Rock was acting extremely strange. Claire was no detective, but she could most definitely tell that her lover was different.
He wasn't as flippant and cheeky as he normally was, and certainly not as playful as he usually was with her. In fact, Rock acted like a respectable, normal young man.
So perhaps he wasn't acting so odd after all.
But that didn't change the fact that Claire disliked his new little persona. She snatched a little glare off the top of the blankets she wrapped around herself at Rock. His broad back was turned to her as his side fell up and down in soft breaths. In the huge, king sized bed Claire ordered Gotz the Woodcutter to make (with a little knowing wink on his part), both of them lied on either side, as if they had some sort of contagious disease to stay away from.
How they had gotten so distant, Claire couldn't possibly know. Just yesterday, out on their date at the bar for a drink or two, he hardly touched her. There was no cheek pulling, back slapping, or, more importantly, no romantic incursions of the sort.
Claire was no romantic, but a kiss or two wasn't exactly out of the question. She could remember pouting for most of the night when Rock sat on the other side of the table instead of normally sitting right next to her. It seemed like a tense night, and he ate with better manners than usual.
The change was sudden. Rock suddenly ceased his playful antics with her, and any loving gestures at that. Their small get togethers were reduced to him quietly listening to her ramble about anything that she could think of. Anything to fill the silence she dreaded when she was with him.
But Claire was about to change all of that.
Inviting Rock to her house to stay the night was only the first step in hatching her little plan. Claire planned to close the distance between them. Dinner, she decided, would be his favorite; cheese fondue. Not that she knew how to make it.
"It looks like you plopped a raw chicken on your stove, Claire," Rock had commented, holding his nose and fanning the air. "The smell is almost as bad as your hair today." Claire then proceeded to hit him with the nearest sharp object.
They replaced her failure of a dinner with some curry from the supermarket. Sadly, it tasted better than anything she made before with her own organic ingredients.
The night ended with several board games, card games, or anything Claire could find around her house to entertain Rock desperately. The space between them only seemed to widen.
Ultimately, midnight rolled around, the perfect time for lovers to do what lovers did. But, of course, Rock would have none of that. Uttering almost nothing, he changed to sleep and curled up in the far corner of the bed. Claire did the same, but not before she took a shower; Rock's little comment on her personal hygiene struck her harder than she expected.
Rather than angry now, Claire felt more alone than ever. Her fingers clutched tightly at her bed sheets, feeling dejected from Rock's apparent rejection. There was a slight chance that, after all these months, he had become tired of her and was willing to move on to the next girl.
Claire had told herself that she was ready for the time when Rock broke up with her. In fact, she told herself that nearly everyday, in fear of losing him.
On top of that, Rock had initially warned her of his player antics. "Prepare for the worst," was what he said.
Not that saying such a thing would stop her. She didn't regret falling in love with Rock, but never did she imagine so much hurt from his apparent refusal to be intimate with her.
At this point, Claire decided, she could only do her best to close the gap with him.
She scooted closer to him until she could see the slight beads of sweat trailing down his neck. "Rock?" There was no answer. She took a chance and laid her head on his back, able to feel him pulsate.
There was a sudden jerk, and Rock hastened away from her. Claire frowned. "Rock? You awake?"
"No," a muffle in reply. Claire moved closer and settled her head on his back again. Rock scooted away again. She moved closer. He moved farther each time until he was dangerously close to falling off the bed.
"Rock! I know you're awake!"
"I'm not," his back answered.
"Honestly!" Claire gripped. "What is up with you?"
"I'm fine!" the balled up blanket insisted as she tugged at the sheet covering his face. She let out an exasperated sigh.
"I really don't want to do this, Rock," she warned. "But you leave me no choice but to tickle you." Claire rolled up the sleeves of her nightgown in preparation.
Rock lifted the blanket from his head in horror. Tickling was perhaps the only thing worse than a bad pot of cheese fondue. "Wait! Claire, have mercy!"
But instead of tickling him, Claire tackled him off the bed, straight onto the hard floor. There was a loud thump! and Rock landed on his bottom, face-to-face with his lover.
Claire was crying.
"Claire?" Rock said, astonished. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?" A million thoughts swirled in his head at once as he helplessly watched Claire break down without warning.
"If you hate me, then tell me properly!" Claire cried. "Then, at least I could change!"
"Claire, what are you talking about?" Rock said, bewildered.
"If you want someone more attractive, I'll wear makeup! I'll eat better!" Claire was shouting hysterically now. "I'll stop talking so much! I'll practice making cheese fondue!" She began to list off every flaw imaginable. "I'll wash my hair twice a day!" she pleaded.
Tears dropped onto Rock's outstretched pant leg as he stared at her in a state of shock. "Claire-"
"I don't mind if you play around with the other girls," she continued madly, repeatedly wiping her tears from her eyes. "Just please don't leave me!"
Rock had had enough. He reached out and placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her to him mid sentence. Rock could feel her muffled sobs resonate through his whole body as his fingers curled through her blond hair, mixed with shock. He called her name repeatedly, soothing her slowly.
When all her sobs turned into occasional sniffles, Rock let go and held her shoulders, fixing his gaze straight into her own wide eyes, refusing to let her crack again.
"Claire, whatever gave you the impression that I was breaking up with you?" he said.
"You haven't been talking to me very often lately," she responded tearfully. "And you never tease me like you used to do, or do anything with me anymore." She trailed off, clearly embarrassed.
Rock frowned, obviously befuddled. "Was I wrong? Do you not prefer gentle, nice guys?"
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Rock rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I overheard you and Muffy talking in the bar about the type of guys you liked, and I heard you say that you liked a nice, gentle guy who didn't talk much and didn't take things too fast." A small blush crept up on his face.
Ah. So that's what it was. Claire almost collapsed out of relief and frustration. "That was years ago, Rock!" she yelled, gesturing with her hands. "Why would that possibly matter now?"
"I guess...it wouldn't?" he answered uncomfortably.
"I can't believe this," Claire said, throwing her hands up in the air exaggeratedly. Most of Rock's uncharacteristic actions were understandable now. "I got all worked up over something like this?" She glared at Rock, and he flinched, prepared for the worst.
Then she kissed him.
At first, Rock was taken aback by the sudden action, but he quickly recuperated. The kiss felt different than every other kiss they shared. It was more passionate, more loving. Perhaps it was because they had spent so much time away from eachother. Or perhaps it was the relief they shared from understanding eachother. In any case, both were hungry for the closeness they lost when Rock decided to make himself an entirely different person.
After their kiss, Rock gripped her shoulders tightly. "I would never love any other girl than you, idiot," he whispered. Claire smiled in reassurance and rested her head on his shoulders. This time, he didn't pull away.
She spent the rest of the night in his arms back on the messily made bed, the distance between them nothing but a particle of dust now.
Not that Rock could get a wink of sleep anyways. Her nightgown unbuttoned at her chest, revealing too much cleavage for any man to sleep peacefully. She rolled her chest onto his and getting any sleep at all tonight seemed out of the question
"You owe me 50 pounds of cheese fondue."