Clarity

15

CLARITY

Incoming call: Dad

My heart stops as I look at the phone on the coffee table. I nearly thought it was Jonah, but Olias blocked his number on my phone, so he couldn’t text or call me, and he also lost access to my location.

It's been days since I texted my dad that I wanted to see him.

I stiffen on Olias lap. We hadn’t left the couch other than to wash up, eat the food I helped Olias cook properly, and then sat back down to watch Gilmore Girls for hours. Olias protested a new show, but I won, of course.

Olias hand squeezes my thigh. "Aren't you gonna get that?"

I bite at the inside of my lip, nodding. He pulls my arm back and quickly kisses me before letting go. A blush creeps up my neck. I smile before standing up from his lap and grabbing the phone.

Answering, I’m quiet, forcing my dad to speak first. "Clarity? You there?"

I clear my clogged throat. "Yeah, I'm here."

He sighs in relief. "So good to hear you, honey. I feel like I haven't heard your voice in ages." That's because you haven't. "Sorry, I haven't responded to your text. I was busy."

Busy. You’re always busy. I shake my head as if he could see me. "It's fine."

"So... how are you? How has my oldest daughter been?"

Hm, where should I start?

I nearly committed suicide, my panic attacks have come back, I lost my job, and I've realized my boyfri—ex-boyfriend, I should say— is a terrible person. And… oh , I needed you over the years.

On the bright side, I met an amazing boy.

I look back at said amazing boy, and Olias is already looking over the couch at me, his fluffy hair covering his forehead with a concerned look plastered on his face. He must’ve noticed my discomfort, but I give him a reassuring smile.

"Everything's good!" I resort to saying to my dad, turning back around. "I've been…good. How's Clarissa?"

I only really want to know about Clarissa, my little sister; now, with mom in the hospital, there isn’t much reason to converse with my dad.

When my parents split, Clarissa was only six years old; I was twelve. Dad took her, and Mom took me. Now she should be twelve. Six years have passed without us seeing or speaking to each other.

"She's great. She asks about you all the time," he says.

So why, when I called, you never answered to let me speak to her?

In the background, I hear bumping and then a voice that makes me smile.

"Dad! Is that Clarity? Can I speak to her, please?" Clarissa quickly pleads. I begin pacing the floor, hugging myself as my dad tells her yes.

In seconds, I hear Clarissa's voice clear as day, " Clarity? Oh my gosh, hi!"

I laugh. She's always been so hyper. I think I rubbed off on her a bit when we were little. "Hey!" Tears fill my eyes. "How have you been, Issy? How's school? How's... everything?"

I can hear her squeal and sniffle, excitement bursting her open from talking with me. I hear a bed creek and a shuffle as if she flopped down on her bed.

"I haven't heard that name since..." Clarissa trails off.

"Since you were with mom and I?” I finish her thought. “I figured."

"Yeah. I've been okay. I'm almost in high school now, and I think I've decided I want to be a doctor like you said you were when we were little. How's college going? Can I go to your college when I graduate high school? I have so many questions."

I let out a laugh to avoid crying. "Actually, I'm not in college, Issy."

I haven't realized how much she looks up to me or how much she actually remembers.

"What, why? Don't you want to be a doctor?" More than anything, Clarissa.

"Yeah, I just had to put it off for a while." I was forced to; no money equals no college.

"Oh, alright then… How's mom?"

"Mom is…" The last thing I want her to do is worry. She knows nothing about Mom's drug problem; she was spared that suffering. I'll keep the coma to myself for now. "She's good too. I'm not with her right now, though."

"That's fine. I'll call back later to talk to her. And Clarity," I hear her move on the other end. "I've got into creating a Lego collection. It's my new favorite thing; I have so many. Do you think we can build one together? Can you come over, please? Maybe for Thanksgiving! It's in a few days, after all." She talks like she's taken five Red Bulls, and I love it.

Thanksgiving. Nearly forgot about that. "I would love to, but I don't think Dad and his wife would want that..."

I hear her run.

