Warmth in Ice
Page 21
My phone buzzed in my hand and I looked down to see a text from Clay.
Singed and burned I yearn for the warmth of your beloved ice.
I smiled as I texted him back.
Did you write that?
His response came a minute later.
Just a Japanese poem I know. You should read it sometime.
His words echoed those he had said the first time he had left me his first butterfly with similarly beautiful words written along the bottom. I grinned with the wave of bittersweet nostalgia. This came at just the right moment when I needed to be reminded that we loved each other beyond any obstacle. And that no matter what, this visit, my being here, it could only serve to reinforce something I already knew.
That Clay and I were in this forever.
Grinning I quickly responded, You sure do like those Japanese poets.
Clay replied with they say all the right things when my own words aren’t enough.
I was trying really hard not to sob like a baby in the back of this poor guy’s cab. He was already looking at me in the rearview mirror curiously as I started to sniffle loudly.
My text back was a simple heart. Anything more and I would be a mess.
“You alright back there?” the cabbie asked.
I nodded, giving him a watery smile before returning my attention to the palm trees and buildings whizzing by my window.
Twenty minutes later the cab stopped in front of a non-descript two story house. I peered out the window and was a bit taken aback. This looked so…normal. I hated to admit to myself that I expected something a lot more institutional. I wasn’t expecting pretty potted plants and a porch swing.
The cab driver got my suitcase out of the trunk and handed it to me. I paid him and he wished me a Merry Christmas before pulling away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the house like some sort of idiot.
I walked up the steps, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. And then I waited. And waited some more. And still no one answered.
Shit. What if no one was home? I’d feel like a complete ass if I had to text Clay to come and get me because I was stranded on his front porch.
I clenched my fist and banged on the door again, louder this time. I was just starting to think I had totally screwed up my big surprise when the door swung open.
The guy standing there looked at me with wide eyes that darted back and forth nervously. His white blond hair stood on end and his clothes were rumpled as though I had woken him up.
“What do you want?” he asked me shortly. I tried not to be offended by his rudeness. Clay had said that his roommates were pretty anti-social.
I plastered a smile on my face and held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Maggie Young, Clay’s girlfriend. I’m here to see him. Nice to meet you.”
The guy looked at my face, then my hand. He seemed suddenly panicked and backed away. “Uh, Clay’s upstairs.” He pointed to the staircase behind him. “Go that way,” he said before turning his back to me as he fled into another room.
Okay then.
I pulled my suitcase inside and leaned it against the wall in what must be their living room. I was pleased to see that it was actually pretty nice. It was tastefully decorated and there was a small Christmas tree in the corner and lights hung around the doorways.
I didn’t see anyone else but I could smell something cooking and saw a crockpot hooked up on the counter in the kitchen. This was a lot better than I had envisioned in my head and that made me feel so much better.
I walked up the stairs and I realized I had no idea which room was Clay’s. I went left and peeked around the first door to find it was a bathroom. It was so obvious guys lived here. The bathroom was clean but messy with towels strewn on the floor and no toilet paper on the holder.
I knocked on the door just to the right of the bathroom. No one answered and when I looked inside, I saw that it was empty. I didn’t recognize anything, so I could only assume it belonged to another roommate.
I went back down the hallway, toward music I recognized all too well. The door to the left was ajar and I slowly pushed it open. My heart immediately went into my throat.
Clay was hunched over his desk, his head bowed down. I could see a pile of crumpled paper beside him and he was furiously drawing on a piece of paper. He was completely lost in his own world. Seeing him like this was so familiar it brought tears to my eyes.
I looked around his room and couldn’t help but grin as I took in the throw pillows on his small couch and the pictures I had suggested he buy to put on the wall. This space was lived in. It held small touches of Clay everywhere.
It was vastly different from his room at Ruby’s. There, he had seemed to only be visiting. He had never allowed himself to settle, to get comfortable. Everything had been completely impersonal.
This room in so many ways represented the person Clay was becoming. It was warm and comfortable…and happy.
I leaned against the door jam and tucked my hands into my jeans pockets, a goofy smile on my face, content to watch him. I drank in the sight before me.
After a few minutes, as though sensing me behind him, Clay looked over his shoulder and froze. A myriad of expressions crossed his face. Shock and disbelief being the most prevalent until everything was washed away by a radiant and total joy.
He got to his feet so quickly, he knocked over his chair. “Oh my god, Maggie,” he said, his voice rough and I could see his beautiful eyes glossing over.
We rushed toward each other, meeting in the middle of the room. Our arms went around each other, Clay’s face burying into my hair, my face pressed into the hollow of his neck.
