He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 50 - Haunted

"It doesn't matter," I snapped. Because we were wasting make-out time on this. "I just wanted you to understand that this surveillance state we're in will continue until I'm free too."

"Well, at least we have this." He waved his hand around the backyard, which was actually quite nice. A huge, immaculately kept flowerbed wrapped around all three sides of the yard and there was even a tiny river rock fountain in one corner.

I briefly wondered how their lawn was so lush and green, then Clay started kissing me again. And who the fuck cares about grass?

A few sublime minutes later, Clay stopped kissing me, to my complete dismay. "How did you know you were ready to come out? Like not just Carrie and your mom. Everyone."

My annoyance immediately faded. This was important. I would make time for this. "Is that something you think you want to do?"

"Well, maybe. Kinda. I told Jackson, even though obviously he knew. I filled in the details for him. I just feel like I don't want this—" he reached down to intertwine his fingers with my good hand "—to be a secret."

"I don't think my answer will help you."

"Why?"

"I didn't really have a choice on the everyone knowing part. It kind of happened to me."

Clay narrowed his eyes, a line forming between his dark brows. "What do you mean?"

"It's a long, terrible story." He watched me, waiting. I scrunched up my face. "You really want to know? Because it was bad. And it's totally going to kill the mood."

"I want to know," he said.

He quickly added, "If you feel like telling me."

"Okay."

We went over to sit on the patio steps. He winced as he lowered himself to sit with one leg tucked under the other, facing me.

"Remember that girl Whitley from the party last weekend?"

"The bitch in the red dress... at the party where you hooked up with your ex-boyfriend, the thought of which made me violently ill for a week?"

"Um, yeah. Her." I chose not to comment on the rest. "Well, when she and I were freshmen, she was kind of part of my friend group."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," I said. "Well, I had already been out to Carrie and my family for about a year, and I felt like I was comfortable enough with my other friends to let them know, so one night when we were hanging out in the parking lot at the grocery store—"

He interrupted me, blurting, "The really dark one on Maple?"

"Yes!" I shouldn't be surprised that he knew it. Whenever we went, there were always Huntington High kids hanging out there. But we never mingled.

Except for once, which was how Carrie met Jackson. She broke the heel of her brand new shoe in a drainage grate and screamed bloody murder. Jackson came running up to offer help, assuming someone had gotten maimed. With the amount of crying Carrie was doing, he immediately identified her as the injured party. She was clutching her shoe like it was a beloved pet who'd just gotten hit by a car. As soon as he saw that she wasn't in pain, he bent down, scooped her up, and carried her, An Officer and a Gentleman style, setting her down on someone's open tailgate in the Huntington group. He offered her a beer and told her he'd carry her around all night if she needed him to. And true love blossomed as private school kids mingled with public school kids in a Winn Dixie parking lot.

"I thought only us public school miscreants did that." Clay nudged my shoulder.

"Nope. The bougie kids did it too. At least the underclassmen. Er... the ones I hung out with anyway."