My eyes caught sight of the discarded sketch pad and I pulled it closer. I rolled onto my back and brought the paper up to my face. My lips split into a smile as I saw the detailed drawing Clay had done of my profile while I had been sitting at his desk doing my homework.

“I do not look like that, Clay. You have some biases in the way that you see me,” I scoffed, taken aback as I always was by the depth of his talent. He really was an amazing artist.

Clay kissed my cheek and brought his hand up to run down my nose. “No, I think you’re the one who doesn’t see things clearly. How you can look in the mirror every single day and not see the beautiful girl that I do, is beyond me.” His words made me flush. Not in embarrassment but in total and complete contentment. A feeling I was becoming slightly addicted to.

I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at Clay, who arched his eyebrow at me. “That look makes me nervous. Makes me wonder what you have going on it that head of yours,” Clay teased, tapping the middle of my forehead.

“You should go to art school or something. You’re really good. You should be able to get into a program somewhere,” I said and was more than a little disappointed by the way Clay tensed up. We hadn’t really talked about the future much beyond the fact that we wanted to spend it together.

But how would that work when I went off to school? I had gotten my acceptance letter to James Madison University earlier in the week. My parents were thrilled, Rachel and Daniel were stoked. But I hadn’t told Clay yet. Mostly because I was terrified of ruining what we had with talk of separation and long distance relationships.

Clay sat up and tossed his sketch pad on the bedside table. It was getting dark and he turned on the small lamp. I could see the strain my suggestion had caused. Which was ridiculous. I hadn’t been blowing smoke up his ass when I complimented his artistic abilities. He really was awesome.

“So what do you think?” I asked, scooting along the bed until I was sat beside him, our legs pressed against each other.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Clay said shortly, which kind of irritated me.

“Why don’t you look into it? What could it hurt? Have you thought at all about what you’re going to do after graduation? Are you planning to stay here with Ruby? Or are you going to school?” I knew I was pressing. But the unanswered questions between us were starting to suffocate me.

Clay grit his teeth. “Look, Maggie. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I mean, I just got out of f**king treatment. My aunt’s girlfriend was killed in a car accident and I’m trying to do the right thing by Ruby. I haven’t exactly had the luxury of thinking too much about my goals,” he sneered at me and I recoiled a bit, not happy to see this old and all too familiar Clay.

“I was just,” I began but Clay cut me off.

“You were just sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted. That’s what you were doing. I don’t want to talk about it. Why can’t we just enjoy right now without f**king it up with talk about what you think I should be doing?” Alright, he was getting pissed and the way he started pacing around made all of this way too reminiscent of before.

But unlike before I didn’t start backpedaling and trying to make this situation better for him. I didn’t placate Clay and soothe his wounded psyche. This time I decided laying it out there was better for him and for me.

“Well, I’m going off to college in three and a half months. Three and a half months, Clay! And I don’t want to go away without knowing you’re doing something with your life too,” I said firmly, crossing my arms over my chest.

Clay’s laugh was dark and bitter and made me cringe. “Don’t worry about me, Mags. I won’t interfere with your life. You’ll get your pretty little future and I won’t stand in your way,” he spit out.

I jumped to my feet. “Enough with the self-pity. I was just trying to point out that you are an amazing artist and that would be a constructive use of your talents. You know, find a career doing something you love. I was just trying to be helpful,” I retorted. I eyed the brown bottle of pills on his dresser and the thought flashed through my mind as to whether he was taking them or not. Because the erratic mood swing was scaring me.

Clay must have seen the direction of my gaze because he sighed and shook his head. “Are you going to start thinking I’m lying about taking my meds every time we get into a fight?” he asked me wearily.

I felt my lips start to tremble. “Can you blame me?” I asked and that seemed to take the wind right out of Clay’s anger. His shoulders drooped and he dropped his head.

“No, I guess I can’t,” he said. Then the only sound was our heavy breathing. I didn’t know what to say to get us back to that beautiful moment we had shared minutes earlier. The whiplash change was unfortunately not unexpected. And that made me more than a little sad. I wanted so much to be past this, but I knew we had such a long way to go.

The coward in me wondered if I had it in me to tough it out, to ride this rollercoaster for as long as it lasted. But that part inside me was very, very small.

I slowly moved until I was stood in front of him and put my hands up so that my fingers smoothed their way through his thick, dark hair. “I suppose that was my less than tactful way of asking about our future. Sorry if I was bitchy about it,” I apologized. Because I really was sorry for taking this important conversation and becoming combative about it.