Singed and burned I yearn for the warmth of your beloved ice.
I smiled as I texted him back.
Did you write that?
His response came a minute later.
Just a Japanese poem I know. You should read it sometime.
His words echoed those he had said the first time he had left me his first butterfly with similarly beautiful words written along the bottom. I grinned with the wave of bittersweet nostalgia. This came at just the right moment when I needed to be reminded that we loved each other beyond any obstacle. And that no matter what, this visit, my being here, it could only serve to reinforce something I already knew.
That Clay and I were in this forever.
Grinning I quickly responded, You sure do like those Japanese poets.
Clay replied with they say all the right things when my own words aren’t enough.
I was trying really hard not to sob like a baby in the back of this poor guy’s cab. He was already looking at me in the rearview mirror curiously as I started to sniffle loudly.
My text back was a simple heart. Anything more and I would be a mess.
“You alright back there?” the cabbie asked.
I nodded, giving him a watery smile before returning my attention to the palm trees and buildings whizzing by my window.
Twenty minutes later the cab stopped in front of a non-descript two story house. I peered out the window and was a bit taken aback. This looked so…normal. I hated to admit to myself that I expected something a lot more institutional. I wasn’t expecting pretty potted plants and a porch swing.
The cab driver got my suitcase out of the trunk and handed it to me. I paid him and he wished me a Merry Christmas before pulling away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the house like some sort of idiot.
I walked up the steps, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. And then I waited. And waited some more. And still no one answered.
Shit. What if no one was home? I’d feel like a complete ass if I had to text Clay to come and get me because I was stranded on his front porch.
I clenched my fist and banged on the door again, louder this time. I was just starting to think I had totally screwed up my big surprise when the door swung open.
The guy standing there looked at me with wide eyes that darted back and forth nervously. His white blond hair stood on end and his clothes were rumpled as though I had woken him up.
“What do you want?” he asked me shortly. I tried not to be offended by his rudeness. Clay had said that his roommates were pretty anti-social.
I plastered a smile on my face and held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Maggie Young, Clay’s girlfriend. I’m here to see him. Nice to meet you.”
The guy looked at my face, then my hand. He seemed suddenly panicked and backed away. “Uh, Clay’s upstairs.” He pointed to the staircase behind him. “Go that way,” he said before turning his back to me as he fled into another room.
Okay then.
I pulled my suitcase inside and leaned it against the wall in what must be their living room. I was pleased to see that it was actually pretty nice. It was tastefully decorated and there was a small Christmas tree in the corner and lights hung around the doorways.
I didn’t see anyone else but I could smell something cooking and saw a crockpot hooked up on the counter in the kitchen. This was a lot better than I had envisioned in my head and that made me feel so much better.
I walked up the stairs and I realized I had no idea which room was Clay’s. I went left and peeked around the first door to find it was a bathroom. It was so obvious guys lived here. The bathroom was clean but messy with towels strewn on the floor and no toilet paper on the holder.
I knocked on the door just to the right of the bathroom. No one answered and when I looked inside, I saw that it was empty. I didn’t recognize anything, so I could only assume it belonged to another roommate.
I went back down the hallway, toward music I recognized all too well. The door to the left was ajar and I slowly pushed it open. My heart immediately went into my throat.
Clay was hunched over his desk, his head bowed down. I could see a pile of crumpled paper beside him and he was furiously drawing on a piece of paper. He was completely lost in his own world. Seeing him like this was so familiar it brought tears to my eyes.
I looked around his room and couldn’t help but grin as I took in the throw pillows on his small couch and the pictures I had suggested he buy to put on the wall. This space was lived in. It held small touches of Clay everywhere.
It was vastly different from his room at Ruby’s. There, he had seemed to only be visiting. He had never allowed himself to settle, to get comfortable. Everything had been completely impersonal.
This room in so many ways represented the person Clay was becoming. It was warm and comfortable…and happy.
I leaned against the door jam and tucked my hands into my jeans pockets, a goofy smile on my face, content to watch him. I drank in the sight before me.
After a few minutes, as though sensing me behind him, Clay looked over his shoulder and froze. A myriad of expressions crossed his face. Shock and disbelief being the most prevalent until everything was washed away by a radiant and total joy.
He got to his feet so quickly, he knocked over his chair. “Oh my god, Maggie,” he said, his voice rough and I could see his beautiful eyes glossing over.
We rushed toward each other, meeting in the middle of the room. Our arms went around each other, Clay’s face burying into my hair, my face pressed into the hollow of his neck.
