"I wanna close my eyes and hide from reality. The dream world is where I belong."
LUCY
What was I thinking?
No, that was the very problem - I wasn't thinking when I threw that ball.
"Oh, gosh, Jacob. I'm so sorry." My hand flew over my mouth, masking the pure shame on my face. The baseball was now rolling down the driveway, taunting me every inch it moved.
My brother shook his head, his typical relaxed smile gleaming in the sunlight. For a guy who has been through one hell of a year, he never failed to be in a pitcher mood. If I were in his shoes I probably wouldn't even find the energy to do daily things, yet alone drive back into town and throw around a baseball with my little sister.
"It's okay. I'll get it." Jacob started. I frowned. "Ugh, no, Lucy. You don't have to get it." I ignored him and ran over to get the ball. "I am perfectly capable of getting a ball, you know?"
I held the ball tight on my hand before throwing it back to him. Of course I knew he could get the ball. Jacob Walker was the type of guy who could do anything his heart desired. But that still didn't mask the possibility of him falling down.
"I might be disabled-"
"- but you're not unable." I finished for him, a soft curve glossing my features.
Jacob picked up his right foot, his eyes twinkling. "I can even stand on it without losing my balance. Cool, huh?" We both stared down at his prosthetic leg as he did exactly what he described. He really was getting the hang of things. "Soon I'll put a knife at the end and I'll be some bad ass ninja or something - doing all these kick shots."
Far too excited for his own good, Jacob buckled. My heart skipped one too many beats, even after he settled himself back on two legs.
"But for now," he breathed out, " I think I will stick to getting my degree."
Oh how much I missed him.
I chuckled. "How is school going, by the way?"
Jacob has only been away for college one semester even though he is twenty-one. After he graduated high school he made the impulse decision to join the military, so that took up a good year and a half of his life. He might have even remained in the army longer if it weren't for the accident, but things changed. Jacob hated abrupt change, I knew that, but he never once showed it. Like I said, that lazy grin was stuck like glue.
He brushed the back of his hair down. "It's. . . going. Forget about school, though. I did not come back home just so you can question how I'm doing in school!" Jacob threw the baseball back towards me, faster than I anticipated. I still caught it, which made me beam a little brighter. "But as your older brother, I have the right to ask you about this Clinton guy mom and dad keep telling me about."
Instinctively I corrected him,"It's Clayton."
"Oh! So there is a guy."
I threw the ball, aiming for his face. Of course he caught it expertly. "No, there isn't! He is just a friend, Jacob." His look of disbelief made be roll my eyes. "Come on, throw the dang ball back."
He smirked. "Since when have you ever liked baseball? Last time I checked you thought the game was boring." I scoffed. "Then again that was three years ago."
"Exactly."
"Or maybe it has to do with the fact Clinton plays baseball for your school?"
"I'm done." It was so hard not smile, but I somehow managed. The last thing I needed was Jacob pressuring me about Clayton. I already had to deal with our parents. "Make dinner for yourself. Better yet, go back to school."
I threw my mitt at him, that time not frightened by him nearly losing his balance. If anyone could handle it, Jacob Walker could.
I, on the other hand, could barely handle talking about Clayton Hugh, yet alone go in battle and lose a limb.
"What are you even talking about? You weren't going to cook dinner to begin with. Dad told me about you going on a date with Clinton tonight or something." He followed behind me, testing my patience. "That's right, brothers knows everything."
"Just like how I know you and Veronica ended over a month ago." I whipped around, the edge in my face faltering due to his silly face. "Even though I clearly heard you tell mom and dad you guys were becoming serious."
He shushed me immediately. "No need to talk about that. It's complicated."
"Then there is no need to talk about Clayton, and the friendly get together we're having tonight." I gave him a pointed look. "Got it?"
The power of social media was a glorious thing. Veronica was Jacob's girlfriend for about four months, and my parents adored her. They really felt she was the rock keeping him together. Turns out he was the rock all along, and when he broke it off with her, she ranted through Twitter and Instagram. She blocked me after I had enough evidence saved onto my phone.
