He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 73 - Call It What You Want

"No. It's a completely different movie. From the 50s. It won Best Picture at the Oscars, and people say it's one of the worst choices the Oscars ever made. It somehow got nominated and Singin' In The Rain didn't. I wanted to see if it was really that bad." I waved my hand in the air to tell her to ignore that. All of that was inconsequential. "Anyway, I paused the movie when he came into my room. The second he saw the clown on the screen, he literally backed out into the hall, shaking his head. He told me to turn the movie off or he'd leave."

Someone pounded on the bathroom door. "Would you hurry up in there?"

I handed her the eyeliner. "Ready?"

Carrie traced a finger around the outline of her lips, her eyes looking over her appearance. "I think I should wait a few minutes to teach that guy out there some patience."

"You are not." I took her hand and pulled her to the door.

We pushed past the guy standing outside, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He raced inside and slammed the door behind him.

"So, how goes the rebellion against Whitley?" I asked.

"I think I've got enough people on my side to call for a vote of no confidence."

"Do they have votes of no confidence in high school cheerleading?"

Carrie patted me on the back. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Just know, by this time next week, Whitley will be busted down to the bottom of the pyramid. Metaphorically speaking. Because she's way too tiny to be an actual base. Her bird bones would get crushed. Not that I wouldn't kinda secretly love to see that."

"You scare me sometimes."

Carrie beamed at me. "Thank you."

We found Clay and Jackson sitting around the kitchen table, along with Brandon and Tyler. Jackson was facing off against Brandon in a game of Quarters.

"Fuck!" Brandon said as his quarter missed the shot glass in the center of the table. It flipped almost all the way across the table to Jackson. Brandon downed the shot glass in front of him. Of the five glasses in front of him, three were already empty. Brandon hissed and slammed the fourth glass on the table upside down.

"Baby!" Clay held his arms out toward me. When I went to him, Clay slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me down to sit on his lap. A crease formed between his brows as he stared at me, puzzled. "What's different?"

I loved that he noticed, even in the dim lighting. "I put on eyeliner. Do you hate it?"

Clay shook his head, tightening his arms around my waist. "I think it's sexy. It really makes your eyes stand out."

"That's kinda the point."

"Why haven't you ever worn it before?"

I glanced around the room before looking back at Clay. "I try not to call attention to myself most of the time. But sometimes I just have to be me."

"Is there other stuff that you don't do that you'd like to?"

"A lot."

"Like what?"

I brushed my fingers through Clay's silver hair—his own way of standing out and being himself. "I'd be a lot more outgoing with my clothes in public. I'd probably paint my nails. Oh, and I'd love to get some piercings."

Clay raised his brows, intrigued. "What do you want to have pierced?"

I fought a grin. "Nothing dirty, if that's what you're thinking. Just like around my ears and maybe my naval. And definitely my nose."