"Dad! Regina! Can Clarity come over for Thanksgiving? It's only ever us three, and Regina, you make a lot of food all the time."

I hear my dad stretch out an 'uh' before speaking, "Sure she can."

"You see, Clarity?!" Clarissa exclaims. "He said yeah."

I raise a hand, and it falls to my hip, whipping the sweat away from my pajamas. "Great," I laugh through my nose. "I guess I'll see you in a few days then, huh?"

She cheers in excitement. "Okay, I love you, Clarity. See you soon. I'll text you my number from Dad's phone."

I smile. "Okay, I love you too, Issy."

We say final goodbyes, and she asks if I want to speak to Dad again, but I tell her to hang up the phone. Seconds later, a number comes through. I assume it’s Clarissa who texts me the two sisters holding hands emoji, and I send back a heart with a yellow bow around it, a turkey, and a smiley face with an angel halo.

"Who was that?" I hear Olias ask. I turn around to see him standing behind me.

"My dad and sister," I sigh, frowning.

"You have a sister ?" he asks. I eye Dog, rubbing his small brown body against my leg, and I go to pick him up.

"Yeah, Clarissa Red. She's twelve, but I haven't seen either of them in six years." I rub Dog's head, and he meows cutely. "I also told them I'd go to their house for Thanksgiving," I add.

Olias sits on the back of the couch, his hands in his sweatpants' pockets. He has a new pair since he made a mess of the other ones earlier after our dirty business on the couch.

"Is that not a good thing?"

I shrug. "I don't know…I don't have a relationship with my dad anymore, and I never even met his wife. It'll be awkward. The only reason I'd go is for Clarissa. She was so excited to talk to me."

"If it'll help, I can go with you," he proposes. "I have nothing better to do."

I smile and nod. "Yeah, I'd like that."

A ding sounds through the living room, and Olias sighs. He takes his phone out of his pocket, reads the text, and puts it back in.

"Who's that?" I ask him, placing Dog back down.

He pulls me in by my arm and threads his fingers in the hair at the back of my head, slightly pulling my head up to look at him. "Nothing, just the guys bugging me about some bullshit bonfire they have every year at this time."

"Oh, sounds like fun. When is it?" I bring my arms around his neck.

"Tomorrow," he says with a lack of interest.

I smile. My eyes light up.

He shakes his head. "No."

"Yes."

" No , Clarity. We're not going."

"Yes, we are. Pick up your phone and text Michael. We'll be there. You need to get out of the house." I drop my hand from around his neck and boop his nose.

He takes hold of my hand and pecks his lips on mine. My stomach does thirty backflips.

His voice is low as he says, "I'm not texting shit because I'm not going, and neither are you. You're a party animal. Remember?”

I laugh. "No, I'm not. You left me for Jasmine , remember?"

His face shifts into disgust at the mention of her, and he pulls me tighter against him. "I fucked up, I know. Besides, she's jealous of you."

"I was jealous of her, too," I admit. "Especially when you gave her my dress."

His brows pinch together, shaking his head. "I didn't give her that. When she came here with Michael after you left the supermarket, the bitch took it without me knowing."

I raise an eyebrow. "Don't call anyone that word. It's not nice. Maybe she didn't have any clothes."

"No, you're just too nice." He kisses me again, but on the tip of my nose, and my eyes flutter. "But that's a good thing. Never change. You balance me out."

He's adorable.

I raise myself on my tippy toes and kiss his nose, too. "And you balance me out. My very own grump."

He grins awkwardly, trying to hide it. His cheeks begin to glow, and I smile.

"You're cute when you blush," I say in awe.

He lets go of me and sighs. "Quiet," he mutters.

Cutie.

"What time is the bonfire?" I ask him. "We need to arrive fashionably late."

"We're not going to that, Clare, drop it."

***

"The one and only Clarity Red has just entered the houseeeeee!" Kyle shouts. Michael, Tanner, and people I don't recognize chime in with woo's and claps.

Five whole minutes late. It's pretty fashionable if you ask me.

