HER | ✓

⍣Fifteen⍣

After hours of driving around and making a couple stops, his heart took him home. He was famished by the time he walked through the door. He knew he should've felt some sort of trepidation when he entered but instead he felt lighter. Spending the day away gave him the headspace he needed.

His first instinct was to dive for the kitchen. When he entered he found his mom standing at the sink peeling a load of potatoes.

"Hi, ma." He looked to the ground, ashamed he worried her all day.

"Hello, Clay." Her voice was bitter. Martha's hand began flying and hacking at the potatoes, it's skin flinging everywhere.

"I'm sorry for making you worry, ma."

"I just don't." Hack. "Understand." Hack. "Why you can't talk to me." She slammed the potato and peeler down in the sink. "You've always talked to me about what was going on and now.. Now, you won't." Martha turned around with tears in her eyes. His gut clenched. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. 

"I just don't understand what went wrong." Her voice was coming out choked. "Tell me what I did wrong Clay. I'll try to fix it." She looked at him in desperation. "Was it because I keep apologizing for your father?"

He stepped forward. "God no, ma. It's got nothing to do with that."

"Then tell me what's wrong so I can help!" She pleaded.

Farah walked into the room just then, head hung slightly. He glanced at her. "It's much more difficult than that."

Martha nodded, wiping the tears away. "Farah dear, can you take over dinner for me? I need a moment."

Farah's mouth parted. Her eyes bounced between his anguished face and Martha's tear streaked one. She slowly nodded her head, whispering, "Yeah."

Martha didn't say anything else, she slipped from the room quicker than a mouse. Farah studied him for a long moment and sighed before she picked up where Martha left off.

"No," Clayton said. "I'll do this. It's the least I could do." He reached over her and took the peeler from her hand.

He was close enough now it could be deemed as a romantic position. Her pressed against the sink, him standing behind her, reaching to take something from her grasp. He could easily bend his head down to kiss her shoulder and work his way up her neck, nibble on her ear and then turn her around for a passionate kiss.

Clayton backed away and shook off the tingles in his chest.

"Umm... Okay," she mumbled, not looking at him.

"You could dice the one's already peeled if you want." He offered, hoping it was the right thing to do.

"Yeah." She bit her lip, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

He picked up a potato and began peeling it as she looked around for the things she needed. He noticed her eyes bouncing around and offered assistance.

"Ma always keeps her knives in the drawer to your left." He pointed. "And her cutting boards are kept here." He leaned a bit into her to open the cabinet. His side brushed her shoulder. He picked the first cutting board he saw, fell back onto the balls of his feet, and laid it on the counter at the exact same moment Farah was leaning up from picking her choice of cutlery. Their faces were only inches apart. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes slowly, as if anticipating his lips to land on hers. He wanted to take her silent invitation. His heart ached for it and thumped harder in chest as he contemplated it. He almost did but he remembered where they were and pulled away.

She felt thwarted. Her heart confused, but she regained composure and started dicing. He grabbed a potato, peeled it and dropped it in the water. They continued this repetitive motion until his fingers began pruning.

"I'm sorry for being so drunk last night," he said.

Farah's hand stopped mid motion. 

"I'm.. I'm sorry for what happened in your-"

"No, stop," he interjected.

"-room."

She looked at him.

"I shouldn't have done it, made the move. You don't need to apologize."

"Yeah I do, I was sober, I shouldn't have let it happen."

"Shouldn't have let what happened?" She jumped and turned around. George stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I-I... I shouldn't have let your mom walk away upset." She finally sputtered, tucking away the relentless stray hair again.

Clayton didn't turn around and finished up what he was doing. George squinted his eyes and sat at the breakfast bar.

"Is that right Clayton?" George inquired.

"Yep." Clayton sighed. George pursed his lips, slowly nodding his head.

"You two." George pointed at them. "Have been acting really strange these few days. Wanna explain what's going on because you two act like the other has the plague when people are around but seem to talk just fine when you're alone."

"That's not true." Clayton jumped to defense. "I've barely uttered a word to anyone since I got here, let alone to her in private. She saw how much I upset ma. Be lucky she rode my back hind about it. Not many woman would be willing to defend their soon to be in-law." His heart climbed into his throat. He begged the heavens above to let George swallow the lie he just fed and a wave of relief washed over him when George nodded.

"So what are you cooking?" George asked.

Clayton sighed, feeling like he just found the golden ticket in Willy Wonka.

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AN: So did George really bite into the lie? Share your thoughts :)

•Thanks for reading!•