Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.
Well, when I first set out to write this, it was supposed to be a oneshot with each section less than two pages each. Now it's a threeshot, with three of the remaining five dates in this chapter, and two more yet to come. You know me. I can't write anything short and simple anymore.
I know my updates sometimes take a long time, and as much as I wish that wasn't the case, that's probably how things are going to be more often than not. I promise you that any delay is due to a lack of time and not a lack of interest. I'd really like to thank you all for sticking with me. When I started writing fanfiction, I promised I would never start a story I couldn't finish, and I hope you know that I'm not going to disappear on you. I still love Eclare with all of my heart and I won't stop writing until I have no more stories in me. And I can't tell you how much it means you me that you keep reading them.
Anyway, here's the story. Apologies for any tense errors/typos. I checked this over a bunch of times, but I'm still very unsure about this third person present tense thing. The third person needs more practice; the present tense will never happen again because this has been excruciating to write. This is far from perfect and I know it, so please be gentle.
Wednesday
Application Status: In Progress.
Eli refreshes the page one last time for good measure but he knows his status will remain the same. In two weeks, he will have his NYU interview – the final step in the application process. He's spent so much time worrying about his creative portfolio and stressing over possible interview questions that he hasn't given much thought to the other deciding factor in his ability to attend NYU, his financial aid profile.
But after an afternoon of squinting at columns of tax returns and account balances, Eli realizes that his priorities might have been a little skewed. International students barely warrant a mention on the financial aid page, ineligible for the federal grants and loans that the U.S. offers its students. His eyes gloss over at mentions of "limited institutional support" and "need-based aid," and he barely processes a list of alternate loan sources, only one of which even considers foreign students.
His head starts to hurt when he reads the figures once again. $49,000 tuition. Over $16,000 in room and board. With books and supplies, one year would run Eli nearly $70,000. And if he's lucky, he'll only need to take four and actually find a job at the end of them, but he is pretty sure that playwright and novice film director aren't exactly lucrative career paths.
Eli's phone buzzes and he answers when he realizes it's Clare. "Hey," he says, an involuntary softness rushing into his voice.
"It's after six," she reminds him. "Were you planning on coming anytime soon?"
Shit. Eli grabs his jean jacket and shoves his wallet in the pocket. "Sorry m'lady." He affects a swarthy British accent. "The chauffeur hasn't returned with the Rolls so you must excuse my tardiness as I'll be arriving on foot."
Clare's giggle lets him know that she's not annoyed. "I could meet you there," she offers. The restaurant is closer to his house so it would save time but Eli hopes the walk will help raise his spirits.
"I'll be at your house in fifteen minutes." He hopes he sounds enthusiastic, but he can't help regret inviting her out for a celebratory dinner for an article that hasn't even been officially selected for publication yet. That's at least thirty bucks down the drain and that's if they order modestly, and Eli can't help but think the night would be better served by the two of them hooking up on her couch, cost-free.
Suddenly Eli wishes he had been a little smarter about money over the last few years. His parents give him a generous allowance, wanting him to focus on his schoolwork, and the money had always been enough to put gas in Morty or take Clare out for coffee. He thinks of all the things he bought back when he was hoarding – although he had shoplifted quite a few of those items during his darkest period if he is honest with himself – and wonders how his bank account would look with those extra fives and tens deposited over the years.
But the money wouldn't stretch very far in New York City; it might cover a Metrocard but it couldn't put a dent in $70,000 a year. And it definitely wouldn't buy him four plane tickets a year to get him back home to Clare, or the inevitable "I'm sorry I was an asshole" conciliatory presents that she would deserve when he'd do something to screw things up.
Living the life in New York City seems like it's going to be more like living in the NYU cafeteria since his meal plan is so expensive Eli won't be able to eat anywhere else.
Eli pauses a block away from Clare's house and tries to put those thoughts out of his mind. He and Clare don't have much time together – just a few months left before he'll leave – and he wants to enjoy every moment. He is surprised when he finds her sitting on her front steps and is glad when her face lights up as soon as she sees him.
"Enjoying the fresh air?" he teases. Clare enjoys mocking his exercise habit and he can't help but give her a hard time about the fact that she's always indoors.
