Wishing It Was You
Disclamer: Would I really be writing fanfiction if I owned Degrassi?
Enjoy!
"Meet me at my house in about an hour, to go over the script a few more times."
That's what he had said to the girl in his bed right now. The thing is that he doesn't want this girl. He doesn't want this sabotaging freak in his bed right now. No, he doesn't want Imogen Moreno. The person his heart, mind, and soul (that is if he even has one) is the beautiful, the radiant, the one he will never be able to hold in his arms ever again. He wants Clare Edwards.
But because this is his situation right now, he tries not to hear the low groans of the substitute; he wants to hear the breathy ones, the one that are barely audible but surely there. Instead of seeing a black bra with polka-dotted pink skulls, he wants to see a simple baby blue one. And instead of seeing and kissing tanned skin, he wants to see the paler one.
He continues kissing and shedding clothes and soon he is entering her, but instead of actually feeling pleasure, he feels anger. So he doesn't go slow like he normally would, he puts all his anger into his thrusts, and he kisses her so she would stop the noises she's making that are so much different than what he wants. And even though she's not finished, he is, so he just pulls out. Leaving the poser frustrated.
Silent tears are flowing from her eyes, because she knows she cannot be what he wants her to be. He sees her, so he snuggles up to her.
"I love you so much, Clare." He says to her, a slight hint of pain in his voice.
And for the umpteenth time she says to him "Eli, I'm Imogen, not Clare."
And again for the umpteenth time he says "I know."
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