I yanked my books for the afternoon from the top shelf and glared at my friend. “What is your problem with him anyway, Daniel? It’s not like you to be such a dick to someone you don’t even know.” I couldn’t help the hurt that bled through my voice. I tried to stay indignant and self-righteous but I could hear the vulnerability in my words.
Daniel softened immediately and put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Sorry, Mags. I know you want to be friends with this dude. But there’s just something about him that rubs me the wrong way. Though I’ll put on the happy face, just for you.” I smiled at him and leaned in to give him a hug. Daniel patted my back awkwardly, unaccustomed to such a show of affection from me.
He pulled back and looked at me, a strange look on his face. “What?” I asked him, frowning.
Daniel only shook his head. “You really like this guy? I mean, really?” He seemed to be in a state of disbelief. Why was that such a strange concept for Daniel to get?
“Yeah, Danny. I really, really like him.” I couldn’t help my dreamy tone and I tried to ignore the eye roll Daniel gave me.
“Why? He has the personality of a rock. I don’t get it.” Daniel seemed genuinely perplexed. And I guess I didn’t blame him. It wasn’t as if he had seen the same Clay that I had. The Clay that made me forget everyone and everything else.
“No, he doesn’t. He’s a lot of fun. I can talk to him about stuff that I can’t talk about with anyone else. He has this crazy spontaneous side that makes everything we do so much fun. He’s cute and smart and...” Daniel held up his hand.
“Okay, enough already. I think I vomited in my mouth a little. Whatever. Just be careful. I worry, is all.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. How many times had I told him the exact same thing when it came to Kylie or some other girl he was drooling over? I thought, of anyone, he would understand how I was feeling.
Maybe not.
“And I’ll be nice. For your sake. But that doesn’t mean I trust him... or like him.” Daniel gave me a hard look and I tried not to yell at him again. I wanted to shake my best friend.
Not wanting to start another argument, I opted to stay silent. I threw a smile in Danny’s direction, left him, and headed to class.
I hated to admit that I’d looked for Clay all day but he’d successfully avoided me. Had I unwittingly ruined our friendship? Was I trying too hard to hold on to something that had barely begun? I was the worst kind of pathetic. I should have been focused on kicking ass in my last year of school. Thinking of where I’d go to college. Working my butt off to get the cross-country team to state. I had a million and one other things going on in my life but the only thing I could think about was him.
Clay fucking Reed.
He had royally screwed up my head in the short time that I’d known him. And I couldn’t even claim to know him that well. I had really thought we had the beginnings of something. But I’d be damned if I would invest energy into something that wasn’t reciprocal.
I had worked myself up into a ball of determination. I would not allow myself to obsess over some boy. I was better than that. I had more going for me than being some stupid girl who fixated on whether a guy would give her the time of day. That was not the person I was.
My internal monologue had me fired up. I could practically hear my own personal soundtrack. I hummed a tune with an angry beat the whole way to my locker. I was feeling strong and untouchable.
And then a piece of paper fluttered to my feet. It had been shoved between the slats of my locker and had fallen out when I opened it. Probably some stupid flyer for the pep rally. I started to ball it up and throw it away when my name caught my eye.
Maggie.
The handwriting wasn’t familiar to me but somehow I knew it was his. So, just like that, all my newfound strength went straight to hell.
I opened the folded paper and smoothed it out. It was an amazingly intricate charcoal drawing of a gothic-looking butterfly. The detail was unbelievable. It looked like one of those cool tribal-art tattoos. It was edgy yet delicate at the same time. I couldn’t quite believe that Clay could be capable of such beautiful artwork. His aloof coldness belied the sensitive soul who was able to communicate so much through a drawing. Then I noticed some writing at the bottom.
In thin, sloping script it read,Goodnessis your virtue. Quiet beauty your weapon.I almost stopped breathing. The words sounded like some sort of love poem. What did he mean by them? And why could he act like he wanted nothing to do with me one minute and then practically lay his heart out on the table the next? It made no sense.
I looked up and found Clay standing a little way down the hallway, watching me. Our eyes met and an undeniable electricity passed between us. Did he feel like I did? What did this drawing mean? Was he trying to tell me something? I gathered up my book bag and shoes for cross-country and walked toward him.
He watched me the entire time with a hesitant look on his face. I stopped in front of him and held up the drawing. “You did this?” I asked him, although I already knew the answer. Clay nodded.
“I didn’t know you were an artist. This is... just... wow.” God, why did I have to be such a moron?
Clay’s lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. “Thanks,” he said simply, still watching me in that intense way of his.
“And the words at the bottom? Did you write them?” I asked, trying to pull something out of him that would get him to open up. To tell me what he was thinking.
Clay pushed himself off the locker and started walking with me down the hallway. “No. It’s a Japanese poet I really love. That particular poem made me think of you. You should read it.” Japanese poetry, huh? Deep stuff.
He was reciting pretty Japanese poetry to me. A guy didn’t do that sort of thing unless he liked the girl, right? I mean, that was the only thing that made sense. But then, what was with the arctic freeze-out earlier?
Ugh! There was that obsessive self-doubt again. It had to stop!
“Well, thanks,” I forced myself to say coolly. There was no way I would let Clay know what he did to me. It was becoming a bit embarrassing. Clay took hold of my hand and pulled me to a stop. I should probably have moved out of his grasp. That would have been the smart thing to do. Not throwing myself headfirst into this crazy whirlwind that seemed to suck me in and refused to let go. But I liked how his hand felt around mine way too much to do that. So I looked at my shoes, finding them suddenly very interesting.
