He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 45 - Dancing With Our Hands Tied

- Emmett -

The day after we received our verdicts, Clay and I cuddled on the couch in my living room, watching the gloriousness of Jamie Lee Curtis and Toni Collette in Knives Out. Normally on a Sunday, Clay would have Bro Time with his friends, but he wasn't allowed to see them. Which worked out well for me.

An hour into the movie, Clay told me he thought he might have a crush on Chris Evans. "Something about the way he wears that sweater is really doing things to me."

"The line to get sweet, sweet love from the best Chris forms behind me," I replied.

"He's The One Chris to Rule Them All," Clay said, in a not-too-terrible impression of Cate Blanchett.

"I know you're quoting from the movie, but for future use, literary references are totally like dirty talk for me."

"Good to know." Clay grinned, nuzzling my neck. Suddenly, he gasped and turned back to the TV. "He's back."

I giggled at his excitement, laying my cast on my leg next to the spot where his hand gripped my thigh. My fingers caressed his, stroking the back of his hand up to his wrist where the thin layer of his arm hair started.

He leaned in very close, practically pressing his lips to my ears, because my mother was sitting in the dining area ten feet away, and whispered, "You know, since we're boyfriends, we could always just have a threesome and share him."

I burst out laughing. Mostly out of shock. I wasn't used to him talking like this. Four days ago, he was my friend with whom I specifically never talked about sex. Now he was my boyfriend and suggesting a threesome with me and Chris Evans. What a time to be alive!

My mom appeared at the end of the couch, hands on her hips, staring at the screen. Apparently, having fun was no longer allowed. She looked over at us and Clay pulled away, putting a few inches between us. "I have to go upstairs to get my laptop."

"Okay." I rolled my head to the side to glare at her petulantly. "Thanks for the update."

She gave her patented "You're pushing your luck" glare. That was always her first warning. And she only ever gave one. She went up the stairs, leaving us alone for the first time since the hospital.

Once she left, I rolled halfway on top of Clay, putting my leg between his to keep myself propped up enough to avoid putting pressure on his injured side. I pressed my lips to his. The action stunned him rigid at first, before he quickly relaxed into it, even reaching down to grab my ass as I grinded against him. I went from a limp noodle to the Washington Monument in seconds. He got there just as fast.

When I heard footsteps thudding down the stairs, I rolled away, back to my former spot, gasping for breath, my heart racing. Clay was also panting, giving me a look of desperation. I leaned in quick to plant a peck on his lips. Then I grabbed a throw pillow and shoved it into his lap, pulling the knit blanket across me. We didn't need my mother seeing that. He rested his arms on top of the pillow and stared at the TV.

It suddenly occurred to me that more than half the time we spent watching movies in my bed, Clay had a pillow in his lap. How did I not put that together before now?

After Mom went back to her seat at the table, opening her laptop and putting in earbuds, I leaned close to him, still keeping my voice low in case she was using transparency mode or Live Listen. "Were you horny all those times in my bed?"

Clay's eyes went wide. He threw a glance over the back of the couch to the dining area. "Did you really not know? 'Cause I was always terrified you might."