Chapter Thirty Five
Dinner in the catering area became a fully fledged party when Clayton walked me back to my dorm, discovering Addy in the throes of another messy break up. I swear she goes through partners faster than I go through cups of coffee.
At least this time, instead of crying in a heap, Addy is on the cheery side of lone drinking, a plastic bag filled with wine bottles at the end of her bed.
Dragging Clay inside to help her drink them seemed like the responsible thing to do.
And somewhere between giving Addy relationship advice I have no experience with and rubbing shoulders with Clay, a plan was hatched.
A day trip, fueled by liquor and desperation to get off campus.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” I tug at the covers wrapped around Addy’s body. “You told Clayton we’d meet him in the parking lot in twenty minutes.”
“Head. Ow. Leave me,” Addy mutters, dragging the cover back over her face. I shake my head at the ceiling. This was her plan, to take us to a small, private beach she saw online. The drive alone is going to take up most of the morning, so we stupidly agreed to leave at dawn.
After one last attempt to get Addy back from her sleeping death, I abandon her.
Clayton is already waiting, his beanie tugged low and hands shoved in his jeans pockets.
His usual, worn military jacket is doing nothing to protect him from the chilly air, but he straightens and smiles when he sees me.
“Where’s Addy?” he asks, looking behind me at the closing door.
“Hungover,” I roll my eyes. “Although, I’m starting to doubt she ever intended to come anyway. Looks like it’s just us, if you still want to go, that is?” Clay blinks a few times, his shoulders drawing up to fight off the breeze.
“Oh, yes. Yeah, I’d love to.” He clears his throat and runs a hand over his beanie. “I’ll grab the keys to the truck.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll drive,” I smile, swirling my keys around my finger. I don’t wait around for the protest, skipping over to my cherry red Audi. Oh, how I’ve missed driving my baby. I should get out more, but with the town so close to campus, I haven’t found the excuse to.
Shedding my thick sweater for the drive, I drop into the driver’s seat and watch Clay fold himself into the passenger seat, his knees brushing the glovebox. My Audi is many things, but generous with legroom isn’t one of them.
“Uh, hang on,” I lean over him to fiddle with the seat lever, attempting to push his seat back further. However, with Clay’s muscular weight, I need to jerk the lever a few times before the seat shoots back, taking my arm with it.
“Ahh!” Clay half grunts, half hisses, his entire body going stiff.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I gasp, removing my elbow from where it artfully pounded into his crotch. Hovering my hand over his privates, I scramble for a way to help. “Is there anything, I mean, do you need…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Clay insists, although his face is a shade redder than my car.
“Just drive, I’ll be alright in a minute.
” I know I shouldn’t laugh, but there’s something inherently funny about a man squirting in his chair, trying to cushion his dick while there are tears springing to his eyes.
I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my smile.
“I am so sorry. I was just trying to give you more room.”
“I definitely have more room,” he croaks, and I lose it.
My laughter fills the entire car, reverberating through the soft-top roof.
A rumbling from Clay’s chest follows as he thankfully sees the funny side of his morning assault.
I put my beloved car in drive and get us the hell out of dodge before I damage the poor guy any further.
There’s nothing quite like the freedom of the open road.
Once we’ve left campus and stopped off at a gas station for make-shift picnic snacks, the atmosphere between Clay and I becomes light.
Nothing matters but the wind streaming through the cracked windows, the vague cry of gulls and the view of the coast growing closer.
The sun has risen higher, painting the waves in silver light as I pull onto a gravel lay-by.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. We just sit, side by side, staring out at the horizon as if the world has finally granted us space to breathe.
I hadn’t noticed the weight that had been dragging me down until it just lifted.
The stares, the gossip, the constant spotlight that comes from being associated with Rhys.
Waversea is nothing like I expected, and maybe that’s not a bad thing.
I might not be cracking down with my education the way I’d hoped, but I’ve also been studying hard for years.
In an attic room, completely isolated from the world. At least now, I'm actually living.
Clay exhales softly beside me, his breath fogging the glass before disappearing into nothing.
