He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 31 - It's Time to Go

"You're torturing yourself, Emmie. You can't be in love with him and be his friend."

"Why not? Isn't being his friend better than being nothing?"

"It's not healthy." Carrie pointed her half eaten carrot at me, accusatorially. "And I know he's the reason you started screwing that scumbag Alfie again. You either need to get over Clay, and truly be just his friend. Or let him go."

My head jerked back. "I'm sorry. Did you and your mom have a Freaky Friday situation? Because last time I checked, she was the only shrink in the house."

"Go ahead, deflect. That's real mature, Emmett."

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you!"

"What's going on?" Clay asked, taking a tentative step inside. He was holding his clothes in his arms.

"Let's go," I snapped, though my ire belonged solely to Carrie.

Carrie threw her arms out to the side. "Fine by me."

Clay chased after me. "I'm not dressed."

"You can get dressed at my house."

The double doors of Dr. Herrera's office slid open. She stepped out, blocking the front door. She removed her glasses and surveyed my face, then Clay's. "What's with all the yelling?"

"Why don't you ask your colleague, Dr. Carrie? She's so wise. I'm sure she can explain it better than I ever could." I turned to face the kitchen and yelled, "With horrifically misused vocabulary words."

"That is erroneous and deleterious!" Carrie shouted from the kitchen.

I grabbed Clay by the hand and dragged him through the front door before Dr. Herrera could force me and Carrie to sit down couple's therapy style. It wouldn't be the first time.

Clay jogged beside me to keep up with my determined stride.

"Are you okay?" Clay asked. "I've never seen you like that."

"She pissed me off. And I don't want to talk about it."

Noticing that my mother's car was gone, I took a sharp left turn, still pulling Clay behind me. I went to the gate for our backyard. I left my keys and phone at home, since I was just across the street and my mother was there when I left. We had a spare key for the back door hidden under a rock at the base of the birdbath for times such as this.

I somehow got the key and got inside without ever releasing Clay's hand. And Clay never tried to take it away.

But I had to let go now. I had no reason to hold on. As much as I might want to. Staring at our joined hands for a moment longer than I should have, I finally opened my fingers and released Clay, feeling as though I had just severed one of my limbs.

Clay dropped his clothes into one of the dining chairs and immediately threw his arms around my neck. I startled at the sudden skin contact. We'd hugged before, but never like this, with nothing between us to act as a buffer, to keep thoughts of what else we could remove to rid us of all the barriers between us. Clothes. Friendship. Clay's ambiguous sexuality.

I raised my hands to place them on Clay's waist.

I assumed that was a step too far for Clay because he took a step back. But maybe I was wrong, because he didn't drop his arms as I expected. He leaned back just far enough so that his face was in front of mine. He gripped my biceps. His eyes searched for something. Maybe the answer to my fight with Carrie. Maybe something more.

Clay's eyes drifted down to my lips—which I had noticed was becoming a pattern. His lips parted. As his bewitching brown eyes met mine again, he whispered, "Emmett?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to tell you something."

"You can tell me anything."

Clay's eyes became bleary. He looked like he was about to cry. "I want you to know—"

Before he could finish his thought, my phone rang. It was sitting on the kitchen table where I left it after breakfast.

Clay looked over at the picture of Alfie, staring out at us with a cocky grin on his face.

Clay snatched his hands back, holding them up in front of his chest. If he clenched them into fists, he'd look like a boxer. He stepped out of my reach. That sensation of losing a limb returned. Only I had a suspicion I just lost much more than that.

Clay cleared his throat. "I have to get dressed."

"That's not what you were going to say." I took a small step forward, and he backed away. Clay shook his head as my incessant ringtone blared. I cursed myself for ever turning off silent mode. It was always a bad idea.

"Your boyfriend is calling," Clay said, backing away. I wasn't sure if I was imagining the harsh tone in his voice or if he was actually upset. "You should answer."

Clay gathered his clothes and turned around, dashing out of the room.

I grunted and grabbed the phone, sliding a finger across the screen to answer. "Hello."

"What's up, sexy?" Alfie asked.

"Nothing. Why?"

"I miss you."

"Translation: you're horny." I was not in the mood for this. I needed to find out what Clay was about to say.

"That, too."

"And I suppose you want me to drop everything to come service your needs?"

"Something like that. Everybody just left. They'll be gone for at least an hour. If you hurry, we could get in at least one good time."

I laughed, but not because I found it cute or funny. Mostly I found it annoying.

"Are you coming over or not?" Alfie sounded irritated. "If you're not, I might as well go ahead and take care of myself."

I rolled my eyes. "How can I pass up an offer like that?"

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a—" I paused when I heard the front door close. "Hold on."

I pulled the phone from my ear and ran to the living room.

Through the front window, I watched Clay getting in his car, fully dressed. Clay wiped the back of his hand across his cheek. He was crying.

Before I could even think to move, Clay quickly reversed his car out of the driveway.

"Emmett!" Alfie screamed loud enough to be heard even with the phone hanging down at my side.

I brought it to my lips to say, "Handle it yourself. I gotta go." I hung up and dropped the phone on the couch, staring through the window.

Had I been right about Clay? Was he going to confess some important secret? Could it possibly be what I hoped it was?

And the most important question: Had I just royally fucked it all up?