“Including where Kylie fits into this happy little picture?” I asked, a little more harshly than I meant to. I was just worried that Daniel would hurt Rachel and then our threesome would be irrevocably damaged. But I had wanted this. Had wanted them to get their acts together and acknowledge that there was more than friendship between them. But now that it was finally happening, I was scared of the change. And selfishly I worried about what all of this meant for me.
Rachel looked momentarily hurt by the mention of Danny’s ex. “Yeah. We talked about Kylie. And Daniel admitted she has been more of a bad habit he just hasn’t been able to shake. But that he wants to give us a try. And, in spite of all the doubts and worries I have, I want that, too.”
I flopped back down beside Rachel and took her hand in mine. “If he hurts you, Rachel, I will rip off his nut sack and shove it in his ear. I love him, I really, really do. But us girls need to stick together,” I swore to her as she laughed.
“He knows that, Maggie. Trust me. Your reaction was a source of some serious angst on his part last night.” I snorted at that, knowing that Daniel would be freaking out over how I would take all of this. Fine, let him sweat.
“Well, as long as it’s what you want. Just try not to let your friendship become collateral damage. Promise me that,” I implored, squeezing her hand.
Rachel rolled her head to the side so she was looking at me. “I promise. I won’t let that happen.”
Promises were easy to make but even easier to break, I thought as we lay there silently together.
We were still like that when Clay came into the room. He saw us and started to back out. “Sorry. I was just seeing what was taking you so long. But if you’re still talking, I’ll give you some space.”
Rachel sat up and got to her feet. “No, Clay. You’re fine. Thanks, Maggie.” She leaned over and gave me a loud kiss on the cheek.
She gave Clay a grin before disappearing down the stairs. Clay came over and kissed me, sitting down on the bed beside me. “Was everything okay?” he asked, putting his arm around me, pulling me up against his side.
I snuggled close, burying my nose in the soft fabric of his shirt, and spent a few seconds just enjoying the scent of him. “She’s great. I guess she and Daniel finally got their crap together,” I told him as he rested his chin on the top of my head.
“That’s great” was all he said, leaning down to kiss the skin behind my ear. I felt heat erupt inside of me and I let out a tiny sigh.
“I wish we could stay here. You know, in our own little bubble,” I said mournfully as Clay placed small, shiver-inducing kisses on the underside of my jaw.
He nuzzled my neck as he spoke. I could feel his warm breath on my skin and the tickle of his lips.
“We’ll just have to move the bubble back to Davidson, is all,” Clay said confidently.
“But bubbles have a nasty way of popping.” I was being really gloomy, but I couldn’t help it. Nothing good ever lasted.
“Then we’ll just make a new bubble,” Clay murmured as he pulled me into another mind-blowing kiss. And I let my pessimistic thoughts go as I thought that my forever was starting right now.
chapter
eighteen
but I was right. The bubble did pop, and it was loud and painful. It started with my epic grounding, courtesy of some very pissed-off parents. I was so deliriously happy over my night with Clay that I was oblivious to the twenty-some texts I had received over the past twenty-four hours from my mom and dad.
Turns out my mom had called Rachel’s house looking for me when I hadn’t returned her phone calls or texts. She wanted to confer with me on pancake recipes or something equally asinine. Of course, I wasn’t there. And Ms. Bradfield (whom Rachel had, to my annoyance, told the truth to) filled her in on our lovely evening away in the woods. To say my parents were angry was an understatement. I’m surprised I lived through the epic screaming that followed my arrival home.
My father confined me to my room until Monday morning, allowing me to leave it only to use the bathroom and to eat. I was grounded for a month, and I was not allowed, under any condition, to see Clay outside of school.
Of course, they blamed him almost entirely for encouraging me to lie to them and to go away overnight with him. (The fact that my friends were also there was inconsequential to them.) Even when I—very maturely, I might add—tried to take responsibility for my choices, my parents insisted on viewing Clay as the villain.
I was able to send Clay a few quick texts before they confiscated my phone.
Busted. Grounded until I’m fifty. Love you.
I received his reply less than thirty seconds later.I’m so sorry, baby. Any way I can bust you out of Alcatraz? Should I send a file in a cake through your bedroom window? :-) I love you!
I smiled and furiously typed back, trying to be sneaky so my parents didn’t flip again.
I’ll see you tomorrow.I’ll meet you at school. Dad will be driving me. No file necessary, though I may be forced to resort to cyanide tablets from the sheer boredom.
I quickly turned off my cell. My dad took the phone, unhooked the Internet in my room, and confiscated my car keys. Yep, I was a prisoner. And I was also receiving the silent treatment. My mother barely acknowledged my presence and my father just shot me looks of hurt and disappointment. Disappointment was a hundred times worse.
They were champions of the guilt trip. So I sat in my room all of Sunday evening, alternating between catching up on my homework and staring blankly at my wall. And all I could think about was the night before and everything that had happened between Clay and me.