I bugged Olias all day today about going until he gave in. He said something about not being able to say no to me.

Michael owns a beach house off the coast of Long Island. On the beach right outside is a huge lit bonfire.

Olias allowed me to choose an outfit from Vanessa's closet since my clothes are all in Jonah's house, I picked a simple, pretty, yet warm outfit.

I grin at Olias' friends sitting on the couches off to the left of the entrance and lift my hand to wave at them.

The large beach house is filled with people, music that makes my eardrums boom, and non-stop chatter. People are also scattered outside, drinking from solo red cups, and a few gather by the bonfire.

This is my second party ever. It’s not too bad; maybe the first one ended a little weirdly. I was having fun until Olias crashed my sexy dance.

Michael stands up and walks towards us. He holds a stick of drugs in his hands. I hate smoking. I tried drinking at the last party. It was fun, I'd admit. But smoking and pills are what my mother was— is addicted to.

I scrunch my face at the smell; then again, it's the smell of the whole house.

"The three colorteers are finally reunited," Michael says, taking a drag of the drug stick. It’s weed, but drug stick suits it better.

"Huh?" I huff a laugh.

He pointed to Olias, himself, and me in a triangle shape. "The three colorteers, like the three musketeers. Our last names. You're red, I’m brown, and the grinch here is grey." He shoves Olias' shoulder, and he shrugs him off.

My grumpy is grumping again. Maybe he has social anxiety or something.

Michael lifts an arm and brings me into a hug I wasn't expecting. But I'm always down for a hug; it's not as good as Olias’ hugs, but it's alright. Six out of ten.

" Michael ," Olias voices warningly.

Michael laughs, then pulls back from me. "I'm assuming you broke up with that other dude. So you're single now, right?" He takes a sip of his drink.

I stare back at Olias, unsure how to answer that question, then back at Michael. Am I single? “Uh…”

I haven't officially told Jonah I broke up with him; I just sort of ghosted him. Sooner or later, I'll have to see him to get my things from his house, but I'm trying to put that day off for as long as I can. And Olias and I, well, I’m not quite sure what we are.

Olias grips my waist, pulling me closer to him. "She's off-limits, dickhead."

Michael cackles and shakes his head. "Just fucking with you.” He turns around and slides through people towards the couches. I walk to follow him, Olias still stuck at my side.

I look up at the grimace on his face as he scans the house, and I giggle. "What's wrong with you? Loosen up a bit."

He looks down at me, lowering his head to whisper in my ear so I can hear him over the music, but a girl bumps into him—a redhead. She turns around and smiles, waving flirtatiously. "Hey, Olias," she says before eyeing me, lifting her eyebrows, and walking off.

Olias rolls his eyes and looks at me. "I want to leave."

"What was that about?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing, my name is known from college, the same one mostly everyone here goes to."

Oh… right. I'm being paranoid. "Okay, but we just got here."

He stops us, a frown on his face as he looks towards the couches where his friends sit. "I just really don't like being here with you. This was a mistake."

I tilt my head. " With me ?"

He sighs as I repeat his words. Would he be okay with being here if I wasn't?

"Are you... embarrassed of being seen with me, or something?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "That's not what I meant—"

"But it sounds exactly like what you meant," I interrupt, but my voice is soft. I'm hurt, just a little. "If you want to go somewhere else, then fine, but I'm staying here and having fun."

"Clare—"

I turn around, walking towards the couch where Olias friends are. They talk amongst themselves, more so screaming and laughing.

"Hey guys," I greet. Kyle, in his plaid blue jacket, raises his hand in the air.

"Yo, Clarity!" He grins, standing so he can hug me.

I hug him and then shift to Tanner Rivers. I remember when Olias told me his last name. For some reason, I thought it was super cool as if a river had been named after him.

His blonde hair is middle parted down his head, coming down to his ears.

"Where's Ollie?" He asked, wrapping one arm around me.

"Right here," I hear Olias mutter behind.

