Thursday, September 15
(Kate)
As I'm walking to my car after my final tutoring session with Gabriel, I notice a text on my phone. It's from Clay. SEE ME WHEN YOU GET BACK TO THE DORMS!
I text back as I walk. DON'T SHOUT AT ME! See you in 10. :)
My phone chimes again as I start my car. DRIVE THE SPEED LIMIT AND I'LL SEE YOU IN 20.
I laugh because he knows I'm in Minneapolis.
Clay guilted me into taking down my speed, so I split the difference and pull into the lot fifteen minutes later.
Clay flings the door open just as my knuckles make contact to knock.
"Dude, what's the emergency?" I half laugh because he looks frantic, but not in a something-absolutely-awful-has-happened way, just in an I'm-panicked-and-don't-know-what-to-do-about-it way.
He seizes my shoulder and pulls me into his room. The door shuts quickly behind me. Pete is sitting on his bed across the room engrossed in a book, but he offers his usual, "Hello, Kate."
"S'up, Pete?" I nod in Pete's direction before returning my focus to the manic little man in front of me.
Clay has a tight grip on my shoulders and his eyes are darting back and forth between my eyes, as if he can't decide which one to give his full attention. "Katherine, I need you," he says, his voice deadly serious.
There's only one way to address this level of drama. I look to Pete. "Hey, Pete, remember when I told you that Clay was a hard nut to crack? Well, I think he's finally succumbed to my overtly salacious methods of seduction. Can you give us a few minutes alone? Thirty minutes, tops."
Pete's cheeks burst into a deep blush, but he does actually crack a smile. God, I'm corrupting him.
Clayton shakes me gently and sighs as if he doesn't have time for jokes. "Katherine, this is serious."
I raise my eyebrows. "Shit. Then spill it."
"Katherine, I need you to come to Spectacle with me tonight."
"That's it? I thought this was serious? You don't need to bail someone out of jail? Or need one of my kidneys?" I tease.
He huffs.
I laugh and tone down the sarcasm because I know this means a lot to him. "But it's Thursday, dude. We won't be able to get in. I don't have a fake ID."
He drops his hands from my shoulders and starts biting at his thumbnail. "What if I told you I knew someone, and we could get in?"
"Then, hell yeah!" I eye him suspiciously because there's something he's not telling me. "Who do you know, Clayton?"
He shrugs but his cheeks glow and give him away.
I walk over and sit on his bed and cross my legs. "Okay, Clayton. What is it you're not telling me? Because judging by the color of your face, he is pretty damn significant."
He stomps his foot. "How did you know?"
"Dude, you're blushing like a whore in church. It has to be a boy."
Pete chuckles from the corner.
"Okay, okay, remember that spicy little number that I danced with the night we went to Spectacle?"
"How could I forget Mr. Cheekbones? Or that steamy kiss?"
He rolls his eyes. "Well, his name is Morris, and I finally worked up the courage to call him the other night—"
"Right on, Clayton!" I interject.
The blush intensifies and he clears his throat. "Morris manages Spectacle, and he called me earlier today and wants me to meet him there tonight."
I look to Pete, who's dutifully trying to focus on his book and stay out of the conversation. "You hear that, Pete? Our little boy's all grown up. But I don't know if I'm ready for him to start dating. What about you? Have you had the talk with him yet, you know, about the birds and bees and STDs? We might need the mandatory condom on a cucumber demo. You up for it?"
Pete shakes his head slightly, and a smile cracks through again.
Clayton stomps his foot again. It's so cute when he does that. "Katherine, I need you to come with me."
I rise from the bed and hug Clayton. I can't tease him anymore. "I'm with you, dude." I kiss him on the cheek. "I. Am. With. You. What time?"
"Can we leave at eight o'clock? We need to get there before they open so that Morris can get us in."
I release him and reach for the door. "Your wish is my command."
Clayton is at my room at 7:45 pm, all but trying to drag me out the door. He knows I'm habitually late. I called Shelly, but she has plans with The Boyfriend tonight, so it looks like I'm on my own.
As promised, Morris is waiting for us at the back door of the club. God, if this doesn't feel extra shady. Well, I guess that's because it is illegal, but when I would go to the club with Gus at home, they always seemed to usher me in through the front door. I feel like I should know some special knock or handshake or code word to get in through the back.
Morris is all chiseled cheekbones just as I remembered, and on top of that he's from Manchester, England, so he has this fantastic accent. It's polite, proper, and so charming. I could listen to him all night: the way he doesn't pronounce the first or last letter of certain words, or the way he leaves entire syllables out of other words as if they aren't important enough to bother with. And you find yourself agreeing, and thinking, why do we bother with the "r" at the end of "better"? It sounds so sexy without it. At least with his accent it does. No wonder Clayton's all a flutter. After talking with Morris for a few minutes, because Clayton seems to be speechless in his presence, I find him to be a proper gentleman—enchanting accent aside—which eases my mind. Somewhat. Still, my primary reason for tagging along tonight is to make sure that Morris doesn't take advantage of my innocent Clayton.
Just to make sure, I send Clayton away to the bar to grab us a couple of Cokes. As soon as he's out of earshot, I turn to Morris. "Morris, dude, I'm gonna cut to the chase. You seem really nice and I think I like you, so don't take this the wrong way." I look him straight in the eyes. "Don't fuck Clayton over. He's special, and he's sweet, and he really likes you. I know this is all just getting started between the two of you, but don't get him all jacked up over you if you don't intend to pursue something with him. Clayton's never had a boyfriend; keep that in mind. His heart's been tucked away for eighteen years, so when he takes it out of his pocket and offers to share it with you, don't treat it like some shiny new toy that will only be forgotten when you're done playing with it. And don't take more than your share, unless you're willing to trade your own for it. Just...just don't fuck with him for the sake of a one-night stand, okay?"
Morris raises his eyebrows. "Blimey, Kate, you're ta the point, aren't ya?
I raise my eyebrows in return. I'm waiting for his response and he knows it.
"I fancy Clayton. I want ta get ta know 'im better." ("Better" with a soft "r" is indeed better.) "Despite the fact tha' I probably look like a right wanker bringing 'im 'ere tonight, I've only good intentions. I've been thinkin' of 'im every minute since we met. I thought..." he pauses and looks embarrassed. "I thought 'e would never call. And then, 'e did."
I smile. Morris seems genuinely excited about Clayton. But I have one more question. "How old are you?"
"I'm twenty-one."
"And you manage a club?" I narrow my eyes. My friend's heart is still on the line.
"My uncle owns it. 'E lives in London and asked me to help 'im out since I jus' finished up with university. I've only been at it a month now. S'a long story. Don't even 'ave a proper flat yet." Morris lowers his voice to a whisper. "'E's comin'. I won't hurt 'im. You've my word."
"Thank you."
He nods.
Because Morris is technically working, Clayton spends most of his time dancing with me. On the occasion that Morris breaks free for a song or two and steals him away, I find that there's no shortage of available dance partners. And can they dance.
Clayton and I stay until close. I bask in Clayton's bliss during the entire drive back to our dorm. He's so high on love, or lust, that he doesn't even complain about my driving.
We return to the familiar red ribbon on my door. Clayton, as always, is accommodating.
"Dude, I feel kinda funny sleeping with you now that you're spoken for."
"Katherine, hush. You're always welcome in my bed. Now, good night," he says, still with a special glimmer in his eyes.
"Good night."