Chapter 4: Clay's POV:

"And you didn't have anything in mind for what happened after that?"

"Nope. Wait, w-why- did you?"

My heart is pounding louder and faster than I ever thought it could. Each second that I wait for your response feels like an eternity, and I lose another fraction of my newfound confidence.

Confidence that was bolstered by all I've learned about you over the last few minutes. Justin lied about how far he went with you. You're not into girls. You thought our kissing was as incredible as I did.

You finally break the suspense. "I'd be happy if you just hugged me all night, Helmet." You laugh as though you'd just cracked a witty joke.

Now, I don't know as much as I want to know about you. But that laugh- it's not genuine. I've heard you laugh before, really laugh, and this one sounds different, forced. Plus, it wasn't that funny.

You're serious. You need me to hold you, or someone to hold you, but you're laughing it off instead.

You continue. "But no, I didn't really have anything else in mind. We can go downstairs if you want; let Jessica have her room to commit whatever malfeasance she chooses to with Justin." You go to get up.

This time, I stop you. "No, wait," I say firmly.

You meet my eye with a questioning look.

"We don't have to go anywhere. I'll hug you," I say. But instead of reaching out to hug you in a sitting position, I scoot up so that I'm laying on my side on one half of the bed, then I reach for your hand, inviting you to join me.

You scoot up, too, but stay facing away from me. I spoon you.

I've never lain so intimately with anyone before. My limited sexual experience consists of mostly just making out, and none of the girls that I've done that with have ever given me any indication that they wanted to cuddle afterward (nor did we really have the place to). I support my head with one of my hands by leaning on my elbow, but have my other hand free to hold you. I have trouble deciding where to put it, though. I start with it at your waist, which doesn't feel particularly comforting. I rest it on the bed in front of you, so that my arm is near your body but my hand isn't. I'm still a little terrified that I'll touch you somewhere that I'm not specifically invited, and that you'll react negatively again. But this doesn't really feel like a hug, either. Eventually, you take my forearm and put it on your chest yourself, my hand now coming to rest right between your breasts, near your heart. I don't dare move it, but I squeeze you tighter, lowering my head towards your neck and taking a sharp inhale of your hair.

You smell like some kind of flower, and it intoxicates me more than anything I've drank tonight. My mouth is so close to your soft skin, and I want more than anything to kiss the nape of your neck, which is easily within reach. But I don't. I just breathe in and out, your scent flooding my nostrils and overwhelming me in the best way possible. You intertwine both of your arms with mine, keeping me from being able to move my arm even if I wanted to, which of course I don't.

I decide that this is basically the best thing ever.

I picture us doing this for the next two years, me sneaking into your room, you sneaking into mine, after our parents have gone to sleep. I picture me following you to college in New York City and sharing a little place, doing this at any hour and for however long we want, simply because there'll be no one there to stop us. I picture us doing this as we're about to drift off to sleep, and me waking up this way, to the smell of your hair. And I picture us doing this, hot and naked and sweaty, after we've done a lot of other things, things that make me blush and breathe a little heavier at the same time.

Our bodies are really close, with more of you touching more of me than even when we were kissing. Your body is nestled against mine, your butt pressing up against my groin, and I find myself getting really turned on. I immediately shift so that it's not quite so obvious to you, but I somehow doubt you're that oblivious.

Sure enough, you roll over so that you're now facing me, moving an inch or two away so that we're no longer touching. Shit. I avoid your gaze for a second, bracing myself for your anger, and for your reaction. Yelling, screaming, telling me to get the fuck out again. Please don't be mad. I couldn't help it, Hannah.

But thankfully, you don't look mad- instead you look- thoughtful. You bite your lip. "Clay?" you whisper.

"Yeah?" My heart stops for a moment every time you say my name, I swear.

"We can, um, kiss again- I mean, uh, if you want to," you begin. But then you bite your lip again, and your eyes start to fill up with tears. "Only- just- can you not- touch me tonight? I'm sorry, if that sounds rude, I just- I just- can't-"

I nod. I get it this time, I think. You need to take things slow. Based on what you just told me about Justin, and a little more about what you've been through this last year, I can now understand why. And while before I might have been offended or hurt, assuming it had something to do with me, I try to look at it differently now. You think I'm an amazing kisser; that's what you want to focus on for the moment. I assure you that of course, it's okay. Then I lean in slowly, kissing not your lips, but just beneath your eyes where a couple of your tears have fallen. I'm not sure that I've ever kissed anything so gently.