How did I know it would come in handy? Because Jacob was my brother, and I knew him inside and out.
"Deal," he finally grumbled.
To distract myself away from that friendly-get-together-that-meant-nothing with Clayton, I drowned myself in my homework. School has, and always will, overwhelm me in a way no boy can recreate. Though, Jacob does take the second slot by far. Every fifteen minutes he would pop his head through the door, his lips spread ear to ear.
Then when it reached seven and I started getting ready for Shakers, his smile turned into a smirk.
"I see you are straightening your hair." Jacob stated the obvious. I continued humming to the radio. "I bet Clinton will like it a whole bunch."
Before I had a chance to bark at him, the child shut the door and scattered.
Lacing my fingers through the last strand of hair I straightened, I focused my mind on warm sensation tingling my fingers. Was Jacob right? Would Clayton like my hair straightened?
I barely ever brushed my hair, yet alone straightened it. J.K. always gave me flack for not brushing, but my hair never needed it unless I went through a room full of fans or had someone purposely tangle it together. But that felt like a special occasion. Well, as special as a friendly get together can get. So I had to go above and beyond and straighten it.
There was nothing wrong with wanting to impress yourself. It just so happens there might have been a chance of me impressing a guy as well. Purely coincidental.
And so I left the house with the impression that I was flaming-wings-hot. The kind of hot you need ranch for to make it through the meal.
Well, that was what J.K. told me after I texted her a picture, at least. Whether a guy would actually think that - yeah, that was a whole other story.
"Okay you have your phone, right?" My dad asked once he parked in front of Shakers. It was nearly eight so I had no time for his shenanigans, so I nodded quickly. "Your pepper spray?" Dear lord. Another nod. "Let me check your bag and make sure you don't have condoms in them. I know boys are all about that and --"
"Dad!" I gasped. "I am going to hang out with a friend. This is no different than me hanging out with J.K., Abby, or Cara!"
His hands flew up like a white flag. "I was just making sure. Don't let boys take advantage of you."
"Alright, alright. I gotta go now. I'll text you when to come and get me."
Thankfully he didn't ask if I had my rape whistle, because I had left it at home purposely. He gave it to me yesterday once I told them my plans, and while at the time he was laughing as if it were a joke, his eyes radiated seriousness. I had never seen my dad so protective of me. Hell, he used to encourage me to find a boyfriend. Even a girlfriend, as long as she was respectful of me.
"Bye!" I hopped out of the car with what looked to be confidence, but it in reality I was terrified.
Clayton and I have only truly held conversation during the dinner we shared, and while that went pretty smoothly towards the end, our parents were there with us. They were our backbones when things became awkward.
The concrete was still damp from the light showers in the afternoon, so I maneuvered around puddles before reaching the door. Unlike any other store or shop I've seen, Shakers was the only one to have a doorbell. Supposedly if you know the secret rhythm, you get their special edition milkshake. What that milkshake was, I had no idea, but there were rumors for sure. Also depending on where you were standing you could catch the waft of strawberries, chocolate, and vanilla. It was intoxicating.
I pressed my hair behind my ears while skimming around Shakers. There were plenty of people, but no Clayton. I loosened the grip on my skirt, a touch of edge easing off.
I seated myself down at the table in the corner so I could watch the shakers work their magic behind the counter. Sometimes I would bring a notepad and pend and write down what they did in hopes to recreate their delicious shakes.
My phone laid out patiently on the table so if Clayton were to text me I would get it right away.
When I entered Shakers it was exactly eight.
When the first waiter came to my table it was exactly 8:14.
I dismissed him, telling him I was waiting for someone to come.
Then after another fifteen minutes, a second waitress swung around, asking me if I had ordered yet. By then I was frowning, but I tried my best to put up a front.
"No, I am waiting for someone. He should be here any second though." My heart was straining.
Thirty minutes late and no message?
The waitress gave me a sympathetic smile. "Okay, honey. Call me over if you need me."
