Pebble (Elemental Men #5)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

GEORGE

From my spot on the beach, with my feet dug into the sand, I watch Clay and Perry floating out on the water. I could join them, but I don’t truly love taking my feet off the earth, even when I can still sense it below me. Aqua and Perry will take care of Clay, and it’s probably good that he has a chance to talk about everything we’ve dumped on him with someone else. Knowing Clay, I bet he’s worried about hurting my feelings if he decides he doesn’t want to join the cause. I hope Perry’s explaining to him that whatever he wants is absolutely fine.

“Any minute now,” Aether says beside me, “you’re going to find out what an idiot you are.” He’s beaming and sounds extremely happy about that, the way only the best kind of old friend can sound.

“I hate you,” I say back, my tone surly.

“Thank you.”

That startles a laugh from me, and his grin grows wider.

The smile falls from my face a moment later, when I look back out at the water and see Clay and Perry moving rapidly toward us. “Something’s happened. Are they okay?” I stand and pull my feet from the sand, taking quick steps to the water’s edge. The saturated sand beneath me tries to suck my feet in, but with an absent thought, I firm it up. Clay might need me—I don’t have time for small pleasures.

“They’re fine,” Aether says calmly. “I told you so.”

A moment later, Perry puts his feet down and says something to Clay, who does likewise. They begin wading through the shallows, and they don’t seem injured, but the look on Clay’s face concerns me. He seems… worried. Tense. What did Perry say to him?

“What’s wrong?” I call.

“Nothing,” Perry yells back, but he’s not the one I’m asking. My focus stays on Clay, who’s worrying at his lower lip with his teeth the way he does when he’s nervous.

They reach us, and Perry takes Aether’s arm. “You two need to talk,” he declares. “We’re going back to the house. Don’t let Aqua stay in the water too long.”

“Why do I have to go back?” Aether whines. “I want to hear what they talk about.”

“Too bad,” Perry says inflexibly. “Let’s go.” He drags Aether away.

“Are you okay?” I ask Clay. “Did he do something?”

“No. Um. No.” He takes a deep breath. “He wants me to talk to you.”

A horrible suspicion begins to grow in my gut. Perry didn’t—did he? He wouldn’t.

Fuck. He totally would.

“Ignore him. Whatever he said, you can ignore it,” I insist. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about anyway. He and Aether see hearts and flowers everywhere, which is ridiculous when you consider what a cynic Perry is.”

Instead of making Clay relax, that just seems to make him more tense. His jaw briefly clenches, and he glances away, but not before I see the sheen of moisture in his eyes. “Y-Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “Don’t worry, I w-would never do anything to m-make you uncomfortable. I-I knew Perry was wrong.” He draws in a deep breath while I try to muddle myself through his comments.

He wouldn’t do anything to make me uncomfortable? Why would Perry telling him I love him lead to Clay making me uncomfortable? If anything, I should be saying that to him. He’s upset again, though, which means I’ve somehow fucked up.

“Wait.” I put a hand on his arm. “Just… give me one second.” I try to make the dots connect faster in my brain, but I’m not sure if they’re actually spelling out what I think they are or if it’s just wishful thinking. “What did Perry say, exactly? Did he… tell you something about me?”

Clay’s expression changes to shock. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t have listened if he’d tried to gossip about you, George. We’re friends.”

Okay. So…

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” I say carefully, my eyes glued to his face. He’s so shy, he won’t say anything first, if he feels the way Perry thinks that he does… the way I’m beginning to suspect, and painfully hope, that he does. Which means I have to be the one to put myself out there.

And hope that I’m not ruining our friendship forever.

His eyes widen. “You couldn’t,” he declares. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” I begin, and a grin breaks over his face.

“Yeah, I know. The whole superhero thing.”

My lips curve automatically in response to his smile. “Not a superhero,” I correct. “But I mean something else. I haven’t been completely upfront.”

He sobers. “You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he assures me earnestly.

“The thing is… I want to. But I’ve been worried that telling you would lose me your friendship, and I don’t want to risk that.”

“I promise, that’s not going to happen. Who else can get away with calling you Pebble if we’re not friends?” His gaze is softer now, more relaxed, and the quirk is back at the corner of his mouth. When he looks at me that way, I think anything might be possible.

“If anyone else tries to call me Pebble, they’re going to find themselves entombed fifty feet deep in solid rock,” I threaten, and that just makes him smile more. “Anyway, the thing I haven’t told you—and that I really hope you won’t let affect our friendship—is that I—” The words stick in my throat. “I?—”

Clay lifts a wet hand to his mouth. His hair is starting to dry in the late-afternoon sun, but for the most part it’s still plastered to his skull. With random droplets of water clinging to his skin, he looks like he should be on some kind of adorable twinks at the beach calendar. But it’s the growing awareness in his eyes that terrifies me.