Then I shift location and softly press my lips to yours.

The kissing is different this time. Knowing exactly where you want things to stop means that I will be able to take a lot more time to enjoy what we are doing in the moment. This kissing is less frenzied, more tender. Rather than focusing on your body, I touch your face. Your long lashes, your rounded cheeks, your smooth skin- I pause in-between kisses to touch my fingertip to your full lips and look into your heavy-lidded green eyes. I run my fingers through your gorgeous hair, grateful that your haircut has made it easier for me. God, you're so beautiful, Hannah.

We kiss for what feels like forever. We hardly move- a while later, we're still positioned the exact same way, lying down, facing each other on the bed, a respectable couple of inches between us. My lips are a little swollen and when we finally come up for air I see how flushed your cheeks are, how red your lips have become.

I try to keep my thoughts from going wayward, to little avail. But I shove them into the back of my mind as best they'll fit.

We both realize at the same time that there is no longer loud music blaring downstairs. In fact, I can't hear anything at all but for a single voice.

You glance at the clock radio on Jessica's nightstand. "Holy shit, it's after 2 a.m.! I'd better get home; my parents are probably going to freak out."

Mine, too, though I quickly decide that tonight is worth the worst that they could possibly dish out. "Can I walk you?" I ask.

You look at me and smile. "Sure."

I get up first; then offer my hand and help you to your feet, even though you obviously don't need it. We walk, fingers intertwined, to the room entrance, and as I twist the door handle, I think of how grateful I am that you stopped me while I was standing right here, with just a word.


We make our way down the stairs. The party is clearly over. Plastic Solo cups litter every available counter; passed out partygoers are sprawled on nearly every softer surface (couch, ottoman, recliner). The music is off completely, the TV in Jessica's family room on instead, turned to ESPN, which is the sound we heard from the bedroom. Justin and Jessica are both squished on a loveseat, legs dangling over the edge. Justin has his mouth open, snoring.

But I lead you right past all of that. I don't care about the rest of them. I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I'd use a superpower to make them all disappear.

Except that it's actually much easier than that. All we have to do is step outside.

We start the walk to your house from Jessica's, hand-in-hand. For the first time since the "incident", if you will, you seem comfortable enough to shift into small talk. We talk about the Crestmont, about the movies we've seen there lately. We talk about school; about Miss Bradley's class and her ridiculous communications assignment to start off the school year. I tell you about the Perseids meteor shower that's supposed to peak in a couple of weeks; you tell me about some poetry that you've been reading. When I talk to you, time flies at a million miles a minute; before I want us to be, we're standing outside the doorstep of your parents' house.

You look up at me, eyes full of sorrow. "Helmet, I'm sorry," you say.

I wave you off. "You don't need to apologize. As long as it wasn't anything that I did- or didn't do-,"

"No," you cut in firmly. "It wasn't you. It was me. And everything that's happened to me. What I told you tonight isn't the half of it."

My heart breaks for you, for all of the shit that high school has put you through. I kind of hate it, too. I try to cheer you up. "Well, at least the last couple of hours went better….right?"

"Yeah, it did," you say, a little smile on your face.

"So, when can I hear the rest?"

You look back down. "You don't want to hear the rest."

I hesitate. I don't, but not for the reasons you think. I tell you so. "Only because I hate to think of you being that upset. But I'm happy to listen. So when can I see you again?"

"You really want to see me again after all the shit I pulled tonight?"

"More than ever."

Your little smile is back. "I don't know. Soon?"

"Tonight?"

You give me a puzzled look.

I check my watch. "It's almost two-thirty a.m. on Sunday. Can we hang out tonight?"

You hesitate for a moment. Then, "Okay."

I smile now. I add, "So it's a date?"

Your measured response: "Is it?"

I grin even more. "Yeah. As long as you want it to be."

You nod, and we exchange one of those long looks. Like after I walked you home from work, when I hugged you. And at the dance, when we just stared into each other's eyes. And upstairs at the party tonight, when I couldn't think of anything to say and stupidly brought up burnt popcorn. Not this time, Jensen, I think. I lean in and kiss you goodnight.