DISCLAIMER: don't own Degrassi or The Virgin Suicides, or Sum 41, Handguns, Escape the Fate, Pierce the Veil, Foals or Brand New. But if I owned Sum 41, I'd probably make them sing Fat Lip to me on repeat in my dorm.
Also, author's note?: Thought I would put in the songs I used to inspire this chapter? I guess. This is going to be a chaptered fic, but as a college kid I can't really promise timed updates. I'm going to try my hardest to get a chapter up every 2 weeks or, to be honest, when I get reviews. I'll post the 3rd chapter in about a week's time, or whenever I hit 30 reviews on this fic. I really want to know your feedback on this and it encourages me to write faster. I also thought I'd include a little playlist that inspired me throughout this chapter.
SONGS:
Brain by Banks / Au Revior by The Front Bottoms / Skeleton by The Front Bottoms / Arrows by Fireworks / Song for an Actress by Hoodie Allen / Waiting All Night by Rudimental / Nevermind by Foster the People / Your Flesh Against Mine by Dillion / Dead Oaks by Now, Now / Ways to Phrase a Rejection by Drowners / Habits by Tove Lo / Kill Of The Night by Gin Wigmore
He kind of hates her? It's a weird feeling that bubbles in his chest when he sees her at her locker with a bunch of dudes and like two girls near her. She flips her hair and fuck, he hates that he doesn't even want an apology, but he would forgive her if she just made fucking eye contact with him. His headphones are so loud his ears hurt, but he kind of hopes he'll go deaf and he doesn't know why. Eli Goldsworthy doesn't understand anything, really. This weekend he went down on Clare god damn Edwards and she left him without any goodbye. She also stole all his fucking weed.
He's fucking tired, but he finds he locker. He remembers the beginning of the year when he used to smoke a blunt on the way to school with Adam and forget where the fuck his locker was and the combination, but then Adam's mom kind of found out the two were late to first period almost every day and made his buddy drive with that dickweed Drew. He was dancing with Clare on Saturday, so that's kind of why he's a dickweed, but also because he's a joke and Eli Goldsworthy is kind of programmed to hate him. Just like you're kind of programmed to be afraid or hate things that oppose what you know. Funnily enough, Clare should fall into that category, but every rule has its exception.
Eli should feel startled when a hand lands on his shoulder, but he wants to play it cool in case it's Clare, so he turns around kind of slowly. He's so lucky it's the Torres he knows so well, because that was lame as shit and now Adam's got an eyebrow cocked like, 'What happened?'
"What man?" He's agitated, but it's not the younger kid's fault.
"Touchy, what happened on Saturday? Sorry I bailed, but Drew gave me 50 bucks to cover for him at home, and I really want to save up for that Fireworks vinyl," Adam is waiting for the fuckface to grab his books, leaning against the locker next to him. He's a good friend, and sometimes Eli forgets that.
"Not much, I just puked and shit. I also went down on Clare Edwards and she stole all my weed," his voice is all level and shit so it almost sounds nonchalant.
"Shit. What the fuck, dude? Do you want me to talk to her?" Oh, that's right, Adam knows Clare. Like, knows her, and like, hangs out with her? That's fucking messed up, shit he shouldn't of told him. Or, maybe this is a good thing? They sit down in their desks in the back of class,
"No, fuck, dude. Maybe ask to her to get coffee at The Dot or something and then I'll be there? Fuck, maybe that's lame," he pinches the bridge of his nose, because he's a fucking cliché, one night stand but all the negative connotation is on him. At least Clare Edwards got an orgasm out of it. But, fuck, she tasted good and he can't complain because how many times did he fucking jerk it thinking about her? A lot. Yeah, he's messed up, but no one can judge him harder than himself right now.
He has one headphone in and Adam is still talking and he's pissed, okay? Sum 41 makes him feel even shittier. He looks over to the kid, and he's still talking, coming up with plans far better than the shit that just came out his mouth. Eli pulls out his iPhone and pauses Skumfuck, feeling like scum, fuck.
"Dude, it's whatever, do whatever," this is Eli Goldsworthy giving the fuck up. He knows he's lame as shit, okay, Clare Edwards? Adam looks scheming and this piece of shit should be worried but he has nothing in him right now. Well, he means, if something unfolded and the girl made good of her promise this weekend, he'd have something in him. That was a bad cum joke, man, he's fucking slipping.
