He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 73 - Call It What You Want

"So, no Prince Albert for you, huh?" Clay asked with a laugh.

"God, no!" I shook my head. I was surprised he even knew what that was. "No one's going anywhere near my dick with a needle."

"What the fuck are y'all talking about over there?" Brandon sounded horrified. It showed in his face, too.

Clay burst out laughing, making me shake on his lap.

I quickly explained, so they didn't think needles were some kind of kink I was into.

All the guys looked extremely uncomfortable. Carrie, meanwhile, cackled. She hooked her arms around Jackson.

Brandon shook his head. "Who the fuck would want that?"

I shrugged. "That's what I was saying."

"Who would even think of that?" Jackson asked.

I actually had an answer for that. "I don't know if it's true, but I read that it was started by Queen Victoria's husband, Prince Albert—hence the name. Apparently, the dude was so hung that it got in his way and it was uncomfortable when he rode his horse. So the piercing attached to like a hook in his pants to hold it in place and keep it out of his way."

"Dude must've been packing a twenty incher for it to be so unmanageable that he'd install a hook in it." Tyler said.

"Even then I couldn't do it." Emmett said.

"Agreed." Brandon said.

"Hey, Jackson," shouted a guy from the next room. "Someone's barfing in the fireplace,"

"Son of a bitch!" Jackson jumped up, slapping his handful of quarters on the table, and ran from the room.

"That's gross." I said.

Clay laughed. "Jackson's parties are always like this. Someone throws up somewhere they aren't supposed to at least twice a month."

"I know." I said, arching a brow. "I've been to Jackson's parties before."

"When?"

"I used to bring him." Carrie said, taking Jackson's vacated seat. "When me and Jackson started dating, I brought Emmett every weekend for like two months."

Carrie challenged Brandon to a match. He took her up on the offer, ordering Tyler to refill the empty shot glasses from a bottle of cheap tequila. She tossed a quarter down. It bounced off the table, directly into the shot glass. "Who do you think taught Jackson how to play this?"

"Fuck me." Brandon groaned, wiping a hand over his face. "I'm gonna be so shit-faced."

Clay couldn't seem to shake the fact that I had been to so many of Jackson's parties. He brought it up again as he was driving me home later that night. "Seriously, I can't believe you were at Jackson's before."

I nodded. "How do you think I met Alfie?"

"I guess I never thought about it."

When we stopped at a red light, Clay stared at me with a pensive expression.

I brushed my fingertips across Clay's cheek. "What is it?"

"It just occurred to me that I was probably there, too."

I shrugged. "Probably." I didn't recall ever seeing Clay before that night at the bowling alley. He was definitely a guy I would have noticed. Then again, I spent most of those nights huddled in a corner, staring at my phone, praying no one would talk to me.

"I wonder how close we came to meeting." Clay said, his voice wistful. "What if it was me you met that night instead of Duke? Do you think we still would have ended up together?"

"I don't know." It was a nice thought. Clay and I together for all that time. All those months feeling the joy he'd brought to me since we met. Even more since we got together. But it was no use dwelling on the past. So I posited an alternative: "Maybe we had to meet exactly the way we did to fall for each other."

When the light changed, Clay turned into our neighborhood. "Why do you say that?"

"You might not have been ready yet. That was over a year ago."

Clay chuckled, reaching over to take my hand. "I think I've been ready for you my whole life, Em."

"Yeah, but I mean ready to admit that. To understand your feelings. To accept them and to let yourself fall for me. All of that is a big deal."

Clay stopped the car in front of my house. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it was meant to happen the way it did. Either way, fate or coincidence, call it what you want. I'm just glad it happened."

"Me, too." I leaned over the console as Clay did the same. We met in the middle in a kiss.

When we broke apart, Clay said, "Then again, I've had feelings for you since the day we met. If you hadn't kept telling me you didn't like me, I probably would've done something about it sooner."

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Hmm." Clay puckered his lips, narrowing his eyes contemplatively. Then he shook his head. "I don't think so."

"I hate you."

Clay grinned. "You have a funny way of showing it."

"Shut up."

After I kissed him goodnight, he started laughing. "I love you, Em."

"Yeah, yeah."

Clay caught my elbow as I turned to get out. "Really?" he asked in disbelief. "That's how you're leaving me."

I turned in the seat to face him, reaching my hand up to press it to his cheek. I moved in for a quick, soft kiss. And again for another that was not so chaste. I pulled back to look into his beautiful brown eyes, glittering with the overheard light. "I love you, too."

"That more like it." Clay said. "'Night, baby."

"Goodnight, love." I said, getting out. I closed the door behind me and waved as I walked backwards toward the front door. As always, he waited until I was safely inside to leave.