if i owned the clique, then why would i be writing fanfiction?
::
His black Mercedes is parked in the driveway as you walk up the path to his front door, blonde hair flying into your eyes. As soon as you reach the porch, the door opens, and he stands there, his blue and green eyes smiling at you kindly.
"Hey Claire," he says, taking you into his arms for a warm hug. You quickly envelope yourself in his scent, breathing in the familiar smell that you had been missing for the past few months.
"Hey," you mutter softly into his jacket.
"Come in," he guides you into his house, closing the door softly behind him. "How've you been?"
"I'm fine," you answer, sitting down on a black leather couch. "Where's Massie?"
He shrugs, "I don't know. She's either sleeping or out." You watch as he walks into the kitchen and grabs two glasses hanging upside down from a cupboard.
"I feel your pain. I only shared a room with her when we had sleepovers in high school. I still can't believe your mum and Kendra made you guys share this place."
He laughs softly, "Yeah, I know. I think Kendra didn't want Massie to be alone in New York. The timing's incredible. Massie realises that her dream lies in New York City when I decide that I'm going to study here."
You laugh, accepting the lemonade that he hands you. "Oh well. What does she do here anyway? I thought she was interning at some fashion place."
"I have no idea, really. She doesn't tell me anything. All I know is that she's out all the time."
"Figures," you smile. Then your smile fades. "Westchester's been boring without you two."
"Oh, that reminds me... how's everyone?"
You silently contemplate, "Dylan's headed off to California to 'pursue her acting career' – her words, not mine, Alicia's happily with Josh – I think she's expecting soon." Cam's eyes widened.
"Seriously? She's only 22."
"Yeah, I know right? Things have gotten so different. Derrick's become a professional soccer player now. Tryouts went well. He made it in. Kemp's, well, I have no idea about Kemp. I think he just kind of... well, dropped out of our lives after graduation. Dempsey's with Nikki now, after his breakup with Massie. Kristen's at Harvard – law school, and, um, I think that's it."
"Wow."
"I know," you sigh. "I miss those old days."
"Yup," Cam said, still shocked.
"What've you been up to these days?"
You stay silent for a second. "Well, um, I'm helping out my mum with the move. We've moved into Alicia's house."
"Wait, Alicia doesn't live there anymore?"
"Yeah, her parents moved to Maine or something. They mentioned something about wanting 'the quiet life'. And she's moved in with Josh, so she's got a place to live and such."
"Huh."
"Yup..." you trail off, unsure of what to do. You suddenly think that you should've never come here in the first place.
"So... what exactly are you here for?" Cam asks, leaning back against the chair.
"Well, uh, I actually came here to talk to Massie, but she's not here, so, uh, I probably should get going now," you start to get up, but he reaches out to stop you.
"No, stay. I'm sure she'll be back soon."
You sit back down, clutching your glass as if it were a lifeline.
"I remember those old days in the Briarwood-Octavian Country Day school. Teenage years seem so fun from this perspective, aye?" you nod, giggling.
"Remember that time when we were all split up? We had those trailers? And then Massie redesigned them into Tiffany boxes? That was fun."
"Oh yeah, and the time when I had to spend in them. All that glittery stuff gave me a migraine."
"That was Massie's idea, not mine," you laugh.
"I figured," he said, "But I'm pretty sure those whiteboard markers were you," he teased.
"I just wanted something for the teacher to have fun with too."
"Have fun with?" he raised an eyebrow. You quickly swat his arm.
"Stop thinking dirty things, you!"
Suddenly, he pulls you towards him, enveloping you in his warmth. "I never should have let you go."
::
[three hours later]
"I think it's time for me to go," you say awkwardly, getting up from the couch and turning away from the game that was on the screen. After that awkward hug and Cam's confession, you both quickly lost your easy-conversation-vibe and had lapsed into silence. About half an hour of not speaking, Cam evidently got bored and turned on replays of a random footy game.
"No, stay. Please. I don't want to be alone tonight," he says, muting the television and getting up.
"Why are you even at home. Come on. It's the Big Apple. You should be out on a Saturday night, having fun," you giggle. "Or are you that much of a couch potato?" you tease, smirking slightly.
Cam rolls his eyes. "You know I'm not one for that type of scene," he says.
"How about I convert you?" you suggest, laughing.
Cam shrugs, "If you want, I guess. I'll go and get ready." He gets up from the couch, throws the remote over to you, and walks down a hallway past the kitchen. You grab the remote and flick to a news channel, watching the lady drone on about a dog attack. You stare blankly as you wait for Cam to get back, the envelope in your handbag weighing you down.
::
[30 minutes later]
"So where exactly are you taking me?" he asks, looking out the window of the taxi you had gotten into when you'd left his house.
"Dinner. Then maybe a club if you're up to it." you smile mischievously.
Cam rolls his eyes. "Don't you learn from experience? I remember the first club you took me to. I had to drive you home with Derrick in the backseat, barfing up every time we stopped at a red light."
