Summary:
The last thing Clare Edwards can stop thinking about is Elijah Goldsworthy. But doing so is going against who she currently prides herself on being.
And then Jake Martin comes along. And things are much easier with him. Things don't hurt. But what if Clare wants to hurt, wants to feel? Taking things easy isn't exactly her style anyways.
It seems as I'll have to have some disclaimers:
I don't own Degrassi
This takes place sometime after season 10, but not where she has talked to Jake yet. No Imogen either.
It says JakexClare, yes. Because it's what will be focused on for a bit. But it's still entirely Eclare.
Angsty angsty angst. And humor. Deal with it.
Rated M. No M stuff happens in this chapter. When I do trio type stories (like this one) It gets progressively more mature as the chapters go on.
Beta-ed by Verbal Acuity~
And happy birthday, summerset lights!
Clare Edwards was a strong and independent woman. One who didn't need any man or woman to help her get through her daily life. One who thought for herself, acted on her own, made well thought-out decisions. Rash and impulsive was the last thing she was. And those well thought-out decisions she made? They were ones she didn't regret.
This is exactly what Clare told herself every night before bed, and every time she had an urge to contact Elijah Goldsworthy. In other words, this is what she told herself frequently. There was nearly not an hour that passed that she did not reiterate these facts to herself, hoping that they would override all want she had to see the boy she so decidedly chose to leave.
The action of which- she regretted. A word she told herself she was no longer allowed to live with. But it hung over her like that of a guillotine. Making swoops closer and closer to her 'til the blade sank in deep into her flesh; becoming all-consuming 'til it erased every other thought.
She vowed to be a new person who did not dwell on the past. But it was difficult blocking out all the cherished memories she had shared with him. She even knew that she would never have grown to the extent that she did in the short period of time with the catalyst that was Eli. If anything, he pushed her towards the independence she claimed to have so securely under lock.
She was more than aware that most of her past decisions weren't entirely her own. They were either a result of the ideologies of her parents or of her friends. Her purity ring was a strong example. And then, of course, there was the action of breaking up with Eli. It was much too rash and impulsive; a reason why she pledged to no longer be such. She was simply overwhelmed and confused, not to mention under the influence of advice from a person who had no business dishing out relationship advice when said person had never handled a relationship of merit. Clare should have realized the nonexistent credibility of Alli towards all social interactions.
But here she was, sprawled out on her bed, limbs going in every which direction than that of normalcy. She was dressed only in her underwear and a simple white camisole. It was late at night already, but Clare was feeling anything but tired.
What she wanted to do: to get on her computer, message Eli and explain how messed up things had gotten and how she still wanted him. How she still needed him; thought of him; missed him. But alas, that wouldn't be conducive to her new approach at life, her new persona.
Eli had awakened things in her that she entirely believed didn't exist. She thought human sexuality in all forms was a matter that should be kept behind closed doors and expressed in a very limited manner. Little did she know sexuality was about one of the most intriguing and harmless things-as long as practiced with a person you trust. And she trusted Eli. She had trusted him, more than she should have, but she did. And part of her still did.
She often thought back on how she felt with him. It was a sort of passion she never entirely knew existed. He was everything her novels ever told her love could be. The way it enraptures every element of your existence and holds you closer than your mother did as an infant. The type of passion that's so raw, so real, that it has a certain heat to it. A heat that burns and consumes you similar to that of a flame… a flame that feels too good to be real.
And missing him hurt. It physically hurt to not have him with her anymore. To not be able to share in her everyday activities with him. Not to share silly secrets together, or even ones of merit. Now she felt alone. Despite that her friends had not abandoned her, she had slowly started fading away from them as well.
It was hard to laugh when she was so busy reminding herself of her new virtues constantly. And trying not to think about the ending of all things Eli and Clare. And how she wasn't over it. She was never like this with KC. Her aggression towards him was a perfect transition into getting over him. With Eli, the passion she felt was still very much so burning within her. The thought of which reminded her of Frost's poem.
"From what I've tasted of desire...I hold with those who favor fire..." Clare mouthed to the ceiling. At least that's how Clare always analyzed the poem. It discusses the ways in which relationships ended. Fire destroys. Perhaps that's why their relationship had to end. End before it was snuffed out. God knows Eli had a way of landing himself into life or death situations.
And she laughed. Not a true laugh, no. A laugh of bitter nostalgia. She continued this short, dry laugh 'til tears threatened to spill and when they finally did they fell freely down her cheeks, running to the sides of her face. They were warm and real. More real than she'd felt since the night she'd seen him in that hospital, helpless, broken and begging for her to be there for him, to hold his hand. And she'd failed him. Told him he'd scared her and she realized then that nothing could take back the pain she'd seen in those eyes.
