From Part 8
The magic of the moment was too soon disrupted by a door that slammed shut, before I even noticed that his lips had left me. When I looked up, Clark was gone. My heart was still thumbing loud in my ears. Only a wet spot on my shoulder proved that I had not been dreaming. I slowly sat up, covering myself with the towel that had been lying on my back. My shoulder still tingled from his touch, leaving me with a faint notion of what might have been.
"Clark?" I asked, needlessly. I knew very well that he would not reply. "Damn it, Clark, why are you doing this to me?" I swore softly, but no less fervently. It was just another question that had to remain unanswered.
* * *
Only in my dreams
Part 9
A stultifying disappointment spread through me. I did not want to leave this room, not ever. Staying hidden seemed like my best option. Yet, a part of me wanted to strangle Clark. For a while Mad Dog Lane struggled with that shy, hurt Lois, who dearly remembered his tender kisses. Anger and frustration were wrestling with each other in silence. I did not quite know if I should confront Clark or throw in the towel. I had certainly had enough of this game we kept playing. I had to know once and for all. If Clark did not know what he wanted from me, well... this could just as well become my decision.
Mad Dog Lane did not simply retreat; she wanted to give Clark a piece of her mind. So I got up and gathered the piece of clothing that was testament to my humiliation. Inwardly, I cursed myself. Why had I done this anyway? There had been no one watching but Clark. By trying to seduce him, I had given him the means to hurt me more than any other man ever had. I hurriedly got dressed again, hoping that this would save me from the memories.
I walked back more depressed than I had been before. Clark had been right about one thing – Perry really should not have assigned us on this story. Did our editor have any idea how bad things were between us? Knowing Perry, I had no doubt that he did. He was aware of everything that was going on in the newsroom He surely had not missed out on our problems. He had certainly intended to help us solve them. However, I was not sure we still could.
I left the spa area and crossed the lobby. This time I looked neither left nor right, but headed for the lift. I was not sure I would find Clark in our hotel room. But I lacked a better idea. This time I liked the dreary elevator much better than before. I was grateful for being alone with the quiet, constantly smiling newscaster. So I could clench my fists while staring at the wood-paneled walls, rather than looking at a kissing couple with daggers in my eyes. I did not dare look into the mirror on the far side of the lift.
Eventually, the elevator stopped. The doors opened slowly, revealing the bright view of the hotel corridor we had walked down barely an hour ago. Where Clark had kissed me... I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting off the memories. I did not want to start dreaming again. Those silly daydreams only served to make things worse.
I paced, almost ran down the hall, with only one goal in mind. This had to be over - once and for all. I needed to see Clark and talk to him. It had been stupid to hope that we could ever be more than just partners. And I would never be able to get over him, if I did not confront him now. I had to know what he wanted and I needed to give him a piece of my mind – one way or another we had to find a solution.
My heart was pounding when I put the key card into the lock. The door burst open and I rushed into the room. I had half expected to see Clark packing. But the suitcases stood in a corner, untouched. The only sound came from the bathroom. Someone had turned on the shower. So he was hiding where he knew I would not follow him! White hot rage infused me. I could not quite believe what I was hearing. He ran out on me - leaving me half naked on the massage table - to take a shower? Had he not been taking a shower right before he had joined me in the spa? He could not possibly be taking showers every time he disappeared!
Instinctively I held my breath and crept closer. The bathroom door was ajar. For a moment I just stood beside the door, indicisively. I wanted to turn around and leave. It simply did not feel right to spy on Clark. But my curiosity soon gained the upper hand. I pulled open the door and peered inside. Clark stood under the water jet, his whole body tense. His hands were clenched into fists, which he had pressed against the walls of the shower. Water ran in streams down over his perfect chest. His lips moved silently.
He did not even notice me. Clark just stood there motionless with his eyes closed and took a shower. My gaze wandered over the perfect shape of his stomach, half hidden behind the frosted glass. My cheeks burned with embarrassment when I saw I had not been the only one affected by this massage.
"Oh, my God," he muttered under his breath and a deep groan escaped his throat. I felt the urge to go and leave him alone. But I was glued to the spot. "What am I supposed to do?" his husky voice broke the silence.
One of his fists slid down the glass wall and opened slowly and moved lower ... I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at this intimate moment. But finally, I blinked and found that Clark had not done it. His free hand hovered motionless in the air.
"I can’t go on like this," he admonished himself, a sobbing sound escaping his throat. “I can’t keep doing this .." He swallowed hard and groaned. "I must stop ..." Clark sounded very desperate, his breathing was labored and he was trembling all over.
Though I felt that it was about time to retreat, I could not help but wonder what he was doing there. Why he was in the shower? And suddenly I realized that there was hardly any steam rising from the shower. At least, it was not as much as I would have expected. A bit puzzled, I noticed that he was still wearing his socks. Suddenly I understood - Clark took a cold shower.
"Oh, damn!" His sudden curse was so loud that I involuntarily stepped back and stumbled out of the room. Clark had never before raised his voice in my presence. I was not even sure I had ever heard him curse. "Damn!" I heard him again. It sounded muffled, and almost suffocated.
Then his voice cracked, uttering something that sounded like a name. I was not sure though.
My confused mind tried to convince me that it had not been Mayson’s name he had been crying. But truthfully, I just could not bear thinking that he had fantasized about her while massaging me. In his mind, he had probably kissed her. I started shaking, barely able to breathe. Clark loved Mayson Drake so much that he could barely stand being away from her.
Ashamed and confused, I crept out of the hotel room. I had absolutely no idea where I could go now. With a sigh, I rested my head against the closed door, trying to understand what was going on. Life with Clark was such an emotional rollercoaster ride, lately.
to be continued...
