Find You in the Dark

serious anxiety. I opened my mouth, not sure what to say. I looked at the clock. I was already late for cross country.
    I looked at Clay again as he waited expectantly for an answer. “Come on, Maggie. Please. Take pity on the new kid.” He teased. Without waiting for me to say anything, he took my book bag from my shoulder. “Come on.” He cocked his head in the direction of the door.
    Glancing at the clock again, I shrugged. Screw it. Missing one practice wouldn't kill me.
    “Sure, why not. Can't have you wandering around lost in the middle of nowhere. The natives could eat you.” Clay laughed. I followed him out of the school, trying not to feel guilty for blowing off practice. But as I watched his fantastic ass in his dark jeans, I forgot about guilt and was overcome by unbridled hormones.
    Clay put his hand on the small of my back and steered me toward his car. I tried not to sigh at his touch. His fingers felt warm through my shirt and my mind drifted to some very dirty thoughts of his fingers touching me in other places. Wow, I was turning into a tart.
    He clicked open the locks and opened my door for me. I looked up at him and beamed a simpering smile. “Such a gentleman.” I batted my eyelashes. Clay laughed again and shook his head after I got inside. “Well, I try. No sense in revealing my evil intentions right way.” His eyes smoldered as he looked at me and I tried not to gulp.
    Clay closed the door behind me and quickly got into the driver's seat. He started up the BMW and I delighted in the smooth purr of the engine. “This is some car. I'll try not to hate you the next time I try to get my junk pile to start.”
    Clay smiled tightly but didn't respond. For some reason, his car was a touchy subject. He pulled out of the car lot and onto the main road. “Do you mind?” I asked, indicating the radio. “Go ahead. There are some CDs in the glove compartment there.”
    I pulled out a handful of CDs and was surprised to see several of my favorites. “You like Placebo?” I ask, holding up “Sleeping With Ghosts.” “Hell yeah. I saw them live in Miami a few years ago. They're amazing.” “Lucky.” I grumbled with good- natured jealousy. I popped open the CD cover and put the disc into the player.
    We sat in silence for a few minutes as the alternative rock music filled the interior of the car. I was mesmerized as I watched Clay's long fingers drum along to the beat on the steering wheel. Why was it that he could make such mundane actions so interesting? It was official, I was pathetic.
    “So where to, oh wonderful tour guide?” Clay asked. I thought for a moment but finally, the growling of my stomach made my decision for me. I pointed to a street sign a few feet ahead. “Turn right onto Crane Avenue and take the first left.” I instructed.
    Clay followed my directions. “Now, pull into the parking lot.” I told him, indicated the car lot to the left. “Bubble's ice cream?” Clay stated with a question in his voice. He looked incredulously at the huge pink giraffe that graced the front of the bright yellow building. “Seriously? This place looks like it was built by a five year old.” He said as we got out of the car.
    I playfully punched his arm. “Don't be so judgy. Just wait until you have Bubble's banana splits. You will die a happy man for having had one.” I assured him, tugging on his hand. To my absolute delight, Clay laced his fingers through mine and squeezed. My heart fluttered painfully in my chest.
    “I'll take your word for it, Mags.” I looked at him in surprise as he so naturally used the nickname reserved for my closest friends and family. The sound of my name on his lips was down right sensual. Like a promise.
    We walked into the ice cream parlor, the bell dinging as we went through the door. Clay never dropped my hand as we walked to the only empty booth in the place. Sliding onto the cracked vinyl seats, Clay looked around. “This place is packed.” He remarked.
    I grabbed two menus from behind the plastic bottles of ketchup and mustard. “Bubbles is an institution. They have the best ice cream and hamburgers in the county. You have to look past the cheesy decor.” I assured him.
    Clay picked up a ceramic penguin salt shaker and looked at it like it would bite him. “Ooo-kay.” He said slowly, putting it back down. We looked at our menus. There was a lot to choose from. Clay seemed to be struggling with his order. “Trust me, just get the banana