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*･῾ ᵎ⌇ "welcome to new york" ࿔*:･ﾟ ooo. reality warnings: strong language, discussions about sexual assault in the second half of the chapter (summary at end) ✃- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ❬ . ˚ ◞ ♡ ⃗ ☕️ * ᵕ̈ ೫ ˚ ∗ : ❭
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All Clay could find himself thinking about was how he was being stabbed in the back by one of his best friends. Perhaps he did have his best intentions at heart, and you certainly can't help your feelings, but to act on it? That was simply too far.
Dragging the black case behind him on his way out of the airport, he ran to the first taxi cab he could see and threw his luggage in the back seat beside him and handed the written address to the older man in the driver's seat.
"Don't you want that in the trunk?" he asked, gesturing to the case through the mirror.
Clay shook his head, making eye contact with the reflection. "No, I'm in a hurry," he responded, leaning back in the seat and beginning to anxiously pick at the skin around his nails.
The man pulled out of airport parking lot, looking into the mirror to peer at the nervous young man. "Girlfriend?"
Clay looked up, realising he would likely be in the cab for a while and choosing to engage with the man. He let out a soft chuckle, nodding slightly. "Not quite," he disagreed.