So it's lunch and Adam is buying food and telling Eli to get a table outside before any fucking freshman get it, so the shit puts on his scowl and walks outside, trying to scare off any people scouting for picnic tables. Finding one, he slams his bagged lunch down, and takes his pen out from his pocket. He wants to doodle but right when he looks around for Adam, he spots her. Yeah, her. Fucking Clare Edwards is sitting by herself semi adjacent to him, with a pen in her mouth and a psych book in her lap. She moves her legs, god damn it, she's wearing a skirt and her legs are so fucking long. He watches her intently, Clare Edwards pulling the pen from her mouth and … French inhaling? Oh fuck, the girl is smoking hookah and studying outside and he's fucking entranced. He should be angry, but she's so fucking cool it's hard, and no, he's not just talking about his dick.
She looks up, brushing curls from her face, putting her hookah pen back into her mouth, and fuck, Eli's jealous, okay? The girl kind of once offered to put his dick in her hands or in her mouth, and he wants to be that pen. He wants to be the smoke, fuck, that's it. He wants to coexist with her air and then fade away. The scum knows he's pathetic, okay? But, Clare Edwards looks at him, exhaling him, and she smiles. It's a kind of smile, but her features are bright, alluring, so when she waves him over, of course he walks over.
"I have to do a psych evaluation, do you mind?" She offers the seat across from her, and Eli wonders for a minute why the pale angel sits alone. Fuck, he's a shitty human being; he can't even look at her with anything but pure adoration. The girl clearly played a game with him this weekend but he can't stop thinking of her like some sort of high school goddess, the stereotypical girl of his dreams that he would write a beautiful letter for confessing the love he has had for her this whole movie and his entire high school career. He just made a Can't Hardly Wait reference, so deal with it. Clare Edwards is his Amanda Beckett, so he sits down and nods, trying to be cool. "Alright, so, first question, are you a virgin?"
"What is this, some warped 20 questions?" He's on the defensive, because the girl is blunt and blowing o's like this is common conversation.
"Eli, I'm simply doing an evaluation. You should know of all people that Sigmund Freud was obsessed with sex, this is merely the first question he would've asked," she puts the book on the table rather than her lap, and looks him in the eye. He shivers, because fuck, they're blue, and nods.
"Do you agree with everything Freud says?"
"No of course not, but I'd be a horrible student to state otherwise in a paper dedicated to him," she shrugs. "You nodded, is that a 'yes' as in you are a virgin?" She smiles at the blush on this shit's cheeks, and he fucking hates himself.
"Whatever, yeah, next."
"Nothing to be ashamed, you know, I would've been one too," she's fucking smiling all genuine and shit and he doesn't even bother to know what that even means. He's scum, you already know that.
"Yeah, okay. Next."
The girl smiles, hookah pen hitting her teeth in a way that made her seem devious, and after closing her mouth around it and taking a deep breath, all with this shit fucking zeroed in on her mouth, this fucking angel puffs out the smoke in clear O's. "It is my survey, Goldilocks," she does it again, fuck, man she's cool. "I hope you don't mind, I'm stuck in the oral stage of psychosexuality, I always need something in my mouth," Clare laughs, this piece of shit dealing with keeping all his fucking emotions and hormones in check. So, whatever, he's semi hard, but no one can fucking blame him. It's Clare god damn Edwards.
"Uh, yeah, sorry," he chokes out.
"Don't worry that head of yours, pal. But, if you're a virgin, does that mean the first time you've ever eaten pussy is on Saturday?" Clare Edwards smiles, fuck, she's conniving and she fucking knows it, but he can see through the smoke and mirrors, he thinks. He at least hopes.
"Yeah, but, fuck, it's not like it's my first time kissing someone. I fingered Imogen Moreno last semester around the time of the school play, but now she's dating Fiona Coyne," he rambled, that fucker, basically telling the girl of his dreams he turns girls gay on the regular with his horrible sex skills. He looks up at her reaction, she looks up at him and he feels insignificantly smaller. Something about the little Edwards made people feel small, not height wise because the girl was so tiny, but she had an attitude and ambition that could divide and conquer with her lying down.
"If Fiona Coyne is anything like her brother, it's not so much that you were bad at fingering her, but Fiona was just much better," Clare emphasized and rolled her eyes, and fuck, did Declan Coyne touch her? Life isn't fucking fair, he already knows he's out of his league, but knowing past conquests of hers makes him sick. Eli's nothing like Declan Coyne, god damn it.
"Cool," he murmured, feeling small as fuck but for different reasons, also, his dick was still semi hard and he wanted to touch Clare again but the chances of that were slim as fuck. "Do you even have any more questions?"