She couldn't stay in this kind of state. Not if she didn't want to be deemed a stereotypical teenager who couldn't get over their first real relationship. She wiped the tears from her face haphazardly and reached for her phone under her pillow. After undoing the lock on her phone -searching for the number one contact in her phone- she selected Alli's name and waited for her to pick up her phone.
After several voicemail message pickups, Clare figured she wasn't going to get any consoling advice that night from her friend. She rolled her eyes at that word even. Friend. An entirely one sided friendship, really. Alli was anything besides that of reciprocal when it came to returning the kindness a friendship truly warrants. And God knew how many times she had, and eventually would abandon Clare in the name of a random fling.
Oh well, Clare didn't need her either. "Me, myself, and I," Clare said in a sarcastic tone and she brought herself to sit up on her bed, looking around momentarily. The only things she had in her room to do included rereading one of her many books, or to go online. And the latter would inevitably end up in further temptation to contact him. And that simply wouldn't do.
Scooting off her bed and onto the floor, Clare stood up and stretched a measure before walking over to her closet. Her current attire was no match for anything outside her room. She grabbed a plain pair of cuffed jeans and a button down coral sweater to go over her camisole. After quickly throwing on her chosen articles of clothing, she walked over to her mirror. Tousling her hair to fix her flattened curls and applying some sheer lip gloss, she evaluated her look, nodding in approval. She still had a fair amount of makeup on from earlier in the day that had only slightly faded.
She grabbed her phone from her bed and sent a text to her mother informing her of her own plans to go take a walk. Sure it was kind of weird sending a text to a woman who previously never owned a cell phone. But this was typical behavior now. And Clare was given new freedoms she never previously thought were possible. She used to have a bedtime, even. So she accepted the new odd behaviors in turn of the freedom it offered.
As she stepped out the front door, she closed her eyes and the door alike, breathing deep the smell of the spring air. Fresh-as if her new fresh start were possible. As if she really could change and do what she pleased. She could, and she would. With that thought, she stepped off her front step and down her driveway, into the street, and began her night walk.
Chin up and looking forward, she was entirely caught off guard when a familiar voice broke her stride. After all, she was focused on enjoying this night and freedom that was offered to her with it. She was on a lone walk, and the concept that someone could interrupt it was not something she counted on.
"What are you doing out this late?"
His tone was not hostile or teasing in the least. Merely an interested sort of curiosity. Before she even turned to look at who her night time partner was, she knew it was that of her newly returned neighbor, none other than Jake Martin. He was sitting on the ledge of his front step and waited for her response.
Once again, his tone was a completely neutral and friendly question, but it hardly stopped her from the slight pivot to the left to face him, accompanied with a hand promptly on her right hip and face that showed she was not in the mood for any nonsense.
"I do believe that has nothing to do with you. Therefore: none of your business." Clare felt empowered with her response. Even though he was a good few yards away from her, she had asserted herself fully.
But before Clare could even return to her previous facing position, he retorted, "It could be," with a raised brow.
She pivoted back to the right and readied herself to start walking again after saying, "Don't think so. Better luck next time."
His laugh was audible from where he sat, but that was then changed-Jake standing up and walking over to her as if challenged. Although Clare had started walking again, she did so in a way slower than her previous pace, making it all too easy for him to catch up.
"I don't really believe in next times," he said, his smarmy smile apparent without even looking at him directly. The way he matched her pace made her heart rate slow, and cross her arms across her chest in a self-conscious way. Suddenly acutely aware of the little effort put in her appearance.
She knew he was looking at her, but she wasn't quite ready to make eye contact. The asphalt seemed much more interesting anyways.
"Who ever said you were getting a chance this time?" Clare said in a teasing voice with a distinct overshadow of harshness. This was her walk after all; her chance to be independent. And here he was ruining it. Worse yet, when she did look up to say what she did, she found he was looking at her. But not at her face. He was looking at her cleavage that she had accidentally made more prominent when she crossed her arms over her chest as her general reflexive defense.
It was all so weird. The last time Clare had really seen Jake they were so young that they could never have looked at each other in ways hinting at sexual attraction. Clare, the modest wannabe Catholic schoolgirl since the age of 6, and Jake the icky boy with cooties who threw frogs at her, smudging mud all over her perfectly ironed uniform from the slimy creature.
The only things being thrown at her now were glances that only made it all too obvious he was interested. Interested in what, Clare wasn't sure. But they were making her confused. Not uncomfortable, just terribly confused. She looked at him once more, and was even more puzzled. Though he wasn't her type, it was apparent that he was most likely every other girl's type. He was plain to a degree with certain features that would easily label him with being hot. And the idea of him hitting on her was enough to make Clare light-headed.
He could easily have a large half of the Degrassi population of females. He was normal. He fit in. He didn't have problems, seemingly with anyone or thing. So why in the world would such a guy be talking to her?