Clare wrinkles her nose. "Jake couldn't wait until I left to light up a joint so I had to make my escape early."
"He's smoking in the house? That's ballsy." Both times he smoked with Jake they went out to the backyard.
Eli can't help but think that joining Jake might be just what he needs to get his money problems off his mind. But that will piss off Clare, and Eli realizes he's never exactly offered Jake any money for the weed he's smoked off him. He doesn't exactly know what the going rate is, but staying clean is probably the best solution – romantically and financially.
"He's a mess," Clare confides as they start to walk down the street. "He and Katie broke up and it was really bad."
"What happened?"
Clare shrugs. "Apparently, she gambled away her university fund and decided to sleep with Darrin Howe in exchange for 50 grand to make up for it."
Eli's jaw drops. He reaches for Clare's shoulder and turns her face him. "The Facerange guy?" Clare nods. "Holy shit."
Eli almost feels grateful that there's someone as lost as he is about paying for university, and in one moment of sheer insanity, he can't help but wonder if there's someone who would sleep with him in exchange for fifty thousand dollars. But as he glances at Clare who is prattling on about Stanford and how insane Katie Matlin is, he realizes that losing Clare would be the worst thing that could happen to him. Much worse than having to work three jobs as a waiter to cover his student loan bills, and to his surprise, even worse than having to turn down NYU and attend U of T instead.
Eli hopes that it won't have to come to that.
At Little Miss Steaks, he takes much longer with the menu than usual. He usually orders a steak but the hamburger is a little cheaper and he's wondering if he can get away with just an order of fries. He could suggest that they pay for themselves – Clare isn't exactly a high maintenance girl and usually offers to turn turns or split the bill anyway – but he knows she'll need to save up for her own plane tickets as well. He is lucky Clare's not much of a red meat eater, but sometimes those pasta dishes she orders have seafood in them which really jacks up the price. He toys with telling her he read an article about unethical shrimp farm practices but before he can the waiter asks if they are ready to order.
"I'll have the penne with vodka sauce," Clare says sweetly, and Eli cheers inwardly. "And a Caesar side salad." His heart drops when she adds four dollars to the bill all for a pile of wilted lettuce.
"And you?"
"I'll have a cheeseburger. Medium well."
"Deluxe?" the waiter asks.
"Just the cheeseburger," Eli responds through gritted teeth.
As the waiter walks away, Clare leans closer to him. "Eli, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," he says, unable to keep the sullenness out of his voice.
"Eli…"
He sighs, knowing Clare won't let him get away with being silent. "I'm just worried about next year."
"Eli, you know you'll get in…"
"Not getting in," he interrupts. "Affording it."
Clare's eyebrows raise. "Ah," she says after a moment. "I was wondering when we were going to have this conversation."
Eli resists the urge to snap at his down to earth girlfriend who would of course have taken the cost of attending NYU into consideration. "I don't know how I'm going to do it. The tuition alone is insane and with all the other costs…"
"There are loans, scholarships…you said Cece and Bullfrog are going to help."
Eli snorts. "Help? Yeah, help by buying some textbooks and maybe a one way plane ticket." He knows he's being unfair, that his parents have saved up some money for his tuition, and a lot more than most parents can afford to do for their kids. But they certainly haven't saved enough for all of it and their combined incomes after twenty years at the hospital and radio station are high enough that he won't look as needy as he feels. This is the first time he's even considered his dream might not be possible.
He hasn't felt this depressed in a long time.
Eli feels Clare's gentle touch on his hand and the pout slips off of his face. "We can go to the library and look up scholarships and Ms. Sovay has a bunch of applications. $500 here and $200 there can go a long way. If you write all the essays, I can fill out the basic info stuff for you and we can get through twice as many."
Clare's words are warming his heart and he's afraid he might actually burst into tears of gratitude in the middle of the steakhouse. "Do you think I'm crazy?" he asks before he can stop himself and when Clare looks alarmed, he clarifies, "To go to NYU when U of T is a tenth of the cost? And when it's right here near you?"
She slips her hand from his and Eli is devastated until he realizes she is sliding into his side of the booth and throwing her arms around him. "NYU is your dream. We'll find a way to make it work." She pulls back but remains in the seat next to him. "Besides it makes more sense to do the long distance thing for one year rather than three and since I'll be going to Columbia…" she teases, lightening the mood.
