Clarity

4

OLIAS

I quietly push the key into my apartment door, then twist and shuffle the grocery bags through the door.

In a matter of two days, how in the hell did I go from getting wasted in my room to buying fucking Frosted Flakes for a girl I met not even twenty-four hours ago?

No clue.

I slowly shut the door, assuming that Clarity is asleep in Vanessa's room. I woke up around six in the morning to get dressed and go to the supermarket. When I checked on her, she was sound asleep.

Walking towards my kitchen I place the bags on the counter and drop my phone there as well, making my way to Clarity.

I eye the note I left her on the wall, still in its same place.

Stopping at the store

brB

She must still be sleeping then.

I halt when I reach my sister's room door as if a force field stops me from going further.

It's been three fucking months; I shouldn't be this affected still.

It's just a room.

I twist the knob, entering. Only to find that it's empty.

My face drops as I scan every corner of the room. "Clarity?" I call out. Did she leave? With no note? Nothing? " Clare," I call out louder, towards the hallway. Maybe she's in the bathroom? I check. No, the bathroom is open.

Something foreign twists at my chest as I thread my fingers through my hair, pulling slightly at the roots.

Why didn't she wait to say goodbye, at least? She can't just save my life and then abandon me—

"Oh, Olias, you're back!"

I whip my gaze from the wall and towards the direction of the soft-spoken words. And there she is, poking her body halfway out the door frame of my room, her smile showing between her long brunette strands of hair that hang in the air.

I sigh in relief, walking towards her. "Fucking hell, I thought you left."

She tilts her head. "Nope, I'm still here. My shoes are right there on the ground, y'know." She points to the floor where her white shoes are—the shoes I completely overlooked.

I'm such a fucking idiot.

I look back down at her. "What are you doing in my room?" Subject change to save humiliation. Although, now I'm actually wondering what in the hell she's doing.

She shuffles out of my room so I can't see in, then closes the door. She's still wearing my sleeping pants and her tight shirt. Every curve on her is carved out, besides her full thighs that I know she has. They're buried in my pants that are too large for her on the waist.

Oddly enough, the sight of her in my clothes stirs a weird feeling inside of me. It's like she's a magnet that my eyes can't help but be attracted to.

Her pinky goes up. "Okay, first, you have to pinky promise not to get mad."

My eyebrow raises in suspicion. "What did you do?" Did she kill my cat? I just got the damn thing to help with my shit. Then again, it’s not like it stopped anything.

She pushes her hand higher. "Swear that you won't be mad."

"Fine," I huff, bringing my hand to her pinky and wrapping mine around it as she showed me last night."Now, what did you do? And why do I feel like I should be scared or some shit?" I add.

She laughs, making my lip curl into a smile. A smile. How does that sound make me do that so easily?

Clarity opens my door again, and my eyes instantly widen.

Within the hour or so, I was gone, getting lost in the supermarket; she’s been here cleaning my room.

My lips part open as I spin around slowly in shock.

A large trash bag sits in the middle of the room where I assume all the garbage I had in here went. For once in a long time, I can see my floor. She picked my clothes up and filled two laundry bags full of them. My bed is also made, and my kitten is lying on one of my pillows. The nightstand that used to hold molded food is now spotless, and only my alarm clock sits on it.

And it smells like flowers…

"You cleaned it," I acknowledge blankly.

She nods as my gaze finally goes to her. "I thought you'd appreciate it. There was a chance you could've gotten mad, but you can't now, or I'll break your pinky."

I scratch the nape of my neck. "Thanks, Clare. I'm not mad." Her nickname leaves my mouth roughly and in a whisper. No one's used this much effort on me in a long time, except my parents and sister, who are no longer around.

Michael Brown, a friend since childhood, tried with me, but I won't let him. I haven't let anyone try.

Google says it’s depression. I don’t know. I’m not one to self-diagnose myself. Whatever it is, it fucks me up, filling my head with shit after shit as I slowly seep deeper into the wasteland I call my head. Drugs and alcohol only help so much, but it's been my only alternative besides therapy and medication. If anything, my anxiety has been on an all-time high without any of my copes.

Suddenly, Clarity walks up to me and wraps her arms around my torso, pressing the side of her face against my chest, causing my body to stiffen. The last hug she gave me, I cried against her neck on a cold rooftop. I can't even recall the last time I cried before that, let alone on someone.

She didn't seem to mind, though, and neither did I.

I glide my hands around her waist, pulling her closer to me. Which is a bad fucking idea. Once my hand brushes against the small of her back under her rising shirt, my body goes into flames.My heartbeat quickens the longer I have her pressed against me. With concern that she might make me feel too many things, I release her, and she releases me.

"I got you something," I tell her.

"Like what?" Her big compelling chocolate-colored eyes, the same as her hair, light up.