"Oh, I don't know. Just a feeling, I guess. We've been walking for a bit now anyways," he replied in a late sort of way, shoving his hands in his front pockets.
"Don't really see your point...but okay," Clare said, still bewildered. She looked down once more and noticed that his feet were much closer to hers than they previously were.
All the houses looked ridiculously similar, so it could have seemed like they were still near home, but in reality they were a decent ways away.
"You know you don't have to treat me like you hate me. I mean, I haven't thrown a frog at you once since I've been back," Jake joked, attempting levity.
Oddly enough, it worked. The fact that he remembered made her laugh. Laugh and smile. Genuinely. For the first time in months. And that's when she remembered why she hadn't really laughed or smiled, making the laughter short-lived.
Inwardly, she contemplated how that was the first time she had really thought about Eli in the last 20 minutes. Not they were a pleasant 20 minutes. But it was time in which she didn't have to constantly remind herself of her new mantra. And that was something of a win for her.
"So, I bet a lot has changed...wanna play the question game? You know, easy way to catch up and all that." It was clear he was trying to change the subject as best as he could to deteriorate the awkward wall that had been put in place over the last few seconds.
"Sure. Uh, but you first," Clare agreed. She knew the question game rarely went to places innocent children dwelled, but it would almost be mean if she stopped talking to him after he had walk a decent length with her. And who knows, maybe it would be fun?
"Sure thing. Now this one might be tough, but we'll see if you can handle it: favorite color?"
Her answer was immediate, "Green. Forest green." Immediate and almost involuntary. It told her own self volumes while Jake just nodded and added the short commentary of, "Cool. That's specific."
"Yeah, and yours?" Clare quickly added to resume conversation.
"I like red and brown and black. Together, of course."
Clare nodded and looked at his shirt, being the tri of said colors and realized the blatant obviousness that was Jake. But was obvious such a bad thing? It was the opposite of cryptic and mysterious. It was the opposite of Eli. And she tried to tell herself that was what she wanted.
"Oh, my turn, right," he interrupted her train of thought, "Candle lit dinner or movies with pizza?"
Clare gave him a minor skeptical look. "Casual choice, always. Pizza or chicken?" She was getting the hang of this, mostly sticking to causal questions.
"Chicken. Always chicken...but I do like pizza and most food," he said honestly with a large grin.
"One night stand or life long relationship?"
Clare seriously narrowed her eyebrows this time. Nearly all of his questions have to do with things of a potentially romantic nature…and even worse, they seemed to heading straight to sexual territory.
"Somewhere in between, I guess? Life is pretty long, but then again it's not so short as to only deserve a night with a person...uh, you?" She figured it was the safest option to choose. She didn't readily have a response after answering his question.
"Same. Sort of. I mean hooking up is fun and all, but it gets so much better when you actually know the person a bit first. Know boundaries and all that," he stopped to laugh in a reminiscent way, "Like this one time this girl thought it was cool to handcuff me to her mom's bed frame. Not cool."
Clare's eyes widened through his story, the mental image of Jake handcuffed to a bed dancing around her mind. He was obviously more experienced than her. She knew that before he had even hinted at it. like he just had. But even more important-he was comfortable fooling around with a person he wasn't officially dating. Although her long pauses of silence seemed like her patient waiting for his next question, they really were times of reflection to think of how different Jake and she really were.
"Okay, you don't have to answer this or anything...but are you virgin?"
Clare's gasp was audible. People just usually assumed she was. No one really ever asked, catching her more than off guard. A habit, Mr. Martin seemed to be forming with her.
"Yup, I am...," she said awkwardly, trying to laugh a little.
"That's really cool, actually. I've been thinking about trying abstinence for a long time now," he added empathetically.
Trying? As if he couldn't make it throughout the week without having sex? That idea stuck with her a bit and hampered other trains of thought circling through her head. "Uh, so. Do you prefer liking someone who likes you back…but only in a friend sort of way, or dating someone?" She tried to say it as best as she could. It came out all wrong, she was sure. But she could at least hope he comprehended.
"First sounds better. At least to me. But the person has to be pretty attractive, I'm not gonna lie there," he said, his voice sounded lower, and he then walked so close to her that their sides touched for a few seconds until he veered off once more.
Clare wasn't sure if that a nonverbal cue she was supposed to take or just a slip of balance on his part, so she just remained looking forward.
"Do you prefer the guy making the first move, or the other way around?" he asked, sounding perfectly casual.
Clare's heart did not race like she was typically used to. It slowed more than before, to a near complete stop. There was no denying the tension that was being built upon. It was almost difficult to breathe in.
"I've only had it where the guy was in control...so... I like that, I guess...You?"
"Being in control is fun and all. But switching it up is the best. Not to mention a girl on top is completely hot," he seemed to be way into answering the question he had originally asked.
