It was almost eleven by the time my mom and I got back from the church fundraiser on Wednesday night, and I still hadn't finished my English assignment. It was unlike me, of course, to put my homework on the back burner—especially when it should have already been handed in—but, I didn't care. I didn't care that I would have to pull an all-nighter to make up for lost time. I didn't care that I would have to trade my English breakfast tea in for a strong cup of coffee—gross—the next morning. I'd been there for my mom when she'd needed me, all smiles in my navy dress and the most uncomfortable—albeit prettiest—heels I owned, and I was glad. She had been under too much stress lately, juggling all of her usual undertakings with preparing for the fundraiser and arguing with my dad. She'd needed a break, she'd needed help, and she had to come before Ms. Dawes, otherwise, what kind of daughter was I? Not to mention, she had to come before Eli Goldsworthy as well—no matter how much I had wanted to spend the night embarrassing myself with him.

It was strange, what he and I had. What we were starting to have. Earlier that day, he'd told me that I cared too much about what other people thought, something K.C. Guthrie had also assumed after we first met—but, with Eli, it had been more playful. When K.C. had dared me to prove him wrong, I'd felt as though I'd really needed to prove him wrong. When Eli had dared me to scream, to scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of a crowded street, I'd felt as though I'd had nothing to lose. At first, I'd been nervous. But, in seconds, I'd realized that he didn't care. He didn't worry about what other people thought. He just smiled his crooked smile—and in the end, when I'd somehow managed to pin him against a tree, I could have kissed him. It would have been the perfect moment.

I kept thinking about it as I made my way upstairs, slipping out of my heels and setting them down in my closet as soon as I was back in my bedroom, where I had hastily readied myself for the evening. Retrieving my laptop from where I had left it on my desk, I fell onto my bed, dragging my index finger across the track pad and hoping that, once I got started, the letter would write itself. It was true, Eli already frustrated me more than anyone else I knew, but, he'd had a point about my writing—in order to be worthy of an A, it had to be personal. I had to stop hiding, regardless of how scared I was to let people in. So, I started to type. And, an hour later, after I had successfully written 498 words—

eli-gold49: i'm beginning to think i'm a bad influence on you

I smiled, adjusting the strap of my dress—which I probably should have changed out of—on my shoulder.

clare-e23: what makes you say that?

I waited impatiently for his reply, because as much as he frustrated me, he excited me even more.

eli-gold49: well, there's approximately seven hours until school starts, and i think under normal circumstances, you'd be asleep

clare-e23: you're right. so, you are a bad influence—and a big distraction

eli-gold49: still working on dawes's assignment?

clare-e23: i wouldn't be if you had let me work on it this afternoon

eli-gold49: you invited me

clare-e23: you could have stayed in class

eli-gold49: where's the fun in that? besides, english is boring without the banter

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered.

eli-gold49: how's it coming?

clare-e23: great! the title's centered

eli-gold49: sounds like an A+ to me

I smiled again, leaning back against my pillows and staring down at my unpolished fingernails. Even when we were just instant messaging, he made my heart race.

clare-e23: hey, do you think you'd want to meet me at the dot tomorrow before school? i'll need a big cup of coffee to remedy my lack of sleep

eli-gold49: i guess it's the least i can do, since i'm partially responsible

eli-gold49: want me to pick you up?

clare-e23: are you going to run over anything else of mine?

eli-gold49: only your dignity

clare-e23: i suppose i can't blame you for trying to finish what you started

clare-e23: see you at 6:30, then?

eli-gold49: bright and early

eli-gold49: you'd better get back to work so i have something worth reading tomorrow

clare-e23: right. goodnight, ted hughes

eli-gold49: sweet dreams, sylvia plath

I signed off, turning my attention back to my letter. There was still a long way to go, but, it had potential. It was a start. Like a pair of dead glasses, like a scream or an almost-kiss in the middle of a crowded street, my 498 words would amount to something great.