Hope(less)

Chapter 10

Chapter 10 

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of studying. Whenever Rachel left to meet Peter, Clay and I would sprawl on the living room floor. I would read my books while he read his, and I turned his pages. We didn't talk much. He seemed content just to lie by me. 

Because of Clay's sensitive hearing, we always moved back into my room before Rachel could get from the car to the door. 

"I bet I'm looking for a new roommate before the next semester starts," I said to Clay when I heard Rachel come through the door late Sunday night. He didn't have much to say one way or the other. 

On Wednesday, I realized I hadn't done my laundry in days. My meager wardrobe lay in a mashed pile in the corner of my closet. With a sigh, I plucked out a semi-clean shirt and the jeans from the day before. After I dressed, I grabbed what I could from the remaining heap and ran downstairs to cram it into the washer. Clay watched me from the top of the stairs. If I didn't leave now, I'd arrive late for class. I threw in the detergent, ran up the stairs, and nearly plowed Clay over on my way out the door. 

When I pulled into the driveway that evening, there was a service truck parked in front of the house, and Rachel's car already sat in the garage. Baffled, I watched her hurry out the back door. She wore a wide grin. 

"You are brilliant!" she said as soon as I opened my car door. 

"What'd I do?" I took my bag loaded with library books out of the front seat and closed the door. 

"There's a hot repairman working on the washer in the basement. Thank you for breaking it." She linked her arm through mine and walked me to the house. 

"I didn't do anything but throw in a load of laundry before I left," I said quietly as I glanced at the open basement door. 

Clay sat in the hallway, staring down the stairs. When he heard me, he turned his head to watch us. 

"Hey," Rachel said. "I'm not blaming...I'm just thanking." She continued to grin. 

"I thought you were into Peter," I whispered. 

"I am. It doesn't mean I don't window-shop. Go down there and flirt with him and see if we can get twenty percent off our bill." 

"I will not," I huffed with a laugh. I moved away from her and got myself a drink of water. "It'd be safer to send Clay down there to learn how to fix it than me trying to get us a price break." 

"If our dog starts fixing things, we're hitting the road and making some money," said Rachel. 

We both heard the heavy tread on the basement stairs at the same time. Rachel's face lit with anticipation while I eyed the door with dread. Was it too late to run past and hide in my room? With Clay so close to the door, I'd probably trip on him, and the repairman would find me lying at his feet. 

Then, I saw the guy. Denim hugged his long, lean legs, and a snug shirt displayed his biceps and abs to perfection. I knew better than to stare; he would take my attention as a come-get-me signal for sure. But with a body like that, a girl had to look her fill. When my eyes finally met his, he smiled broadly and flexed. 

Well, that just ruined the whole window-shopping experience. A conceited hottie. Their vocabularies didn't include the word no, which made it difficult to fight them off. The situation called for a retreat. I turned to Rachel. 

"I have to go pick up my ring before Clay gets here. He'd be heartbroken if he found out I bent a prong on the setting already. Plus, my hand feels naked without it." While I spoke, I held out my left hand dramatically and gave it a wistful look. Maybe it was over doing it, but I wasn't sure he'd get the point otherwise.