scary love | dreamwastaken

queries

Clay was born Clay Davis, to two Australians who actually lived in Florida. He didn't have an accent, much to Monica's dismay, but could do a kick-ass Steve Irwin impression. He studied computer science at the University of Pennsylvania but dropped out to work with apple.

He has a cat, Patches, cutest thing I've ever seen.

He loved Marvel movies over DC, thankfully.

The only meal he knew how to make was macaroni and four-cheese.

Monica, on the other hand, was pretty uninteresting.

"Oh, come on, you can't be that boring," he protested when she offered no facts about herself.

"Trust me, I am. Like, to put it in perspective, the worst thing I've ever done in my twenty years of living was cheat during an exam by writing two equations on the desk right before. And you know what?" She paused and groaned, burying her face in her palms. "I didn't even need them."

"Well shit," Clay gasped, "you're a badass." Monica ruefully bumped her shoulder into his.

That night, Clay learned a lot about Monica and concluded that she was, in fact, not boring at all.

Not only did he learn about her from what she said, but a lot from her action. Like the fact that she got cold easily.

Or that her favourite colour was scarlet (her phone case, nails, necklace, and bracelet were all scarlet).

Or that if you were funny enough, she'd laugh so hard that she sounded like a dying goose.

When they realized it was late and that they should go back to their cabins to get some rest, Clay felt sad. Monica was cool, and he wished he had met her earlier during camp, rather than the night before it ended.

"I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast," Clay called out when they parted way to their respective cabins. Monica offered a nod and waved goodbye.

Later, when Monica got into bed, she couldn't help but feel content. The emptiness in her heart hadn't made her ache so much that day. Plus, Clay was pretty cool.

Too bad you met him at the end of camp, she thought reluctantly. Not that it mattered. She went to school in Boston, and he was in Philadelphia. It was impossible for them to date anyway.

She blushed at the thought of them dating-she met the guy a few hours ago and she was already thinking of dating him! God, she felt like she was in high school again.

The next morning wasn't too bad. She was still sore from the hiking trip, but the burning in her legs wasn't that noticeable when she had to rush to help her kids pack before breakfast.

"Charles, please stop shoving your toothbrush into Cecelia's nose!" Monica shouted as she lugged four suitcases onto the steps of the cabin.

"And Richard, I swear if I see you throw another spit ball, I will tell your father!"

When all the kids were ready, they group headed down to breakfast single file, hands behind their backs with a bubble in her mouth. They were finally free once they arrived at the gazebo. Monica hated herself a little for straining her neck as she observed the people around her, looking out for a tall man with a magenta shirt on.

"Looking for someone?" a familiar voice behind her whispered. Monica jumped and almost dropped the bottle of orange juice she was carrying. She turned around, a smile playing on her lips as she stared at Clay. God, he was so much more attractive in the sunlight.

He was tall-well above six feet, and if she were to make a more precise guess, six feet three inches-and broad. He looked like a swimmer, but she wasn't sure. He had only mentioned playing intramural soccer last night. His hair was light blond, and his eyes were the most startling shade of green.