Oh Boy! (BL)

20 - Like A Dream (2/3)

"Stop wiggling. You look stunning, Ken."

I stopped tugging at the hem of the black dress shirt I'd borrowed from Cooper and looked up at Clay, who wore a gentle smile on his face.

"I'm not used to wearing dress shirts," I mumbled.

Clay's chuckle was so adorable that my cheeks began heating up. "You could've worn your hoodie, you know?"

Well, guess he was right about that. We were sitting in a corner booth of a cute little diner in northern Seattle – far away from where we usually spent our time. The place looked as if it hadn't been renovated in forever. The benches we sat on were covered in bright turquoise fake leather, the tabletop was shining like a silver platter, and the black-and-white checkboard pattern of the floor was giving me eighties vibes. The waitress in her pastel yellow dress and apron served us old-school burgers and fries and kept calling us "sweeties." In short, it was perfect. But wearing my hoodie?

"No!" I protested too loud and made myself small when a couple of customers turned their heads in our direction. "I...I wanted to look...nice for you."

"That makes me so happy, Ken," he whispered. Clay himself was wearing a long-sleeved blue shirt and dark grey jeans. And as always, he looked stunning in it.

"So, Chicago, huh?" He stole a fry from my plate and picked up where we left off. "I've never been there." He snorted. "Not that I've seen much more than the West Coast, anyway."

I shrugged. "It's nothing special."

Clay swiped his fry through the left-over ketchup on his empty plate. "Have you ever thought of going back there?"

"No." I looked down. Never. "What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Where are you from?"

He snorted. "Born and raised in Seattle. Never left."

"Do you want to leave?"

"Yeah, I'd die to get away from here." Leaning his chin on one hand, Clay turned his gaze outside the window to where the endless Sound was lingering in the dark. "There's so much in this world to see. Don't get me wrong, I love this place on earth; know it like the back of my hand because of my parents. But...I want more."

I put my head to the side. "What do you mean, because of your parents?"

"Well, they're real estate agents." He grinned widely when I blinked in surprise. "When I was younger, they dragged me to every single block in this city. There were open houses, fixer-uppers, dream homes, and client interviews." He chuckled. "I'm pretty sure they used me as a marketing tool, but, hey, who am I to complain." He touched the three piercings in his left ear. "It's just the three of us, you know."

"So, there's a meaning behind the rings?"

He bit his lower lip. "Oh, there are several meanings. Like when mom almost killed me when I had them made last year. But yeah, originally, I wanted them to represent my family. And when I explained it to mom, she found it kinda cute and let it pass."

"Just like that?"

"Well..." He snorted. "She might've grounded me for two months."

"And the pin?"

His hand wandered to his lobe and the tiny black pearl. "That was a present from my middle school coach after we won our final tournament."

What a strange gift, I thought but didn't say it aloud.

"He was the first who told me that I'd make it big in soccer." Clay's smile was way back in the past. "Actually, he was the one who planted the idea in my head that becoming pro was an option."

"You will," I said without thinking. "Become a pro, I mean."

"You bet, I will!" He smirked.

After our dinner and an endless battle over who got to pay the bill – which he won after distracting me with his sinful mouth - we walked along the pier; my hand lying safely in his. Clay had chosen this part of Seattle for two reasons. First, so we wouldn't risk that Drake would follow us, and second, to make sure we could hold hands without running into somebody we knew. But was this far enough?, I wondered while we were heading towards the glimmering lights of the carnival. I'd seen the enormous Ferris wheel from a mile's distance and Clay must've noticed my longing stare.

"I promised you a date," he said; his wide grin a vast contrast to my worries. "So, let's do some corny date stuff."

And we did.

After a minute of strolling between the colorful stands, my vision was already blurry. That didn't stop Clay from winning a trashy blue plushy bunny at the tin throwing stand – and yes, he gave it to me afterward. I bought him fluffy pink cotton candy and wasn't prepared for the joy in his silver eyes when he took the first bite. "I love this stuff!"

Both of us tried to ring-the-bell and while people chuckled when the ball came as high as the middle bar when I tried my luck, their mouths were wide open when Clay managed to ring the bell effortlessly. We tried every single stand we could find, we laughed, and we cried because of laughing some more. It was awesome.

Until it wasn't.

"Prescott?"

Clay froze.

"OMG! It is you!" A group of teenagers headed towards us waving frantically with their arms. I had never seen them, neither at school nor anywhere else, but it was obvious that they knew Clay. I let go of his hand immediately and practically jumped away from him when a tall red-haired guy slapped Clay on the back. "Man, what're you doing here? We could've come together!"

The guy's broad-shouldered friend had one arm around a delicate girl in a short black dress and nodded in agreement. Their built reminded me of Kenner and the other defensive players in Clay's team and their aura practically screamed popular.

"Anyway, let's stick together," suggested the redhead before squeezing Clay into yet another bone-crushing hug.

The black-haired girl smiled at me with her purple-colored lips. "Hi."

I lifted my hand.

Only then did her companions seem to notice my existence. Redhead took me in from head to toe with his pale blue eyes, then he looked at Clay. "Is that him? Duck said that a hobbit's been sticking around you for months..."

"Apologize!" Clay snarled at him, and his eyes shot daggers at the guy. "His name's Ken and we're...friends."

I tried a smile when Clay's eyes briefly searched for mine.

Redhead blinked. "Chill, it was a joke," he snorted but muttered an apology anyway.

"Ken, meet Gia, Luke, and the asshole here is called Mason." Clay pointed at each one of the teenagers. "We were classmates in Middle School."

Oh...Again, I lifted my hand.

Mason leaned into Clay and fake-whispered. "Can he speak?"

I winced and looked frantically for an exit strategy. "I gotta...pee..."

Accompanied by Mason's barking laughter, I escaped into the crowd.