Chapter Eleven: I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

There was a knock on the door. Sniffing, Clare rolled off her bed and shuffled toward the door. She was decked out in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a UNC long-sleeved T-shirt that was probably three sizes too big for her. Her hair was a mess and her face was bright red. The knocking persisted. “Hang the fuck on; I’m coming!” she yelled. Flinging the door open, she jumped, seeing Michael standing there, a glare on his face. “What’s your problem?” she asked, covering her hand with her sleeve and wiping her eyes.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? I called you five times,” he said angrily.

“My phone is off. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to wallow in self pity for a while, and that’s a lot more difficult to do with two of us.”

“I’m sorry. I was frustrated with work and the fact that I couldn’t get a hold of you. What’s the matter?”

“I really don’t feel like talking about it right now.”

He gave her a scrutinizing look. “Clare...” Before she could protest, he enveloped her in his arms. Sinking against him, she began to sob. “Oh, Clare,” he breathed into her hair.

She managed to wrap her arms around his waist and buried her face into his chest. After a minute or two, Michael eased them out of the doorway and closed the door behind them Clare eventually stopped sobbing enough to speak, but tears were still strgfffneaming down her face and she couldn’t stop crying. “Do you only like me because I’m smart?” she asked, peering up at him with a pleading look on her face.

“No. I like you because you’re sweet and funny and fun to be around. And because you’re smart. And because you’re beautiful. Not just because of any one of those things.” He paused. “What happened?”

“Nothing. A couple of my friends from a class were talking about how they’re going somewhere and when they saw me there said something about how they like me well enough but I’m not ‘hanging out material.’ Michael, they only let me talk to them because I was smart and nice but stupid enough to help them out.” A fresh round of tears started to fall and he pulled her to him and held her close.

“Clare...they’re idiots. You–”

“And then Ali...she didn’t mean it, but she started talking about how she and Aaron were going to see this new movie that she knows I want to see, and when she remembered she made up some lame excuse. I always get shafted for everyone else. Why can’t anyone want to hang out with me ever? Am I a leper or something?”

“Even if you have nobody else in the world who wants to be with you, you can always call me,” he assured her. “Except if I’m training, and then I think my coach may kill me. And probably you. But otherwise. Anytime.”

Clare let out something that was a cross between a snort and a sob. “You are the nicest person I’ve ever met, Michael Phelps.”

He flushed. “Nah.”

“Yes. You really are. You’ve been so sweet to me – taking me to meet Clay Aiken for my birthday, doing things with me, and letting me sleep over when Ali and Aaron go at it.” She sat down on her bed and motioned for him to do the same. She took his hand and laced her fingers through it, and then wiped her face with her other hand. “Made me stop crying,” she said with a lingering sniff.

He smiled and used his thumb to wipe away a stray tear that was still making its way down her cheek. “I hate seeing you cry,” he said.

She sniffed out a chuckle. You’ve only seen me cry this once.”

“I know. But I still hate it.” He smiled at her, and she wanted to cry again because of how sweet he was being.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t want to unload this all on you. I don’t know why it bothered me so much. It’s just... sometimes I feel like the only reason people keep me around is because I can help them with their fucking homework or something.”

Michael reached up and rubbed her back; she leaned her head against his shoulder and let out a deep sigh. “Movie?” he asked, knowing she’d jump at the chance.

She smiled. “Can I pick?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said. She kissed him lightly on the cheek – so lightly he wasn’t sure if he imagined it – and stood up. She ran a finger along the shelf of DVDs she had sitting above her computer. She grinned and held up a case. He laughed. “Again?”

“I could watch this movie everyday and never be bored with it,” she told him, slipping Love Actually in her computer.

“I know you can. Though eventually I might start to get bored with it.”

“Suck it up,” she told him, jumping on the bed and dragging him with her to the pillows. They lay down and began to watch the movie. Clare cuddled up to Michael, who wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her arm for the first ten minutes.

The watched most of the movie in silence. Clare had a running commentary about each character and each situation – since they’d watched the movie together enough times that Michael practically knew the dialogue – that was along the lines of, “That kid is so cute. I love this song; I’m so glad they use it. Poor Mark, so in love with Juliet, and she’s married to his best friend; but don’t you love when he shows up right before Christmas? Ugh, I can’t believe Harry even considers that stupid slut. I love Colin. I wish there was a guy like him here.” This went on steadily until the music was Kelly Clarkson’s “The Trouble With Love Is,” and Michael felt the girl next to him begin to shake. He glanced down at her and saw that she was crying again. “Clare?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I just...why can’t I have that? Everyone around me has someone to love, and I’m...I just don’t.”

He didn’t know what to say. He hugged her tighter to him, hoping it would offer her a bit of comfort. Stroking her hair, he stayed silent, figuring it would be better than if he tried to say something ridiculous in an attempt to make her feel better, when all he’d really do would be to make her feel more uncomfortable.

As the movie continued, Clare calmed down, snuggling closer to Michael until she couldn’t move anymore.

As Hugh Grant went from door to door looking for a particular person, he whispered, “you have me,” as if he was hoping she wouldn’t hear him.

She did. She sat up slowly and stared at him. “What?”

He feigned innocence. “What?”

“Did you just say...what I think you said?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Michael!” she exclaimed, hitting him on the arm.

He glared at her as he rubbed the spot where she’d hit him. “Ow.”

“Michael,” she pleaded.

He looked away. “I said you have me.”

“I have you? What do I have you for?”

“For anything. To love,” he said softly. Sitting straight up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Clare sat next to him and watched him closely, curious as to what he was going to say. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to scare you, and I certainly don’t want you to think I’m rushing into things–”

She put her forefinger against his lips to shut him up, and then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Michael frowned, completely confused. “You’re welcome? What am I being thanked for?”

"For saying what you said. I sort of...fell for you over the past couple of months, but I was too afraid to say anything, and now that you’ve said something, I can do what I’ve wanted to do since we were standing by your car after you took me to meet Clay.” With that, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, the movie long forgotten. He kissed her back eagerly, placing a hand on the back of her neck and weaving his fingers through her soft hair.

After a minute, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “Hi,” he said.

She grinned, the first time he’d seen her smile since he showed up at her dorm that night. “Hello,” she replied. “You know, I’ve never been so glad to have so few friends,” she commented.

Michael laughed. “I must say I’ve never been so glad that you have so few friends, myself.”

Pretending to be angry she punched him in the shoulder. “Thanks so much.”

“It’s ok, because I love you.”

She started to say something back, but her words got jumbled up in her head and instead she just kissed him.

“You know if we’re not careful, we could turn into Aaron and Ali,” she told him.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned evilly. “Now would that be so bad?”

She grinned and replied with the same sly tone. “I think she’s got some condoms laying around here somewhere.”