"I'm about to leave if you don't do something worth my time," Karen cautions, sipping her wine slowly. A very sober Rick shifts in his seat next to her, watching Kai with distasteful eyes.
Kai seems to be deep in concentration, scribbling on tiny slips of paper with a yellow pencil. Popuri takes each one and folds it carefully, her elbows propped up on the table as the inn's old grandfather clock chimes midnight. The townspeople have all cleared out, but the party isn't over for this group.
"What are you doing?" Ann asks him, sweeping up the floors. Doug allowed her to have everyone stay for a bit longer if she promised to clean up the mess afterward. She leans on the broom, hand prodding her hip.
"Something stupid, I'm sure," Rick mutters.
Kai scribbles a final word, before dropping his hands on the table. "Okay, done," he says proudly. Taking out his purple bandana from the breast pocket of his suit, he places the folded up papers into it. "I wrote out a shit-ton of activities that we have to complete, in pairs."
Gray mock-whispers over to Cliff and Claire. "This is the part where we leave." Cliff chuckles in response, but Claire is intrigued. She's never gotten to experience high school parties, or large friend-groups for that matter, back at the convent, so this is a new sort of fun for her. She feels kinda like a grown-up person here in Mineral Town; not a different person, but one who's actually getting to live her life like an almost-adult.
"Okay, Rick and Karen are up!" Popuri cheers.
"Woo," says Rick, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. Karen waits expectantly.
Kai rummages the tiny slips of white paper with his hands, jutting the bandana in Claire's face. "You can do the honours," he tells her.
Claire takes a sip from her virgin screwdriver, which Gray referred to as a glorified Sunny D, and gingerly selects a piece of paper. Her eyes widen as she reads from it. "Oh."
"What?" Karen demands impatiently. She and Rick are the oldest of the group, both turning twenty-three, but Karen's at about the same level of teenage immaturity as the majority of them.
Gray leans over Claire's shoulder to read it, his cheek brushing hers. She shares a smile with him. "'Attempt a panty raid on each other,'" he reads, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Kai, what the fuck?"
"Huh?" Rick's face is burning. Karen looks fascinated though.
"Hey, I found these online," Kai says defensively. "You have to individually sneak into each other's houses and steal your 'significant other's' pair of underwear."
Karen shrugs, downing back her wine. "I'll try anything once," she says, darting with Rick to the front door. "What's the best way to get into your house, Pope?"
"Back window," replies Popuri with a giggle. Rick's face looks like it has significantly paled now.
"Good luck!" bids Claire and Ann, laughing.
"I'll try my best not to wake your mother," Karen says to her fiancée, opening the door. "And make sure that my mother doesn't hear you!" Rick has given up uttering protests, sighing as he exits with her.
"Us next," Ann says, shuffling through the bandana. She hands it to Cliff and lets him read it.
"'Eat a tablespoon of mustard and… make orgasmic noises. To each other." Cliff pauses slowly. "I hate mustard."
"That's the part you got a problem with?" Gray asks incredulously.
"Kai, no. My dad is, like, sleeping upstairs," says Ann uncomfortably. "Plus, what about my stomach-ache from before?!"
Kai taps on his wrist. "Time's a-wasting."
Reluctantly, she rises to grab two spoons from behind the bar drawers, while Kai runs into the kitchen, happily returning back with a bottle of mustard. Popuri retrieves the spoons while Kai squeezes the condiment onto them. He murmurs over to Gray, loud enough for Claire to hear: "You know what Ann sounds like in bed. So, you know, if she's holding back-"
He punches Kai's arm. "Please shut the fuck up."
Claire keeps her eyes fixed forward, but she laughs inwardly to herself. It's fun to watch Gray out with his friends, acting like a normal, social, human being.
Cliff and Ann are now facing each other, spooning the condiment into their mouths. "Ohhhh, uh, that feels… fantastic," he mumbles. His mouth is full of the nasty mustard, and he looks like he's going to puke. The group watches in horror. "Just, feels… so-"
"Ah, ah, ah." Ann tries to have her voice go up in a moaning octave, but she impulsively darts over to the garbage, retching and scraping her tongue. Cliff takes a napkin and spits into it, his face twisted in disgust.
