After the Storm
Chapter 10
Drunk Girls
Here's to the amazing and tragically disbanded group LCD Soundsystem. Do yourself a favor and listen to "Drunk Girls" or "Daft Punk is Playing at My House." Funky dance punk doesn't get any better than that.
I do not own Degrassi or any the characters associated with it. I also do not own the incredibly intense and chillingly disturbing movies Fatal Attraction, The Black Swan, and Hellraiser (sounds like an awesome line-up for a movie night. Who's bringing the popcorn?). ; )
Thanks for all the support!
"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Clare asked nervously, chewing on her thumb nail and marring the black nail polish that CeCe had so carefully applied. She cautiously glanced out of the window of Adam's car, scanning the parking lot for hidden authority figures. Oh Lord! What was she doing?
In a moment of weakness or, perhaps more fittingly, a moment of studpidity, Clare had decided to break out of her comfort zone and take Eli up on his offer. Truth be told, Clare's anxiety was getting the best of her, and she was desperately hoping that a small sip or two of whatever it was that Eli had hidden the plain, brown, paper bag he was holding would help her calm down enough to enjoy the night. Adam assured her that it would. In fact, he and Eli had solemnly promised that they wouldn't let anything get out of hand. They would watch out for her and make sure that she was all right. She would be totally safe in their hands. And, after all, it was supposed to be a night of teenage rebellion. And she was a teenager. And, heck, Jake did this kind of stuff all the time. And she wouldn't have too much – just a tiny, little bit. And, oh God, was that an undercover police officer?
"Hey, you were the one who wanted to take this rebellion in an illegal direction," Eli teased wickedly, trying to unscrew the cap on the bottle of rum he had just purchased at the inappropriately titled but wonderfully convenient One for the Road Liquor Mart and Smoke Shop moments ago.
"Maybe it's not such a good idea, after all," Clare said worriedly, her voice high and strained. "I mean, if we get caught, it could go on my permanent record, right?" She frowned nervously. "I don't want to screw up my chances of getting into a good college." She gave a strangled squeak and awkwardly ducked down in her seat as the headlights of a passing car shone through the window.
The car passed by without stopping, looking for an empty parking space.
"Relax, Clare," Adam chuckled from the front seat. "I don't think they will throw the book at you for sneaking a rum and Coke before a rock concert." He put a calming hand on Clare's shoulder, "Now drink your pop," he said gesturing to Clare's fast food cup of soda. "You need to make some space for the rum."
Clare bit her lip anxiously but complied, rapidly sucking the soda through her straw and wincing at the onset of the subsequent brain freeze. Grimacing, she handed the soda cup to Eli.
"Not too much," she warned apprehensively.
"Clare, I've got this," Eli soothed, tipping the amber liquid into the plastic cup. "I'm just going to give you enough for a nice buzz. I don't want you so out of it that you miss the show or, God forbid, make me miss the show." He turned to her smirking. "Seriously, Edwards, if you start puking in the middle of their set, you're on your own. I've been waiting for months to see this concert." Using her straw, he mixed the drink, replaced the cap, and handed it to Clare.
"Here's to youthful rebellion!" Eli brandished the bottle of rum, clicking it against Clare's cup before taking a swig and passing it to Adam.
"Hey," Clare reprimanded, her voice tight in concern. "You're not supposed to drink on your meds."
Eli rolled his eyes. "Clare, I know. One sip won't kill me," he smirked.
Adam took a swig and handed the bottle back to Eli.
"Or two," Eli grinned sneakily, taking another gulp. He swallowed and vigorously shook his head back and forth before passing the bottle back to Adam.
"Ah! Much better," Eli gasped, his voice raspy from the biting liquid. Turning to Clare, he gave her an appraising look. "Drink up, you teenage miscreant. Doors open soon, and I want to get a place by the stage."
Clare tentatively took a sip of her drink, wincing slightly at the unfamiliar taste. All in all, it wasn't too bad. It tasted kind of like a spicy version of coke. It was almost soothing in a strangely astringent, throat-burning sort of way. She took another drink and smiled.
"Not bad," she said, beaming at Eli and taking a third drink—this one significantly larger.
"Uh oh," Eli said sarcastically. He turned to Adam, "We may have created a monster here, Torres." He grinned, "I can see it now. " Gesturing dramatically with his hands, he mimicked the tone of a cheesy, voice-over announcer. "Overcome with the addicting rush of teenage rebellion, Clare Edwards renounces her role as the good, Christian, honor-roll student and descends into a life of debauchery and depravity - trading in her pocket protector for a hip flask and her mechanical pencil for a bong."
"Shut up," Clare smiled, already starting to feel a comfortable warmth spreading through her limbs. "I don't even own a pocket protector."
Adam took another swig from the bottle and slapped his free hand on the steering wheel excitedly. "Dude! Can I tell you how psyched I am to see this band? I heard that their live shows are incredible! It's going to be epic!" He head-banged for emphasis and pretended to play the bottle of rum like an electric guitar.
