Thunder

2

"What?"

My brain is empty. I don't know what to think or say. I mean, what the hell does Clay mean by that? Is that supposed to be one of his jokes again? Yeah, I can't think of anything else. He's just trying to cheer me up a little by making fun of me again and just trying to make me laugh.

I'm still staring at him, looking for the mischievous smile he always puts on when he teases me. But I just don't see it.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow, you should get some sleep now, George."

"But-."

I can't get any further. I'm laying on his chest again. His arms wrap around my waist and fix me. A hand slowly wanders to my hair, buries itself in it, and slowly massages my scalp. Even if I had liked to have a discussion or would like to know what he means by his statement, I can no longer utter a sound. The little massage lets me forget all my worries and I only concentrate on Clay's fingers.

I try finding a more comfortable position and ending up burying my face in the crook of his neck. From now on, this will be my favorite position.

Slowly but surely, I am falling into a dreamless sleep. The thunderstorm, which is still prevailing outside, has long been forgotten.

The next morning, I wake up feeling really damn cold. With my hand, I try to look for him on the left side of the bed, but can't find Clay. He should be laying next to me. Did I just dream all of this last night? Was it all just a dream?

I sit up lazily, throw back the covers and stumble into the bathroom. I just brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on a hoodie on the way to the kitchen. When I arrive in the kitchen, I stand rooted to the spot and look at the picture that emerges here. Clay is standing at the stove, wearing an apron, and is frying a few eggs. Waffles, toast and a few fruits are already on the table.

I could hang around here for hours and watch him cook. Unfortunately, I am not excellent at cooking, which is why I rarely used my kitchen. So of course I'm all the more pleased that Clay is putting it to good use. I immediately fell in love with his food. I don't know where he can cook so well from. Still, I thank the person who taught him.

In these few days, I've gotten so used to it that I'll definitely miss it if he leaves.

That brings me back to my "dream" from yesterday. Clay said he wanted to move here? If it was a dream, I shouldn't ask him about it. That would be really weird.

"Good morning. Do you like what you do see?"

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't even notice Clay turned around. The table is already set. Clay stands at the kitchen counter with his arms crossed and looks at me mischievously.

I held my thoughts back all breakfast and didn't mention anything from last night. Clay didn't mention it to me, either, which strengthened my thought, that everything was just a dream. After breakfast, I agreed to clear the table and clean the kitchen. Meanwhile, Clay said goodbye and disappeared into the bathroom.

I'm still lingering on my thoughts from last night. What if Clay really isn't flying back to America? What if he really stays here? But why? Has something happened at home with his family? Immediately, I worry. Clay is a real family man, that would never leave his family without a valid reason.

"I think the plate is clean now, George."

I was so lost in my thought that I am really shocked when I hear Clay's voice behind me. The plate almost fell out of my hand if Clay didn't catch it.

"Calm down, I did not mean to scare you."

Laughing, he puts the plate on the sink to dry it off. Meanwhile, I drain the water, dry myself off, and bring my heart back down to a normal speed. Clay stands across from me with his arms crossed, staring at me. I force myself to smile a little.