“What’s so funny?” I asked him. Clay finally looked at me, a strange smirk dancing on his lips.
“Just an appropriate choice of words.”
“Huh?” He made no sense, but apparently he thought he was being hysterical because he laughed again, louder this time. And, just like that, he bounced back up and his mood lightened.
“You want to leave? Let’s go!” He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. He started to pull me through the pool gate.
“Hang on a sec, Clay. I need to let Daniel and Rachel know I’m leaving.” I tugged on his hand. Clay didn’t let go. He looked at me over his shoulder.
“They’ll figure you left with me. It’ll be fine.” And, like that, we were moving quickly through the party, toward the parked cars.
I was so confused by his sudden change in attitude. I had thought he was pissed at me, but now he wanted to leave the party with me. I didn’t know what to think. We stopped in front of his car and he dug in his pockets for his keys.
“You’re not driving anywhere,” I told him. Clay pulled the lining of his pockets out and laughed. He had a strange glint in hiseye.
“Well, I can’t anyway; seems I’ve lost my keys.” Clayton shrugged and pulled me in the direction of my car. “We’ll just take yours.”
Suddenly I wasn’t sure I wanted to go anywhere with Clay right now. His behavior was freaking me out. I dug my feet into the dirt and refused to move a step farther. My sudden stop pulled Clay up short. He turned to look at me and frowned.
“What?” he asked.
“Where are we going? What’s going on?”
Clay walked toward me and put his arm around my waist. He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I thought you wanted to leave. So that’s what we’re doing. Let’s go to my house. Ruby and Lisa are gone for the weekend.”
His breath sent tingles down my spine. Shit, here we go again with the seesaw mood swings. Didn’t we have this conversation not an hour and a half ago? I leaned into him slightly, Clay laid his lips on the side of my neck, and I shivered. Why did I have to develop a conscience all of a sudden?
I pulled away. “We talked about this already, Clay. That isn’t going to happen.” Clay reared back like I had struck him.
“Fine. Whatever. Just take me the fuck home.” He stomped away like an angry child and waited by the passenger side of mycar.
I unlocked the doors and Clay climbed in, leaning his wet head against the window, looking like he was about to pass out. I started the engine and pulled my phone out of the center console. I sent a quick text to Daniel and Rachel, letting them know I had left and that Rachel should get a ride with Daniel. And then I pulled out of the field.
Clay was completely silent, except to give me directions to his house. When I pulled up in front of a brick Cape Cod, I put the car into Neutral. Before I could say anything, Clayton wrenched open the door, slammed it shut, and bolted to his front door. I couldn’t believe he didn’t say anything to me. No apology for being a dick. No explanation for his whacked-out behavior. I knew he was drunk but that didn’t excuse the way he was acting.
Maybe I was being supremely stupid, but I turned off the car and followed him into the house. Clay had left the front door wide open, a pair of shoes kicked off just inside the entryway. The house was dark and smelled faintly of patchouli.
I suddenly heard a crash from the second floor. I could see the stairs in front of me, so I slowly made my way up them. I could hear yelling and banging coming from the end of the hallway. What was Clay doing? And did I really want to follow him when it sounded like he was having a one-man boxing match in there?
But I couldn’t leave things the way they were. I didn’t understand why he was angry with me. Why he decided to drink, even after telling me that was a big no-no for him. He was a different person tonight and, if I was honest with myself, he scared me.
Yet I stupidly ignored the instinct that told me to get the hell out of there, and turned the knob on what I assumed was his bedroom door. My jaw fell to my feet as I watched him trash the place. He had pulled over his dresser, and clothes lay strewn all over the floor. He had pulled pictures off the walls. And there was a hole the size of a fist in the drywall. Okay, he was 100 percent freaking out.
I almost closed the door and left, wanting only to forget about this and the volatile boy who was currently destroying all of his possessions. That would have been the safe and sane thing to do. But if there was anything I had learned since meeting Clayton Reed, it was that I didn’t feel necessarily sane feelings for him. These insane feelings made me experience things and act in ways that were completely out of character for me. So instead of bolting for the front door, I took a step inside and gently closed the bedroom door behind me.
The soft click seemed to break through the destruct-a-thon in progress, and Clay looked up. He seemed surprised to see me. A myriad of emotions crossed his face.
Surprise, anger, shame, and, finally, heartbreaking sadness.
“Why are you here?” His words were strangled and he pushed his hands through his hair, leaving it standing on end.
“I was worried about you; I couldn’t just leave. Clearly I’m needed here.” I indicated the mess around us.
And, suddenly, Clay crumpled to the floor. He brought his knees to his chest and began to rock. Um, okay. I had no idea how to handle this reaction from him. Screaming and yelling—I could deal with that. Clay in a near-fetal position on the floor as if he were trying to hold himself together... that was something else entirely.
I was really scared. Whatever was going on with this boy was beyond anything I had ever experienced. He needed something greater than I could offer. Yet I stayed. I didn’t really have a choice. Again, those insane feelings of mine.
Maybe I was an idiot, or a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I naively subscribed to the foolish notion that my love could save him. Whatever the reason, I sank to the carpet beside that sad and broken boy.
