Thankfully he realized that we were in a bit of trouble, so he got off of the bed as quickly as he could. He walked over to my dad and put out his hand. “Hi, Mr. Young.” My father looked at Clay's hand as if it were a snake and would bite him. He didn't shake it. I couldn't believe my dad was being so rude.
“Clay, we have rules in this house. A big one being that no boys are allowed in her bedroom when we aren't at home. And definitely not with the door closed.” My dad pushed the door open as wide as it would go.
Clay dropped his hand to his side, and cleared his throat. “I'm sorry sir. Maggie was just showing me her dress for the formal and we fell asleep. That's it.” I was proud of how Clay stood his ground with my father. Many a guy would have simply high-tailed it out of there. But Clay was being respectful and showing my dad he wasn't some horny teenage boy there to deflower his daughter.
Though, that would be nice too.
I intercepted my dad's cold stare. “Dad. Seriously, it's not like we're having crazy sex up here or anything. Chill out.” Okay, bad choice of words. Clay turned bright red and looked as though he wanted to fall through the floor. My dad's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he stuttered for a few seconds before finally saying. “Well whatever it was, you know your mom and I don't allow this. You kids are to stay down stairs when we're not here. Is that clear?” Clay and I both nodded. “Now, Clay, I think it's time for you to go.”
My dad turned and went back downstairs and I was finally able to breathe again. Clay grabbed his book bag off my vanity stool. “Did you have to bring the word sex into it? I mean seriously? I know your dad hates me as it is.” Clay looked as if he wanted to throttle me. I did feel bad for embarrassing him like that. “Sorry.” I muttered, following him down the hallway.
Once downstairs, Clay respectfully told my father goodbye and I threw a look of death in my father's direction once Clay's back was turned. My dad looked blandly back at me. I accompanied Clay to his car.
After throwing his bag into his car he turned around to face me. “Well, that was a rude awakening, huh?” I was relieved to see his small smile. “Yeah. About gave me a heart attack.” I joked. Clay chuckled and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer. “And I was sleeping so well too.” He said, his voice deepening.
I swallowed thickly. Then I glanced up at the kitchen window and saw my father standing there like a damn voyeur or something and pulled away.
“Sorry about my dad. He's just being a little...um...over protective.” Clay opened his car door. “I understand where he's coming from. If you were my daughter I'd want to most definitely protect you from guys like me.” He seemed a little sad as he said that. I touched his shoulder. “I don't need protecting from you, Clay.” I said gently.
Clay wouldn't look at me, instead he got in his car and started the engine. Not responding to my statement, he simply said, “I'll see you at school tomorrow.” And with that he drove off. I was left feeling hollow and empty after feeling so good only an hour before. I could kill my father!
I stomped into the house, slamming the front door. My dad was still in the kitchen, though he had the decency to act like he had been reading a book the whole time and not spying on me. “What the heck was that about?” I asked him angrily. My dad looked up at me in surprise. He wasn't used to me getting this sort of an attitude with him. “Now just wait a minute. I came home from work to find you in your room, the door closed, sleeping in your bed with a boy - who I don't know that well, I might add. What about this situation doesn't warrant the reaction I had?” My father asked reasonably. I hated when he did that. Stayed all calm and logical. It made me feel stupid by comparison.
“We're just friends, Dad. Clay fell asleep and I fell asleep beside him. That's it. But you totally humiliated me.” I hated the feel of tears pricking behind my eyes and quickly wiped them away. My dad's face softened a bit. “I didn't mean to humiliate you, Maggie girl.” I knew he was feeling guilty because he was using my pet name. “But Clay is a boy and you are my little girl. And from the sound of your voice, I get the feeling there's a bit more than friendship going on there.” I started to protest, then stopped. What was the point in lying about it?
My dad nodded knowingly. “So I think my stipulations are very reasonable. Clay is not allowed in your room when there is no one home. Are we clear?” I shrugged, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “Fine, whatever. It's not like I'm not seventeen years old, about to turn eighteen in four months. I'm almost an adult, Dad, and you treat me like a child.” I whined. I knew I sounded exactly like the child I tried to convince him I wasn't. I was not making a very good argument.
“I don't care if you're 102. When you are living at home, you follow your mom's and my rules. It's just how it is. Now, this has never been a problem before, so what's the issue now?” My father asked me pointedly, making it clear he knew what, or who the problem was and his name started with a 'C' and ended in a 'Y.'
I felt like crying. I had never really fought with my dad and it felt awful. But I felt something inside me changing. I was sick of being treated like their little girl. I was finally becoming a woman; with the wants of a woman and the needs of a woman, and my parents were starting to cramp my style.
But I didn't argue anymore. I just left the kitchen, went up to my room, and closed the door. I was proud of myself for not slamming it the way I wanted to. I threw myself on my bed, gathering the pillow to my chest and pushing my face into the fabric.
I could still smell Clay's cologne and I felt a new wave of excitement. Those moments lying with him had been amazing. And it made me re-think so many of the caveats to our relationship. Because I wanted him, desperately, and I think I was pretty sure I was done with waiting.