Shifting Gears

23. All the Confrontation

My hand paused. I'd raised it to knock on Clay's bedroom door, but now, I thought, maybe it wasn't a good idea. Maybe it was too early, he probably wasn't even awake at... eleven in the morning. I grit my teeth, looking for another excuse.

I could just leave it for tomorrow.

So I dropped my hand, and was about to turn and walk back downstairs when his door swung open.

I gulped, looking up at him. He stared at me with one eyebrow raised.

"Um, how did you know—"

"You walk like an elephant, the entire hallway creaked as you walked here then froze suspiciously right outside my door."

My nerves were gone, and I scowled at him. "How sweet, thank you."

"What did you want?"

"Geez, you woke up on a delightful side of the bed—"

"I have to leave soon for practice, so what did you want to say?"

I sighed. This was going great already.

"Um, can we..." I motioned inside his room, and he frowned, then stepped aside and let me in.

It looked, ironically, a lot like Greyson's. My brother and Greyson were very similar people. Probably another reason why they hated each other so much.

Slate grey walls were littered with posters of racers, sponsors, Fox and Monster apparel, and dozens of things about Ryan O'Linski, the pro racer that every boy wanted to be.

His bed was a mess, and there were clothes littering the floor. I sidestepped a pair dirty socks, then stood up straight, shoving my hands into my pockets.

He closed the door, then looked at me, crossing his arms. He had a dark grey shirt on, and his racing pants. The bruise under his eye was almost unnoticeable, but there was another one growing from the hit he took from Spencer on his jaw. Shaggy blond hair fell around his face—he hadn't gotten it cut in a while.

"Listen, I, uh..." The nerves returned, and I anxiously cleared my throat. Clay dramatically checked his watch, and that kicked the nerves out again, replacing it with annoyance, and the words spilled out. "I went to see Greyson again and made him tell me what happened, so I know now. He told me everything, and he blames himself and he feels bad for it. So I know now. And I'm not angry at him, and I don't blame him and I—I don't want you to either, Clay."

My mouth closed with a pop as I waited for the onslaught of accusations.

But Clay's expression didn't change, he just listened. I don't even think he blinked. Then he sighed, looking out the window at the grey clouds.

"Are you angry at me?" I questioned.

He pursed his lips. "I thought you were going to say you were dating the jerk, so I guess this is better than what I was expecting you to say."

I swallowed. So it looks like I wasn't going to mention anything else that happened yesterday.

"So... you're not mad?"

Clay was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Even if you say you don't blame him, you can't decide that for me. You don't know what I went through at that time. You don't know how I saw it."

"Clay—"

"No," he cut me off, shaking his head. "You've been my best friend for so long, and I almost lost you, Cory. You are the most important person to me, even if this summer we've been at each other's neck for the most of it."

"Most important person, but you were going to change your plans for this fall and thought I didn't need to know?" My words were tinged with accusation, but also hurt.