"That effected Derrick more, though, not you. You were there for ten minutes until you volunteered to take him home. Loosen up a little, Cam. You can't live in New York City without being part of the social scene."
"Tell me again why we're not taking my car." he says, fidgeting uncomfortably with his seatbelt.
"Just taking a precaution." you shrug. He sighs. "Just enjoy it for one night. For me? Please?"
"Fine," he sighs.
You get out of the taxi as it comes to a stop and step out onto the street. You're glad you brought your coat as it was chilly and a soft breeze was swirling around the leaves of Central Park.
"Where're we going?" he asks, following you out and closing the door. You thank the taxi driver and look around, admiring the view. It's been ages since you'd been here, but you still remember it as if it were yesterday.
"The Boathouse."
Cam laughs as he waits for you to start walking, "Ladies first, Mademoiselle." You smile and start walking, making sure he stuck by your side.
::
You smile at the waiter from your seats near the window, overlooking the lake. He hands over a menu, but you wave it away, ordering your favourite dish. Cam takes a little longer, though, having to study the booklet before placing his order.
"Don't tell me you've never been here," you tease, laughing as he shook his head.
"Never. I don't go out a lot. I like the company my laptop, TV, couch, and bed gives me, thanks,"
You shake your head, still laughing. "I still can't believe you've never been here before. I reckon it's my favourite restaurant. I love the mood here, and especially the view."
"It's pretty awesome," he agrees. You smile, thanking the waiter as he brings you your drinks, and soon after, your meal.
The small talk stays, well, small, as you have your dinner. Time passes, and you find yourself getting more and more comfortable with Cam than you had ever been before. Even when you were dating. You blush as you notice this and quickly look away from him before he notices anything.
He doesn't.
::
[one hour later]
"It's time for us to hit the clubs," you smile as you get up from the table, grabbing your coat and walking out.
Cam groans. "Don't torture me," he whines. Subconsciously, he wraps an arm around your waist and hugs you against him as you both head towards the streets.
"Oh, I promise I will. We're not going home until you enter a club. And maybe have a shot." you laugh when he rolls his eyes.
You both walk into a random club which looked pretty heated up. You giggle as he shakes his head at the pounding music and lead him up to the bar.
"One drink," he warns, "then we're getting out of here."
"Oh come on. Dance with me too!"
"Fine, a drink and a song. Then we're going."
"You're such a buzzkill." you whine as you both settle onto bar stools. You signal to the bartender, who hands you two glasses, brimming with alcohol. You quickly hand one to him, and he studies the contents suspiciously.
"Are you sure this is safe?"
You roll your eyes. "Three-" he grimaces, lifting the glass to his lips. "two-" he squeezes his eyes shut, "one!" you both quickly down the glasses and set them down on the table. "Nice expression."
Cam glares at you.
"Ooh! It's my favourite song! Let's go!" you grab his hand and drag him to the dance floor, moving to the rhythm of the music, hips grinding, bodies touching. The dancing was raunchy, for sure, but you couldn't help yourself. Something about Cam always brought out an animal instinct in you.
When the song was over, he was too infatuated by you to refuse anything you offered. "Have another glass," you say, leading him back to your old spot. This was probably the last time you'd be able to have fun with him, and you wanted to make the most of it.
"Fine. Just one more." he says, grabbing the glass and downing it in one.
::
[a few hours later]
Your lips touch as you both stumble into his apartment, down the hallway, and into his room. You'd had way more than just another shot. Probably 10, maybe 15. By the time that was done, everything was just a blur. You remember grabbing your bag and giggling while you both got into a cab.
You collapse on his bed in a fit of giggles as you try to remember what had happened tonight.
Clothes came off. Lips touched. Bodies moved together. You sigh as you fall asleep in his arms.
::
[the next morning]
Cam wakes up to find his head throbbing from the alcohol. Once his senses worked themselves out, he did his best to ignore the pounding in his head and sat up. The space next to him was empty, though your smell lingers on him. He reaches over and pulls on his shirt, spotting a thick padded envelope on his bedside table.
He picks it up, sees the post-it stuck on it. Reads it.
This was originally meant for Massie, but I guess the two of you can share it.
I'm sorry.
-Claire-
He turns the envelope over and opens it, afraid of what he might find. The paper inside was heavy, expensive, and had a flowery scent. He takes out the card, sets down the envelope, and opens it to find a curvy script.
You have been invited to attend the wedding ceremony of Derrick Harrington and Claire Lyons on the 30th of September, 2020.
He sighs.
::
sucky, yes? sorry. first clique fic. i had this inspiration at 1:45am. it's, uh, 2:30am, at the moment, so i'm sorry for any of the, uh, grammar/spelling mistakes. unbetaed.
-how'd you like it?
-i'm sorry. i have a thing for depressing stories.
-aww it's camxclaire. i like canon (:
-anything i should've changed?
-any thoughts?
-maybe i should've changed the ending...
-should i write more clique? yay? nay?
review and let me know :D
-TUNARH
Why do I keep running from the truth?
All I ever think about is you.
-crush-
david archuleta