I let go of Tanner and glance at Olias, who sits beside Jasmine in the only empty seat. He slumps, glaring at the floor, his head leaning on his hand perched on the couch arm. Jasmine, who I'm just noticing, leans back onto the couch beside him, crossing her long legs.

Why does him sitting there make my teeth grind? I swallow, pushing it out of my mind. It doesn’t mean anything, I’m sure.

"Oh baby Jesus, what's up with him?" Tanner asks me quietly enough so only I can hear the question.

I shrug. "I'm not sure. Is he usually a party person?"

He nods. "He was the party. Until, y'know, everything happened with his family. After he hooked up with you, I thought he was back to his old self, but I guess not."

That increased my questions: what did his old self consist of exactly?

Who was Olias Grey before I knew him?

"We never hooked up—"

"Hey, sweetheart !" I turn to the sound of Jasmine's voice. She holds a bottle of beer.

"Are you playing, never have I ever, or are you going to continue killing the vibe?" She grins through her words, passive-aggressively. "It's a drinking game if you didn't know."

Tanner sits back down, and I nod. "I know what it is." I've never played before, but I've seen it in movies, and it's self-explanatory. If you've done something, you drink. Right? Simple.

I look around for a spot to sit, but I see nowhere.

The carpet it is.

At the end of the table, I watch as Jasmine twists open a bottle of vodka.

"Yeah, baby!" Michael cheers at the sound of a fresh bottle.

I begin to kneel on the floor just as Olias calls my name. I look sideways at him. "Come here," he says. Everyone on the circular couch pauses to look at us.

"I'm fine sitting on the carpet; there's no space."

He shakes his head, lifting a hand and motioning for me to come to him. "Clarity, just come here. "

I walk towards him hesitantly. Should I still be mad? I don't feel mad, especially with my head beating like a hummingbird's wings, just looking at his face. He looks really… handsome right now. With the gold chain hanging from his neck, the black shirt, and the black and white flannel on. The green of his eyes pops out brightly.

I take his soft hand, and he grabs mine, pulling me towards him. Turning, a hand on my waist, he pulls me into his lap.

Oh God.

He shifts his hips up to adjust us, my butt pressing into his groin and my legs between his, my shoulder sideways digging into his chest.

I can't freaking breathe.

His hand stays on my waist and cups my chin, tilting my head before pressing his lips against mine.

He's kissing me.

In front of everyone.

In front of his friends.

I relax into him, his hand trailing to my neck, his hip adjusting against me as our lips move together with rhythm into a full-on make-out. I'm insane, making out in front of dozens of people. But I can't stop; I don't want to. The touch of his lips puts me in a trance.

The guys cheer us on. Even random people close enough to see us said something to hype up our kiss. But I'm too distracted by Olias' hand gripping my waist, grinding me into him.

When he finally pulls back, I'm an utter mess, my hair in my face, my lips puffy and out of breath.

His eyelids are low and sleepy, his lips puffy too, pulled up into a smirk. "Would I have done that if I was embarrassed being seen with you?" he whispers.

He cups my head and pulls my ear to his mouth. " No . I wouldn't have. I could fuck you right here, right now,” his words fall from his lips slowly, “in front of everyone just to get that through your pretty little head." He kisses a sensitive spot underneath my ear before letting me go.

My eyes are vast, and I am thankful my hair hides my cheeks.

" Ugh ," Jasmine beside us scoffs. She flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and rolls her eyes. "Embarrassing for that bitch," she mutters loud enough so I can hear.

My lips part at her rudeness.

"Jazz, shut up and start the game; I need to get drunk." Tanner orders from the other couch.

Michael and Kyle stay snickering, eyes widen, with their hands on their forehead. What's so funny? And why do I feel like I'm the center of the joke?

I straighten myself on Olias' lap with my eyebrows knitted together, but he tries to pull me back down. I push his hand away.

"Why?" I ask Jasmine. "Why are you so… so —Look, I'm sorry he doesn't want you but—"

She throws her head back; obnoxious cackles leave her.