I keep trying to find something to hate about her so I can hate her like I do everyone else—like I did with everyone from college. But she keeps giving me reasons to enjoy her company. There's nothing bad to find.

"Come," I say, walking out of my room.

My mind runs rapidly as I walk, deciding who I want to be regarding Clarity. I have a chance here to be someone new, someone she needs, and maybe someone I need too. Before I dropped out of my junior year of college four months ago, there wasn't a girl on campus with whom I hadn't been. It was who I was, but I don't want to be that Olias with Clarity.

I clear my throat and enter the kitchen, shaking thoughts of her out of my head. I reach for the grocery bags and pull out a box of Frosted Flakes.

She gasps, and I speak. "I remember yesterday you said you would kill these."

"Yes! I do. It's the best cereal."

"Nope, that title belongs to Cheerios," I rebuttal, pulling out the milk.

Clarity scrunches her face. " Cheerios ? They're drier than a camel's butt in a sandstorm."

I snort. “Interesting, but you're wrong, they're sweet." Sticking my hand in the new box of Cheerios, I bring it to my mouth and throw my head back, eating the handful.

"Let me try one." She faces me after pouring her cereal and opening her mouth.

"Here," I hand her a few.

She slaps my hand, and they fall, bouncing off the floor. "No, idiot. Throw them at me, and I'll catch them with my mouth."

I shake my head at this weird woman in front of me, but still, I take a few steps back, lift one cereal in my fingers, and throw it at her open mouth.

She shifts to catch it, but it hits her nose, and she begins to giggle. The pleasing sound making me smile. " Ugh , again!"

A smile stretches across my face as I lift another, shooting.

It lands on her eye, and she laughs harder, making me grin. "Best of three," I tell her.

Clarity readies herself again and I throw another, this time landing it directly into the back of her throat. She screams in cheers, chewing, and raises her fists. I laugh at her, the smile on my face stretching ear to ear.

She raises her hand at me for a high-five and I high-five her. "You should be a basketball player," she randomly suggests.

"That's... not even close to being compared to basketball."

Before she can reply, my phone on the counter rings. I look at it and see Michael's name pop up. Sighing, I pick it up and look at Clarity who's sitting on the kitchen counter, eating her cereal and dangling her feet.

"One sec," I mutter, and she nods.

I answer the call, walking down my hallway. " What."

"Woah, woah, woah, there fire. What's got your panties in a bunch?" Michael says.

"You do." For interrupting us.

"Yeah, well, get over it; I'm coming over."

"What? No, the fuck you're not—"

A knock at my door fills the house. Fucking hell.

"Too late. Open up, Ollie!"

I hang up the phone and walk back across the house—I eye Clarity on the counter, who's still munching on her Frosted Flakes.She looks at me. "Who's that?"

"Some asshole."

I twist my door and open it, revealing Michael. He's smoking a blunt, blowing the smoke immediately in my face. He's as tall as me, with curly hair that completes the light-skin guy portrayal.

"Ollie, my boy!" He greets while trying to enter.

"What do you want?" I snap in a hush. I'm not in the mood for his shit. He's loud and annoying and would probably scare Clarity away.

"I want to see my best friend. You've been up here for days."

"I haven't."

"Yeah, sure . So, when did you last see Jasmine, Tanner, Kyle, or me in three weeks? You don't even text the group chat anymore."

I shrug. "Maybe because I don't fucking like you guys, ever thought about that?" I grab the blunt from his hands and take a drag, closing the door slightly more and exhaling.

He scoffs and chuckles. "That's too bad, man. Jasmine's throwing a party at her house, and you're coming—Are you gonna fucking let me in?"

"Nope and no."

Behind me, I hear her voice. "Olias, can I have more?"

For fucks sake. My eyes close, already knowing what Michael thinks of her out-of-context question.

"Holy shit, are you banging a chick in there?" He whispers.

I shake my head. "No, she's just a friend I met."

"And so is Jasmine, yet you fuck her every time you see each other."

"This girl isn't like that."

"Damn, so she's a keeper? Wifey material? The one ?"

I roll my eyes. "Shut the fuck up? No, just a friend."

The door behind me pulls open, and I turn to see Clarity. She holds an empty bowl of cereal, looking between Michael and me.

"Holy fucking hotness ," Michael mutters, and I sigh, already knowing his eyes are glued to Clarity's body.

"It smells like crap," she says, sniffing the air. Weed.

"No baby, that's what good wood smells like," Michael says. My teeth grind at his nickname for her. He's always been the friendly dick, and I was just 'the dick.' Plain and simple.

"What's your name?" He asks.

"Cla—"

"None of your business," I answer for her, interrupting. I already told him her name, so I know he’s just trying to find things to talk about with her.

