Or, you know, I was jealous…or didn’t like the idea of Clark hooking up with someone, which was crazy and stupid and made absolutely no sense. There had never been a time in my life that I’d cared when a guy hooked up with someone else. You also felt strange when you hooked up with someone else, but you didn’t when you jacked off with him.
Shut up, voice!
I liked the thought of having the flu a whole lot more.
Clark was…special. No other word could describe him better. I’d always felt like that about him, and now it was making me Jelly McJellerson because…because he was out getting laid and I wasn’t? That had to be it. Only it wasn’t, but I tried to ignore that.
At some point I fell asleep, but it wasn’t a deep sleep because when he came home I heard him. I seriously held my breath and lay perfectly still, wondering if Clark had come home with someone or if he was alone.
I didn’t hear voices or other footsteps.
His bedroom door closed.
I breathed…waiting, and nope. I needed to chill the fuck out. If he started having sex in the next room, I didn’t want to hear that. I fumbled around for my earbuds, shoved them in, and listened to music until I managed to fall asleep.
When my eyes pulled open again, they felt grainy, and I could tell I hadn’t slept too long. I was off today, so there was no reason I couldn’t sleep all day if I wanted to. Still, I got up, pulled on a pair of pajama pants, and stumbled my way into the hall. His door was still closed.
Were they going to stay in bed all day? Clark rarely slept past nine—at least that’s what he told me, as I was usually still dead to the world.
I took a leak, washed my hands, brushed my teeth, looked at his door, wanted to punch myself for looking at his door because I was being a really weird creeper and obsessed with wondering if Clark got laid last night.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said softly. Then a little more loudly, “It doesn’t matter.” I mean, if I wanted to get laid, I could just go out and do the same. Maybe I’d do that tonight.
I went back to my room, grabbed my phone, and did some browsing. I couldn’t even say how it happened, but I ended up googling stuff about sewing and Portland, because I’d use anything to keep myself from thinking about Clark. Somehow, I ran into some job listings, and there was a position coming up at a local theater for someone to help make costumes. Seeing it made my heart jump, and I read it over and over, something else to focus on. Clark, sewing job, Clark, sewing job. Yep, I was definitely losing it.
I decided to quit being a crazy person. I’d treat Clark to my Sky’s Famous Chocolate Chip Pancakes—which really meant pancakes me and Mom thought were the shit.
It was just after ten, and I figured, guy in there or not, he would be up soon. I started coffee, then began whipping up the pancake mix. At one point, I accidentally flicked the spoon, making the batter fly across the kitchen, which I would totally clean up before Clark woke up.
See? I could do this. I could not care if Clark hooked up.
I was just pulling the first batch off the stove when I heard a noise from the hallway. I fumbled the spatula, and it fell to the floor. Okay, so maybe I couldn’t do this. Without turning around, I picked it up, tossed it to the sink, and grabbed another.
“Smells good.”
I turned. His brown hair was a mess, all sticking up and disheveled in a way Clark never got…in a way he likely got after sex. I tried not to think it was cute but failed miserably. His glasses were a little crooked. He straightened them and yawned.
“You alone?” I went for nonchalance because that was one hundred percent what I was feeling as my eyes scanned the hallway.
“What? Yeah. I didn’t bring anyone home.”
Oh…so he spent the night at the guy’s house.
My flu suddenly came back, complete with achy body and pounding head this time. “Well, good, because I wasn’t making some rando Sky’s Famous Chocolate Chip Pancakes.”
He grinned. “But I get them?” Clark leaned against the counter with a flirty look I was positive he didn’t even know he had. God, I loved that. Most people, myself included, flirted shamelessly and with purpose. Clark didn’t. He’d probably be embarrassed to know he was doing that, and I found it so damn refreshing.
“Of course you get them. You’re my bed buddy.”
His eyes widened. Ugh. That was cute too.
“I made coffee.”
“Thank you.” He had his back to me while he began doctoring a cup. “You could have…you know, slept in my bed last night.”
Huh. He was sort of like flu medication, easing the symptoms. “I was nervous you might bring someone home.”
“I’d let you know. Not that I have to or anything, but it might be awkward if I brought a guy home and you were in my bed.”
“We could always have a threesome,” I teased. At the wrong time.
He was taking a drink, and sucked it in his mouth. As he jerked back, coffee sloshed over the cup and onto his hand. “Ouch. Shit. That was hot.”
“I’m so sorry. I was joking.” I took the cup from his hand, looked down at the little red mark on the meaty part by his thumb, kissed it, and said, “All better.”
“Oh.” Clark looked at me.
I looked at him.
Holy fuck, did I want to kiss him? Did I want to follow the same path his tongue made across his lips and get my first taste?
No, no, no, no. I pulled away and refocused on the skillet, flipped the pancakes that were getting a little too brown, and handed him the plate. “You get the first batch.”
“Thank you.”
I was so fucked.
Pancakes ready, I got my coffee and joined him at the kitchen table. He’d waited for me to start eating, which we did, and every so often I’d feel his eyes on me. When I looked, his gaze would dart away, and there were times when it was the other way around. I felt backward, upside down, inside out.
“You, um…have pancake batter on your cheek,” he said.
“Of course I do. That’s part of the magic in making Sky’s Famous Chocolate Chip Pancakes. I also have it all over your kitchen.” I gave him a proud smile, and we both dissolved into laughter.
Some of the tension eased with that, tension that had no business being there in the first place.
When we finished eating, Clark said, “I’ll clean up.”
“No, you don’t have to do that. I wanted to do something nice for you, which means I should clean up said nice mess.”
“We can do it together.”
“Shut up before I throw pancake batter at your face too.”
We were standing close…too close…
How did we get so close, and why did I want to get closer?
I cleared my throat. “Did you…did you have fun last night?”
He turned away slightly, leaning against the counter. “It was okay. Except the end wasn’t the best.”
I froze. “Did he hurt you? Did someone do something you didn’t want?”
“What? No.” He shook his head, and I breathed. Christ, I’d been holding my damn breath.
“Ah, so just bad sex. Sucks when that happens.”
I went for the sink, but Clark stopped me, hand ringed around my wrist. I stood there and he held me, not letting go. We were looking at each other like…like maybe he had the flu too. “I didn’t have sex last night. My mom brought a guy she wanted to introduce me to. He was nervous and drank too much. I ended up babysitting him while he puked, and I fell asleep in his living room.”