The Wall Between

Clarke’s breath left her lips in bursts, harsh and winded. She kept jumping, trying to finish the rest of her jumps as she rapidly used a jump rope. Her heart was thundering in her chest and her body was covered in layers of sweat. The speakers in the gym were blaring a Kanye West song, the beat of the drum going with her jumping to make it easier. Reed, her trainer, was in front of her, counting down until she could stop.

From a few feet away, Piper was doing pushups. The blonde was practically screaming in agony, her arms shaking as she continued to push herself up from the ground, almost failing each time but somehow managing to lift herself one more time and then the next. Reed was barking at Piper too, telling her to keep pushing.

“Alright, take a breather.”

Clarke tossed the jump rope on the ground viciously. She was gasping for air, grabbing her thermos and pulling the top up with her teeth, downing water in large gulps and between breaths. Piper was laying on the floor groaning and telling Reed that she couldn’t do another thing, to which Reed responded by nudging her with his foot.

Reed was Collin’s friend from college, having dormed with Clarke’s brother since freshman year. He was extremely athletic and was a personal trainer, working for one of the best fitness gyms in Dallas. Which meant that Clarke and Piper were both subjected by his pushing and his workouts on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Rolling over, Piper made a sound that elicited a giggle from Clarke. Piper was just as in shape as Clarke, if not better shape. But the blonde never failed to let both Reed and Clarke know how much she was suffering. Rolling his brown eyes, Reed held out a tan hand to help her up. She took it graciously, tossing him a smile.

Reed Peterson was gorgeous, the kind that made Piper lose her breath, which Clarke knew, was pretty easy to do. Reed had dark hair and smooth features that girls liked, thin lips that curved deviously at the corners, and muscles for days, hence his personal training. But he was totally off limits to Clarke and she had known that since she was in high school.

“One day Piper is going to stop bitching,” he said to Clarke, watching as the blonde chugged water. She was in a bright orange sports bra and athletic shorts that made her ass look ten times bigger than Clarke’s. Clarke looked at her own butt, frowning at its lack of definition next to Piper. “Thankfully you’re the suffer in silence type.”

“Who says I’m suffering at all?”

“The expression that says ‘kill me’ every time I tell you to do burpees.”

“Ah, my least favorite.”

Health was important to Clarke. She figured that life was too short to not eat pizza, but also that life would be short if all she ate was pizza. She was a health junkie even when she was younger, always involved in sports and craving the burn in her muscles that accompanied working hard. It paid off too, when she was able to lift and push things she never would have been able to, or when she could outrun everyone in a zombie apocalypse. She was vocal on that last one.

With their break over, Reed had them doing abs, the girls working side by side in the large gym. Clarke paid for the gym sessions, even though Reed had tried not to accept her money. She refused to let him do it for free, being that he opened an hour early on their mornings so that they could have a private session. Clarke believed in paying money for the time they took to do things for others.

When their session was over, Clarke pressed a quick kiss to Reed’s cheek, making him promise to tell his mother that Clarke missed her and would come over for tea soon. Reed’s family was about as southern as it got, and his mother, Adelaide, loved her afternoon tea on the porch better than anyone else Clarke knew.

“I’m going to pick up Jonah from the airport later today,” Piper said, shouldering her duffle bag as the two stepped onto the sidewalk. The sun was just coming over the shinning city on a Friday morning, one of the days that Clarke didn’t have class. “Are you coming with or do you just want to meet up after?”

“Shoot me a text when you’re going. I’ve got an essay to write and I’m taking Dixie to that new dog pool that opened up.”

Piper gave her a thumbs up. “Maybe Jonah and I will join. I bet he wants to take Milo.” Milo was a twenty-pound French bulldog that Clarke doubted wanted to go to a dog pool, but Clarke nodded nonetheless. “See you later.”

Clarke was craving a shower by the time she got to her door. As she walked in, Tyler was walking out. He gave her a nod in recognition. “Forty-seven. Early morning workout, I see.”

She nodded. “Forty-nine.”

Tyler didn’t hesitate to say anything else. He had his own places to go, walking to the elevator as Clarke let herself in the apartment. Dixie lifted her head from her dog bed, blinking lazily at Clarke before going back to sleep. It was still too early for the lab to get up and go for a walk. That was fine with Clarke. She wanted to shower off the filth covering her.

