“Are you sure Clay’s not the one?” It was Carolyn speaking. There was no reply, and then she said, “No reason. It’s just - I want to be sure. Because I’m committed to Bob, but if there’s a chance that Clay -- all right. If you’re sure.”
Clay’s hands curled into fists, and he swallowed hard. Impossible. She didn’t feel anything for him; that was damned obvious, given how she rarely talked to him and spent every moment she could beside Bob, protective and possessive and -- Clay shook his head and started to turn away.
“It’s just...” Carolyn sighed. “There’s a good chance he’s the one, and if he is, I don’t want to mess things up.”
Clay dug his nails into his palms and took a deep breath, forced himself to turn around. He had to walk away now before he did something stupid and hurt one of the most important people in his life.
But there’s a chance, something in him insisted. With the girl you love.
And he waited. Heard Carolyn say goodbye and hang up. He waited a beat longer to make sure no one else was around, and then he poked his head into the instrument rig.
“Hey, Caro.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “Clay. What brings you slummin’ with the crew?”
“I needed to talk to you, but we have warm-ups in five, so I figured I’d swing by and see if I could secure some of your time post-show.” He sounded far more confident than he felt.
Carolyn nodded. “Sure. I’ll be helping John.”
Clay swallowed and attempted to smile. “Thanks. See you then.”
He’d rehearsed all through warm-ups what to say, what to do, every gesture and every breath. Now that he and Carolyn were standing behind a stack of backdrops, alone and cut off from the rest of the crew, every thought but one had vanished.
“Look, Clay, if this is about the other night, when I walked in on you and that girl, don’t worry. I’m not going to tell your Dad,” Carolyn said.
“This isn’t about that,” Clay said. His heart was hammering away at a mile a minute, and he was sure Carolyn could hear it.
“Oh. Then...what’s up?”
Clay caught her by the wrists, tugged her close, and kissed her. His eyes slid shut as soon as their lips met, and then a hand on his shoulder yanked him back.
Clay’s eyes flew open, and he saw Bob standing in front of Carolyn, protective, fierce. She had one hand pressed to her mouth and looked utterly shocked.
Bob’s hands curled into fists. “Clay Timothy Summers. What the hell?”
A lump rose in Clay’s throat, and tears welled in his eyes before he knew what was what. He pushed past his brother and ran.
(495 words)
1 comment:
Ouch! Twist of the knife. I can feel what Clay is feeling, the hope against hope that the one you love realy does love you too, despite all evidence to the contrary. The whole nervous expectaions. Nail on the head post.
Post a Comment