With Or Without You

Chapter Ten: A Different Kind of Blue

“I love this movie,” Clare said.

“This movie is completely insane,” Michael replied. They were sitting on his bed, watching Moulin Rouge.

“Oh, come on. You have to admit it’s fun.”

“I wonder if ‘fun’ is the right word.”

Clare laughed and punched Michael lightly in the shoulder. It was two weeks after her clarifying phone call with Clay, and she had yet to say anything to Michael. She’d spoken with Ian about it, and thought about talking to Ali, but Ali’d been walking around with her head in the clouds. She’d been right, which made her smug, and she’d lost her virginity, an act which Clare – unwillingly – heard every little detail of. Clare had spent many nights this past week with Michael, and vice versa, only because when Ali and Aaron showed up at one dorm room, they’d go to each other to get a good night’s sleep. Only they slept in the same bed.

It was one such night when Clare and Michael sat on his bed watching Moulin Rouge. “What are you thinking about?” Michael asked her.

“Nothing, really. Aaron and Ali, mostly,” she said.

“Oh, you mean how they go at each other every night?”

“Yup. And how I got to hear every single detail of their first time.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Did you know Aaron’s seven–”

“STOP IT!” Michael yelled, putting his hands over his ears. Clare collapsed onto his lap, dissolved in giggles.

“You should have seen your face. You’re such a baby,” she said between bouts of giggles, once Michael had moved his hands. He laughed.

“Do you know what you were about to tell me?”

Clare nodded, a huge cheeky grin on her face. “You should know, though, that I don’t know first hand. Only through Ali. She tends to over share sometimes.”

He grinned back at her. “I’m certainly glad to know you heard it through Ali. Although I know Aaron’s kind of a slut.”

She giggled again, and relaxed against him. “This is nice, you know.”

“What is?”

“Hanging out with you.”

He reached a hand up and stroked her hair a couple of times. “It’s very nice,” he agreed. She snuggled into him, closing her eyes. “Do you have any homework you need help with?”

“Shh. You’re ruining it. That word’s like a swear.”

“What word,” he asked with a smirk. “Homework?”

“Aah,” she replied, covering her ears.

“Now who’s being the baby?” he asked, poking her in the side. She squirmed. His smirk spread wider until it was a grin. “Ticklish, are we?”

“Very. And I can’t believe you hadn’t already found that out. And if you tickle me, I will kill you.”

Michael held his hands up, still chuckling. “Sorry.” Clare’s phone rang. “You are popular. Ian?”

She glanced down at her phone. “Yup. Probably calling to ask me why, if Ali and Aaron are shagging, I haven’t found some poor slob to shag myself.”

“I’m available,” Michael said. Clare raised an eyebrow as she opened her phone. He shrugged.

“Hello cousin,” she said with a laugh into her phone.

“Hello cousin,” Ian repeated.

“What can I do you for?”

“I was just wondering if maybe you finally sucked it up and stuck it to Michael.”

Clare started choking on a sip of water from the bottle on the table next to Michael’s bed. He patted her on the back. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Have you shagged Michael yet?”

“No.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean, what am I waiting for?”

“What. Are. You. Waiting. For?”

“Thank you. I did not ask you what you said, I asked you what I meant.”

“That’s what I meant. There’s no other way to describe it.”

“I am waiting for...” she trailed off, glancing at Michael. Covering the mouthpiece, she whispered, “I’ll be right back,” to the man next to her and slipped out of the room. “Damn it, Ian. I don’t know.”

“I thought you told me you liked him and that your gay boyfriend was no longer a problem.”

“Do we have to have this argument again? One of these days I’m gonna call up your mum and tell her you told me you were gay.”

“Don’t you dare. I will throw you in the pool and I will not save you.”

“I hate that Ian Thorpe is my cousin and I can’t swim.”

“I’ve offered to teach you. It’s not my fault you’re bloody afraid of water. I really don’t understand that, as you’ve been around pools your whole life and was born and raised...sort of...in Australia.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Nope. So what are you gonna do?”

“About what, learning to swim?”

“No, you geek. Phelpsy.”

“Oh. I don’t know. I’ve taken to sleeping in his room practically every night this week.”

“Yes, I can understand that. Though I think maybe you should take to sleeping in his bed.”

“Well, I do. But fully clothed and only because God only knows what Aaron and Ali have done on Aaron’s bed. And frankly I’d prefer not to saturate myself in that.”

“Good idea. I can’t believe she’s shagging that moron.”

“He’s not actually a moron, Ian, and I don’t think–”

“Can you not be logical for once in your life? Please? Because I kind of wanted to shag her myself. And now that she’s dating – and shagging – him, I’ve no chance.”

“She’s my best friend. I cannot have my cousin shagging my best friend. No matter if my cousin is Ian Thorpe or anyone else.”

“Whatever. You keep changing the subject.”

“You keep going along with it.”

“Shut up. Tell him. Stick in some romantic, sticky, sweet, fluffy, gross movie and snog him like your life depends on it.”

“Interesting advice, Ian. Would you like tickets to my humiliation?”

“Absolutely. You’ll have to call me when it happens, but I don’t think this will be it.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m a guy. If a girl I was into snogged me like crazy I’d be thrilled.”

“You’d try to cop a feel and shag her.”

“That does not matter. Besides, Michael is not like me, and he will just be thrilled.”

“Ian...”

“Clare...” he said, in a perfect imitation of her tone. “Just fucking do it. You won’t regret it.”

“I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “I’d kind of rather have him make the move.”

“Christ, Clare. What do you want me to do, call him up and say, ‘Michael, will you please take my cousin out for Valentine’s Bloody Day in a week because she’s too chicken to ask you out herself’?”

“If you think that will help...”

“Clare!”

“What? I don’t want to do it.”

“If I have to come out there, you will regret it. Or if I have to call him. You will never forgive me. But I may hear some good stories from Phelpsy. I’ve got to go,” he said quickly.

“IAN!”

There was laughter. “Come on, love. What have you got to lose? You know he likes you. You know you like him. I don’t know what the problem is.”

“God. I’m just scared.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“You’ve never dealt with this before. For that matter, neither have I. I don’t know what to do. I’m fucking terrified. You know how I am. I’m afraid to make mistakes, so I never take risks. I’m afraid the consequences will be awful, so I never take the chance for something that could be really great. I still don’t know how I got to Michigan instead of going twenty minutes away from my house to UNC Charlotte.”

Ian sighed. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

“You’re not gonna do anything. I’m going to get off the phone, go back in that room, and watch a movie with Michael, and I’m not going to say a word to him about anything. And you are not going to call him and tell him anything either.” There was silence. “Ian?” Silence. “IAN! PROMISE!” she yelled, then clapped a hand over her mouth as two people she vaguely recognized walked by her and stared at her like she was crazy.

“Alright, alright. I promise. Damn you.”

“Thank you. I’m going now.” She hung up the phone.

Ian, lounging on the couch in his apartment in Australia, grinned to himself. “I love the telephone,” he said, lifting up his crossed fingers and looking at them, pleased.