Clare smiled like she had some sort of huge secret, taking another hit of her hookah pen before switching it off and putting it behind her ear. "Honestly? No, I wanted to hear all about your sexual past. And I also wanted to let you know that Adam invited me over for a movie night and we're watching my favorite movie."
God, god, what the fuck? Was this Clare Edwards inviting him somewhere? Fuck, what the actual fuck. "Uh, The Virgin Suicides?" Adam told him once the Clare could quote that movie all day, and it made him think that this girl was special. Who's favorite movie is The Virgin Suicides?
"You've done some research, I see," she laughed, this curly haired girl who had him fucking seeing stars. God, he can't even reprimand himself for saying the movie out loud because she's laughing and prolonging leaving. All he can think is that maybe tonight she'll reach under some blankets and stroke him or pull him into the bathroom because he's fucked up and horny and pretty much in love with her.
"Yeah," he reaches to itch his neck because he can feel a blush rising and the girl winks. Clare Edwards fucking winks at this shit and he feels bigger, fuck, he feels something and he's like eighty percent sure it's not just his fucking hard on for her.
"See you, Goldy," Clare runs a hand through her curls and presses her book to her chest, standing up and letting her skirt flow down to the tops of her knees again.
"Uh, see you too, Clare!" He calls after her, but he remains seating because he wasn't joking about that boner. Eli's kind of screwed at this point.
It's 9 P.M. and Adam's sitting on the couch watching some weird anime that Eli would usually be into, but instead he just keeps wiping his palms on the couch any time he feels them get somewhat sweaty.
"Dude, relax, she's coming, she's always late," Adam looks bored, but he's intensely watching that fucking anime and Eli knows the kid is bored with him.
"Should I get snacks while she's out?"
"Fucking calm down, Clare brings her own Swedish Fish and wears her fucking pajamas. I know you've got the feelings boner for her but can you calm it down for literally one night? I'm not trying to put too much pressure on you but don't fucking blow this one time of you guys hanging out," Adam rolls his eyes and he's not looking at this shit but he knows that he's busy being nervous and pathetic. Clare Edwards has known Adam since grade 9, when they would meet in group therapy. The two got along so well, despite their differences, but Adam gets Clare, and it's because he knows all these dumb things about her, just like how she knows the dumb things about him. She's never slipped up on pronouns, never brought up Gracie unless he did first. They started having movie nights and at first Clare pretended to be his girlfriend to impress his mom, and that's how Adam knew she was a true friend. He fucking hopes that Eli doesn't get choked up and turns the choice of movie into a fucking sign, but the kid is always over thinking, he has a problem.
So when, 20 minutes later, Clare Edwards strolls in the back door in a hockey jersey and leggings, holding Swedish Fish and sits beside Adam rather than Eli, the kid knows his friend is going to read into this more than he fucking should.
"Clare, you should sit near Eli, he's never had an annoying cretin quote a movie to him," he jokes, bumping her shoulder with his. He's being a friend right now, and Eli is giving him that look of 'I'm such shit, thank you' that he usually gives in situations involving mention of Clare Edwards. Clare narrows her eyes and moves away slowly, sits in the corner of the couch Eli is sitting on and sits just so her feet rest on his lap. She's challenging Adam, who doesn't give, so she moves so it looks like she was using his legs as an anchor to move her closer.
"Cretin me all you want, pup, but I think having a girl whisper quotes in your ear is much sexier than no girl whispering anything to you at all," Clare thinks she's got him a checkmate, so Adam laughs.
"Banter is not your strongest suit doll; you're still not sitting near me," Adam points to where she is sitting, and she pouts.
"Fine, I'll share the fishies with Eli," Clare smiles, devious all of the sudden and Adam resists the urge to groan because Eli looks like he's gone through a wash cycle, bright and new.
He's a piece of shit, but Clare is bumping against him and telling him all of Lux's parts. She bites Swedish Fish and sticks her tongue out at him when it's dyed red. There's a side to Clare Edwards that Eli didn't picture; innocent. Obviously not really, but there's this childish side to her that includes her eating candy and quoting movies, and he always saw her as this two dimensional enigma. The girl is complex, and he's fucking confused. She's touched his forearm like 43 times tonight and her fingers have stung his skin each time he's had to keep count. He wants to know all her secrets, Eli thinks, he wants to unlock her from the cage she keeps herself in at school. That's what that has to be, a cage. She's so genuine with Adam and sweet, it's hard to imagine the two girls are actually one.
