Rachel looked at me. “Great boyfriend huh?” I laughed and allowed myself to be pulled to my feet. “Let’s go raid the kitchen. Your mom gone has into Christmas cookie overload and since Mr. Stingypants isn’t sharing, we had better get our share before there isn’t anything left.”
“MA’AM, the pilot has turned on the seatbelt sign. We’re starting to descend,” the flight attendant said, waking me from my fitful nap. I wiped my mouth, checking for drool and smiled in thanks.
Realizing I was so close to Clay had my heart racing in my chest. After boarding the plane two and a half hours ago, I had immediately fallen asleep. I had stayed up late last night with Rachel and Daniel after having our Christmas dinner and opening presents.
I knew that my parents were upset about not having me around for Christmas day but they had tried to hide it as best they could. They shocked the hell out of me by giving me a small wrapped gift before leaving me at the airport.
“This is for Clay, from your dad and me. It’s not much. Just a little something,” my mom had said, pressing the package into my hand before I went through security.
I blinked in surprise. “That’s really sweet of you, Mom. I’ll make sure he gets it,” I had said, giving her a hug. Then I had turned to hug my dad.
“Call us when you get there and please call us on Christmas. And make sure you keep your phone on you at all times and pay attention to your purse. There are pickpockets everywhere,” my mother rambled. This was hard for her. Perhaps even harder than leaving me at school. I was traveling, over a thousand miles away, on my own.
“I will. Stop worrying so much!” I insisted, still trapped in my parents’ death grip.
When I was finally able to pull away, I gave them a reassuring smile. “Love you and thank you, for everything,” I said, holding up Clay’s gift.
My dad patted my cheek. “We love you too, Maggie May. We hope you and Clay have a wonderful Christmas,” he said warmly. Then I had left them, feeling better than I had in a long time.
When the plane touched down on the runway and taxied into the gate, I was a ball of restless energy. My brief nap had energized me and I could barely contain my nervous excitement.
I had spoken to Clay last night and tried to surreptitiously ask about his schedule for today. With it being the day before Christmas, Clay hadn’t planned to do much more than to stay at the house and wait for Ruby, who unbeknownst to him wouldn’t be coming into town for another two days.
I couldn’t get off the plane fast enough. I got my carry on out from the overhead compartment, almost smacking the guy who had been sat beside me in the face. Which would have been a nice case of karma, given that I totally caught him stealing my pretzels while he thought I was asleep.
Mr. Pretzel Stealer made an exasperated noise under his breath and shot me a look of perturbed annoyance that I barely noticed.
“Sorry,” I muttered. I was way too fixated on my complex mixture of emotions to give it another though. Nerves and excitement warred against the overwhelming urge to freak the fuck out. Which was so ridiculous. This was Clay. And he was everything to me.
You would think after walking into the dark so many times for this boy, that making an impromptu visit to Florida in order to surprise him for Christmas should have been a walk in the park.
I wish I could sort out why this felt so monumental. Why my entire world seemed hinged on what would greet me forty-five minutes away.
After waiting for what felt like forever for my bag, I finally left the airport and walked out into Florida’s warm December air.
I hailed a cab and gave him Clay’s address. I sat in the back seat and stared out the window, my heart hammering in my chest and trickles of sweat, that had nothing to do with the heat, dripping down the back of my neck.
The cabbie tried to engage me in meaningless chitchat about the unseasonable warmth. Apparently this was the warmest Christmas on record. I nodded my head and feigned interest but my mind was definitely not on the weather.
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 roomm
ate.
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.
“You’re here, you’re really here,” he whispered over and over again. My entire body shuddered and I couldn’t speak, too overcome with the emotional overload of seeing him again after so long. I could only nod and cling to him as though my life were depending on it.
And this, being held by him, was the only place I ever wanted to be. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect Christmas.
I couldn’t believe this was real!
Maggie.
She was here, in my fucking arms. I thought I had progressed to full on visual delusions. I was questioning my recovering mental health for the whole thirty seconds it took for me to cross the room and touch her.
I could smell her.
Feel her.
She was here.
I pulled back and looked down into the most beautiful face I would ever see in my entire life and I thought I would split in half with fucking happiness. Joy like this didn’t live inside of me very often. But when it did, there was only one person who could put it there.
And she was smiling up at me with tears in her gorgeous brown eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, shaking my head, completely undone by this moment.
Maggie raised her eyebrows and gave me a look. “Wow, you sure know what to say to the gal who traveled over a thousand miles on Christmas Eve to see your sorry ass,” she teased, pinching my side.
I cupped her face in my hands. “I am so blown away right now, sorry if I suck and can’t put into words what I’m feeling. I just can’t believe you’re here,” I said softly.
Maggie’s face softened and her lips stretch into a smile that tore me apart in the best way possible.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, her fingers slide into the hair at the base of my skull. She leaned up on her tiptoes so that her lips were just touching mine. Our noses brushed together. Her eyes sparkled as they looked into mine.
“Merry Christmas, Clay,” she whispered.
“Merry Christmas, Maggie,” I whisper back and then I tightened my arms around her waist and pulled her forward, pressing my mouth to hers. I groaned deep in my throat at the moment of impact. Her lips parted and my tongue danced inside.
Touching. Tasting. Devouring.
And just like that, I was home.
My hands swept up her back as I fit her body to mine. She tasted like peppermint and that indefinable thing that was all Maggie and made my gut twist and my dick instantly harden.
