12/14/16
I CAN'T SLEEP.
So I'm siting in the kitchen eating some cereal at two in the morning. I want to be able to sleep, curl up next to my best friend, and let my fatigue take over. But every time I tried to close my eyes tonight all I saw were gold eyes that make my heart race and my stomach flip with an ache I've never felt before. And as soon as I woke up remorse hit me like a freight train as I took in Chase's peaceful sleeping form.
I want to run to the library, I crave the solitude and smell of books, but I know I can't go back. That's Clayton's spot, it's the space he needs, and I need to back away from anything to do with him.
My hand instinctually goes out to the book next to me, the book that Clayton suggested, but has suddenly become so much more. My fingers graze the worn spine, and I open the last book and begin to read. I've been holding off on reading the last book, for some reason not wanting to finish it. Not wanting to end the connection this book has given me to Clayton. But I realize more now then ever I need to end it, so I flip through the pages and begin.
A few sounds echo from behind me, and my heart stops and guilt rips through me as my eyes meet ones the shade of honey.
He pauses when he sees me and I can see the indecision and shame that coats his expression, and instead of continuing to look and challenge his stare I back down. I drop my gaze back to my now soggy bowl of cereal as unsettling nerves flutter their way through my body.
Surprise runs through my veins when I see him move forward and into the kitchen as he heads towards the fridge.
"Clayton," I breathe out before I can stop myself. I know I shouldn't say anything, I know I should leave him alone from here on out. But my mouth has a mind of it's own as it breathes out the only name it wants to speak.
His body goes ridged at my use of his name, and I can see the way it vibrates through him and affects his body. The silence that surrounds us is so quiet that it's deafening as it threatens to choke me.
I sit and wait. I wait for him to say anything. I need him to speak. I need him to acknowledge me in some way, even if it's to say he hates me and never wants to speak to me every again.
His head twists lightly until his eyes lock on mine. His face stoic as if he feels nothing, when I know that isn't true. Because I see what truly lies behind his light eyes. Pain, so much of it, and I did nothing to help. I found someone who I can connect with, but I didn't help him or myself. I made everything so much worse, because that's what I do.
"Don't Hayley," he responds harshly before he turns back to the open fridge. The yellow light fills the dark space between us. My only source of light before being the moon streaming in from the large windows that line the house, and my cell phone light.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly, almost pleading him to accept it and know that it's the truth. I never wanted to add to his pain, and yet here I am just adding layers to his damaged heart.
"I know," he finally replies after a heavy pause. "I am too," he adds as he moves around the kitchen.
It shouldn't hurt. I don't want it to hurt. But it does, his words create a faint crack in the corner of my already fragile heart. Because of course I'm sorry I let us cross that line, but I'm even more sorry that I'm the reason for the bubbling tension that fills the air between him and his brother.
But I think he's more sorry about the kiss. And that shouldn't hurt, I shouldn't care, but here I am letting my heart hurt and care about a beautifully broken boy.
"You're reading them," Clayton comments suddenly as he pours milk into his bowl of cereal. I can't stop the small smile that touches my lips at his choice of midnight snack, and the fact that's he speaking to me. Even if his words are still edged with a hardness I know I had a part in creating.
"You suggested it," I tell him like it's nothing. Because it has to mean nothing, but as his eyes narrow in on me slightly I know he can see the truth. See that I bought these not only because he suggested it, but also because he found something in these books. Something I need to know, because maybe it can help me.
"It has a sad ending," he tells me as if I didn't already see that coming.
A dry laugh falls from mouth. "Don't they all," I tell him, and I know he understands me. I'm not talking about Stephen King's books, or books in general. I'm talking about life, because we both know too much about how quickly life can be taken away. And it rarely ends happy.
Quietness fills both of us as if we don't know what to say next, or we have nothing left to say. The only sounds filling the air are the clinking of our spoons against our bowls. There's so much still to be said, and I want to say it all, I want to say so much to this man who knows me like no one else without even truly knowing me. But I don't say anything, and I don't expect him to say anything.
So when his deep, gravely voice asks me a question I'm stunned. "What's your necklace?" his question stills my body not only from the pure disbelief he's even speaking to me, but also cause its a simple question. Simple, easy, and maybe everything we need to learn to be to coexist for the next couple weeks.
"Oh, um it's a constellation," I tell him fingering the delicate gold necklace that rests around my neck. I've had it for years, and I wear all the time so I rarely notice it anymore. But Clayton did, he noticed something so small, and that shouldn't make my heart beat a little faster. But it does.
"You wear it all the time," he comments as his eyes narrow in on the simple necklace. "Does it mean something?" he asks as his eyes flicker up to meet mine the hardness that once touched his words beginning to fade.
I wonder for a moment if he is just trying to be polite and talk to me, but I can see the flash of desperate need to know more that flares through his perfect eyes. He wants to know more about me, and maybe that's because I know more about him then he does about me. Or maybe he just simply wants to know, but either way it causes my body to buzz with excitement. Even when it shouldn't.
"It's Cassiopeia," I tell him the constellation that rests above my heart. "It's my middle name," I add lastly, the words feeling weird on my tongue. When people ask about my necklace I always tell them what it is, but I rarely add that last tidbit of myself in there.
"That's your middle name?" he pushes as his curiosity takes over at my odd middle name.
I crack a smile. "Yeah, my great grandparents were astronomers and named my grandma after that constellation and then used it for my mothers middle name," I tell him as my words become slightly strangled when I mention my mother. I clear my throat and continue, "And now mine."