Clare giggled and took another big sip of her drink. "You're so funny, Adam," she drawled, chewing on her straw.
"Ah ha," Eli smirked. "I do believe the effects of the alcohol are staring to set in. She thinks you're funny, Adam. Clearly she is drunk."
Adam grinned and took another drink, good-naturedly flipping Eli off at the same time.
"Ooohh … burn!" Clare giggled, her eyes dancing as she gazed fondly at the two boys. She smiled and took another gulp – amazed to find her worry and apprehension slowly ebbing away with each subsequent sip.
Eli grinned indulgently at her. "All right, you lush, finish up." He rifled in the paper bag from the liquor store and pulled out two airline size bottles of alcohol. "For the club," he explained to Clare, shoving them in his socks. "I can't really be buying you drinks inside – especially not with Bullfrog in attendance." He winked at Clare and continued, "When you feel your buzz wearing off, just let me know."
"You're so sneaky, Eli," Clare smiled fuzzily. "Seriously, you should teach classes on sneakiness or something." She paused, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she contemplated the possibilities of her suggestion. Eli as a teacher…all dressed up in a suit and tie…hmm…Mr. Goldsworthy…
"And…. you're good," Eli said, grabbing Clare's cup from her and staring to exit the car.
"Hey!" Clare protested, ineffectively trying to grab her cup back. "That's not nice, Eli." She tried her best to glare at him, but her face wouldn't cooperate. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's not polite to take a drink from a lady?" she pouted.
"Yep," Eli replied cheekily. "Let me know if you see a lady, and I'll be on my best behavior." He winked at Clare, jumped out of the car, and closed the door behind him.
Clare cocked her head and looked searchingly at Adam. "I think he was trying to insult me," she said indignantly.
Adam laughed and took a final swig from the bottle. "I don't think there was any trying involved." He grabbed his jacket from the backseat. "Come on, my lovely dipsomaniac; let's get this freaking show on the freaking road."
The club was humming with activity. Music blared from the immensely tall speakers jutting out majestically from the stage – the bass thumping in a strangely compelling rhythm. It was as if the club, itself, was a living, breathing entity with its own steady, pulsing heartbeat. Bodies moved rhythmically in a fluidly erotic dance, as red and gold lights flashed in the dimly lit room, casting an eerily macabre glow over the assorted throng.
"It kinda looks like hell," Clare observed, throwing out her arms in an all-encompassing gesture and spinning gleefully. "My mother would totally freak."
Eli grinned. "Good thing we didn't invite Helen, then," he replied glibly. Putting a hand on the small of Clare's back, he directed her out onto the floor and positioned her near the stage.
"Awesome!" Adam cried, shouting to be heard over the music. "I can't believe we got such a prime piece of real estate."
Clare looked at him confusedly. Why was he going on about real estate?
"Although, if moshing starts," Adam continued warningly, "there's no route of escape for Clare."
Clare smiled and swayed gently back and forth in time with the music. "Don't worry about me, Adam!" she shouted. "I can mosh with the best of them!" She looked at Eli and whispered loudly, "What exactly is moshing?"
The two boys laughed, and Eli, emboldened by the alcohol and the atmosphere, threw is arm around Clare. "Don't worry, Clare," he whispered in her ear causing her to shiver. "I'll take care of you."
Uncomfortable in the role of third-wheel, especially post horribly dramatic break-up, Adam cleared his throat loudly and pointed to the entrance to the club. "Is that Fiona and Imogen?"
Eli and Clare turned towards the front of the club where Fiona and Imogen were indeed making their way through the crowds of people.
Sighing, Eli reluctantly withdrew his arm from Clare. "I'll go tell them where we are," he offered. "I want to go get a coke and doctor it up for Clare before the show starts." He looked at her pointedly. "Just in case that buzz starts to wear off," he said with a knowing wink.
Clare and Adam watched as Eli deftly wound his way through the swarm of people. He paused to talk with Fiona and Imogen, gesturing to the front of the stage where Adam and Clare stood. After a brief conversation, Imogen turned and started making her way towards the stage, while Fiona left, heading to the bar with Eli.
Imogen approached them, decked out in what could only be described as a completely Imogenesque fashion choice. She was wearing a black and pink leotard with some smiling cartoon character emblazoned on her chest. A black tutu, pink tights, and combat boots completed the look. Her hair was arranged in a multitude of knobs springing out from her head and giving the impression that she was suffering from some bizarre scalp disorder. Clare blinked rapidly, wondering if the strange lighting was playing tricks on her. She hadn't had that much to drink, had she?
Imogen walked up to Adam and held out her hand.
"Adam Torres. How nice to see you again. It's been far too long."
Adam gave her a tentative smile and gamely shook her hand.
"Yeah..um…Imogen. Uh … good to see you too."
Imogen dropped Adam's hand and turned to Clare, appraising her critically.