As she kicked off her shoes, her phone rang. Grabbing it, she answered it. “Hi, mom.”

“Hi sugar,” her mom greeted cheerfully. Clarke could hear the sound of Bear and Beau, the two Boarder Collies that lived at the Beaumont Ranch, barking in the background on her mom’s end. “How are you this morning?”

“Tired, I just got done working out with Reed this morning.”

“What a darling. How is he?”

“Fine. I told him to tell Mrs. Peterson I would have tea with her soon.”

“Good, good.” There was a long creak on the other end of the line. Clarke could picture it as she walked into the bathroom. She could see her mom in her minds eye, opening up the screen door to the house at the very back of the property, where the family lived. The sun would have been bright, turning the green fields almost neon. A few horses were probably in the pasture, though most of them would have been in the stables. “Speaking of tea, I was wondering if you could come down Sunday afternoon.”

The ranch was only an hour away from Clarke. She enjoyed being close to home because it allowed her to visit home. Clarke liked to ride when she could, and being the baby of the family, her parents often loved for her to come home. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good, good.” Her mom hesitated. Clarke could hear it, making her narrow her eyes. “Grandma is going to be here.” Clarke curled her lip in disgust at the mention of her grandmother, who was essentially everything that Clarke strived not to be, despite Constance Beaumont’s attempts. “She missed you and wants to see you.”

“You mean she wants to see if she can convince me to marry Nash Woodsen and drop out of college in order to be a housewife and raise my daughter to be a debutant.” The words were venom on Clarke’s lips, the taste of them vile and sour to her. “I really do not want to deal with grandma, mother.”

“You barely see her.”

“That’s on purpose.”

“She’s the only grandmother you have, Clarke.”

“For now.”

Her mother made an alarmed sound. “Clarke Eleanor Beaumont, don’t you say things like that! Bless my heart that is awful.”

“If the shoe fits,” Clarke muttered, not loud enough for her mother to hear on the other end of the line. She sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to win the argument with her mom. Despite her mother’s good intentions, Clarke understood that she was walking into a confrontation with her grandmother. So she simply said, “I’ll be nice if she will.”

“Behave, Clarke.”

“Love you too.”

Standing in the bathroom, Clarke chewed on her lip. If there was anything that she didn’t want to do, it was deal with her father’s mother. Constance Beaumont was a Kentucky Derby attending, gin drinking, hat and glove wearing, church attending, yes ma’am and no sir kind of woman who knew how to dig up under Clarke’s skin and who knew how to make Clarke feel completely at end with herself.

Camille- now there was star child in Constance’s eyes. Camille went to school to be a teacher, but grandma really thought that Camille went to school for a husband. She graduated with a diploma in early childhood education and with a diamond ring on her finger. She worked at an elementary school while maintaining a happy husband, a beautiful boy, and a picket-fence yard.

The entire concept made Clarke want to throw up and throw her grandmother into the twenty-first century where life was more than appearing to being an upper class, southern woman that went to country club and gossiped at the hair salon. In fact, Clarke could care less about any of that. She just wanted to be her own person and that normally involved doing everything she could to anger her grandmother.

*

Dressed in a tight-fitted, plunging crop top and pattered shorts pulled up above her navel, Clarke sat at the bar. Jonah was on one side of her, his blonde hair and peculiar blue eyes scanning the crowed in The Joule, the hot atmosphere making his shirt cling to his skin. Clarke finished off a beer before waving down the bar tender who nodded in her direction, ready to bring her another.

Piper was on the other side of Clarke, talking loudly over the music to Emaline, a tall girl with hair black as a raven’s wing and eyes darker still. Emaline worked with Piper at Dallas Fort-Worth News as interns. Piper was a journalism major and insisted that Emaline would fit right in with their group of friends and thus far, Clarke had to agree. The tall girl was witty beyond compare and didn’t take anyone’s shit, which surprised Clarke and sometimes came off as abrasive yet refreshing.

Thanking the bartender with a smile, Clarke took the beer, taking large gulps. She leaned against the bar, chewing on the side of her mouth. Music played over the rooftop club, girls in the pool or sitting on the side. Clarke herself was not dressed to swim- she never did- though she dressed for a night out. Pumps were on her feet, making her legs look longer than they actually were, and a strip of her smooth stomach could be seen in the minimal gap between the top of her shorts and the bottom of her shirt.

