Clay's Unwanted Blondie

Chapter 41

♥⁠╣CLAY╠⁠♥

"CHUNKY NO! Did you see that? Papi, he just—he's starting to be naughty"

She lolled her head back pulling his wet t-shirt away from her chest.

"I wonder where he got that from"

Brooklyn tossed the rubber duckie brush back into that water, giving him a glare but that made her cute.

Wet hair up on her head, held up by a chopstick, her knees on the bathroom floor and Chunky in the tub being difficult about getting a bath. Everything was cute.

"I am not naughty", she slapped the water, splashing herself and Chunky too.

"Yeah? Who sneaks into the kitchen every night takes a sip of the juice from a two litre bottle and returns it back to the fridge"

She dipped her finger in the water, avoiding his eyes.

"You saw that?"

"I follow your every action, Blondie. And when you wake up in the middle of the night, I wake up too because I'm used to us being in bed together"

She blushed, her lips dipped to form that smile he loved.

"Can you stop recording please?"

"Not a chance. This is right here is camera gold"

"I'm wearing a damp t-shirt, my hair's tangled and my dog definitely wants to drown me before I can scrub the sand off his coat. That is not camera gold"

"You look good",he teased zooming in, "my t-shirt looks good on you"

"You would lie in a heartbeat just to make me feel better, papi"

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

The video stopped. The next video was his, him sleeping and Brooklyn being Brooklyn with her goofiness.

Clay memorized every bit of the videos. Every sound, every word, every expression and every thing that he couldn't see in their moments together.

And by doing that, he was reminding himself that he of all people wouldn't get a fairytale ending.

That a monster like him didn't get the girl at the end because you know what? The girl wasn't sticking around.

"The girl... isn't sticking around", he chuckled painfully.

He raised his pinkie, the bartender who'd loosened up after Clay's third night in the club brought down another bottle of vodka.

"Life's fucked up", Clay said pouring himself the fourth? Fifth glass of the night?

Funny enough, he wasn't drunk. If he was still thinking about everything that happened a few days ago, the alcohol wasn't soothing or taking away the pain he felt right there jabbed like a hot iron inside his heart.

"It is but you and I are still here mate, despite everything. And that's the thing one minute it's fucked up and the next it isn't", the five foot something bartender encouraged.

Clay tried.

Damn he was trying. Trying to get a grasp of everything but everything was slipping from his hands.

She was slipping from his hands.

"You haven't met my pal Cancer. Cancer fucks you up, completely. How I know that?

Every passing second of my time, I research about it. What it means, what it feels like, what it'll do to her, how she'll—"

He stopped himself, glass in hand.