And so I sat there. Another fifteen minutes rolled by, and soon enough it was nearly nine o'clock.
Maybe Clayton Hugh wasn't as much as a gentleman as I first thought. Maybe he and his friends thought it would be funny to mess with the sleepwalker girl to get a good laugh.
My chest was starting to feel tight.
"Um, miss!"
The waitress from before turned around, her cherry lips wide. "Ready to order?"
At least my good ole' Oreo milkshake would be my company. To be honest that was better than any other guy's company.
"Yes, please. I'd like an Oreo milkshake with no cherry." I handed her the menu I had been clenching on to for so long. Looked like I was back to my skirt. "Thank you."
In record time she returned back with my shake. There were two dollops of whip cream at the top, and by the look on her face I knew it was out of pity.
I didn't deserve pity though. I should have known better than think a guy like Clayton Hugh would ever spend time outside of school with me. I figured he was probably out there partying it up like the big shot he was. Maybe even kissing any girl of his choosing. A girl that was definitely not me.
Right when I though hope was lost, and I was well into Mr. Oreo and his deliciousness, Clayton stormed into Shakers in his practice uniform, his eyes casting over the place briefly before setting on me in the corner.
I was filled with so much relief.
He didn't stand me up.
As he made his way over, I couldn't help but notice his baseball pants were covered in dirt, but as he drew closer his cleats were even dirtier.
"Oh my gosh, Lucy. I'm so sorry. Coach made us stay way longer than planned and I had to fill out paperwork for volunteer work later next week - you know, the mini league baseball tournament being hosted at our school? Of course you don't know that -" He wiped the sweat off his face, in the process making the dirt from his hands leave spots. "Sorry. . . I ramble when I am. . . Frustrated. Overwhelmed. Embarrassed." He scoffed. "So basically I ramble twenty-four-seven."
I placed the straw between my lips. Only Clayton could make sweat and dirt look so attractive. He could ramble on for hours and I would be perfectly content.
He didn't need to know that, though. I was supposed to be agitated. A minute or so ago I definitely was, but the fact he showed up was enough to make me smile again.
"No worries." I shrugged.
Clayton shook his head. "No, this isn't okay. And you already paid? Ugh - I'm failing miserably tonight."
"Really, it is okay," I attempted to squeak out again.
Clayton probably would have told me it wasn't again, but an employee of Shakers stood behind him, grabbing my attention. He turned around, a pea-size Effie Williams appearing even tinier next to him.
"Sorry, Clayton, but you have to leave the shop." Effie spoke softly while referring to the orange dirt path he made from the door.
Clayton let out a long, drawn out breath. He was the combination of exhaustion, frustration, and embarrassment - oh, and dirty. How could I not mention dirty?
"I'm sorry," Effie repeated.
If there was one phrase Effie Williams was known for, it was sorry. Even when something wasn't her fault the word would come tumbling out of her mouth. Especially in math class when Ms. Calvin called on her and she had no clue what to do, even though it wasn't her fault we had a horrible teacher to begin with. Or that one time I literally ran into her, making her books fall to the ground, and she apologized profusely.
"It's - ah - God - okay. It's okay. I'll leave."
Effie did not fail to drop a few more sorry's before drifting back to her spot behind the counter.
Meanwhile I was sitting there, sipping down the last of my Oreo milkshake, bug eyed. When Clayton asked to hang out there, I thought it would have gone way differently. Sure I didn't expect him to walk into the room wearing a tux, fifteen minutes before eight, and a wallet willing to pay for every milkshake on the menu. I wasn't mad, per-say, but I was definitely disappointed.
"I'm so sorry, Lucy." He was starting to sound more like Effie as the seconds past.
There was no time for apologies. I wanted to hang out with Clayton Hugh, so I was going to do just that. Even if it were through a ride back home.
I stood up with a jump, taking him by surprise. "Can you drive me home? On the way we can stop by Sonic and get some shakes."
Past the sweat and dirt, red stained his cheeks. "Uh, yeah. If you want."
