He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 50 - Haunted

A/N: CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of a previous homophobic attack. The situation between Emmett and Whitley's brother is fully revealed in this chapter. If you don't want to read the details of the actual event I added asterisks (*) before and after that section so you can skip that part if you want.

- Emmett -

Carrie's idea was brilliant, but so simple. I wished I had thought of it. Just around the corner from my house, there was a house up for sale. It had been on the market for a couple of weeks now. That's where Carrie dropped me off earlier, going off to sit at Starbucks until I called. She hated Starbucks, claiming their coffee always tasted burnt, but she didn't have time to go all the way downtown and back before I had to get home. She also loved the Fuel 'N' Go. We discovered the little gas-station-turned-coffeehouse two years ago by total accident. They'd kept the name of the gas station and the neon sign out front, so I never really looked twice at the building until one day the clouds parted and the sun shone down on the glorious Mecca of caffeine goodness. No. That's a lie. Actually, Carrie had to pee and went inside, discovering the building's secret identity. She ran out and pulled me inside. We marveled at the blackboard menus, the cases of baked goods, and the heavenly aroma of that godly life-giving nectar.

As I sat on the steps of the back patio, watching a bee do its bee-thing with a purple hydrangea, I wondered if it was a crime to break into someone's backyard. And even if it were, was it still a crime if said yard belonged to an unoccupied residence? They had a privacy fence. Even if the lock on it was so shitty, all I had to do was lift the gate and shove to get it open.

As soon as Clay rounded the corner of the house, I jumped to my feet. I suddenly didn't care if it was illegal. Because my smokeshow of a boyfriend was rushing toward me. He dropped his backpack on the pavement to wrap his arms around me, kissing me. When I accidentally pressed on his ribs, he jerked back, sucking air between his teeth. I apologized profusely.

Clay shook his head. "I don't care. Just keep kissing me."

That I could do.

We moved over to the shade of the patio and he pressed me against the wall, his hands holding my face as I gripped his hips, pulling him closer with my good hand. We were never close enough.

I wanted to ask him to take off his shirt. Sadly, we only had maybe twenty minutes before I had to get home to call my mother. We were seeing each other later at his house for our supervised visitation, which was basically the length of one movie. We always chose something long. I thought of suggesting Titanic to get an extra hour in, but I suspected the parents might catch on.

Clay moved his lips to my neck, his lips glossing over my Adam's apple, moving along my jawline. He was very good at that.

I sighed. And not just because Clay hit a sweet spot that gave me chills. "I can't believe we have to live like this for three weeks."

"Speak for yourself," he said between kisses. "I only have a week of this."

At the risk of losing time, I thought he needed some perspective, so I nudged his shoulder to make him look at me. "Do you really think my mother is going to allow us to hang out at your house without making sure we're under Big Brother's watchful eye?"

He looked confused. "What does Big Brother have to do with this?"

I shook my head. I wasn't about to waste time explaining 1984 to him. Although, I'm pretty sure when he said Big Brother, he meant the TV show.

"You're pretty."

Clay scoffed, annoyed. "It was a book thing, right? You always give me this look, like I'm some dumb airhead, when I don't get your smarty-pants references."