"I hate you, Kai," he swears, tossing the napkin. "Give me that!" Cliff snatches the bandana from Kai's hands, grabbing a handful of white papers, reading and throwing them off to the side until he finds a suitable one.
This is honestly the most that any of them have ever seen him say or do.
Kai frowns, trying to steal the bandana back. "That's cheating!" Claire runs to Ann through the commotion, filling a glass of water for her behind the bar. She watches from across the room as Cliff selects a piece of paper carefully.
"Here's one for you," Cliff says, his eyes full of mischief. "'Call your parents and explain how you lost your virginity.'"
Popuri's eyes widen. "Cliff, no!"
"You can be spared from this one, Pope," Cliff says with a wave of his hand. "Your mom's definitely asleep. Kai has to do it because he's an asshole."
"Agreed," says Gray, drinking the last of his beer.
Kai desperately turns to Claire and Ann. "Can't you two help me out here?"
Ann fills up her empty glass of water again, for what seems to be the tenth time, taking a swig. "Go!" she snaps, pointing to the bar phone. Claire laughs as he sulks over there.
"This is wrong," Kai protests. "Popuri's just as responsible; she helped me fold the papers!"
Popuri shrugs. "You better thank God that my brother isn't here to listen to this."
The group gathers around the bar, watching as Kai lifts the receiver of the telephone nervously. "It's the middle of the night; they're not going to answer," he tells them, a pathetically hopeful tone to his voice.
Gray shrugs. "I dunno, your parents always were night owls. I'm sure someone's awake."
With slow fingers, Kai enters his home number, listening for a dial tone. Someone picks up after the first ring.
"Oh, Ma," Kai says sheepishly. "Hi, uh… yes, it's me. Is this a bad time? Oh, it's not? That's… terrific. Listen, is dad there?"
Cliff nudges him. "No. She picked up, so you have to tell her."
Kai makes a face. "Never mind, Ma. Okay, so… uh, well… remember when I was a freshman, and you asked that girl a year older than me to come over, 'cause I needed math help? Yeah, the really pretty one. Yeah, yeah... that's her name, alright. Great. I'm so… glad you remember her."
"I know where this is going," Gray tells Claire.
She widens her eyes. "You do?"
"He fucking bragged about this to everyone he came across in grade nine."
Ann pops a piece of gum in her mouth. "Well, now he's bragging about it to his mom."
Kai glares at them, but then fixes his gaze at a spot on the ceiling, avoiding the faces of all of his friends. "So, remember one day… I asked if you could go to the grocery store and buy Gingerale 'cause my stomach hurt? Oh great... you remember that too. Well, I only asked that of you… 'cause um, I wanted to have… some alone time, y'know, with my tutor. So we did… get our alone time."
Cliff hits the back of his head. "TELL HER." He isn't even wasted; he's just come out of his timid shell to get sweet, sweet, vengeance on Kai.
"Agh, Jesus. Okay, we, um, had sex…ual intercourse. And it was on the table… please don't freak out. Yes, that's why you found a crack on it later. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you…. Okay, lower your voice. What? Did I use protection? What kind of a question is … I gotta go, Mom. I love you, and PLEASE DON'T BE MAD AT ME!" Kai slams the receiver down, turning to Gray.
"You didn't tell her about the part when you pulled out on your textbook," Gray points out. "Then you had to throw it out, and when our teacher asked where it was, you lied and said it somehow caught on fire."
Yikes.
"I'll kill you!" Kai shouts. "It's your turn now, bitch." Unsuccessfully, he lunges for Gray across the bar.
Claire picks up a piece of paper from the bandana and frowns. "'Closet time?'" she reads in confusion.
Gray scowls at Kai. "How old are you?"
"What is that?"
"It means that you two have to go into the closet, for seven minutes," Kai replies. He hops over the bar, much to Ann's dismay, pushing Claire and Gray into the inn's coat check closet. Before shutting the door, he tosses them both a wink. "Have fun!"
Claire pauses for a moment, unravelling it all. "Wait, is this-?"
"Seven minutes in heaven?" Gray finishes. "The game that you play when you're like, twelve? Yeah, it is." He shakes his head, eyes fixated on Claire in the crowded space. Twelve?!
"Oh... aha ha. I was still playing Pokémon... when I was twelve." She laughs nervously. Chill! Play it cool, play it cool, PLAY IT COOL.