" He doesn't want me ?" She laughs again. "Oh, sweetie, I've been there and done that. Do you think you're the first to be with the great Olias Grey," she snorts.

"Jasmine, just sit down. Start. The. Game," Tanner tries to interrupt.

"No, because this preppy bitch thinks she has something special !" Her voice rises. "Like she has something plenty of girls in this very house haven't tasted or had before. Including me."

Olias leans up with me in his lap, muttering, "Alright, we’re fucking leaving. This is why I didn't want to come, this shitty fucking—"

I stand up from his lap, confused as to why he's just letting her say these things.

I put a hand on his chest, "I said I don't want to go." Looking back at Jasmine, I feel anger rising to my ears, burning the cartilage.

I step towards her as she sits smugly on the couch. "I don't know what your problem is or if you're jealous, but leave us alone , okay? It’s cost nothing not to be a bitch all the time." I glare at her. The humming of gasps comes from everyone close to us. That felt terrible. Instant regret falls on me from using the same word I told Olias not to use.

She stands up, at least an inch taller than me, with her heels on. She bends to silently pick up her red cup of vodka. She walks towards the speakers, where the music blasts from a few feet away, and unplugs it. Everyone groans and looks her way, voices filling the house instead. What is she doing?

"Jazz! Really? Don't fuck up my night for petty shit!" Michael shouts at her. She ignores him. “Who fucking cares about this crap?”

"Let's play, Never Have I Ever, everyone!" She grins, walking back to us. "The girls in here specifically."

Olias tugs at my arm. "Can we just go back home?” he pleads. "Fuck this party, alright? We can make our own party, just us."

I ignore him.

Jasmine taps a finger on her chin as if in deep thinking and a bad feeling rushes over me.

"With a show of hands. Never have I ever…" she starts, shouting so the whole house can hear her, "kissed Olias Grey!"

Silence follows her words, and I look at the crowd of people. Hands begin to rise. Dozens of them, all of the girls, some of them giggling and laughing with each other.

"Jasmine!" Olias snarls, his voice threatening, but it doesn't faze her.

"Guess you're not alone on that one, Clare ." Jasmine sips her drink, ignoring Olias.

That doesn't matter. He's had other girls before me, just like I had Jonah before him. The number of them shouldn't matter.

But then she continues.

"Never have I ever fucked Olias grey!" She drinks again.

Hands go up again, maybe more this time.

I look at Olias, wondering if this is true or if it's a prank or a lie, but he's staring at the floor. We haven't gone that far yet, but was he planning to be with me like all these other girls? My mind races to places I never want it to go. Has he been using me?

"Never have I ever, hmm..." she pauses, and her eyes widen as if a lightbulb flicks on in her head, “This was a fun one. Never have I ever hitched a ride on that helicopter he has," she drags out her last word.

My jaw drops slightly as I watch the hands raise again simultaneously. My eyes begin to sting, and my throat closes up as if I've eaten squares of cardboard.

And here I thought I was important to him.

Jasmine drinks. "Tell us, Olias, do you get deja vu sometimes? I'd assume so.” She turns to me. "Has he done that yet with you? What did he show you? The Empire State Building color changing or the plane drawing your name in the sky with smoke?"

"He showed me the smoke one!" One girl shouts from the crowd. The redhead who bumped into him earlier.

"He changed the building purple for me once!" Someone else shouts.

I blink, my vision blurring with tears. Olias takes my hand, but I snatch it away from him. Too far. It’s gone too far.

"Clarity, please listen to me. I told you she's just jealous. You're different—"

"Never have I ever been told I was different by Olias Grey!" Jasmine shouts, downing her drink. "Never have I ever worn his clothes, been given a cute little nickname. Never have I ever slept with Olias Grey right before he moved on to the next like nothing happened."

I look around at the hands, laughing and muttering from guys filling the house.

"But hey, he's still a good fuck," Jasmine laughs. "No hard feelings."

Embarrassment floods over me.

Embarrassment.

Anger.

Sadness.

Betrayal.