This thing between us had always been so much more than physical. It was emotional and spiritual. Passionate and fucking overwhelming. But the attraction that surged between us hadn’t waned in the months we had been a part. If anything, it burned hotter and stronger than ever before.
Maggie tugged my shirt out of my shorts and pushed her hands up my stomach, scraping her nails along my skin. She moaned loud into my mouth and I had a faint recollection that we should probably slow down. There were reasons that this was not a good idea right now, but hell if I could remember why.
I pulled my mouth away from Maggie’s and she tilted her head back as I ran my tongue along the column of her throat, dragging my teeth as I nipped at her skin. Maggie started to frantically unbutton my shirt, tugging it off my shoulders.
My fingers were on the button of her jeans when I heard a door slam downstairs and I instantly stilled. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I grabbed a hold of Maggie’s hands as they started on the zipper of my shorts. “Baby, please. Just stop a second,” I pleaded, sounding like I had run a damn mile.
Maggie pushed my hands away and resumed trying to get my zipper down. Her heated eyes met mine and she kissed me…hard. “We have waited seven months for this, Clay. How can you ask me to stop? Why would you want me to?” she asked and I hated to see the doubt and insecurity start to take the place of the desire on her face.
I grabbed her hands and brought them up to my mouth. I kissed her knuckles and then turned them over to kiss the soft skin of her open palms. I skimmed my nose along the wild heartbeat in her wrist, just below the dark ink of her tattoo.
“I want this, so much. But there are rules here. I can’t...I can’t do this here. Mags, I’m so sorry, but I could get thrown out. We’re not allowed overnight guests. But maybe I can call Roberta…tell her what’s going on. Fuck, maybe she’ll have half a heart and give me some slack,” I rambled.
Maggie was here. Finally. After all this time and I would be damned if she would sleep anywhere but next to me.
Maggie squeezed my hands. “Stop stressing, Clay. You know me, I plan everything. I’ve got a room for us. We’re spending Christmas together, I promise,” she said, grinning.
I grinned back, wrapping my arms back around her waist and lifted her up, swinging her around. “I love you so fucking much, Maggie May Young,” I declared, kissing her soundly before setting her feet back down on the floor.
And then a thought hit me. “Wait, Ruby’s coming into town tonight. She’s coming here and we’re going out to dinner. I can’t ditch her,” I explained, feeling my bubble burst a bit. It’s not that I didn’t want to see my aunt, but the thought of sharing my time with Maggie with anyone, even Ruby, was intolerable.
Maggie laid her check against my chest, right over my heart. “I’ve spoken with Ruby already. She’s planning to come up the day after Christmas. She wanted to give us time to be together. Just us. So it’s you and me, baby. Our first Christmas together.”
I couldn’t help it, I started crying. No, not in a bitch way. It was silent and understated, but yeah, I was crying.
I couldn’t help but think about last Christmas. That had been one of the bleakest times of my life. I was in lockdown at Grayson’s. I had only been away from Maggie for a few weeks after trying to kill myself. I was angry and depressed and hadn’t been able to see a way out of the hell I had created.
I had ended up on a twenty-four hour suicide watch that Christmas Eve after slicing open my wrist with a fork during breakfast. I remembered all too well the way it had felt to dig the tine into my skin.
But cutting didn’t hold the appeal it used to. It had been months since I had felt the compulsion to hurt myself. And now, holding my girl in my arms, the need was non-existent.
I was healing. Just as I had promised her I would.
Maggie pulled away and ran her fi
ngers down my cheek. “Pack a bag, let’s get out of here,” she urged.
I did as I was asked, grinning like a fool the entire time.
“DID your parents give you money for all this?” I asked Maggie after we had checked in and brought our bags to the room. She had gone for the king suite, which was pretty nice.
Maggie was already digging through her suitcase, pulling bags and boxes out. She shook her head. “I took a job at a restaurant by school. I’ve been saving up for months,” she said offhandedly and I was floored. She had been planning this for a while.
As if reading my mind, Maggie looked over her shoulder, her hair, which had grown out and now hung to the middle of her back, fell around her face. “It was really hard not to tell you what I was planning. You know I suck at keeping secrets.”
I snorted. “Yeah, you are. I have to say I’m impressed,” I teased. Maggie rolled her eyes and started to pull things out of bags. I came up behind her and pressed my front against her back. Now that we were alone, I was going into full guy mode.
I leaned down and kissed the back of her neck and was satisfied by the way she shivered. I looked down at what she was doing and chuckled.
“How in the hell did you get all that in your suitcase? It looks like you packed half of Target in there.” And it was true. Maggie had brought with her a tiny decorated Christmas Tree, two stockings, a snowman that lit up with fiber optic lights, two boxes of candy canes, and a canister of cookies.
“We’re doing this holiday thing the right way, Clayton Reed. So roll with it,” she warned, picking up the tree and walking over to the coffee table. She plugged it into the wall and smiled when it lit up.
I lay back on the bed and watched as she set up our Christmas decorations, hanging the stockings from the TV stand and stringing more lights around the window.
When she was finished, she went back to her bag and pulled out a bunch of wrapped gifts and placed them under the tree. It was then that I started to panic. I had sent her gift to Virginia over two weeks ago. Crap! What if she hadn’t gotten it yet? Then I’d be the shittiest boyfriend in the world of shitty boyfriends. Making an excuse to sneak out to get her a quick present wouldn’t fly.
Warmth in Ice (A Find You in the Dark novella) Page 7