I sneak a glance at him, his features eased and soft, his dark eyes locked on the waves.
My chest tightens as I notice the vast difference in him.
There’s no barrier held high, no defensive posture ready to ward off an oncoming attack. He’s simply at peace.
I leave him to his thoughts, making no rush to disturb the silence, despite the need to stretch my legs.
I once shared with Clay that my parents used to take me to the beach regularly, which is partly the reason I jumped at Addy’s suggestion to come here.
Now that I’m staring at the water, I don’t know if I’m ready to hear the crash of the waves again.
Clayton seems to also be taking a trip down memory lane, because when he turns to look at me, his expression is stripped bare of the guarded mask he wears on campus.
“My brother’s name was Jeremy.” His eyes shift to the window, and he swallows thickly. “I just…I wanted someone to know that.” Chewing on my lip, I try my luck and press a little further. Something tells me Clay has been waiting for this.
“Do you want to tell me about him?” At Clay’s nod, I settle back and wait patiently, letting him organize his thoughts.
“He was shit scared of spiders.”
I burst out laughing, only because I wasn’t expecting that.
Clayton chuckles too, reaching up to tug the beanie from his head.
I don’t comment on the state of his blond waves.
I find his bedhead vibe endearing. “If I was in trouble, he would take on a gang without blinking an eye, but if a spider crawled across the bed we shared, he screamed like a little girl. It was the only time I got to take care of him.” Clayton’s smile melts my heart.
Reaching over, I take his hand and squeeze tight.
He suddenly looks younger somehow, as though the years of loss and betrayal have fallen away for a mere heartbeat.
He squeezes my hand right back, a little hard but I don’t let it show.
Instead, I brush the back of his hand with my thumb and smile encouragingly.
“I reckon he would have loved you. In a big brotherly sense.”
“Of course,” I chuckle. It’s obvious that Clayton puts his brother on a pedestal, valuing him far above himself.
Perhaps that’s what draws me to him. I know all too well how easy it is to believe we are unworthy of love because those who used to give it to us are no longer around.
By some stroke of luck, Clay and I have found each other instead.
“It’s okay to step out of his shadow, you know.
You’ve honored him well, but I’d really like to see what Clayton Michaels has to offer.
” I shift closer on instinct, my shoulder brushing his.
Clay’s hand twitches, a mental block lowering behind his eyes.
I can’t help but smile in response. “WWCD. What would Clayton do?”
Clay goes still beside me, his gaze sharpening as though my words have struck something deeper than either of us expected.
For a moment he just watches me, those black eyes glinting with something dangerous and alive, like a storm breaking free from the horizon.
Then, without warning, he shoves open the passenger door and rounds the front of the car.
Tugging at my handle, I blink up in shock, the wind lapping around my face and hair.
He doesn’t give either of us the chance to overthink.
His fingers wrap firmly around mine, hauling me out of the seat with a determination that steals my breath, his palm rough against my skin as he pulls me toward the cliff’s edge.
Gravel crunches beneath our shoes, the salty sting of the ocean air colliding with the sound of waves crashing in my receivers.
We stop so close to the edge that my stomach flips, the expanse of sky and sea stretching out below us, terrifyingly beautiful from this vantage point.
My heart is in my throat, my legs trembling as I brave a look over the ledge.
The beach is far enough below that a rush of dizziness floods through me, and if it wasn’t for Clay’s hold on my arms, I might have collapsed.
When he turns to me, his chest rising and falling in quick bursts, I gasp at the clarity in his face.
The steadfast assurance he usually hides.
“If I were living for myself, I would risk everything to feel alive. I would take control of my fate alongside the girl I’m falling for,” he breathes.
Now I understand the thrill he’s chasing.
The world sharpens when you are living on the edge, fear and longing blurring until they are one of the same.
Before I can respond, Clay’s mouth is on mine.
The kiss crashes into me with the same force as the ocean below, leaving no room for hesitation.
His lips are insistent, desperate, tasting of salt and heat and the hunger of someone who has been starving for too long.
My hands fist in the front of his jacket as though I need the anchor, as though letting go would mean tumbling straight into the sea.