Each emotion fills me, reaching my capacity and spilling me all over the floor under the heels of all the girls who got what I thought was only mine.

I cry, tears streaming down my face as girls look at me like this was expected like they've all been in my spot before. A spot I was blinded by. Yet again.

Everyone resumes their partying as if I hadn’t just experienced one of the worst moments of my life.

Salty tears drip into my mouth from the corner of my lips, and my nose begins to run. I've cried before. I've cried over Jonah many times. But never have I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest and thrown under someone's feet to be stomped on. Over and over and over again.

I never felt this belittled by someone I've grown this close to so quickly. I trusted him with my body .

I turn to Olias. "Who am I to you?" My voice comes out fragile, adding to the devastating embarrassment. "Do you do this with every girl you meet? Ma-make them feel special before you dump them?" I weep, walking close to him. I shove his chest, but he doesn't budge. "Was I just an easy target? The suicidal girl?” I whisper the last part. “Hmm? Answer me, Olias. Was I?"

He shakes his head, and his hair, which I pathetically still want to bury my hands in, is messy over his forehead. "Clarity, it's not like that. It was never and will never be like that. Please just let me take you home, and I'll explain—"

"Home?" My voice cracks. "I don't have a home! I thought that maybe... maybe yours could be mine, but I don't think it is. How many other girls have had your home as theirs?"

"I had stayed at his house for a little while," some girl answers my question as she walks past. Olias shoots a sharp glare her way and tells her to fuck off.

It only adds to my tears. My jaw begins to quiver, and I shake my head. Am I dreaming?

Jasmine walks over and snorts, " Anyway, my point is proven." She goes to the speaker and blasts the music again. Mostly, everyone goes back to minding their business, which I'm thankful for. I’ve had enough embarrassment for one night.

Olias grabs my hand again, and I push his hand away. Hurt flashes across his face.

"Do you even like me?" I cry, the words coming out softly, but still loud enough for him to hear.

His face is red, eyes glossy. "Of course I like you. Please don't listen to them; don't let her get in your head! She's just trying to fuck me over because I dumped her for you. Please believe me, Clarity, I... fuck— I love —"

“What. You love me?” I laugh. He's probably said that to every girl here. How do I know if anything he says is genuine or if it's just like a tape on repeat?

The question I don't want to ask myself surfaces. How do I know he isn't just like Jonah? Jonah wasn't always hurtful, and he was once the nicest guy I've met, just like Olias.

Olias lifts his hand, and out of habit, I shut my eyes tightly with Jonah in my thoughts, expecting him to strike me and turn my face to the side.

But he doesn't hit me.

I open my eyes to his hand shaking in the air, his eyes wide.

He was going to touch my shoulder.

"Clarity, fuck . Jesus, I'd— I'd never... " he stutters, dropping his hand. "I'd never hit or lay a finger on you, I promise."

I shake my head. I didn't mean to flinch at him. I didn't think he'd hit me. It was just the heat of the moment, but it doesn't matter anymore. Turning around, dipping my head low as I dig my hand in my jacket pocket and pull out my phone.Loud sobs leave me now as I make my way outside, ignoring his calls out to me. Strands of hair stick to my damp cheeks as I walk. Not knowing exactly where I'm going.

I tap my phone and click a number—the number I saved a while back. It rings two times before she picks up.

"Hey, it's Natalie— well, you probably know that since you're calling, but I don't know who you are, so... yeah," she laughs. "Who is this anyway?"

"Hey, Natalie," I sniffle, looking around. These streets are dark and scary. "It's Clarity Red, from McDonald's. I used to work—"

"Oh, Clarity! I know who you are,” she laughs briefly. “What's wrong? You sound like you're crying? Are you with that Jonah guy? Do you need help?"

"No, no, I'm not. I only need somewhere to stay…until I find a place, or just for the night. I know you don't know me…but I," I break down, unable to finish my sentence.

Why me? I thought he was at least my friend. I let him touch me.

"Oh my gosh," she says sadly. "I'm coming right now, okay? Text me your location."