“Pebble, I love you,” he blurts, and then squeezes his eyes closed, color flooding his cheeks.

I’m speechless.

He’s not.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’ve ruined everything. Perry said I should tell you, that we needed to talk, but I knew he was wrong, I knew it, and now you’re not going to want me ar?—”

“I’ve loved you since the day we met,” I cut in, and he stills. “Before then, even. I saw you when I was at the quarry, and I thought you were the most beautiful man who ever lived. I… I stalked you,” I confess, then hurry to add, “Not in a creepy, follow-you-home way. But I came back to the quarry a lot of times to watch you.”

One of his eyes slits open a fraction, and I press on.

“Then one day, I saw you gardening in the rain, and you were so happy, even though most people would have been miserable. I thought maybe it was my chance, that I could ask you for a date and we could…” I don’t even know how to finish that sentence without terrifying him. Humans don’t normally plan lifelong commitments before asking each other on the first date—not the sane ones, anyway. “The conversation got sidetracked, and we ended up friends instead. Which is great! I love being your friend,” I tack on. “I always want to be your friend. But it… it wasn’t what I’d planned, that first day.”

Both his eyes are open now, and I’ve known him long enough to recognize the hope and warmth there. “You were going to ask me on a date?” he whispers.

I nod. “Yes. Not that I know how to date. I’ve never done it before. But I thought that would be a good way to lead in to telling you…” Fuck, is he ready for this? Am I going too far?

“Are we mates? Like the others? It’s okay if we’re not,” he rushes on. “I still l-love you. And I still want to be your friend. B-But if we?—”

“Yes. Yes, we are.”

His expression lights up with pure joy. “Really? I belong to you?”

“You belong to you,” I correct. “You’re an amazing man and you’ve achieved so much. None of that is mine. But I hope you want to share yourself with me, because I don’t think I can exist without you.”

He laughs, but more as an expression of disbelieving happiness than anything else. “We’re both so stupid! We could have been together all this time.”

Wait… what? “All this time?” I echo. “You wanted me too?”

“From the first day,” he confirms. “I just didn’t believe someone as great as you could ever be interested in me that way. I barely believed you wanted to be my friend,” he adds wryly.

I mentally kick myself for changing tack so quickly all those years ago, but at the same time, it might have been for the best. Clay’s changed a lot since then—having another friend has helped him gain confidence and find his feet. It wouldn’t have been the same if I’d been his boyfriend, and definitely not if I’d told him the whole “elemental being trying to save humanity” thing.

“I still want to be your friend,” I reiterate. “But also more. Everything.”

Clay’s nodding. “That sounds perfect. Friends forever, but more.” He stops and purses his lips. “I want dates too. I’ve never been on a date.”

I knew that—he’s so shy that he can barely talk to most people, let alone flirt—but somehow it still surprises me. “I’ve never been on one either,” I confess. “But we can go on dates. Lots of dates. All the dates, all the time.”

He blinks up at me. “You’ve never been on a date? Really?”

“Really. What would I date for?”

“But… you’ve lived all those lifetimes. How have you never…” Hot color suffuses his cheeks. “You know.”

How have I nev— Ohhhh. I snort. “You don’t have to date to have sex , Clay.” I put extra emphasis on the word he seems to be avoiding, and his face gets pinker.

“I know that! I just—I mean—Oh, never mind.” He folds his arms across his chest and pouts at me, drawing my gaze to his utterly irresistible mouth.

I swallow hard.

“ We are going to go on dates,” I manage, my voice a little unsteady. “The first one will be the first ever for either of us, and I’ll treasure that.”

The pout disappears, and he begins worrying his lip again.

“What’s wrong?” I ask gently. “Do you not want?—”

“I do! I want. I… want .” He looks away. “I-I’m just not sure if I’m ready.”

Bewildered, I ask, “For our first date? We can wait if?—”

“No! For… you know.” He glances around, but there’s nobody near us, and I’m not about to tell him that the very air itself could carry our words back to Zephyr. “ Sex ,” he whispers.

I bite back a smile. “If you’re not ready, we’ll wait,” I reply simply. “It’s okay if you’re never ready.”

“I will be,” he assures me earnestly. “I-I like… you know. Coming. But I’ve never done that with anyone else, so I might need some time first.”

For a second, I can’t answer, too busy trying to process the incredible mental image of Clay pleasuring himself. Clearing my throat, I rasp, “As much time as you need. When you’re ready, maybe… maybe I could watch you do that.”

His innocent gaze blinks uncomprehendingly at me. “You want to watch me take time?”

“I want to watch you make yourself come.”

A gasp escapes his open mouth, and it gives me great satisfaction to see his pupils dilate. “Ohhh. Um. Yes? Yes. We-We should do that.”