. "I don't need protecting from you, Clay." I said gently.

Clay wouldn't look at me, instead he got in his car and started the engine. Not responding to my statement, he simply said, "I'll see you at school tomorrow." And with that he drove off. I was left feeling hollow and empty after feeling so good only an hour before. I could kill my father!

I stomped into the house, slamming the front door. My dad was still in the kitchen, though he had the decency to act like he had been reading a book the whole time and not spying on me. "What the heck was that about?" I asked him angrily. My dad looked up at me in surprise. He wasn't used to me getting this sort of an att.i.tude with him. "Now just wait a minute. I came home from work to find you in your room, the door closed, sleeping in your bed with a boy - who I don't know that well, I might add. What about this situation doesn't warrant the reaction I had?" My father asked reasonably. I hated when he did that. Stayed all calm and logical. It made me feel stupid by comparison.

"We're just friends, Dad. Clay fell asleep and I fell asleep beside him. That's it. But you totally humiliated me." I hated the feel of tears p.r.i.c.king behind my eyes and quickly wiped them away. My dad's face softened a bit. "I didn't mean to humiliate you, Maggie girl." I knew he was feeling guilty because he was using my pet name. "But Clay is a boy and you are my little girl. And from the sound of your voice, I get the feeling there's a bit more than friends.h.i.+p going on there." I started to protest, then stopped. What was the point in lying about it?