Chasing Time

Part || 3

The conversation about Clayton continued halfway through supper, before they were finally satisfied with answers, quickly moving on to whether or not zodiac signs were accurate.

We cleaned off the table afterwards, Dad only having to remind - or rather scold - the younger kids to do it twice, before I ran downstairs to grab my backpack.

As I turned to leave, my eye caught an empty space between the books on my chipped, black shelf, two missing.

Between all of the other people living here, I was lucky enough to have my own room, but of course that didn't stop them from messing with my things anyway. That would have to be dealt with later.

"I'm off to Clayton's, bye," I announced, heading towards the entrance.

"Wait, Donnie!" Grant cried, running straight for me, before crashing into my legs in a hug. "Bye!"

"See you later, my dear," Mom replied, a few others saying 'bye' as well.

I couldn't help the small smile that stretched its way onto my face.

"Okay, okay. See you!" I persuaded, reaching for the door handle.

The walk back to Clayton's house was short lived, noticing that the wind had died down and the air felt warmer, before I was opening the gate to his fenced in backyard.

Clayton and I got together often enough that this was a normal routine for us; walking straight into his backyard and climbing the steps up to his patio door.

We spent a lot of time outside rather than in, unless of course we were playing video games.

He opened the door not long after I finished knocking. "Hey, Donnie, let me just get my binder," he greeted, quickly leaving, the door still ajar.

I trudged back down the steps, taking a seat on the mowed grass, before dumping my backpack down in a sigh.

I just sat there for a few minutes, taking in the scene of his familiar backyard.

There was an off-white shed to the side that looked slightly old, as well as a small storage area underneath the stairs. They always kept their bikes and barbecue there when they weren't being used.

My head turned up at the sight of Clayton standing just above the stairs, briefly making eye contact as his smile grew. He quickly turned to close the still open door, before walking over to me.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes slightly, a grin threatening to form. "You're such a dork."

"Yeah, yeah," he responded, letting out a small laugh. His hand reached out, slightly messing up my hair as he walked past and sat down beside me.

It wasn't long before papers were spread amongst the grass, binders opened, with pens and pencils laying out - most of the supplies being Clayton's.

I tried my best to continue working the whole time that he did, but I was running out of steam and began glaring at, instead of completing my papers.

I let out a large sigh, eyeing Clayton's creased brow and fast-moving pencil, before defeatedly moving my work to the side, flopping back onto the grass.

"What are you doing?" I heard him ask, amusement lacing his voice.

I struggled to form a response. I didn't exactly know what I was doing, either. But I did know that I was tired. Sometimes it feels like life will never slow down enough for me to catch up.

"If I lay here...if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?" I whispered without much thought, ignoring his question.

There was a long pause of silence. My embarrassment suddenly caught up to me, wishing to take back those silly, cliche words, as I waited for his laughter.

I hated how vulnerable I suddenly felt in front of him and debated just sitting back up as if nothing had ever happened.

But when I heard some shuffling and saw his figure lay on the grass beside mine, any doubts and unease that I was holding, left, leaving a content smile in its wake.

I felt his finger tips touch the palm of my hand, slowly sliding up to cradle it in his grasp. I turned my head to the side to find him already staring at me with a smile of his own.

I mulled over something to say in reply to his action - an action that was so simple, yet so comforting and reassuring.

But I found that a slight squeeze to our connected hands was all I could provide, because I didn't quite know how to say how I felt.

Those three words are said too much. They're not enough.