Clare merely pondered the fact that guys had always been in control of all the intimate actions she had partaken in. Perhaps it was time for her to establish her own grounds of being in charge. It would seem to be the exact thing that would assert who she now wanted herself to be.
"Are you dating anyone, or interested in anyone?"
His questions had a way of breaking her out of the dazes she seemed to drift off into often- making her near gasp at the forwardness of them.
"Nope. Single and not really looking to be otherwise," she said honestly, and was proud of the calm and even tone to her voice. "And yourself?"
"Same, but I may be interested in someone," he said, looking at her with another one of his crooked smiles.
"Oh, who?" Clare questioned, breaking the order of the question game.
"Some smart girl. But I don't think she's interested. She's way too ahead of me," he said, looking up into the sky, not making contact with her in a deliberate sort of way.
Clare laughed, playing along with his current charade. "I'm pretty sure everyone is universally 'interested' in you."
"Ehhh, I don't know," he shrugged, "She's different."
"Well, no two people are alike. Just like snowflakes," her comment was simple and near elementary. But that did seem to be the level to currently match.
"Oh, aren't you cute," he said, grinning at her. And Clare looked up at him. She felt inclined to do something. Kiss him, maybe? Hold his hand? That awkward internal nudge of hormones edging her forward into deciding an action. She realized he was a good deal taller than her, and the thought of trying anything from this height difference simply wouldn't work.
Instead, Clare just looked down at the asphalt once more. Noticed how it was illuminated by the streetlights. How the cracks almost could be seen as intricate designs.
"I'm gonna sit down...you could join me. If you want to," he said, sitting down in the grass of someone's yard. Clare looked at him momentarily before shrugging, and going over to sit down next to him. It had been over a half an hour, so sitting down would probably be nice.
It was mildly windy. Not entirely warm, but warm enough to deal with what she was wearing. The grass felt lively and fresh under her hands. Letting her know she would most likely have grass stains on her pants. They were both looking off in separate directions, taking into account their surroundings.
And then there was that moment. That moment when girl sees boy, and boy sees girl -in a way that previously had not been available due to lack of proper circumstances. It was a silent sort of agreement of sorts. A mutual agreement that they were both interested. Maybe not in anything serious, but in exploring the nature of their attraction. Clare in exploring the limits of her freedom and independence.
They leaned in at the same pace, almost making it seem like they both hadn't moved at all. Her hand moved over to touch his thigh shyly, still not entirely comfortable with what she was doing. He glanced down to where her hand rested, and then back up at her, raising a brow in a challenge; a challenge to continue whatever she was starting.
The tension was tremendous, and gave her the courage to close the distance between them, for her to actually make the first move. She knew she was doing nothing differently than how she usually handled kissing, but there was distinctly something different happening. It was as if the kiss wasn't happening. She could barely feel his lips on hers. It was everything she wasn't expecting. She opened her eyes for a moment to make sure that it was actually happening. And it was. He was kissing her. So why didn't it feel like it?
She brought one hand to the back of his neck tenderly, bringing him in closer to her. He reacted by placing his hands on her waist. And that's all that was done. They were placed. There was no urgent need behind his hands. Just a still and careless placing. His lips still weren't making much of an impact, just lightly pressing against hers. It wasn't horrible in any way. But it was just...lackluster at best.
When they pulled apart at the same time, Clare looked unfazed and he looked unattractively smug.
"Hmmm," he said, looking off into the distance once more.
"What?" Clare said, almost taking offense at his simple murmur.
"Nothing. Just maybe that girl I was talking about is interested in what I'm interested in. You know, the smart one?"
"Oh," Clare mouthed. "Maybe."
Jake stood up, and reached a hand out to Clare to help her up. She took it and adjusted herself, brushing off any grass that had stuck to her.
"We should get started on walking back," he said, and Clare simply nodded.
The walk back was impossibly silent from anything other than the night sounds around them. And it wasn't entirely a peaceful type of silence either. If she was asked if she regretted what she did, she would say no, because it felt like it didn't even happen; like it didn't even matter. An underwhelming result of high expectations. When they finally reached Jake's house they turned to look at each other, both of them standing in their respective ways: Clare looking down at the ground, and Jake, his smug look still intact.
"We should...continue this. If you ever have any needs...you know where to find me," he said the second she looked up, then turned to walk away and into his house.
Clare took her time walking the short distance to her house, not entirely believing the events of that night. Rolling her eyes the entire way. Jake could be a good distraction. Could be a learning device of sorts. Even though his multitude of experience didn't seem to amount to much of anything, in all honesty. The flirting was somewhat fun. It was simple. Not hiding anything with his words.
But she still couldn't deny the simple fact, of which: Jake was entirely anti-climactic. And it would only be a matter of time before he was no longer a source of interest or distraction. For now though, she would accept that and take what it was worth.