How's she supposed to play it cool when she's never even kissed anyone before?!
"Of course you were." Gray rolls his eyes. "This is exactly how I had my first kiss."
"Ah." Claire looks up at him, then back down at her shoes. "That's... baller."
Alright, you've lost your speaking privileges. Shut up before you say anything else stupid.
"What? Look, relax. Just talk with me. Then, you can mess up my hair in the end if you want it to all be believable."
Is he being… nice?
"It's nothing," Claire says, in a wavering tone that obviously tells him that this isn't just "nothing."
Gray cocks his brow at her. "Let me guess: you've never played this game before."
The words blurt out of her mouth before she gets the chance to process them. "I've never even had my first kiss before."
I thought I told you that you lost any and all speaking privileges, Claire!
Even though it's dark, she can tell that Gray's staring at her. And he does this for a long time, silently. Definitely not long enough for it to have been seven minutes, but hey. "You're a liar."
She raises her hands. "I swear to God, Gray! Like, cross my heart." Claire does so immediately, her fingers shaking as they skate over the left side of her chest. It's been almost a full season of her living here in Mineral Town, and she's already passed out drunk in front of a guy, yelled at said guy, pushed him into a pond, and now, they've found themselves stuck in a closet with one another. If anyone at the convent heard about this...
Gray just blinks. "You must be joking."
"I already told you, I'm not."
"I find that very hard to believe."
Claire frowns. "Why?"
The ventilated panels in the closet allow a trickle of light in. She can just make out Gray's face through the darkness, illuminating him beneath the slivers of shadow. He looks like he's turning red. "I just… do."
"I was a social piranha in high school," Claire explains uneasily. "Boys didn't want to talk to the church-girl-freak. And if they did come up to me, it was just to say something inappropriate or mean. Besides, going straight to my convent after school didn't exactly win me any brownie points."
He nods slowly. "I'll bet."
Claire rocks back on her heels, wondering how much time has passed. "Thank you for being so nice about this."
"I told you, I'm a nice guy. Thank you for not freaking out."
She huffs. "Do you think that I'm some kind of spaz?"
"Weirdo," Gray says, inching closer to her as he pokes her forehead. "Not a spaz."
Claire looks up at him for a very long time, before he shifts his eyes away. The muffled sounds of their friends' chatter can be heard from the other side of the closed, closet door. "Tell me something no one else knows about you," she suggests.
Gray just barks out a chuckle, bending down to lift up the bottom of his pants. He maneuvers his leg, raising it up to the light in order to reveal an inked-out, shadowy anvil etched into his calf. Claire widens her eyes.
"Ouch! That's so dark! When did you get it done?"
"A week after my mom died... when I found out that I was becoming a blacksmith," says Gray plainly.
"Does that make you mad? That you didn't get to pick?"
He pauses again, dropping his leg before speaking up. "I was a fucking disaster, Blondie. I had nothing else to pick from. I guess being thrown into the trade was… kind of good, in a way." Gray rolls down the hemline of his pants, adding, "My mom would have been happy with this."
"With your tattoo?"
"Yeah, right! With me actually… I dunno, applying myself."
Claire nods, like she completely understands. It's silent again, before Gray speaks up. "I think it's your turn."
"Oh, right." She's suddenly feeling very, very brave.
If Gray can open up to me like that... can't I trust him with this?
Mineral Town Claire is seriously a new Claire. Well, maybe not new, but a helluva lot more daring.
And not so afraid of committing a sin in the dark.
"Okay," she says, sucking up a breath. "Zip down my dress."
"What?!" Gray hisses.
"Do you not know how?"
He glowers. "Of course I know how."
"'Kay, then do it. You'll see in a second why I don't do backless anything."
The scars that run along her back are permanently embedded into her flesh, like a curse that just can't be lifted. She's always done her best to pretend like they don't exist, but she's reminded of the grafts in her skin every time that she hooks her bra strap, slips a shirt on... looks at their ugly markings in a mirror. These scars are the skeletons in her closet, the embarrassment that she just can't escape. But if she speaks them... shows them, perhaps the weight that they have on her might get lifted.
Jeez, this place really is changing her.
