Super Crush (BxB)

Doubts Vanish

I look down to see my hand wrapped in Clay's. Holding hands was a bit of an accident, but I am mesmerized anyway. I have never held hands with another guy. And here we are, walking down the busy street together. Clay seems to give zero cares about people seeing him hold my hand.

I say it was an accident because Clay pointed out a bagel place he loves and when his hand returned to his side, it brushed mine. Instinctively took it into my grasp. Part of it was because I have feelings for him, no doubt. But it must have also been because I was craving stability. I needed to know something or someone was there for me to find strength in. And it was–Clay's hand. When I took it, he stopped mid-sentence, looked me in the eye, and gave me a full smile. 

I can't feel the chill in the evening air and I don't care, for once, that I have no idea where we were going. My cares are replaced by the warmth in my palm and the fire in my chest. I peek down alleyways looking for a place to pull Clay, so we can pause for a kiss break, but I don't want to take him away from his mission.

"Almost there," he reassures me.

As we wait to cross at an intersection, my eyes find an old poster in the window of a used book and vinyl shop. It's the Twilight triangle. I don't think much of it at first. Then my eyes shoot back to the picture as Clay and I cross the street.

Something he said to me earlier starts seeping into my brain.

Am I using him to fill Abe's spot?

I told him no. And meant it, but now I am second-guessing myself. Am I taking advantage of him like Bella did with Jacob? Or Katniss with Peta? Or Hermoine with Ron? Wait, no, that last analogy didn't work, but you get it. 

Clay squeezes my hand. "We're here."

I look up to find Clay's old school. Yes. I Googled it a while ago.

He knows me enough to know I already scoped him out. He doesn't have to explain where we are or what he is going to show me. But he does say something that calms the rest of my doubts. 

"I want to be sure that there are no secrets moving forward. I am not sure what you and I are at this moment, but I am okay with not labeling it yet. I know I enjoy being around and I think you like me too."

He winks. I try not to swoon.

"This is new for me and taking it slow may be good."

He stops and clears his throat as if to show the conversation has to change.

"But that aside, like it or not, our group of four is three now, and we need each other."

No matter what I am feeling inside, I know I need to hear this. I need to hear that I have people to turn to. I pull Clay in for a hug, and we stand swaying together for a minute or two.

"Okay," he says, parting from me. "As I am sure you stalked me, this is my old school."

I chuckle. "You call it stalking, I call it reconnaissance, but yeah."

A beautiful windowed facade presents itself in front of us. On the other side of the glass wall is a two-level foyer that houses dozens of round tables. A huge mural is painted on the back wall that says: "Art is Life."

"Come on," he says, pulling me around the corner of the building and down a narrow alley. About a dozen steps in, he stops and pushes me against the wall. His mouth is on mine, my hands are in his hair. He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. I can tell Clay is as turned on as I am.

Between pants, he says, "Okay. We have to stop. This isn't what I brought you here for. I just can't get my brain to think of anything other than having my hands all over you."

"No complaining here," I grunt back to him.

After another minute or so, Clay returns me to my feet and moves me an arm's length from me as a sign of getting back to business. I watch as he readjusts himself, and I put my hands in the pockets of my jacket to make some things seem a little less noticeable.

He walks on without taking my hand this time. I get it. It's too tempting if we are touching.

"This is where it went down," Clay says as we pause in a little courtyard outside what seems to be his old school's art room.

About 15 yards down the building, there is scaffolding and construction going on. I ignore the scars of his expulsion and peek into the window of the art room instead.

"I was expelled for setting off an explosive device. One I told my headmaster was a prank gone bad."

I listen to his story as I gaze around the room. On the other side of the room, I see a sculpture. It's a bulky humanoid with both arms in the air as if it is roaring.

"But it was actually my friend David. His powers had just manifested the previous week and he was having trouble controlling them."

It looks as if some final touches are still needed, but I can tell it is only supposed to have one eye.

"David told me he couldn't let his parents find out about him. They would disown him. His family was ultra-religious and thought holders were an abomination. He promised me he never touched Cloud 10 and he must be one in the millions that powers come on naturally. In response, I told him I was queer. I remember he smiled and said, 'A secret for a secret,' and he hugged me."

The statue is clearly a Cyclops. A mighty creature yet an outsider. Misunderstood and laughed at. The butt of the jokes in Greek mythology. It has to be a piece started by Clay. This realization and Clay's narrative fill me with the warmth of connection. He got expelled for someone in the name of friendship and loyalty.

He is midsentence when I turn and pull him into a tight hug. My arms encompass his waist. He is caught off guard at first and then wraps his big arms around me.

"Thank you," I tell him, looking up from my cocoon.

It's a catch-all. Gratitude for being there when my world was melting down earlier. Acknowledgment that he is a good friend to David. Reassurance that we are a team in this. I don't need to say anything else. His knowing nod tells me he understands.

"Alright. That concludes the self-pity portion of our day. We are done sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves. I know Matriarch is on the verge of doing something big, and we have to be ready." The way he turns the conversation inspires me.

"I have an idea. What about the old let-the-bad-guy-monologue-into-a-confession bit. We could wear body cameras and–"

My explanation is halted by a synchronous alert on our watches. It's an incoming distress call.

Clay plays the message.

"Sir Madness has me and he is pissed," it's Tiptoe. "He found out we have been using him to get to Matriarch."

"He won't do anything to his own daughter, will he?" I ask Clay.

"I don't want to find out," he replies before grabbing my arm and sprinting toward the front of the school.