He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 20 - I'm Only Me When I'm With You

- Emmett -

I was reading on my bed when my bedroom door burst open. Clay bounded in, kicking the door closed behind him. It had been two weeks since the day at the arcade. Keeping my feelings at bay had become an increasingly challenging task. Not only was Clay thoughtful, he was goofy and fun. And have I mentioned extremely hot?

Another thing I'd discovered about Clay: he was very touchy-feely. He was always resting his head on my shoulder or throwing his legs over mine. He'd even gotten into the sublime habit of stroking my hair whenever we watched movies alone together—always in my bed. The first time it happened, I was so shocked I jerked my head away, which I instantly regretted. Especially seeing how freaked out Clay became, apologizing profusely. "I wasn't... I wasn't even thinking. It just kind of happened. I fidget a lot and... and it-it was just there. And I'm so sorry."

I grabbed his hands. "I'm sorry. I just wasn't expecting it." I studied his face. "But it was nice. You could totally do it again. You know, like, if you wanted."

Clay scrunched his face, still apprehensive. "That wouldn't be weird?"

"I mean, only if we let it be weird." Just to make him feel better about it, I added, "And it's not like I'm into you or anything. It's just a friend thing. Carrie does it all the time."

"Um, okay." Clay put his arm around me, and I nestled my head into the crook of his neck as he raked his fingers across my scalp. It was the most amazing sensation. Made all the better because it was Clay.

By the end of every movie, we were cuddling, with one of us having our arms wrapped around the other. And, of course, Clay's fingers running through my hair.

Clay toed off his Nikes and laid down next to me with his head at the opposite end of the bed, propping himself on the mound of crumpled blankets I kicked off this morning.

"Hey," I said, turning my attention back to the dreadfully boring novel I was reading for class.

Clay nudged my elbow with his socked foot. I glanced down to see that he was wearing the novelty Superman socks with the cape on the back that I joked about when we went shopping last weekend. I called them godawful monstrosities and questioned the sanity of anyone who would purchase them. Clay took that as a challenge and bought them on the spot with a spiteful grin that frankly got me a little too excited.

Clay continued to prod me, clearly seeking attention.

I stuck my finger between the pages to keep my place and held the book up to show him. "I have to finish reading this. I'm supposed to write an essay on its symbolism."

"How the hell do you already have an essay? Your school only started back like a week ago."

"I take AP classes. And this is due in two days. So, please let me concentrate."

"That's forty-eight whole hours." Clay dropped his head back against the blankets with a loud sigh. "You can knock that out in no time. Hell, I'll even help."

"I'm only halfway through, and it's really not grabbing me, so my mind keeps drifting off, and I end up having to reread entire pages."

"I'm so bored," Clay whined, rubbing on my leg. He seemed fascinated by my leg hair, sifting his fingers through it very distractingly. I wondered if he knew what that did to me. The way it sent shivers up my spine and blood rushing south. I shifted my hips slightly, hoping my shorts wouldn't give away my secret.

I cleared my throat. "You're not a toddler. Entertain yourself."

"Come on, Em."

"You have other friends. What are they doing?"