Claire gathers all of her curls in her hands, placing them in front of her neck to leave her shoulders bare. She turns away, no longer facing Gray, as his fingers hesitantly pull down on her zipper. With a moment of nervous delay, she shimmies away from the dress' fabric, in order to further expose her back.
Gray's breathing hitches. Her scars are brandished and fully disclosed now. "Jesus, Claire."
"At least you don't sugarcoat your reactions," she mumbles, clutching the bodice that covers her breasts tightly.
"I didn't mean-"
"It's okay. I know they look bad."
"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "They don't. They just… look like they hurt." Claire is almost glad that she can't see his expression. "What happened?"
"It was from the car accident that my mom and I were in," Claire says quietly, her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. "I really hate them. They're honestly disgusting."
"No, they aren't," Gray scoffs. Then, he softens his voice. "Don't say that. They don't look bad at all."
He's wrong; or he's just lying. Claire is well-aware that they look ugly, and grisly, and unattractive. She isn't showing them to Gray so that he can help change her mind about them, or convince her that they're hardly noticeable. She's showing them so that she can... show herself to him. Might as well stop pretending like they don't exist. This is who she is; who she's forever going to be: a scarred up, scrappy little nobody.
Oh well. It's almost... calming to disclose herself like this. It's as though acknowledging her huge insecurity with a witness present helped her, in a way.
"Trust me, you'd change your mind if you saw what the scar looks like on my stomach. Some connect from my back over to my bellybutton and-" Claire stops herself immediately, realizing how truly dumb she is. "I mean, I can't show you it on my front right now, because, um-"
"Yeah," Gray interrupts. "Uh, I understood."
If you pulled down your dress to show him, you'd be flashing your tits, bonehead. Claire inwardly swears at herself. She's just glad that the bottom of her dress, and her Spanx, are covering up any bit of her blue underwear that might have been exposed otherwise. No one's even seen her in a bikini, much less, in this kind of vulnerable state before. But a deal's a deal, and the nerve that she had to do this actually surprises her.
Still facing away from him, Claire tightens up the bustier of her dress. She hears Gray take a step forehead, listening to the sound of him pulling the zipper back up for her. She turns to look at him, dragging her hands down the fabric in order to smooth it out. "Wanna see my secret tattoo next?"
Gray's face is still flushed. "Sure."
Claire holds up her blank wrist, not realizing that her own cheeks are burning as well. What's redder, my dress or my face? "You, um, have to really squint, but if you just close your eyes and picture a tattoo, I'm sure that'll help."
"You're a comedian, Blondie."
She grins. "I actually think that I want one, though."
"Of?"
"Maybe a little paper airplane. Cause it feels like I've spent so much of my life just sailing around."
Gray gets quiet. "Are you leaving?" he finally asks.
"Has it been seven minutes?"
"No, I mean, town."
"What? Oh, no."
"Good," he says.
Claire raises her eyebrows. "Hmm?"
"Good riddance, if you did leave."
"I don't like you," Claire says with a scowl.
Gray scowls back at her. "I don't like you either."
But the two of them still share a small smile.
This tender moment is fleeting, though, because he immediately starts bothering her again. "So, you've never been kissed?"
Claire covers her face with her hands, mortified. "Please, Gray. It's so embarrassing."
"Never," Gray repeats, half to himself, half to her. He smirks.
She groans. "Don't even."
But then, the gears in her brain start turning all over again: what if she just gets it over with? Right here, right now.
"Gray?"
"Hmm?"
Her voice is so soft that she wonders if the words have even escaped her lips. "What if I asked you to kiss me?"
She can tell that he's staring at her hardcore right now. Like, really staring. "Why?" Gray asks, his tone wavering a bit.
"Because I'm seventeen, and I haven't had my first kiss yet," Claire says, not meaning to sound so pathetic. "Which is very discomforting, for a teenage girl." You loser! WHY ARE YOU SPEAKING?!
He probably can't even relate to this at all; despite them both being teenagers of the same age, he's got way more experience than her. She hasn't even stepped her foot on a base, and he's been around all of them to get the home runs. Or, however that dumb baseball metaphor for physical intimacy goes.
Gray rubs at his neck. "So, you want me to kiss you."
"PLATONICALLY," she adds, dramatically holding her hands out. How even more embarrassing would it be if I had to ask him for romance? "Just like, you know how actors are friends off-screen, but if they have to do a make-out scene, they do it and it's like nothing ever happened?"
