He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 26 - Fight or Flight

- Clay -

I spent the better part of twenty minutes listening to a girl named Saffron prattle about the complexities of her former relationship after her boyfriend walked into the party with her cousin. I spent most of that time being hurt that Emmett insisted I go after this girl, passing me off on a stranger so he could seek someone else to be with. Some other lips to kiss.

I had a brief ray of hope with Carrie's comments, only to have Emmett douse it almost immediately, making sure our status quo stayed in check.

Although there was something else up that he wasn't telling me. I could see it in his eyes when he was staring at the birthday banner, then again, right before I went to talk to Saffron.

I only followed her, hoping to see a spark of jealousy from Emmett. Even taking a drink from this random girl's cup. Something I would never do, even with my closest friends. Except Emmett, of course. I kept my lips sealed tightly to the rim of the cup so none of it went in my mouth, but it still made me want to gag. Thankfully, she was too faded to notice.

Emmett stayed stone-faced the whole time. His indifference destroyed me.

When Saffron got distracted, I pretended to need the bathroom, slipping away. I hurried back to the kitchen, hoping Emmett hadn't found another guy yet. Maybe if I gave our secret signal, he would forget his pursuit and leave with me. We could go grab burgers, or maybe go back to Emmett's house and lay in his bed to watch movies. I would even be willing to watch one of Emmett's artsy indie films where everyone always seemed to be miserable. I had far too much suffering of my own to seek that out as entertainment. No matter how "powerful" Emmett claimed them to be.

The thought of us in Emmett's bed made my heart sing. I was so comfortable there. I could be myself—mostly. Emmett never asked me to be anything else. He just let me be.

If I acted the way I did with Emmett around any of my other friends, they'd probably call me a girl. A sissy. Gay. Maybe even something worse. They wouldn't be cool with me wanting to cuddle during movies, or throwing my legs over them. Stroking their hair the way I did Emmett's. Even though it might mean much more to me, Emmett just saw it as friendship. He accepted it as part of the package of Clay.

That meant everything.

With no sign of Emmett in the kitchen, I did a quick lap around the house in search of him. I found a threesome, a fight, and a group hotboxing in the sauna (because this house had its own fucking sauna). No Emmett, though.

I returned to the kitchen, hoping he would eventually return to find me. Maybe he was looking for me right now, and we kept missing each other. One walking out of a room just as the other walked in. I imagined canned laughter playing every time this missed connection occurred, getting more hysterical as we both grew more frustrated.

When Emmett rounded a corner from a hallway I hadn't noticed, I broke into a smile and rushed over. "There you are!"

"Hey." Emmett looked me over. "What happened to that girl?"

"It wasn't happening." I didn't want to talk about her.

Emmett's eyes darted around the room. He kept picking at his shirt like it didn't fit properly. Probably because the buttons were misaligned. I would have noticed that before and mentioned it so he could fix it. This was a recent development. He'd taken his shirt off.

My stomach churned. That familiar crushing weight pressed on my chest, stifling my breath. Everything went hazy as the world flipped upside down before righting itself, throwing me off-balance. I inhaled through my nose in a steady rhythm. I once heard that could stop a person from crying. I didn't know if it was true, but it was worth a shot to avoid making a scene.

Someone else appeared behind Emmett, almost running into him. A pair of dark brown hands grabbed Emmett's shoulders. A deep, much-too-familiar voice apologized for the near collision. It took a moment for me to tear my eyes away from Emmett, raising them to the newcomer's face.

I fell back a step, as if someone had pushed me. "Duke?"

"Clay!" Duke dropped his hands off Emmett. "Hey, dude. I thought you were hooking up with some hot girl."

"I thought so, too," Emmett said with a hangdog expression.

I couldn't be in this situation anymore. I couldn't stand there with Emmett and Duke, knowing what they probably just did. Knowing that Emmett would rather be with Duke—whom he said he hated—than be with me.

"I feel sick." I blurted, though not intentionally. I immediately covered with a lie: "I think it's food poisoning or something. I have to go."

"That's cool," Emmett said, his brows knitted together in concern. He laid a hand on my shoulder. "We can go. I'll even drive if you need."

"Stay!" I said, a bit too forcefully. I cleared my throat and clutched my hand over my stomach, hoping it came off as a side-effect of being sick, and not the bitter jealousy I actually felt.

"I can take you home," Duke told Emmett.

I gritted my teeth, gripping my hand into a fist at my side so tight that it hurt. "Yeah. Do that."

I had never hated anyone in my entire life, but I suspected this anger bubbling, hot and heavy, in my chest every time I looked at Duke and heard his stupid, deep voice was a pretty good indicator that I hated him.

Why did he get what I wanted? Why did he get Emmett's affection? Why did he get to touch Emmett, kiss him? He didn't deserve Emmett.

I wasn't sure if I deserved Emmett either, but at least I had never broken his heart.

"You gonna be okay, buddy?" Duke asked.

"I have to go." I spun around, ignoring Emmett calling after me. I fled the party, the world going blurry around the edges. I sprinted back down the street to my car.

Tears erupted as soon as I sat down and closed the door. I slammed a hand against the steering wheel. Once. Twice. Three times.

My anger morphed into despair. I folded my arms on the wheel, laying my head on them as sobs wracked through my body and tears poured down my face.

Why didn't Emmett want me?