"Don't be so rude, Olias," Clarity scolds. "I'm Clarity Red." She sticks out her hand to fucking shake his.

Michael glances at me with a smirk. " Yeah , Ollie, don't be so rude." He steps close and shakes her hand. "I'm Michael. Michael Brown." Clarity smiles pleasantly.

Giving up the little fucks I have, I first grab Clarity's bowl from her hand before turning back into my apartment. They both follow me into the kitchen.

"So, Clarity, how did you meet this shithead?" Michael asks.

Clarity finds her way back on the counter, and I wish she hadn't. The way her thighs flatten, and her leg’s part is too flattering for a guy like Michael to be around. Her shirt has ridden up, revealing her stomach as well, and I look away before my mind loses itself.

Michael leans against the opposite counter of her.

"Um..." she says, glancing at me. I shake my head, knowing she's wondering if she should tell the real story of how we met.

"We met at a bar ," she states instead.

I hold back the urge to utter the word “what”. Why couldn't she say Starbucks or something? A bar ? Does she even drink?

Michael hums in interest, reading my mind. "You drink?"

She gasps as if offended. "Of course, I drink! I drink a lot of things." I find that hard to believe.

Michael hums. "So, you wouldn't mind coming to a house party with Ollie and me. would you?"

I pour Clare her second bowl of Frosted Flakes and slide it to her. "Yes, she minds."

"No, I don't mind," she answers at the same time as me.

We stare at each other, me annoyed and her confused. She tilts her head.

"You won't like it, trust me," I promise her.

"You don't know what I like, actually. And I have never been to a party, anyway."

Michael laughs. "You got a lot to learn then, baby."

"Can you not call me that?" She requests kindly.

I smirk.

"I have a boyfriend."

My smirk falls as fast as it rises.

"What?" Michael's mouth forms an “O” shape, his eyes widening as my eyes set on Clarity. "You didn't tell me that," I add.

She shrugs, looking at her cereal. "The topic never came up. It wasn't important."

I drag my hand down my face, sighing. She has a fucking boyfriend. Of course, she does; look at her. It's not like I wanted her to be with me, but now some limits have to be abided by.

I can always break those limits, but I'm a respectful man, at least twenty percent of the time. And I already don't like the guy for not knowing or being there for his girlfriend when she was seconds away from taking her life.

"You guys are only friends, yeah? So, it isn't a problem," Michael says. "Y’all didn't fuck or anything, right?"

Clarity almost drops her cereal, shaking her head and coughing.

"For fucks sake, shut the fuck up," I snap at him.

"Well, did you?"

"No!"

He extends his hands out and drops them at his sides. "See? So, no problem then. Clarity, the party's on Friday. We're leaving at, like, eleven, so you can just come over here any time before then, and Ollie will take you."

"Not if I'm not going," I say. Those parties always leave me fucked up. There's a reason I have a random fucking tattoo of a small dick on my left shoulder blade that I didn't notice until I was at the beach and someone pointed it out.

Michael pulls out a small can of alcohol from my fridge. He pops it open and gulps, "Yeah, you are, or I'll drag your ass out of this house myself."

"Wanna bet?"

"A mill—"

He's saved from making the stupidest bet in his life by a phone ringing.

Clarity's phone.

She pulls it out of my pants pocket from the bottoms she wears, and her eyes widen, her jaw pausing her chewing. Her face goes white, draining the peach in her cheeks. If I didn’t see her eyes blinking, I'd think she was going to faint. She places the bowl down and drops it off the counter.

"Be quiet," she orders, then answers the phone. "Hey, babe," a half-smile sits on her face as she mumbles.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

She looks our way. "I'm at... a friend's house." Silence . "No, she's a girl named Olinda and she's really sweet. She has Frosted Flakes."

Olinda? Really?

She lied about being with me, but she also called me sweet, and I catch myself from smiling, knowing Michael heard and might be watching me.

"Sorry, I'm coming home now," she mutters, looking at the floor and wrapping one arm around herself. Home? No , she can’t. She hangs up the phone and instantly runs to Vanessa's room.

I follow. "Clarity, everything good?"

"Yeah!" she yells back, then runs out while putting on her shoes. That was the quickest pants change I've ever seen.

She holds my red pants and hands them to me. "Thank you for letting me wear them. And for the coff— I mean beer ," her eyes dart to Michael, making sure she goes along with her lie, then back to me, "and for everything else ."

I blink. She's moving too quickly to process what's happening and before I even realize it, she's gone—leaving me staring at a closed door.

"What the hell ," Michael snorts. "That one was a little crazy."

Crazy, yeah, but I liked her crazy.

I turn to Michael, and he squints. "You guys didn't meet at a bar, did you?

I shake my head. "Nope."

"You aren't gonna tell me how you met her, are you, Olinda ."

"Nope."