Clay nodded slowly and then reached into his cupboard and pulled out a bag of chips. Dumping them on the counter, we started munching on them between sips of beer.
Clay was a Sophomore at Savannah State. I’d met him last year, when my mama had dragged me to some art exhibition. Clay was there to buy, since it featured nudes. He said it was his one rich-boy indulgence. Clay’s family was loaded. On the flip side, Clay liked to get loaded. Which goes back to the room full of marijuana plants. He was well-known for supplying most of the college parties. Not because he needed the money, because he didn’t. He just liked a good party.
I came here for two reasons. One, Clay didn’t ask questions if I didn’t want to answer them. And two, the Heirs didn’t know him. It was perfect. Our friendship was fairly new and lacked the history I had with the others, but he was refreshingly honest and laid back. Just what I needed since getting dumped by my old friends.
“Now, you know that I don’t make a habit of critiquing a woman’s appearance,” he began, before shoving another chip past his full lips. He started talking with his mouth full. “I’m a fucking feminist. I don’t think you have to look like the pretty doll your Mama dresses you up as all the time. But damn, Scarlett. You look like you’re trying to see how long you can go without showering. Is that pink food coloring on your cheek?”
I reached up and touched the spot where Steph’s slushy drink was still coated on my skin. “Oh Clay, don’t ruin this. We’ve had such a good thing going,” I replied with a coy smile, looking him up and down before rolling my eyes.
“And what good thing would that be?”
“You don’t ask questions. You don’t pry. You’re probably my only friend, and I like that you know nothing about me.”
Clay leaned forward, resting his arms on his countertops while appraising me. “I know more than you think.”
“Oh, really now?”
“I know you’re running from something tonight,” he said before straightening. I hadn’t realized that I’d already finished my beer. He grabbed another one from the fridge and popped off the top before handing it to me. “I know you’re lonely. I know you come bother me cause it’s easier than facing whatever shit’s going on that’s got you mad and depressed all the time.” Clay was digging at everything, and it was exactly the sort of thing I wanted to avoid. “I also know you’re batting your running eyes at me, so I’ll stop for now.”
I took a swig of beer, hating the bitter taste but not really caring. “Running eyes?” I asked.
“Yeah. That pretty look on your face you get right before feeding me some bullshit excuse for why you have to leave.”
We were quiet for a moment longer, and I didn’t bother to explain myself. What more could I tell him? That I’d witnessed a murder tonight? That the boys I thought I knew were the murderers? That I had every opportunity to go to the cops and I didn’t? Nope. Talking would only get me into trouble, and get Clay involved. I couldn’t have that.
There was also the little fact that I’d kissed the murderer, and I’d wanted to do a lot more than just kiss. I probably shouldn’t admit that out loud.
There were a bunch of bitter little pills I needed to swallow, and I wasn’t sure where to start. My throat was dry, and my stomach was sick. I just wanted to forget for a little while. I took another sip of my drink. “Can I sleep on your couch tonight?” I asked.
Clay didn’t even hesitate.
“Your spare toothbrush is in the bathroom cabinet. I’d tell you to make yourself at home, but you already know the drill. Don’t wake me up before noon.”
Chapter Thirteen
I woke him up before noon.
I brought him breakfast, though, so he wasn’t too upset. I just couldn’t sleep. Every noise made me worried that the police were going to barge through the door to Clay’s apartment and arrest me. I tried watching TV, but the crime shows had me wondering if we were thorough enough in covering our tracks. Would the police track down the car I stole? What if we got blood on the seats? What if someone found the body in the lake? Was I an accomplice now? Was I bringing down Clay, too? The questions and the worry just wouldn’t stop.
I started making pancakes at four in the morning. I just kept making them, using up every last bit of ingredients in Clay’s kitchen to try out different versions. Banana. Chocolate Chip. Peanut Butter. Cinnamon. Potato chips. I barely stopped myself at mixing in some weed, just because he had so much of it.
I cooked until six, then piled two hundred pancakes on a platter before padding barefoot into Clay’s bedroom. I didn’t eat any of them myself. Mama’s weekly weigh-ins were tomorrow, so the process of compulsively cooking would have to be enough.
Clay ate three of them, all while staring at me and muttering, “Crazy bitch,” under his breath, in an endearing, yet irritated, sort of way. After I took a long, hot shower, we turned on cartoons and spent four hours vegging out.
“Shouldn’t you call your mama soon?” Clay asked.
He’d seen firsthand how controlling she could be. He’d also seen firsthand that she was an opportunist bitch. The moment she realized he was a Hammond, she pounced. He wasn’t an Heir, but she liked to remind me how important it was to have back-ups. But Clayton and I weren’t like that with each other. It was purely platonic, even though he was super hot. What was it with me befriending attractive guys?
“My mama is about to ship me off for good, so I doubt she cares if I’m a few hours late.”
Clay looked over at me curiously. “What’s that mean?”
I let a bitter laugh escape me. “It means that I finally embarrassed her one too many times. Principal Livingston can’t have her daughter skipping class, smoking pot, and getting beat up. I’m off to live life as a Swiss.”
Clay’s black brows shot up in surprise. “She’s actually sending you to that boarding school?”
“Yep.”
He whistled. “Damn. No wonder you bailed.”
I stood up and brushed myself off, still wearing Luis's clothes. “Yeah. I should probably call her, though.” I wasn’t about to do it from my phone or Clay’s. I’d turned mine off last night and refused to turn it back on, just in case Rogue and the others would be able to track it.
I started walking toward the door, and Clay’s confused voice followed me. “Umm, where are you going?”
“To ask your neighbor to borrow his phone.”
“...Why? If your phone died, you can use mine.”
“And have your info show up when I call? No. I’m gonna keep you out of my mess.”
He dropped it, and I headed out into the hall. I knocked on the next door over, and a bleary eyed college dude answered it wearing only his boxers and a backwards baseball cap. “Hey…?” he said, his expression obvious that he wasn’t sure if he should remember me or not. Probably from one too many one night stands.
“Hey. I got locked out of my apartment,” I said, letting the lie easily slip off my tongue. “Could I borrow your phone?”
He eyed me, paying particular close attention to my nipples that were showing through the overly large shirt. “Sure.”