"Shit, how much is that a year?" Eli groans. "My first film out of school will be Living on Ramen and Love: A Documentary and it'll be about what happens when a playwright and a journalist can't afford to eat or pay the rent, let alone get married, due to their crippling student loan debt."
"Get married?" Clare asks softly.
The moment is completely genuine and as much as Eli wants to retreat to his comfort zone and take it back and turn it into a joke, he can't. "Well yeah…after university and everything I'm sure we'll…you know…get married…" He gives a short laugh and takes a sip of his water. "As long as all we want is a picnic in the park catered by the McDonald's value menu because that's all we'll be able to afford."
Clare looks astonished and Eli wonders if he's taken things too far. The waiter reappears with their food and Clare slips to the other side of the table. Eli is afraid to dig into his burger, which looks quite small all alone on his plate.
"We should start looking for jobs you know. Get a jump on the summer rush," Clare says and he looks up in surprise.
"To pay for the wedding?" Eli spurts.
"To help pay for university," Clare says slowly and Eli feels like an idiot. "And plane tickets…and you know…fries."
"Hey, I saved two dollars by passing on the fries," Eli jokes.
Clare rolls her eyes. "New York City, here we come." She waves to catch the waiter's attention. "He changed his mind; he'd like the fries if it's not too much trouble."
Eli grins. "Those two dollars were going to buy you half an ice cream cone for tomorrow's date." He reaches over and steals a bite of her pasta. "I guess we're going to have to find a way to entertain ourselves for free from now on. Maybe in your bed…"
Clare frowns at his wiggling eyebrows. "If I had a French fry, I'd throw it at you."
"Kinky," Eli jokes and ducks before her breadstick can whack him in the eye.
Thursday
The TV is on in the Edwards-Martin living room, but Clare's mind is elsewhere. She can't escape the sad fact that as Eli's NYU acceptance letter will arrive in just a few weeks, their time together is growing shorter and shorter. Their relationship won't end – she is confident in that – but eight months of Skype chats and texts do not compare to eating lunch together nearly every day and regular date nights.
And the logistical realities they had tried to put out of their minds are no longer avoidable. Monthly plane trips are out of the question. There are buses and trains that are cheaper but they'll lose half a weekend from each other. Their leisurely summer nights together will be few and far between, supplanted by whatever low-paying jobs they can procure in the next few months.
Clare had thought they'd have until August, but the distance between them is already becoming real.
She feels awful because for one heartstopping moment she thought Eli might actually decide to stay in Toronto for university. She knews NYU means everything to him and she supports him completely but if she's honest, she privately wishes he had a different dream. She wants to attend Columbia – it's an excellent university – but she had never seriously considered it until she learned Eli would be in New York.
She has faith that the four years she'll spend in university will be amazing for them. They just need to get through eight months of long-distance dating and they'll be ready to spend the rest of their lives together.
When Eli arrives, Clare can't help but laugh. He's wearing his usual Dead Hand t-shirt, but he's paired it with shiny black track pants and running shoes. "Didn't have time to shower?" Clare teases although he doesn't look or smell sweaty.
"I didn't have time to get a run in. Bullfrog caught me on my way out the door and told me he'd give me thirty bucks if I'd clean out the garage for him since Cece has been on his back."
"Good call," Clare says. She wonders if there's anything she can do around the house to make some cash. Maybe Glen would want some help with the business. She's not exactly handy – her father is a lawyer, not a builder – but maybe she can do some marketing for him or make him a simple website.
"Everybody's out?" Eli asks, settling down on the couch before kicking off his sneakers.
Clare nods and joins him. "Mom and Glen are visiting Aunt Jenny in Oshawa so they won't be back until late. And Jake left two hours ago though I'm not exactly sure where he went."
"Awesome," Eli says, leaning in for a kiss.
It's more than a simple hello and Clare pushes his shoulders back giggling. "Did you bring a movie with you?"
"Didn't bother," Eli says, his voice husky and inviting. "We never pay attention to them anyway."