It's the end of the movie and somehow he didn't notice the girl he's so obsessed with unlocking crying beside him. She's laughing and smiling but her eyes are red and irritated and teary, man, fucking teary.
"Are you okay?" He whispers, not trying to call attention to the girl's tears.
"Dude, she cries every time we watch this," and if it wasn't for Adam, Eli would've forgotten they were even watching a movie.
"It's nothing, Goldilocks," she sniffles, but the nickname is so funny to Adam he cackles, making Clare laugh. "Honestly, the movie is really good, right?"
"Yeah, really good," and somehow Eli is fucking angry the girl is talking about a movie when she should be talking about the fact that he ate her out and she stole all his weed but she says nothing and he just sits there like an idiot.
"Well… I have weed so what do you say we steal Drew's bong and rip it outside?" She pulls out a familiar, yet dwindling bag of pot and Eli is angry for a minute before understand the power dynamic between the two of them will always be her in charge. Adam's nodding enthusiastically and Eli feels nauseous because he's running upstairs, leaving Eli and Clare alone in his house, on his couch.
"That's my pot," he says, but he doesn't fucking care. God, he just wants to kiss her, or her to kiss him.
"What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine, pal," she laughs, and she fucking makes eye contact with him. Bright, blue, honest eyes and he's fucking okay with surrendering the drugs.
"Fine," he mutters. Eli is not proud of himself, there's really no dignity being lost.
"C'mon, Eli, not even a little banter?" She pouts, moving close to him, and fuck it, he should just kiss her. She's so close to him, her lips look so fucking nice, he hates himself for liking how she smells but he can't help but close his eyes.
"Clare," Eli's voice sounds like he just woke up from hibernation, and he opens his eyes to see the girl he's so fucking infatuated with looking at him, his mouth in particular, like some sort of math problem. God damn it he just wants to kiss her, it's all he can think about with this proximity between the two of them.
"Guys, look what I have!" Adam runs out to the patio and Clare has already moved what feels like millions of feet away from him, hugging the kid and kissing his brother's bong.
"A true hero," she says in a southern drawl, eyes fluttering. The curly haired girl backs away from him, pulling the weed she had once in her pockets out of her bra. When the fuck did she even put it away? None of this makes sense and Eli's head is spinning he just wants Clare so badly at this point, it sucks, straight sucks.
"Yeah, yeah, little Miss, fucking pack," Adam laughs handing her the bong and watching as she moves to sit on the ground. The boys follow, but just as they commit to sitting down, she giggles and falls into Eli's lap.
"I'm not sitting on the ground, it's cold!" She's laughing kind of hysterically but Eli can't think. She's moving against him, subtly, and he wraps his arms so they can graze her legs. He feels gross, taking advantage of her position, but she had to this on fucking purpose. The piece of shit can clearly see Adam's reaction, which is something he can't think about decoding right now. The girl begins to pack the small bowl of the bong and hums something kind of nice.
"What's that?"
"A song," she jokes, ripping and inspecting the leaves to make sure all the stems are nonexistent. " What's everyone's favorite band?" She looks up, curls falling in Eli's mouth, so he has to move his hands from her legs to pull them out.
Adam speaks first, "Handguns? Probably, yeah, Handguns."
So Eli wants to do something cool, like whisper in her ear, but he's a fucking pussy and she's way too cool to be phased by something like that. He ends up putting his chin on her shoulder, an action that she doesn't remove herself from, which makes him smile brightly. Small victory. "I don't know, old Escape the Fate? Or maybe Pierce the Veil."
"Gay," Clare laughs and rests the back of her head on the shit's shoulder for a few moments before leaning back over to finish packing.
"What's your favorite band, then?"
"Foals, maybe, or Brand New. But I listen to a lot, I feel," she shrugs, screwing the small bowl to the bong. "Lighter?"
Eli moves to his pocket instinctually before realizing the girl is sitting on him, he hears her laugh and watches as she raises herself off him momentarily, hand snaking behind her and into his pocket, fishing out the small BIC. She brings the bong to her lips and starts a steady inhale while she lights it, her finger on the choke, and waits until the white, full smoke builds up, letting go of the choke and inhaling as much smoke as she can, as fast as she can. Clare passes it to the younger Torres, turning around in Eli's lap. Hand moving to his chin, the curly haired girl waits until he opens his mouth to exhale the smoke into his mouth. He wants to shake, there's a moment of loss before he exhales it back out because he's completely out of it. That has to be flirting, right? He's not wrong, Eli, for the first time in a long time is completely convinced he's fucking right. A large victory.