Again for the second time that day I found myself questioning my thinking. I shouldn't have asked him to take me home, but instead suggest we could head out to Sonic since we can drink the milkshakes in his car.
The idea of being in Clayton's car though. . . We would be secluded from everything else in the world, just us two, and that made little thrills of excitement and fear bubble in my belly. I had never had a true first date then, but everything I watched from the movies made that night feel a lot like one.
I peered down at my phone to check the time, Clayton and I's text messages from yesterday resurfacing.
From ♥ Clayton ♥: Lucy Walker, I can tell this is the start of a wonderful friendship.
I had to keep reminding myself all Clayton wanted from me was a friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. And while that was mildly disappointing, I was okay with it. Clayton was such a great guy, though he hung out with jerks.
"Bye, Effie." I waved towards the girl behind the counter.
The shy blonde set her glasses straight back on her nose. "Bye Lucy, Clayton. Sorry again." It seemed she couldn't help herself.
As we made it outside it was drizzling, so I took that as an opportunity to joke around.
"Maybe you should stay out here longer. Clean yourself up a bit." I laughed, biting my lower lip.
Oh my gosh, was I flirting? Because that sounded like something J.K. would say.
Clayton played it on. "Oh, yeah. Who needs a shower and soap when you have mother nature doing the dirty work for you?"
His accent was so cute. It made his speech slur at times, especially on any words with the letter 's'.
"Poor mother nature then. She has a lot of work to do."
"Hey, hey. Don't knock my hanging out style. I tend to go for the dirty-yet-orange tan look."
I laughed. "Should I try this style then?"
He looked me square in the eyes. "No way. You're perfectly fine the way you are."
- - - - - - - -
"I'm sorry things didn't turn out like they were supposed to." Clayton pulled up in front of my house, putting the car in park.
We had just came from Sonic but sadly their summer shakes were out of season. We still sat in the parking lot and talked though.
I couldn't see his face much in the dark, but I was pretty sure he was looking at me. "Maybe our Prone to Typos club meeting should be this weekend?"
I could tell he was smiling. My heart leaped. "Uh, yeah. Next time don't be late, or I'll have to. . ." My mind was racing. "--give the vice president spot to someone else."
It was exactly what we needed to uplift the tense air. Clayton might not have felt it, but I know I did.
Clayton gasped. "Aldri! No way," he translated for me.
I loved it when he talked in Norwegian. The way his voice formed to the language was indescribable. It was if the language was a keepsake of his true home. He made me want to learn Norwegian so I could talk with him in it.
Once our laughter died down, my eyes wondered to the time. It was five minutes away from being ten, and that was my curfew on school nights.
"Yeah, I have to go now. It's about to be ten." I said against myself.
"Same." He agreed immediately. "My parents say hi, by the way."
His parents were so nice. No wonder Clayton turned out to be such a gentleman.
"Tell them I say the same!" I popped open the passenger door, the sound of crickets louder than before. "Okay, well, I'll see you later, yeah?"
"As long as you don't walk over to my house later like last time, I hope we'll see each other later tomorrow at school." He chuckled at himself. "The big game is Friday, too. I'm so excited you're going."
He was excited? If I were in my room alone right now I would be holding my heart and practicing my breathing because I had forgotten how for a while now.
"Looking forward to it!" I stood up, getting out the car. It was as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. "Bye, Clayton."
He softly said his goodbye as I started towards my front door. I kept casually peeking behind me to see if he was still there or not, and sure enough he was still there.
The click of the lock opening brought me back to reality.
"Wait, Lucy!" He suddenly called out.
I flipped around. Was that the moment where he would run to me and shower his undeniable feelings for me? The fan girl in me wished and prayed, but my brain told me otherwise. We barely even knew each other, after all.
"You can call me Clay." He turned his car lights on, finally giving me a good keepsake of his smile.
It was easy to return it. "Clay? Um, sure." I hesitated. "Have a good night, Clay."
The sounds of the crickets filled the air until, finally, Clayton responded. "Good night to you too, Walker."