“So you get to see batty old grandma?” Jonah asked, his baritone voice loud over the music. Clarke nodded, making a face at the statement. Jonah laughed. Jonah himself graduated the year before Piper and Clarke in accounting, a guy so good with numbers that Clarke always forced him to deal with the bills and tips. “How do you deal with her, honestly? I’ve met her once and I wanted to smack the old bat myself.”

“If I recall, she told you that you dressed bad.”

Which, Jonah kind of did. He was always in wrinkled t-shirts and jeans, his blonde hair hanging slightly in his glass-blue eyes. Something about his messy look and his slow smiles made girls fall in love with him. It didn’t make sense to Clarke, but then again, nothing about Jonah’s easygoing attitude about everything did.

“She did tell me that.” He laughed, shrugging and drinking his own beer. Piper leaned over Clarke’s shoulder, whistling and using her head to point in the direction of the door. Clarke followed her eyes to the guy walking in and proceeded to frown at Piper. “Isn’t that your neighbor who has sex to loud?”

“Yes.”

“Did she tell you that they walked their dogs together?” Piper asked excitedly. Emaline stretched in her heels to see whom they were all talking about before raising her brows, impressed. Tyler was with a group of people, all who seemed to be laughing. He was in a dark shirt and dark wash jeans, a hat situated backwards on his head. “After she totally blurted to him that she could hear his sexcapades.”

“Pun,” Jonah pointed at her. “I enjoy that.”

Piper was mock flattered. “Thank you. But seriously, Clarke just ignores the fact that she lives next to this fucking sex god.”

“I don’t ignore him,” Clarke grumbled. She had turned her back to the crowd so that she didn’t have to stare at him from across the room while her friends all did. “I say hello on occasion.”

“You’re right, you don’t ignore him because you just blurt stuff in bad taste.”

“Probably because she hasn’t tasted him,” Emaline countered, raising her brows and knocking back the rum that she was drinking, shrugging her chocolate-colored shoulders. Piper bumped shoulders with Emaline in agreement, turning back to Piper to add, “All we’re saying is he’s hot.”

“Good for you.”

“He’s also walking this way.”

Though she didn’t turn around, Clarke’s heart hammered in her chest. She had never actually seen the man in forty-nine out. Perhaps because she usually kept the partying to a minimum and because there were about a million places either one of them could end up in the large city. But she knew that if she was going to run into him somewhere, an upscale bar with no drink under ten dollars was where it would happen.

Piper moved to the side slightly, turning quickly to talk to Emaline with a grin on her face. At the same time, Jonah excused himself from the bar, setting eyes on someone across the bar. All of these were the telltale signs that Tyler was standing behind Clarke as she continued to drink her beer.

Leaning against the bar, she saw the art-covered arm wave down the bar tender. “Budweiser,” he said over the music. “Tall.” The bar tender nodded, walking to the taps. Clarke glanced up at him but he was already looking down at her with a crooked grin. “Forty-seven.”

She inclined her head. “Forty-nine.”

“What brings you here?”

“The live music,” she deadpanned. It was rude of her. There was no reason for her to not talk to him. In fact, Clarke wanted to talk to him. He was nice enough and he hadn’t disrupted her studying since she had asked him to keep it down. But knowing that her friends were purposely putting her on the spot put a sour taste in her mouth, which wasn’t exactly his fault. “And beer.”

“You’re funny.” If he thought she was being rude, he didn’t say so. He turned and thanked the bartender, indicating he was opening up a tab. “How’s your studying going?”

“I haven’t failed yet.”

“You’re probably smart.”

“What makes you say so?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders, bringing the frosted mug to his lips. He took a moment to take several long gulps, erasing half of the glass all at once. Clarke was acutely aware of the way his lips pressed against the glass, or the pink of his tongue darting out to clean the bear from his lips. “You carry a fuck ton of books sometimes, I figure anyone lugging that shit around has to be smart. Otherwise you’re doing it for no reason.”

“Interesting observation.”

