Clark picked at the edge of the cover, ignoring my comment when he said, “Did you? Have fun, that is. Sorry. Just being nosy. But this is what friends do, right?”
I nodded. Jesse and I talked about hookups all the time, and yet…this didn’t feel like a friend question, coming from Clark. Still, he asked, and I’d answer. This was who I was, and I’d never been ashamed of it. I didn’t plan to start now. Nothing wrong with enjoying sex and hooking up, just as much as there wasn’t anything wrong with choosing not to have casual sex. “Yeah. We jacked each other off. Quick and to the point.”
I was lying on my stomach, with my knees bent, ankles crossed, leaning on my elbows with my arms in front of me. Clark’s gaze shot to my hands, and he said, “Ew,” with a smile.
“Shut up. I washed them and showered, thank you very much. Plus, almost every hand you touch has had jizz on it.”
“Oh my God. Now I’m not gonna be able to stop thinking about that!” He grabbed a pillow, pressed it onto his face, and screamed into it. I laughed. God, he was fun.
“You can always like, elbow-bump people to say hello. Helps avoid jizz-hands.”
“I can’t believe we’re having a discussion about semen on people’s hands.”
I shrugged. “You brought it up. And remember, it could be jizz-breath instead.”
He laughed, pressing the pillow to his face again. “Stop. I can’t. You’re so weird.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it. You think I’m fun.” I tugged the pillow away, turned over, and stuffed it under my head.
“Oh no, I wasn’t using that or anything.”
“Screaming into it doesn’t count.”
We fell silent then. The air in the room was thick with tension, and it was both awkward and not. Uncomfortable, yet comfortable in other ways. Just like everything about my friendship with Clark, I didn’t understand half of it.
He leaned over and set his book on the nightstand, then looked down at me, his hazel eyes like some X-ray that saw into my soul. It made me open my mouth and say, “A few weeks ago, right before we met up again, Mom came to see me at work.” Shut up, shut up, shut up, kept playing in my head.
“Why?”
“She got broken up with…or cheated on…I can’t remember. They start to blend together at some point. She was in tears, and she came to me to fix it, like always—not that I really fix anything. She breaks down, I put her together again, and then I wait for the process to inevitably repeat.”
“I’m sorry,” Clark whispered.
“It is what it is.” Nothing we said would change anything. “Anyway, she promised—again—that was the last time. That she was done with guys and was going to focus on herself rather than a relationship. When we met up today, it was great. I really love spending time with her. She’s a blast. We need to get the two of you together again.” It was hard having such a difficult relationship with her. On the one hand, she was my best friend, but on the other, she’d hurt me more than anyone else. Maybe I shouldn’t look at it that way, as she was the one with the broken hearts, but hers always became mine.
“I’d like that,” Clark said. “I always wished my mom would let me go to your house. It felt like your life was in a whole other world from mine. I hope that doesn’t sound—”
“It doesn’t,” I cut him off. “I know what you meant. Anyway, so we hung out today, and guess who’s seeing a new guy? She says the same thing won’t happen, of course. It’s never like before. So it put me in a weird mood. That’s why I was all emo today, and…I decided to hook up because that usually helps.” It probably sounded fucked up, but I found strength in hooking up with a guy, partly because I felt like I was proving to myself that I could enjoy men and not get hurt. That I could protect my heart in ways she couldn’t.
“Did it help?”
“So annoying.” I playfully rolled my eyes. “Always asking the hard questions.”
“You’re stalling.”
“No,” I replied. “It didn’t help.”
“I’m sorry,” Clark said. Then…then my breath caught when he reached over and fingered a lock of hair that fell on my forehead. “Your hair is really soft.” His eyes widened behind his glasses, and he jerked his hand back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
“It’s okay.” Still, I felt…something. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but there was some tingling going on. “My hair is soft. My skin too. We should discuss skin-care routines. You have great skin as well.” Yep, I was totally trying to change the subject. What was he doing to me?
“You’re not your mom, Sky. And it’s okay to love her and be hurt by her too. I sure as hell know what that feels like,” he said in a quiet voice. “I think you struggle with that—we both probably do—and maybe feeling like you shouldn’t. I could be off base, but—”
“You’re not,” I rushed out, my heart racing, blood pounding in my ears. Christ, how did he know that? No one had ever said that to me before. “I’m tired. I don’t want to move. Do you mind sharing this big, comfy bed with your middle-school gymnastics buddy?”
“With my current friend, you mean?”
I smiled, feeling a little wobbly inside. “Yeah, that, obviously.”
“Sure.” Clark took his glasses off and set them on the book. Was it me, or were his hands shaking? Hell, were mine?
He turned off the light, transporting us to darkness. I felt the bed shift beside me, then Clark’s breath on my cheek as I closed my eyes and went to sleep.
14
Clark
It was late morning, and Skylar slept soundly, snoring lightly. I grinned, watching him for a few minutes, trying to wrap my head around everything that happened last night at the Playground.
And then he’d come into my room to chat and slept in my bed. Holy shit.
I’d acted like a petulant child, asking about his hookup. What the hell was wrong with me? It was none of my business, but even the visual of him getting a handjob with that guy from the bar made my gut churn.
I was being judgmental and needed to stop. Logically, I knew it was more than that, but unpacking it was hard. I supposed part of it was that I still had this idea of Skylar from twelve years ago that didn’t exactly match who we’d become as adults. The family part still fit, though. He’d confided in me, and I certainly didn’t want to ruin the blossoming of what was sure to be an awesome friendship. And I could use all the good friends I could get.
So I’d have to make it up to him. And maybe I’d start now.
It was Saturday, and surprisingly, I didn’t have much on my schedule except an early afternoon errand and some work on my computer later to set up for a couple of open houses tomorrow.
I rolled out of bed, then started the coffee and searched for the right frying pan.
Grabbing eggs and bacon from the fridge, I began cooking breakfast, which almost never happened. But maybe Skylar could use the sustenance after a night of sweating his ass off at the club. I felt my neck heat up as I thought of those shorts—if you could call them that—and all the men ogling him. I would’ve died under the pressure, but he seemed to eat it up. Turned out my childhood friend was pretty wild. At least according to my standards.