Clare finds herself reclining back against the cushions with Eli moving on top of her, holding himself up with his arms. "So you just thought we'd make out tonight? That's your plan?" she asks. She feels nervous even though she and Eli have been in this position dozens of times.
"It's a great plan. I feel like I haven't kissed you in days," Eli breathes, letting his lips suck on the spot at the base of her neck that never fails to send shockwaves through her body. "And we're alone. And you're beautiful."
Her eyes flutter closed as he slips a hand under the hem of her blouse. It is awfully soon for Eli to make a move like that but she appreciates his gentle caress on her curving waist and stomach and the fact that he doesn't immediately take it as far as she knows he'd like to. "I suppose you do deserve a reward for cleaning the garage."
Eli's response is muffled when her mouth attacks his, her hands tangling in his hair to draw him closer. He murmurs appreciatively, pressing his body into hers. After only a minute or two of tongue tangled, passionate kissing, Clare realizes that Eli's track pants have made his erection which is usually not too difficult for her to ignore unmistakable as it presses against her thigh.
She attempts to distract herself, sliding a hand of her own underneath Eli's t-shirt and feeling his slight muscles contract under her touch. The advance seems to encourage Eli who deepens their kiss and reaches down to place a hand on her knee. She's not sure where he's going with that until that hand starts sliding up the outside of her thigh, daring to venture underneath her jean skirt, the cool metal of his ring creating a tantalizing sensation. She tenses involuntarily, afraid that he's making a move that she'll have to reject, but with a final squeeze, his hand exits her skirt and touches her hip.
She realizes through her fuzzy, hormone addled haze that his gesture was more purposeful than experimental. Eli's soft touch had persuaded her to spread her leg wider, and allowed him to nestle himself between her thighs, the hardness she had been trying to avoid now rubbing right against her. She gasps, and Eli takes this as a cry of pleasure, bucking against her, and murmuring, "Oh, Clare."
Clare thinks she should protest and end this before it goes any farther but his hips are rocking against hers and his other hand pushes her skirt up on the other side and her sensible cotton panties are rubbing against his track pants and she knows she's soaking wet.
It feels so good and Clare wonders how many more times they'll have to experiment like this before Eli leaves, to touch each other above and underneath their clothes. She knows she's still not ready to sleep with him no matter how much the thrumming rhythm mimics the act and how her legs wrap around his hips to draw him closer. She can't help thinking about his penis as it moves against her and wondering what it looks like and how it would feel in her hand.
The pace increases as their mouths fuse sloppily, any pretense of technique dropped for their inability to part for a second. The tension building between Clare's legs is palpable and she recognizes it from her few half-hearted attempts at masturbation. She has never quite figured out how to take this feeling to the next level and she wonders if Eli knows how. He is more experienced, after all, and he is so sexy, and if Clare wasn't so scared of entering unknown sexual territory, she would beg him to touch her everywhere.
A sharp thrust of his hips sends her reeling and Eli uses the opportunity to slide his hand under her and unhook her bra with surprising skill before she can protest. But when his hands remain innocent, sliding up and down her back unimpeded by fabric for the first time, she lets out a gasping, "Eli, please," that tells him she is finally ready for more.
She is surprised at how gentle he is when his fingers dip into her bra, exploring the curves and peaks that she knows he has desired for as long as she has known him. "You're perfect," he sighs and she can only let out a gentle moan in reply.
Clare's not sure if Eli has slowed down the pace because he wants to savor the new experience or if he's anticipating that this will be pinnacle of their encounter and he's trying to get himself back under control. But the only thing she knows is that she doesn't want that, and she tugs his hair roughly to reconnect their mouths and grabs his butt to encourage him to move against her again. Her efforts work and his hands and hips start moving more aggressively, Clare meeting him at every turn.
"We should stop," he groans though he makes no effort to do so. When Clare doesn't either, he continues, "Or else I'm going to cum."
Clare knows that Eli is trying to send her a signal, that she needs to put the breaks on, that he's terrified of doing something that will offend her. Ordinarily at a statement like that, she would have pushed him off her and started readjusting her clothes.
But today, it makes her want to make him feel just as amazing as she does when she's with him. And she feels like she's running out of days where she can make that happen.