So, when it's Eli's turn to take a hit, he does so, but instead of a smooth inhale and exhale, the shit inhales so much that he coughs. Clare laughs, and he feels the impulse to bring his free hand to her ribs to feel what it feels like when she laughs. He stills his hand but he's baked, he feels it within minutes of passing the bong to the small girl on his lap.
"Brand New?"
"Brand New, yeah, what about them?" She smiles at Eli, her eyes glazed and fucking beautiful; something about the red makes the blue pop. But he's baked, so don't take his word on that.
"Eli's just confused that they're your favorite band, is all," Adam chimes in, already preparing the weed for the next bowl, tearing and separating on the plastic bag, motioning with one hand for the girl to kill the bowl. She lights it, a little, but not as much, billows in the neck of the bong and she inhales, holding it in for a minute before passing the pipe to the kid. She grabs his chin and exhales, and Eli feels a sting of jealousy.
"Why would you be confused, Goldy? Haven't you ever heard of The Devil And God Are Raging Inside of Me? More importantly, Deja Entendu?"
"I've heard both, but I didn't think it was your style," he admits, feeling the girl stiffening in his lap.
"That's always the problem," she mutters, and something turns cold in Eli. He fucked up. Adam hits it and passes it to the girl, even though it should Eli's turn. He doesn't put up any fight. So, she's hitting it, and something is changing fast. Adam is too baked to notice, the kid is kind of a lightweight, but when the girl turns around in his lap, ready to exhale, both of the boys can see something different. Devious intentions. Her hand moves to his jaw, blue eyes glistening wildly, hazed but with some sort of glint that Eli doesn't know if it scares him or turns him on. Clare's index finger moves to his lips, and he has every intention of closing his eyes, but the girl moves his lip down, opening his mouth and exhaling. "Adam," she says, not turning around, "Mind if I kill it? It's my weed and Eli has to drive home, right Eli?"
Actually, he was planning on asking Adam if he could stay over, but something is happening and Eli isn't going to question it. "Uh, yeah, I do. Do you need a ride home?"
"Yeah, sure, that's good. Adam, can I sleep over tomorrow night instead?"
Adam, dazed but fucking coherent enough at least grasp the tension between the two of them, nods mutely and eyes Eli. When the curly haired girl turns to Eli, Adam motions that he's watching Eli and protective Adam is not someone the shit wants to mess with.
Clare takes another hit, but leaves the rest for Adam to kill. She crawls off Eli's lap and moves to whisper something in Adam's ear, hugging him and then standing up. The fucker has literally no idea what's going on, so don't ask.
They're parked outside her house, and Clare hasn't said a word or looked at Eli since leaving Adam's. It's not until she clicks her seatbelt off that the turd says something.
"Listen, I'm sorry for saying that I basically assume shit about you," he mutters, it's rushed and fuck, it's pathetic but he means it.
"Don't worry about it, kid, I know you like me too much to mean anything rude," she smiles, and it's the kind that sears into his skin.
"Okay… good," he says, gripping the steering wheel and looking ahead.
"Aren't you going to get out and open the door for me?" The angel bats her eyelashes and places a hand on the shit's arm, heat radiating from her palm and causing him to blush furiously. He's fucking infatuated.
"Uh, yeah, of course. Sorry, spaced out."
Clare Edwards has an agenda, he figures, because when he opens the door for her, she slips out, and slides her hand to his belt, pulling her to him. She smiles, kissing his jaw but keeping his eye contact until she moves up to his ear, sucking the skin behind his ear and letting it pop. "Do you know what they say about assuming, Eli Goldsworthy?" This angel, or maybe devil in disguise, moves her hand from his belt to his crotch, now biting the skin of his neck, without a doubt with the intent to leave a mark. "Something about making an ass out of yourself," she smiles, pulling away, and he's fucking breathless, dazed, and confused. He's high as fuck and he could very well be hallucinating but something about his raging erection tells him otherwise.
"Uh," he starts, but the small, seemingly uninterested girl slams against him, kissing him as hard as she can, sliding her tongue into his mouth with ease and he can't keep up. What the fuck is going on? "God damn it," Eli breathes when she pulls away, "You're driving me crazy, Edwards."
"I should," she smirks. Patting his crotch, she backs away, blowing him a kiss. "Night, Goldilocks."
