Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A.N. I believe Clare loved Eli and loves Jake. But I think her feelings towards the two are a bit jumbled. My take on her emotions.
Minutes.
You throw the magazine across the room before jumping headfirst onto your bed.
Why can't he take this seriously? Why can't he take you seriously?
He's always like this; he's always a moment late. Like that time in the forest, when you cut your hand after that fall and everything around you was dark, dark, dark and all you wanted was his arms around you, protecting you from the monsters around you. And how you wished and wanted and pleaded with your heart that he'd appear and hold you and tell you that you'd be safe. He did, eventually, after Eli found you and held you and made you feel like nothing could hurt you in that frightening forest.
A minute late.
There's a knock at your door and you raise your head off the pillow to see his head peaking in, a small smile gracing his lips, and you can't help but forgive him on the spot. But you won't let him know, of course.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I get that this is important to you. Can we try this? Again? I'll take this more seriously this time, I promise."
He says the right words to you, and you return his smile before sitting up and waiting for him to cross over and take a seat next to you. He already has the magazine in his hands, flipping through the pages for that one page you folded the corner of. But no matter what he's doing now, you can't help but realize that here he was again, being a minute late. Taking things seriously a moment later, a second of pause; you shake the thought from your head because seeing that hopeful look on his face just melts you.
"I want our first time to be… magical. I want you to feel like the most beautiful girl in the world, because you are. I want to make you feel exactly what I feel for you."
His words make your cheeks flush red.
"I love you."
A silence fills the room, and he's holding your hand, gingerly kissing your lips, but you hesitate to respond. Pulling away, you sit with your arms wrapped around your drawn knees, and he gives you a knowing glance.
"I love you too, Clare."
A minute late.
Still, you initiate another kiss, and you let his tongue explore your mouth and you let his fingers explore your body. You can feel him getting more frantic, more desperate, and as his hands pull off your shirt, you do nothing to resist. Somehow, his touch feels perfect but too slow. He feels like the boy of your dreams, but a little off. A tiny bit off. Your mind begins to wander.
When you want his touch there, it comes, but with a few seconds delay. Just like everything about him. He is always moments late, moments off, you realize. How did he get you? How did he win your heart? Oh. Now you get it. The one time he was there at the right time was the only time it mattered. Because your heart was broken before, but despite all his flaws and all his tricks and traps, Eli was never late. Eli always knew when to come and when to go. He knew where to touch and what to say and when to do. And despite everything, your heart was beginning to fall for him again. Your heart was beginning to fall irrevocably and terribly for that boy.
But before it could, that one time, Jake was there. He was there at the right time and place, and he stole your heart, stole it despite yourself, and your heart began its irreversible fall for him instead.
You can't blame the boy; you're happy with him, he loves you, and you love him. He's wonderful to you and his touch is so gentle, but as his fingers clumsily fumble down your stomach, you can't help but think. You can't help but wonder how things might have been different if Jake was a little late; you imagine the black haired boy and the image of him blurs between each thrust, between Jake and him and Jake and him and you don't know what you want more.
The first time Jake was there on time, he managed to steal your heart away from Eli.
Why couldn't he have been a minute late, like always?