My jaw dropped immediately. Clay's fever-induced words echoed in my head.
"One time, you and I kissed."
I try to play it casually, as if I'm not internally freaking out. He has a fever. People with fevers say crazy things.
"Oh yeah?" I ask softly while fixing the pillow behind his head, pretending I'm not affected at all by his words. "When was that?"
"We were drunk," he explains. His fingers find mine by the top of his head. He loops his pointer around mine lazily. "Sapnap was puking."
My brain tries to fuzzily find it. I remember the night we drank when they tried to make George and I friends. I don't remember any kissing though.
"You were sitting on the counter," he says, "And we kissed with pasta."
"Pasta?" I laugh, unsure if I even believe him now.
He nods slowly. His finger loosens around mine, and his eyes droop a little more.
My mind wraps around a memory of us late at night- me on the counter with my arms wrapped around his shoulders- I giggle, something I never do, and he smiles like I had just sang his favorite melody. Then, I say the words.
"Kiss me."
And then he did.
"Oh my god, we kissed," I whisper.
Clay opens his eyes with a smile. "I told you so."
I stare into space as he lulls off to sleep. He rolls over, grabbing my hand once again. "Will you stay here?" he asks.
I smile. "Scared of the dark?"
"Mhm." He nods once. "I could die, you know."
I roll my eyes, but then say, "Scoot over."
I sit up in the bed as he rests his head in my lap. I hesitate but realize he probably won't remember this in the morning, so I let my hands play with his hair. He seems to snuggle closer when I do so, and I'm reminded of a cat.
It's a peaceful environment, but I know I won't find a bit of sleep. My brain races at how long Clay's kept this a secret. He's known but never told me. Did he think I'd freak out? He'd be right because I am internally.
I don't think it means anything unless I make it mean something. He's been waiting for my memory to catch up; he's been waiting for my move. The ball is completely in my court.
The question is: do I want to make a move?
I repeat it over and over in my head, wondering the pros and cons of Clay and I together. A different version of Clay and I; the kind that drunkenly kisses on kitchen counters on a regular basis. Do I want that?
Clay stirs after a while. He glances up in a sleepy haze to meet my eyes. He smiles. It's the kind of smile that you do naturally when you're not awake enough to control your actions.
He sits up after a few minutes and looks at me. I let him wake up for a second but also prepare myself to get out of the bed when he throws up. I notice a sheen of sweat on his skin, and I put my hand up to his forehead. It's cooler than it was a couple hours ago, so I assume his fever is breaking.
He meets my eyes in the partially-dark room. My heartbeat quickens. I don't know what I expect for him to say. I'm not even sure what he remembers. Is this what he felt like? He opens his mouth to speak, and my stomach drops in anticipation.
"Can you make pancakes?" he asks.
I take a sharp breath. "What?"
"Pancakes," he repeats, "They sound really good right now."
I check the time on my phone. "It's one in the morning."
"Then it's technically Saturday," he points out, "you said Saturday mornings are for pancakes."
I laugh. "How do you remember that?"
His eyes search mine for a second. "I remember everything about that night."
My heartbeat quickens, knowing that I made pancakes in the morning, but he's talking about the night before. The night we kissed.
I sigh. "Alright, I'll be back in a little bit."
I walk out to the kitchen and start grabbing the ingredients. I take my time as I stir the batter in the bowl, taking my time to sort my thoughts, but it doesn't work very well. The same question appears in my brain: do I want to be with Clay?
I hear some shuffling in the living room and quickly look up. Nick is standing there in nothing but his boxers.
"God, Nick, put some pants on." I grab the kitchen towel closest to me and throw it at him.
He catches the towel but doesn't respond to my request. "What are you making?"
"Pancakes," I answer shortly, paying extra close attention to anything but him. "Don't we have rules about not being naked downstairs?"
"I have clothes on," he replies, "Can I have some?"
I nod and put the finished pancake on a plate. "Did I wake you?" I ask, sliding the plate in front of him.
"No, I was playing games, and it smelled really good." He nods his head to the pantry. "Can I get some syrup?"
I go into the pantry and come back out with syrup in hand. "Aren't you tired?"
"I slept all day."
I nod and we sit in silence for a couple minutes. I wonder if Clay told Nick what had happened that night. I try to find a way to bring it up but no casual options come to mind.
I'm about to just straight up ask when George appears in the kitchen. Luckily, he's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. He doesn't know how grateful I am for it either. I do notice he's not wearing his hazmat suit outfit like he was when he answered the door.
I laugh, realizing that the smell is more powerful than I had originally thought. "Where's your mask?" I ask, "This is a dangerous territory."
He holds up a single mask but stuffs it in his pocket. "Can I have some?"
I grab another plate for him without another word. He scoots his chair a little farther from Nick before sitting down.
"What if you get sick?" Nick asks as he slides the syrup towards George.
George just shrugs. "I'm hungry." He takes a bite, and his eyes widen. "Oh my god, this is so good."
Nick laughs. "Right? y/n, you should make these all the time."
"Like once a week should be pancake day," George agrees.
Nick shoves his face with another bite to concur.
I laugh. "Maybe, we'll see." I pick up a third plate of pancakes for Clay. "Clay can be our deciding factor."
"He's gonna say yes," George laughs.
I bring the plate of pancakes to Clay's door. He's laying down on his bed again. I whisper his name a couple times, but I get no response. He's asleep again.
He looks peaceful compared to when he laughs or has gamer rage. He makes all my loud thoughts quiet down for a millisecond until the question comes back to my mind. Only this time I finally know my answer in a single word: yes.
My phone begins to ring, so I rush out of the room, leaving the pancakes for Clay next to his bed.
I furrow my brows when I notice it's Gemma. "Hello?" I say when I answer.
"y/n!" she says loudly.
I stay standing in the hallway by the kitchen. "What?" Is everything okay with Eva?"
"Perfect." I notice a slur in his voice. "We actually got married."
"What?" I say a little louder than I intended. I know Clay couldn't have heard, but George and Nick definitely did.
"Yeah, she explained and apologized for the thing that happened, and then we eloped." she giggles.
"Gemma, she cheated on you," I say sharply.
"No, no, you wouldn't understand, okay? It's all okay." She sighs loudly; I can tell she has somewhere to be, but I don't want to let her go.
"Where are you?" I ask, "It's loud."
"We're celebrating with our friends," she says, "We met them on this yacht."
"How can you afford a yacht?"
She giggles again and whispers, "We can't."
I roll my eyes. I don't think I'll get through to her in her current state, but that won't stop me from trying in the morning.
"Anyways," she says finally, "I'm moving out once we get back. Eva and I found this great apartment."
Something inside of me shatters.
"So you won't be paying rent anymore?" I ask softly, scared of the answer.
"Well no, I won't live there."
"Gemma, I can't afford to live there by myself," I snap. They won't let me live there if I can't pay the rent on time in three days.
"You'll be find, don't worry." She listens to someone speaking on the other side of the phone. "Okay, I gotta go. Bye."
She hangs up, and I stare at my phone for a solid couple minutes. My whole body wants to sag to the floor. Everything feels heavy now. I drag my feet robotically back into the kitchen because I know that's what I'm supposed to be doing right now.
Both Nick and George look up from their pancakes, stopping whatever conversation they were having.
"y/n, are you okay?" Nick asks as he gets up from his seat to hug me.
I take a shaky breath before letting him embrace me. "I don't think I have a place to live anymore."
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
and the official slow burn begins...
have an amazing day :))