Once again, he shrugged. He did that a lot. Shrugging seemed to be the easiest way to express himself, besides his constant eye contact. His eyes never left hers, something she noted whenever Tyler passed her in the halls as well. “You notice a lot of things living next to someone.”

“That sounds sort of creepy.”

“Only sort of.” A lull in conversation passed. Clarke filled it by reaching for her beer. He lifted his, hesitating before tilting it towards her. She licked her lips, clinking her glass against his in a small cheers before chugging hers down slightly more. She was on her third and she couldn’t get them down fast enough. He made her nervous. “You’re strange, you know that?”

She made a face. “Okay then.”

“I mean in a good way.”

“How is that good?”

“You don’t talk much.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know if it’s because you don’t like me or because you don’t have much to say. Something tells me you rarely have nothing to say.”

Laughter escaped Clarke. She felt stung slightly, not exactly sure what exactly he was trying to tell her. “First you tell me I’m strange and now you’re imply that I don’t shut up? Ouch, forty-nine.”

“That isn’t what it meant.”

“Sounded like it.” Tyler opened his mouth and then closed it again, shaking his head. “What?”

“Nothing.”

She elbowed him lightly. “What?”

He grinned shook his head. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to you. I feel like you’re the kind of girl who has smart things to say but the second I talk to you you’re just… quiet and unsettling.”

“It’s because you make me nervous,” Clarke blurted, popping her mouth shut the minute she said it. She hadn’t meant to say it, but it was true. If Tyler thought she was unsettling, then he had no idea how hard it was to be within the same proximity as his searching eyes and curving lips. “So… that’s why I’m quiet because I might say weird stuff like that.”

“Nervous, huh? Why’s that.”

“Cause you’re you.” He cocked his head and she laughed nervously, gesturing to him in general, a flailing hand movement that showed just how nervous she was. Clarke took in a deep breath to stop her beating hard and flushing skin. “You’re tall, dark and handsome and you have cool tattoos and you play hockey.”

“Ah, so you do know I play hockey.”

Clarke rolled her eyes but grinned at him. He seemed happy about her knowledge of him. And why wouldn’t he? He had to be good to be in the NHL. At least, Clarke guessed so. She had probably seen one hockey game in her life. “That’s what you’re worried about, if I know you play hockey?”

“It’s important.” He pretended to be hurt, making both of them laugh. Clarke’s words were coming easier now but she still felt flighty, drinking more of her beer. “A girl who watches sports?”

“Just football. I’ve never really paid attention to hockey.”

“Hmm, that’s unfortunate, Clarke.” He leaned against the bar, sighing and looking out at the crowd. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked her suddenly, looking down at her with that same grin she had seen before, the one where it was like he was toying with her. “How about it?”

“I’m going to decline that.” Clarke felt Piper pinch her hard but she ignored it, grinding her teeth together. “Sorry.”

“Can’t dance?”

“Too nervous to.”

“First I think you’re not talking to me because you don’t like me and now I make you nervous. What a friendship this is turning out to be. Promise we’ll dance one day?”

Clarke shrugged one shoulder, a shy smile twisting her mouth. “Can I get back to you on it?"

He raised his hands in a signal of defeat. “Alright, I can’t argue with that." He grabbed his beer, raising it towards Clarke. “Have a goodnight, forty-seven.”

She smiled. “You too, forty-nine.” As he walked away she added, “I’m sleeping at Piper’s tonight.” When he was confused, she laughed genuinely. “So I won’t be in that study room, if you know what I mean.”

Giving her a large grin, Tyler smiled at her, nodding his head before walking away, casting one lingering glance at her before melting into the crowd. When Clarke turned around to face Emaline and Piper, her eyes went wide. “What?”

“If there was anymore sexual tension there, I swear to god I would have sex with Emaline right now because it would drive me to.”

Emaline made a face. “I like brunettes.”

“Whatever. Clarke, sweetie, I know he makes you nervous because anyone with a face like that would make me nervous too, but you do realize that you do this thing when you get nervous where you… turn into a blank wall.”

“Yup.” Clarke finished her beer. “I do that.”

Because something about Tyler Seguin made Clarke nervous and she wasn’t sure if it was fear and excitement. Either way, she felt like something between her and her neighbor had shifted, and she suddenly wished she had never opened her mouth about his so-called ‘sexcapades.’