She doesn't want to sleep with him at the end of August and regret all the opportunities she missed out on. She might not be ready today but she will be soon, and she wonders why she's been holding back on all of the other things she's desired. Is it her faith? Or is it just her fears?
It's Eli. She loves him. And she doesn't know that waiting for years until they are married could make her love him more than she does now.
Clare tears her lips from Eli's and he pulls back to apologize. But he hesitates before speaking and she wonders if he can see the lust in her eyes.
"I want to touch you," she whispers in a voice she doesn't even recognize and before she can lose her nerve she slides beneath the waistbands of his pants and boxers and takes him into her hand.
"Fuck," Eli groans as his rubbery arms give out on him and he buries his face in her neck.
She's tentative, barely stroking as she feels out his anatomy, learning the ridges and veins she is too shy to attempt to see. She can't believe how something so hard can feel so soft in her hands and how Eli's whole body responds to her light touch. His hips move once again and so does her hand and she lets out a moan at how intense the situation is though Eli is too enraptured to do more than grip her waist. His hot, panting breath is hitting her neck and she feels like he is a fire that's consuming her.
Clare's grip tightens and Eli releases, leaving her with a sticky hand and nothing to distract her from her nerves. She lays underneath him, wide-eyed but content until he says, "I can't believe you did that."
He is astonished, not displeased, but it reminds Clare of the doubts in her mind and the ring on her finger, and she slides out from underneath him. "I…um…" she says, her voice unsteady and she gestures at her hand before retreating to the kitchen sink.
She lets the water flow over her hands much longer than is expressly needed, unsure of what to do when she returns to Eli. She doesn't regret the act itself but she worries about her boldness and the fact that she doesn't know what this means for them. She rehooks her bra and straightens her clothes before returning.
Clare has just one moment to analyze the small smile on Eli's face as he sits waiting for her with an arm outstretched across the back of the couch, when Jake tumbles through the front door, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the stairs. Clare gasps audibly and Eli shoots to his feet, and Clare nearly sends a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn't returned just a few minutes earlier before realizing just how blasphemous it is it to pray about such a lascivious act.
"Eeeli," Jake slurs. He drags himself to his feet and takes the seat that is clearly meant for Clare. "I'm glad you're here, man." He pulls the smaller boy into a hug and Eli shoots Clare a look of horror over his shoulder.
"You're drunk," Clare accuses. She doesn't have much experience with alcohol but she can smell Jake from across the room.
"I ran out of weed," Jake whines. He lets Eli go. "And I am heartbroken."
"Sorry to hear it," Eli says. He looks like he'd like to be anywhere else, but Clare feels grateful for the distraction.
"Did you drive like this?" Clare asks accusingly, and Jake shakes his head.
"I left the truck at the bar."
"How exactly did you get into a bar?" she asks. She knows with his height Jake could easily pass for nineteen but he's never come home wasted before.
Jake ignores her question. "Women are bitches, Eli. You let yourself fall in love with them and they just break your heart." Jake covers his face with his hands but not before Clare sees that there are tears on his cheeks.
She also notices the glance that Eli gives her, as if he's double checking that Clare isn't upset by Jake's words. She resists the urge to roll her eyes; she might have been the last girl who'd broken up with Jake before Katie but it certainly hadn't broken his heart and neither of them had been in love with the other no matter how much she had wanted it to be true at the time.
"Not all women are bitches," Eli says carefully, his eyes not leaving Clare's. "Some are pretty amazing."
Clare looks away, unable to handle the subtext of his statement after what has just happened. "Can you help me get him upstairs? Mom and Glen are going to come home eventually and I don't want them to find him like this."
"Are you okay?" Eli mouths as the two of them struggle to get Jake to his feet between them.
She gives him a small smile to reassure him but she's glad the conversation is over.
Friday
Eli hopes that when he invites Clare out to a bookstore the night after their amazing night on the couch that things won't be awkward between them, but he is wrong. Clare is reticently quiet, and though she makes her usual beeline for the young adult fiction section, she immediately picks a book off the shelf and buries her head in it, rather than browsing, checking up on what Eli's looking at, and responding to his jokes about her vampire fetish.
