he's got a lot to learn about the world beyond his screens. she's willing to show him the golden beaches and every secret corner of the city she loves. they just have to work out how they're going to survive when his existence is a secret from publi...
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CLAY MOVES AROUND HER apartment, fingers trailing over the various knickknacks she's collected. A pineapple lamp with chipping gold paint, a handful of pinky-length Christmas trees stretched along the length of her counter, and about one hundred pots overflowing with vines and leafy plants. The plants hang from the ceiling and sit perched on tables, casting elaborate shadows across the room. Clay lets the shadows race across his bare forearms, admiring the patterns they create. George clears his throat, the sound traveling through the silent living room from his phone.
"So?"
"Hmm?" Clay asks, his thoughts still caught up in the memory of last night.
"You called me to tell me something? Where are you, by the way? I don't recognize that ceiling."
"Jeez, you memorize my ceilings?" He teases his friend. George rolls his eyes.
"No, I'm just used to you never leaving your house."
"True. Maybe think about the one person who I would actually my house for."
"Besides Sapnap and I, of course?"
"Sure. But it's not like either of you live three hours away." George knows what he's hinting at. Clay can tell by the smirk as he pulls his comforter over his head.
"Uh...Karl? He's pretty close."
"No, not Karl," he laughs. "Though I would like to meet him eventually."
"I can't imagine who—"
"It's Irena, you dumbass."
"Oh righttt," George pretends to have an epiphany. "So. You're in Miami then."
"Yes. And I don't want to leave. It's so nice here. I love my house and all but the beach and the city here...I love it."
"Oh, so not because there's a certain girl there? How's that going, by the way?"
"Amazing." Clay can't keep the grin from his face. He feels giddy with joy at all the memories and the reality that Irena will be at his fingertips tonight. "She's at school right now, then she has work. After that we're going on a date."
"How romantic," George replies dryly. Despite the tone of his voice, he's smiling. "It's good to see you happy. Seriously. I know the whole cheating thing had you stressed for a bit."
"I still am. Don't tell anyone I'm running away from my problems though," he winces. "I still haven't explained that to her. Should I? What if she thinks I really did cheat?"
"You know you didn't and she'll trust you. She's too smart to ignore the truth."
"I hope so. I guess I'll tell her soon."
Clay moves to the couch, shifting the lone pillow away from the cushion. The light from the balcony is pouring through the glass, warming the couch to a comfortable level. Patches would love it here with how much sun floods her small apartment.