Claire doesn't feel as embarrassed as she thought she'd be by giving him this request, though. Her nervous system is hard at work, sure; amping up her heartbeat and getting the blood to pump through her veins, but standing next to Gray in this coat check closet is making her feel... excited.
"Good analogy," Gray says, levelled.
"I mean, you've done the 'just as friends' thing before, haven't you?"
If possible, his face grows even more crimson. "You got a mouth on you, Blondie."
Claire scrunches her freckled nose at him. "Is that a no?"
"That's a definite no," says Gray. But he takes a step toward her, and she does the same.
His voice is low when he speaks. "Don't be scared."
"I'm not," Claire lies, tone wavering. Gray shakes his head.
"And don't do anything that you're not comfortable with."
"I feel very comfortable with you," she admits, and it's the honest to God truth. "For some reason."
"But you hate me."
"You got it."
She looks up at him, and him down at her. Without any other words, Claire gets up on her tippy toes, and Gray reaches down to pull her face closer. His fingertips cradle her jaw, and almost instinctively, he looks into her eyes before pressing his lips to hers.
Her whole body feels like it's tingling. It's like a lucid dream; something that she swears is a figment of her imagination, but is so very, physically real in front of her. Claire doesn't even realize that her back is on the wall, as Gray's body presses against her own. Her knees buckle, but he supports her with his strong frame. The front of his cap brushes the top of her head.
Is this what she's been missing? The intimate, lightheaded dizziness, the feeling of someone else's mouth on hers, the straight-forward desire?
NO. Not desire. This is platonic. Strictly platonic.
Yet the length and passion of the kiss says otherwise. It's like Claire is dissolving into him. She parts her lips slowly, and without realizing that this is an invitation, finds his tongue lightly slipping against her own. Her stomach does a flip-flop. Gray is rough with his motions, but at the same time, gentle with his touch. His intoxicating cologne smells like cedar and black current, and he tastes like sugary liquor. Claire allows herself to relax, truly loosening in his arms, as their kiss gently subsides, like a bold firework slowly dying out. She wishes that it hasn't stopped.
And she almost wishes that she didn't just think that, either. Almost.
They break apart, with her leaning against the wall in attempt to catch her breath, and him adjusting his dress shirt collar. Claire can't make out Gray's expression through the darkness of the corner; she's busy trying to wrap her head around what just transpired. She's seen first kisses take place in some of her most coveted movies, but it was so different to actually experience it for herself in real life. It felt comforting, like a warm blanket in a cold bed.
It felt good.
"Here," Claire whispers. She reaches up to grab Gray's hat, ready to mess his hair up. She wasn't brave enough to run her fingers through it during the kiss.
She kind of wishes that she did, though.
Gray takes the cap from her, standing up straight and holding it out in front of him. "I sorta need that," he pants, and she realizes that he's out of breath just like her.
"What?" Claire is confused. Why is he using the hat to cover his crotch-?
Oh boy.
Embarrassed, she doesn't meet his eyes. But, then she remembers his hair, and gets up on her tippy toes once again to muss it up while still looking away. His auburn locks feel so rough in her hands. "Alright, well, um, now it'll… look like you got action."
He did. You both did. Who are you trying to kid?
"I got platonic action," Gray counters, so seriously, that Claire just bursts out laughing awkwardly. He stares at her incredulously for a second, before joining in, too. The closet door opens at that moment, with her hands still on his head. She pulls them back immediately.
"You guys are such fakers," Karen says, holding on to the door with one hand, swinging a pair of polkadot boxers in the other. Rick stands behind her, his face burning with shame as he clutches something lacy in his fist. The group gives an unimpressed look. "Next time, can you at least try to make it believable?"
"Will do," Gray promises.
They take a step out of the closet, and as Claire turns to shut the door, she shares an unassuming smile with Gray.
He dreams of her that night. He doesn't mean to, but he does. How can he not?
Caressing her slender body, he sighs against her skin as she writhes under him. He undresses her slowly, scars and all, kissing her every inch as she moans.
Gray wakes up in a panic, staring at the Red Hot Chili Peppers poster in front of him.
"Holy shit," he whispers.
