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Loud music wasn’t for him, being capable of hearing every single person’s conversation at the same time. Combined with screams and suspiciously repetitive thumps upstairs, it overwhelmed Clark to introversion. He tried to smile as an apology to the guys who pushed his shoulder only to be thrown out of balance.
The cup on his hand being lightly brushed by his finger was a silent plead to fleet. The ineffective liquid he drank all night, a bridge he wished he could cross. Another problem, besides being slightly out of place in a corner of the biggest frat house’s annual party in Metropolis University, was you.
Who he’d walked every morning to class and every afternoon back to your dorm after your volleyball and his football practice. His best friend since moving to Metropolis for university. The one that stays all night explaining their classes topics to him before a quiz and the one that leaves footnotes on his notebooks wishing him well. The holder of the most beautiful hands he’d never pass an opportunity to make sure they’re warm by holding them in his. The dream visitor that infatuates his nights with memories of your smile. Same one that now refuses to cross eyes with him.
Moving your hips along a blonde guy’s body. Your eyes close as his nose paths across your neck. Clark can’t look away, sips his cup bothered. His heart drops when you smile, eyes close. Then, the music in his ears slows down and your breath is the only frequency tuned in his mind. Was the whisper that fell from your lips conscious or were you calling his name in your mind only.
“Are you okay?” He gathered the courage to look at your eyes, still resisting to meet his. The moon long passed its peak, and there was a blurry line where your spite ended and your shame began.
“I thought you weren’t speaking to me anymore,” some shame forming in your throat wanting to burn him too. To make him feel it. You turned around, trying to get away from both men beside you. Frat guy whose name you forgot used your tipsy legs as an excuse to get your body closer to his.
“She said no, dude,” spoke the frat boy whose eyes had to lightly raise above to meet Clark’s. He held your waist tighter, daring to linger his thumb on the space between your top and your jeans.
“Do you even know her name?” Irritation didn’t come to him easily, but his dark eyes and cheeky grin poisoned mistrust in Clark’s mind. His head duck to meet your eyes, gently confessing loudly enough for your disoriented thoughts to focus on him. “I came here for you,”
For an eternity, Clark’s blue eyes plead forgiveness. With his brows raised and cheeks red from embarrassment, he hoped it was enough to end in your good graces. You wouldn’t let him know that it was. Lips pressed and frozen in your feet. Your hands lightly pushed the frat guy who whisper whatever, then left. His chest couldn’t hide his fast-beating heart when your hands reached slightly above his abdomen.
“You’re on probation,” your voice warned to his ear, playfully hiding your need for his tender presence.
Outside, dim lights were doing their best for brightening the path to your dorm. Clark’s black hoodie warms your skin, while you pretend it’s the wind burning your cheeks and nose, not his perfume invading your thoughts. He bought a bottle of water, which you held close to your chest and let your fingers fidget against the tip.
Maybe, an overreaction wasn’t too far from reality in your part. Maybe it was out of fear that your heart rest at someone else’s hands was too unbearable to carry.
“I’m sorry,” his whisper was visible from the cold of the night and you wondered if his thin white long sleeve t-shirt was enough to keep him warm. You blinked, eyebrows raised and no words in your tongue.
“I’m sorry for not walking you yesterday after practice,” he continued, “I couldn’t make it to practice. I should have let you know or tried to make it; it was late and dangerous”
“That’s part of the reason I’m upset,” his head facing towards you with confusion lingering on his face. With burrowed eyebrows and light indignation on his voice, he asked: “Part of the reason you refused to speak to me for two days?”
“Yeah,” he kept quiet trying to find a clue in your eyes. You looked forward, “I remember Tuesday, you know. I wasn’t that much asleep”
Memories flood his mind as the red in his cheeks gathered his thoughts. He remembers too. Your head rested on your book, almost snoring. Clark held your sheets to your shoulders and kissed your forehead before turning off the lights on your nightly study session. You smiled continuing to walk while his feet froze in place. A sigh indicated the shattering of your fortress; vulnerability cracked on your quivering lips.
“It made me feel used,” finally confessing towards him. “You kiss my forehead and the next day I didn’t know anything about you. You didn’t text, or call. I was upset, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner”
You noticed the cold on your naked legs, suffering the consequences of wearing shorts on autumn. Clark’s right hand warmed with your cheeks and his smile couldn’t be anymore contained than your face revealing your fluster.
“I’m sorry for making you feel that,” his breath caressed your nose, “I’m sorry for not handling it well, for disappearing”
Behind your eyes there was a prayer to trust, you wished he wouldn’t let you down again. There was nothing but wayward curiosity in what could be between you. Behind his eyes however, there was the silent prayer to find the words to explain that he spent two days saving a military submarine in the Pacific Ocean.
Fear overshadowed longing in his fingers, he let go of your face. As you reached the first step to the stair to your dorm, Clark raised his head to meet your newfound height, and smiled when your eyes found his. Stupidly blue and brightening the night with his teeth.
“Well,” you said, ignoring the narrow gap between your bodies. Hands brushing against the softness of his hoodie while your head focused on the floor “This is me”
The silence waited patiently as Clark tiptoed around the correct words. He closed his eyes and the quiet of his voice warmed your ears.
“I wanted to respect your space if it was too much,” gently, his hands tested the distance from his own hoodie, where your hands played safely. Neverminded the storm in the Pacific. His voice, slow and calm was enough to pull you closer and stealing a sigh from your lungs. A pause, followed by a half truth that rushed blood to your cheeks, protecting you from the cold of the night: “You’re my best friend”
Tomorrow, you’d blame the boldness to alcohol residue in your head, or maybe the stubbornness that comes with having a pretty boy who pretends his hands don’t tremble the second before touching your skin. A beating was missed from his heart during that eternal instant where your thumb brushed against his palm before interlocking his fingers against yours.
“You’re mine too,” both heads stuck on the burning sensation your interlocked fingers. “And you’re not too much”
“That is” his words stuck on his sore throat. The choice between the entwined hands and your tired shy eyes had his heart thundering louder than the horrible techno music from the party “, it’s good to know. I’m glad”
Vows could be heard between the unsaid words. Clark focused on adjusting his strength to the minimum as to not crack your bones from his own nervousness. Some mess you made of him that he forgot if he wanted to, he could’ve heard the only competition for his own heartbeat rushing blood through his cheeks was your own drumming your senses numb. Relief released his shoulder as he crossed out another human experience, having the miracle of a crush liking you back.