Oh Boy! (BL)

6 - The Burden of Friendship (2/3)

Throughout the first half of the next week, Clay kept being nice to me - too nice in everything he did - and I was still being a coward. The other kids in school kept staring at me whenever they spotted me next to one of the Thunderbirds, be it one of those who didn't talk to me, or Evans who did nothing but talk to me. Constantly.

It was during lunch break on Wednesday when something changed.

I picked up the tray with the grey-ish mince steak and flabby fries and turned towards the tables. My eyes found Clay on their own doing. He was sitting next to Evans and another teammate who never talked to me, smiling, chatting. He looked up and just like the past week, he lifted his hand to wave me over. This time, however, he stopped his hand midair before dropping it, looking uncertain. Maybe even hurt.

I turned to the table reserved for loners but then, I couldn't get over the look on his face. So, instead of walking over to my usual table, I approached the popular area. Everything seemed brighter over here...or maybe it just felt that way because all eyes seemed to be glued to the athletes' tables.

"Kenji-Boy!" Evans jumped up from his chair and pushed me down on it before taking the one on the other side. I knew what he was doing, placing me in between himself and Clay – the only guys who bothered talking to me.

Clay gave me a little smile before I stared down at my plate.

My stomach twisted and turned; making it impossible for me to take even one bite. Nevertheless, it was kinda...nice not being alone during lunch break for once.

When the bell rang, Evans cursed with wide eyes and dragged me out of the cafeteria before I could even return my untouched food. "F*ck! Mr. D asked me to meet him at the teachers' office ten minutes before class!"

And sure enough, Mr. Devereux frowned when Evans and I slid around the corner. He scolded Evans, or...he planned to, but Evans just kept on talking and took the drawing supplies out of our teacher's hands while leading him towards the art room, so that Mr. D didn't even get the chance to speak up.

When we sat down at our assigned seats, Evans was out of breath, and I chuckled quietly. Somehow, that made Evans grin even wider. "I am Batman."

"That's good for you, Mr. Evans," interrupted Mr. Devereux his praise. "Now, may we commence with the class?"

Of course, taming Mr. Devereux was everything Evans was talking about for the rest of the class, and before, during, and after soccer practice. I was still laughing when Clay led me to his sedan waiting for us in the parking lot closest to the school grounds.

The air inside the car was hot and stuffy, but the AC managed to cool it down in the blink of an eye. We sat in silence for quite some time while quiet music was playing on the radio. At the first red light, Clay turned towards the backseat and searched for something in his blue backpack.

"Here."

"Huh?" I stared at the sandwich wrapped in a Ziplock bag.

Clay took my writs with his warm palm and put the sandwich into my hand. "You didn't eat your lunch."

He...noticed?

Blushing, I thanked him and regarded the pale toast wrapped around layers of ham and lettuce. It was simple, but it meant a lot. Refusing to read too much into it, I tore the plastic apart and took the first bite. Closing my eyes, I moaned before realizing it.

"Good?" Clay asked with his eyes on the street. His cheeks were blushing, probably from the sun falling through the windshield that made his eyes look like liquid silver. For the first time, I noticed the light strands in his auburn hair. Stupid, I know. He was a soccer player, of course, his body was kissed by the sun.

Gulping, I nodded vehemently. "Very."

I finished my late lunch on the short drive to Book Den and was surprised when Clay parked his car behind the shop instead of dropping me off at the sidewalk.

"You're coming in?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm out of reading material."

So, he did like reading.

Instead of taking the back entrance, I accompanied Clay to the front. He smirked and held the door for me.

"Kiddo!" Matt grinned when he saw us coming in. "And a friend."

I rolled my eyes before turning to Clay who had pushed his hands in his pockets. "I...um...I gotta..."

"Yeah," he smiled. "Go ahead."

When I returned to the store after changing into my polo shirt, Clay was nowhere to be seen. "Guess he left," I muttered to myself before joining Matt behind the cashier. "What?" I asked when he grinned from one ear to the other.

He chuckled. "Nothing."

Shrugging, I watched him take a leave towards the fantasy section and began working my usual shift of tending to customers, wrapping books into colorful paper, and chatting casually about novels. Ten or twenty minutes passed before Matt returned behind the cashier, still grinning like a fool. A fool with a secret. I narrowed my eyes. "Something smells fishy."

Matt wiggled his dark brows before tuning his overly dramatic narrator's voice on. "And so, the lion fell in love with the lamb."

I needed a moment. "Did you...did you just quote Twilight?!"

He put a large hand over his heart. "Kiddo, I gotta keep up with the teens! They keep this store alive and kicking. Right, kid?"

The last part was directed at the person standing on the other side of the cashier.

Clay was staring at my boss with a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment. He...

Just now, I realized what Matt had been saying. Oh, crap. My ears were burning. He got it all wrong. "Sorry," I muttered while taking the heavy novel out of his hands. George R. R. Martin's A Game of Thrones,huh? "You...read a lot of fantasy?"

It was a question I'd ask any customer, but this time I heard Holland's latest request in my head. What did he like? What could I tell Holland that would make her pay the next installment?

"Mostly," he answered after a while. "I like...I like escaping into another world from time to time."

My hands froze. "You do?"

He shrugged. "You sound surprised."

"Well...I am." I took the money he held out to me and put it in the cashier. "You're...popular. Why would you want to escape?"

He looked down at his hands that were drawing little circles on the cashier in front of him as if to avoid my gaze. "Yeah, maybe it doesn't make much sense..."

For someone like me.

He didn't say it, but I felt this might've been what Clay wanted to express. "Sorry, none of my business," I muttered.

Clay sighed and his smile seemed a bit painful when he said goodbye for the day.

When he was gone, I took out a piece of paper from below the bar. I wrote down his favor for fantasy novels, and his habit of drawing circles when he was uncomfortable. But not about his wish to escape his popular life. It didn't feel right revealing something so personal if it wasn't Clay who confessed it to her.

Not that I was one to talk.