"Does it mean something?" he questions next.
I nod once. "Yeah, it symbolizes the Seated Queen," I speak quietly picturing my grandmother pointing out the string of stars that create this constellation that sits in the northern sky. "In Greek Mythology she was known for her beauty," I say repeating the words my mother whispered to me so many times. Later on in life I found out she was also know for being extremely vain, though that doesn't mean she wasn't beautiful.
"It's perfect," Clayton whispers. The moon is our only main source of light besides a lamp in the living room offering very little light. The bright white of the moon coats Clayton in light, illuminating him for me as his words heat me in a way I know I shouldn't want or feel.
"Thank you," I reply simply acting as if his words didn't affect me, even though we both know they did as my cheeks flush with his compliment.
"Have you ever seen the constellation?" he asks next, and I know he's gripping for questions to string this conversation out. Our food is gone, time is ticking, and I know once morning hits we will be strangers again.
So I play along. "A couple times," I tell him honestly. "My grandma used to take me out to stargaze when I was little," I say as I remember my sweet and lovely grandmother taking me out to watch the night sky and all the beauty that comes along with it. But after she passed, I lost interest and my mother never tried to keep up the tradition.
"The sky is the clearest here, you should sit out on the beach sometime," Clayton suggests to me with a small shrug. "I swear you can just see stars for miles, though I don't know what any of them mean," he comments with a small chuckle.
"I could show them to you if you wanted," I propose too quickly and quietly, suddenly afraid of his rejection.
His white teeth bite at his lower lip for a second as if thinking through my words. "I don't know if that's a good idea...." he tells me as his words become hard once again as an almost pained look flashes in his eyes.
"I know we've made mistakes, and I know I can't take them back or fix them." Though a part of me doesn't want to ever take them back, and that's the part I hate the most. "But I want to be friends with you, I want to know Chase's family," I express openly. Because more then my feelings for this man, I enjoy being around Chase's parents. They make me ache for a life like this, and it makes me want to change. Change in a way that means reaching out to my mother for the first time in years.
"Maybe," he finally responds after a moment of silence. And even if his answer is a lie to appease me, I appreciate it because I need it. I need to believe I can have normal relationships with people, and be able to move on from mistakes. And I think he can see that.
"Maybe works for me," I voice with a ghost of a smile.
"Goodnight," he tells me as he puts his bowl in the dishwasher and walks away from me. And I wonder if this will be my last actual conversation with him, if I found someone so alike me and ruined any chance of healing not only me but him as well. I hope I took some of the guilt that fills him away, but I know no matter what I do it will always be there. Unless I betray my best friend, and I know I can never do that.
"Goodnight Clayton," I whisper more to myself then him as I focus on the closed book in front of me.
I lift the book to begin reading it once again when I hear footsteps echo from behind me. My head turns to take in Clayton with clenched hands at his sides and if he's at odds with his next words, debating if he should even say them.
But something obviously cracks within him because he speaks.
"I'm sorry for what happened last night, and the other night...." he trails off dropping his gaze from mine as if he's too ashamed to look at me. Then he raises his chin so his eyes bore into mine. "But I'm not sorry about what happened at the bar," he states slowly emphasizing each word.
My mouth falls open, heart stops, my skin breaks out in goosebumps, and my mind begins to spin. I'm on overdrive, and in complete shock.
"Wait, what?" I ask breathlessly unable to comprehend his words even though he stated them plain as day. "You remember?" I question as my fingers fly to my dry lips remembering that night at the bar as if it was yesterday. Because that single kiss caused an addiction I never saw coming.
"I can never forget it," he says honestly his fists clenching one again until his knuckles turn white. As if he's buzzing with the same energy that courses through me, as if he's holding himself back from making another mistake with me.
"But you acted like you didn't know me," I claim as my words break at the end conveying the pain I've lived in. Believing a moment that meant so much to me wasn't reciprocated wounded me in a whole new way.
"Because my brother loves you and I would never jeopardize that," he says though in so many ways he already has. We both have. "And you love him too right?" he urges as if he needs me to confirm my love for his brother. A man I'm pretending to date.
"Of course," I respond, but I know he can see the way it doesn't reach my eyes. "I love him." But not in the way you think, I want to tell Clayton. But I don't.
"Exactly." This singular word coming out more forced then I'm sure he truly wanted. "And that's why I'm sorry for what happened in the library, but I can't apologize for the bar," he tells me with his golden eyes shining just as much as the stars do in the midnight sky.
"Why?" I inquire stunned by his words. In complete disbelief that he remembers me, that maybe just maybe that kiss changed him like it changed me.
"Because you weren't with him then, right?" he asks as strongly as if my answer to his means more then I even comprehend.
"No, I wasn't," I confirm.
"Then the only thing I can be sorry for is that he got you first," he tells me and in this moment the small fissure in my heart from earlier widens.
"Clayton—" I attempt to start but he cuts me off not letting me speak. Almost as if he can't let me speak.
"But he deserves you, I don't," he says as his Adam's apple trembles and his body vibrates with so many emotions he looks like he might split in half. "I never will," he states with a trembling voice.
"Clayton—" I echo his name from before wanting to tell him everything. Wanting to come clean and let him know he can have me.
But he walks away before I can do anything else.
"Goodnight Hayley," he says lastly before he disappears upstairs without a second glance taking more then just a piece of my heart with him this time.
But the single thought running through my head on repeat is:
He remembers me.