There was a brief knock on the front door right before Clay rushed in and smiled at me. He stayed true to his promise. He didn't disappear. In fact, he came around almost every day after school for the next month to hang out. Even when I was doing my homework. He'd sit on the floor next to my desk doing his—inevitably finishing first, since he wasn't bogged down with an AP course load. Then he'd take a nap on my bed while I finished and we'd watch movies or go out.

Sunday was the only day I rarely saw much of him. He spent the mornings with his other friends for what he called "Bro Time." The evenings, he spent with his family. Occasionally, the Millers would invite me around for Sunday dinner, which was always nice. Clay's parents had taken to treating me like one of their children, asking about my schooling and extracurriculars. They seemed quite impressed to learn that I was the senior class treasurer. They even inquired sometimes about my dating life, just as they did with Clay and Rachel. Mrs. Miller in particular seemed invested in finding me a boyfriend. She even tried to set me up with the gay bike messenger who delivered to the law office where she worked as a paralegal. He was cute, but he and I had nothing in common. We barely spoke on our one and only date. I only went out with him because I was terrible at saying no to authority figures. Also, I wanted her to like me, so she'd continue inviting me to dinner.

When Mrs. Miller brought up that the nephew of a friend had recently come out as bisexual two weeks later, Clay shut her down, shouting, "Jesus Christ, Mom! He doesn't want you to get him dates. He's just too polite to tell you."

Clay immediately apologized for the outburst, but Mr. Miller took away all three of his video game systems for a week for his rudeness.

"Hey!" Clay said, kicking off his flip-flops at the door. "I saw your mom wasn't home, so I figured I'd just let myself in."

He walked over to the couch where I had stretched out on the chaise section, reading The Great Gatsby for the umpteenth time. Clay sat down right next to me—despite the four feet of space on the couch. I was very glad that the incident in my bed hadn't put him off being affectionate toward me. He propped his legs up beside mine, crossing his ankles. My leg hair prickled when his leg brushed against mine. He leaned his head on my shoulder and stared at the pages.

"Did you need something, Clay?" I asked as his toes pressed against my foot, making me lose my place as I thought about the possibility of Clay rubbing that foot up my leg. Or maybe Clay throwing his leg across me, rolling on top of me and pressing his lips against mine.

"Is that for homework?" Clay asked, pulling me back from the fantasy before I got too excited.

"It's for enjoyment."

"Okay, nerd." Clay lifted his head slightly. His eyes couldn't have been more than an inch or two from mine. "Will you go to a party with me, Em?"

"Why?" I asked, distracted by how close he was. Close enough, I could count the freckles on his cheeks if I had the time. I examined his face carefully and inhaled deeply, enjoying that sweet, icy scent of his cologne. I could even smell a hint of sweat beneath it.

Clay also looked me over. "Jackson is begging me to go."

My heartbeat sped up as I thought about how close his lips were to mine. And the fact that we were basically breathing each other's breath. "So, go with Jackson."

"Carrie is going, too. I don't want to be a third wheel." His voice was pleading now.

"I'm sure your other friends will be there."

"They won't. The person throwing it goes to your school, I guess. Everybody there is going to be super preppy. And I don't think I can handle that much khaki and argyle alone."

I cracked up at his pitiful expression. "That's just our uniform. They don't dress like that all the time."

"I beg to differ. I've seen some of those kids in town. They look pretty uptight to me. Definitely members of the Sweater Set."

"You make it sound like they're in a gang."

Clay cracked a smile, amused by the simile. "I bet they could cut you with their starched collars, before beating you over the head with the sticks up their butts."

I shook my head, snickering. "You're so dumb."

And adorable, I added in my mind.

"Please, Ems." He clasped his hands together. His bottom lip jutted out woefully as he rubbed his cheek against my shoulder like a cat seeking attention. "I'll do absolutely anything you want if you do this for me."

Those were dangerous words. Not because I would ever act on them in that way, but for the thoughts they brought up that I kept pushing aside. One day—a day I suspected was fast-approaching—I feared I'd no longer be able to bottle them up anymore.

"Fine." I threw in a groan to show my disdain so Clay would know the sacrifice I was making.

"You are a god." Clay grabbed the side of my head and pressed his lips against my cheek. He pulled back with a blank expression on his face.

That sent a torturous pang through my chest. As much as I relished Clay's friendship, I'd found it difficult to lock those feelings away. I had hoped my crush would fade over time, but it blossomed into something much stronger and deeper the more I got to know him.

To avoid having this tempting offer hanging between us, I closed my book and held it out to Clay. "Read this."

Clay took the book and looked at the cover. He flipped it over to scan the back. "I've already read this, in ninth grade."

"You said you didn't remember any of your assigned reading books."

Clay nodded. "Okay, yeah. That's true."

"It's one of my favorite books, and it's what I want in return."

Clay puckered his lips, examining the cover again. "Can't I just watch the movie?"

I flashed an annoyed grimace, raising a brow. "You said you'd do anything."

"Fuck! I said that, didn't I?" Clay sighed heavily, letting his head drop onto my shoulder. "I really thought you'd just want to take me to, like, one of those tragic German movies again. And I could just sleep through it."

"This is what I want." I tapped the book. "And I want you to really try with it."

"The things I do for you. I swear to God," Clay mumbled. He lifted his head and shook it. "Okay. I'll try."

"Thank you."

Clay flipped through the pages. "Don't you want to finish it first?"

"I've read it like fifty times. And I have another copy."

Clay stopped at a random page, then stared at me. He pointed out the penciled in words. "'Definitely gay behavior,'" he recited. "With three exclamation points?"

My cheeks burned. "I can give you the other copy. It doesn't have all my notes."

Clay snapped the book shut and clutched it against his chest. "I'd rather read this one and see what you thought. It's more fun that way."

"If you say so."

He opened the book again to flip through the pages. "I don't remember there being any gay characters in this. Wasn't it written in, like, the 1920s? I didn't even think they could put gay people in stuff back then."

"You'd be surprised. There are queer characters in literature throughout history. But in the case of Gatsby, it's debatable. I won't spoil it, but some people say a certain character is gay, some people say that the character isn't. You can clearly see which side of the argument I fell on."

"Now I'm super curious to read it." Clay slapped my thigh and jumped up. "Well, I gotta go."

"You just got here."

He raised the book. "I have homework now. Plus, I have to pick Rachel up from practice." Clay flashed a brilliant grin that melted my heart. "You could ride along if you want."

"I'd love to, but I ordered food." I picked up my phone from the arm of the sofa to check the time. "I've still got twenty minutes till it gets here."

"I can't wait that long. Rachel might strangle me if I'm late to pick her up again." He backed toward the door, keeping his eyes trained on me. "But I'll pick you up at eight. Okay?"

"I'm counting the minutes." I said it sarcastically, but I kind of genuinely meant it. I always eagerly anticipated my time with Clay. Only he could have me looking forward to a party with my classmates.