For his part, he's keeping his distance too, hovering in the graphic novel section so he can sneak glances at her. He had to beg her to come out in the first place and she only agreed once he suggested they fill out job applications there. But the bookseller informs him there aren't any openings, and Clare won't meet his eyes, and Eli's feeling completely defeated.
He keeps replaying the events of the previous night, looking for signs that he had screwed up but he can't find any. Sure, he unhooked her bra without asking for verbal permission but he hadn't even touched her until she begged him. And he was the one who suggested that they stop and she was the one who had reached into his pants and jerked him off in the most delicate way possible.
He can't even think about it without wanting to pull her behind a stack of dusty books and ravage her, and he wonders if that might be the problem. If Clare is worried that now that they've taken that step, he won't be satisfied with less.
Or maybe she's worried that she's the one who wants more.
He's got the new China Mieville book in his hands and he knows he should save the money and go home empty-handed, but he can't remember the last time he left a bookstore without buying something. At the rate they are going, he and Clare will have to start having all their dates at the library, since they can't spend any money and Clare will probably never let them be alone in private again.
But when he glances back over at her, she's looking back at him and she doesn't shake his gaze. He knows this is the one opportunity he'll get to fix this and he cautiously approaches her and holds out his hand. When she takes it, he lets out a sigh of relief.
He brings her to the back of the store, to the used book section with the musty smell. There's a spot in the poetry section that is out of most sightlines and Eli recalls the tentative, exploring kisses they shared in this spot, more than a year earlier, when they were still figuring out their newfound relationship. Clare tenses and Eli wonders if she has the same memory and if she thinks he's brought her here for the same purpose. He takes a step back from her though he links both of their hands together.
"Clare, I'm sorry about last night," he begins, and when her eyes widen in horror, he backpedals. "I mean, I'm not sorry, because it was amazing, but I'm sorry if I did anything to make you feel uncomfortable."
"You didn't," she says, closing her eyes, but he barrels on.
"I just want you to know that it's okay if you don't want to do anything like that again because you're not ready or you didn't like it or whatever reason. It's fine with me."
"Eli…"
"Because I love you," he says decisively. "I loved you before last night, and I'll love you tomorrow and the next day and every day until you are completely ready to sleep with me and every single day after that. I swear."
Clare's bemused smile gives him only the slightest bit of reassurance that he's on the right track. "How are you so confident that I'm going to be ready?"
He steps closer and looks her directly in the eye. "Because my timeline is long enough that it would be nearly impossible for you not to be."
She holds his gaze. "I'm sorry I'm being so weird about all of this."
"It's okay, Clare."
"I liked it," she whispers shyly. "I just feel a little guilty for liking it."
"Why would you feel guilty?" he asks, brushing a curl behind her ear.
She looks down. "Years of lectures about how sex is a sin."
Eli realizes that he thought he had understood her beliefs. But if Clare equates a one-minute, under the pants cock rub with sex, the snail-like pace of their physical relationship suddenly makes a lot of sense. He'd gotten the impression that her parents' divorce had made her not care about the strict rules of her religion, but apparently that isn't quite the case.
"Do you feel what we did was sinful?" he asks, attempting to make sense of feelings he could never personally have.
Her response is immediate. "It felt more like love than sex."
He can't help but be skeptical. "You may feel differently when you're the one who's getting off."
She flinches but holds his gaze. "I don't think I will."
Eli feels like she's knocked the wind of out him. He wants to whirl her around and push her up against the bookshelf, but he doesn't want to scare her off. "I wanted to," he admits. "Last night if Jake hadn't come home I would have begged you to let me touch you like that."
He's shocked when she wraps her arms around his shoulders and stands on her tiptoes. "I think that can be arranged."
"We can go back to my house right now," he offers and she laughs. "You could spend the night. I won't want to let you go anyway."
She shakes her head. "My mom knows I'm out with you. I'd need an alibi."
"Tomorrow night? Tell her you've been spending so much time with me that you need some Alli-Jenna time at the Bhandaris."
"I do need some Alli-Jenna time," she muses. "Okay tomorrow." She leans in to peck him on the lips. "But I don't want to get your hopes up. I'm not ready to take the last step."
"We will do exactly what you want to do, and only that," Eli promises.
"Even if I just want to fall asleep in your arms?"
"Especially that," he says, leaning down for a kiss.
