I met Clay’s eyes as he watched me. His face was dark and I shivered involuntarily. I didn’t like what I saw. There was no way he could be jealous of Daniel. That was just ridiculous. But, looking at him and how pissed off he seemed, I knew that’s exactly how he was feeling.
I crossed the room to where Clay was standing at the island. I slid my arms around his waist. “Hey, you,” I said softly, kissing his back through his T-shirt. I tried to let him know through body language alone that there was no one else I wanted.
“I’ve gotta get dinner ready. So just back off, all right?” Clay lifted my arms from around his middle and moved away from me. Wow, that hurt.
“Clay...” I began, but realized he wasn’t listening to me. He had moved over to where Rachel was chopping vegetables. I watched as he began to laugh at something she said. He helped her get the salad together, completely ignoring me.
Rachel met my eyes in confusion over Clay’s sudden chattiness. I gave her a small smile and turned away. If he wanted to pretend I wasn’t there, then fine. I’d go in the other fucking room.
Screw this!
I grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the top angrily. Throwing the bottle back, I drank half its contents in one gulp. I went back into the living room to sit with Clare, who was watchingDesperate Housewives.
Dinner was awkward. The food was fantastic but I couldn’t eat any of it, due to the huge lump that had taken up residence in my stomach. Daniel sat beside me as Clay brought in a platter of steaks. Seeing this, Clay dropped the plate on the table and walked around so that he was seated at the opposite end of the table from me.
He wouldn’t look at me the entire time we ate. He laughed loudly with Ray and even flirted with Clare (which I thought was totally inappropriate). But it was as if I didn’t exist.
“Problems in paradise?” Daniel asked between bites of salad.
I gave him a withering look and otherwise ignored the goad. Rachel sat across from me and gave me worried looks throughout dinner. This is not how I had envisioned this evening panning out. Rachel and Daniel were barely talking and Clay was refusing to acknowledge me. Could it get much worse?
After we finished, I decided to take the bull by the horns and deal with the ice that had formed between Clay and me. I grabbed a bunch of plates and followed him into the kitchen, where he began to load the dishwasher.
I dropped the dishes on the counter and pulled Clay by the arm. “Look at me!” I said loudly, trying to get his attention. He tried to shake me off but I wouldn’t be swayed.
“Damn it, Clay! Just tell me what I’ve done to deserve the silent treatment!” I hated how wobbly my voice sounded. Clay must have heard it, too, because he finally looked at me.
Seeing how hurt I was, he sighed and the coldness melted away from his face. “It’s nothing, Mags. I don’t know. I’m just being irrational again.” Clay filled the sink with water and started scrubbing the pans, apparently trying to avoid the conversation.
I dipped my hands into the soapy water and took his hands in mine. His fingers curled around to hold me. “I don’t understand. I’m not a mind reader, Clay. You have to help me out a little, here,” I implored, dropping my forehead to his chest. Clay wrapped his arms around me, his wet hands gripping my back.
“Please, can we just forget about it? It’s nothing.” He sounded tired and I wanted to push him. But I knew instinctively that it would only make things worse. So I went against my better judgment and let the matter drop. I decided moving back into Denial Land was my best option.
I went up on my tiptoes, placing a kiss on Clay’s mouth. “I love you. You know that, right?”
Clay gave me a weak smile. “Sure,” he said, turning back to the dishes in the sink. He didn’t say anything else to me.
I stood beside him another moment, then left the kitchen, his arctic blast following me into the living room.
Ray was yelling at the television as he and Daniel played some sort of shooting game on the Xbox. Clare was drinking yet another alcohol-laden concoction and Rachel was curled up under a blanket. I plopped down beside Rachel. “So, what do you guys want to do?”
“Strip poker?” Ray asked, his eyes lighting up. Clare threw a pillow at him.
“Shut up, perv!” she yelled at him. The rest of us laughed. Clay came in the room and sat down beside Clare. Could he make it any more obvious he was giving me the brush-off?
“There are a bunch of board games in the cabinet over there. We could play one of them,” he suggested.
“That sounds like fun; come help me find something,” Clare said, jumping off the couch and pulling Clay by the hand.
I tried to subdue the jealousy that ripped through me. This was Clare! My friend! Her boyfriend was only three feet away. There was no reason to feel weird about their interaction. But watching Clay standing so close to another girl made me want to rip the hair out of my “friend’s” head.
But, instead of going all territorial, I decided to stay where I was, marinating in my ugly emotions. Clay and Clare agreed on Trivial Pursuit. After Ray and Daniel finished with the Xbox, we set up the game on the coffee table. We decided to play boys against girls, but with a twist. Ray and Daniel wanted to turn it into a drinking game. So, for every wrong answer, that team had to take a drink.
I was nervous about this. I looked at Clay to make sure he was okay with it. He looked at me defiantly and took a drink of beer. He seemed to be making a point. Whatever; I wasn’t going to nag at him about it. If he wanted to act like an idiot, so be it.
After a few turns, it became obvious that Clay was dominating the game. My worries about his drinking were unfounded because he missed very few questions.
“What is the fastest swimming marine mammal?” Rachel asked.