"Hello, Clare Edwards," Imogen greeted. She smiled at Clare coolly, slowly taking in Clare's new look. Leaning forward, Imogen lowered her voice conspiratorially, "Nice disguise."
"Uh.. it's not a disguise, Imogen," Clare replied perplexed. Holy crap, maybe she had had too much to drink. First all the talk about real estate and now Imogen was going on about disguises. What was going on here? Clare blinked a couple of times and shook her head to try to clear the haze.
"Of course it's not," Imogen said meaningfully. She winked knowingly at Clare and, without another word, pivoted on her heel and sauntered back off into the crowd like some deranged prima ballerina – a cross between Natalie Portman in The Black Swan and Pinhead from Hellraiser.
"That chick is certifiably crazy," Adam commented, watching Imogen's retreating figure.
"Shh, Adam! She'll hear you!" Clare cried loudly - her reprimand blatantly ironic since her ability to modulate her own volume had disappeared long ago.
"Good point," Adam replied, lowering his voice. "Best not to insult the unstable. I wouldn't want to come home and find my bunny cooking on the stove."
"Oooh! You have a bunny?" Fiona questioned excitedly, coming in on the tail-end of the conversation, a glass of sparkling water in her hand. "I simply adore bunnies!"
Adam smiled tolerantly at Fiona's lack of cinematic aptitude. "Uh… actually, I was referring to a metaphorical bunny, Fiona." He cleared his throat officially before launching into yet another of his classic film analogies. "In this scenario, the bunny stands for my innocence – my good intentions -my stability. You know, like in the movie Fatal Attraction when Michael Douglas comes home to find his daughter's bunny cooking in a pot. Not only is it an act of shocking brutality, but it is also a chilling reminder that Douglas' character has forfeited his innocence with his decision to cheat on his wife."
Unimpressed, Fiona shook her head in impatience and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I stopped listening at 'metaphorical'." Turning, she grabbed Clare's hand eagerly. "You look absolutely amazing, Clare."
Clare giggled. "Thanks, Fiona. You look pretty darn amazing, yourself." She narrowed her gaze and blatantly appraised Fiona. "Your eyes look really red with these lights—like you're possessed or something. You're not, are you?" she teased, her laugh turning into a loud hiccup.
Fiona grinned wickedly, taking in Clare's relaxed demeanor and slightly slurred speech. "I can already tell that this is going to be a fun night!" she commented shrewdly, arching one impeccably groomed eyebrow in significance.
"It certainly is," Eli chimed in, handing a drink to Clare and putting his arm around her possessively.
At his territorial gesture, Fiona rolled her eyes and harrumphed in exasperation. "Seriously, Eli?"
Eli simply grinned in response and tightened his hold on Clare. "Seriously, Fiona."
All of a sudden, the house lights flickered. All eyes turned towards the stage where the techs performing the sound check were finishing up and taking their exit.
"It's going to start! It's going to start!" Imogen sing-songed, appearing out of nowhere and grabbing Fiona and Adam by the arms. She excitedly jumped up and down between them, her combat boots hitting the floor noisily with her strangely manic pirouettes.
Clare felt the press of bodies behind her as the crowd tried to rush the stage. She stumbled a little, as she was jostled forward in the frantic surge. Eli steadied her, gently maneuvering her in front of him so that he could block the push of the crowd with his own body.
Even in the lovely, warm haze that she was in, Clare couldn't help but be aware of Eli's chest against her back, his hand loosely resting on her hip. Surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly considering how much rum she had consumed, she didn't feel panicked at all by his proximity – by his touch. In fact, if she were being honest, it felt nice – comfortable - completely natural. She noticed Adam looking at her worriedly and smiled at him, trying to assuage his concern. He just rolled his eyes and shook his head in response.
With a loud popping noise, the lights flickered off completely, shrouding the club in darkness. People started screaming and clapping their hands in a wild ovation. Deciding that she should join in, Clare clapped her own hands together, laughing at the exhilarating sensation of being in the dark with hundreds of other people – feeling the sound and press of the crowd without being able to see anything. It was surreal, almost primal – this darkness – this raw, human energy.
A drum beat sounded in the black murkiness of the auditorium – some pounding, tribal beat. The crowd around Clare surged in response, yelling and screaming madly. A guitar joined the drumming – angry, strident chords that caused Clare to put her hands to her ears in shock, spilling a little of her drink in the process.
Eli laughed and carefully pulled her hands back down to her waist. "I have ear plugs in my pocket, if you need them," he said, his breath hot against her neck.
Clare turned her face slightly, smiled, and shook her head. She wanted to experience this concert fully. If that meant permanent hearing damage – so be it.
The lights flashed, and the lead singer took the stage, decked out in silver piercings and tattoos like some tribal prince from a far off land. Leeringly, he looked out over the pulsating crowd before raising the microphone to his lips and uninhibitedly screaming into it.
The crowd screamed back in ecstasy, and Clare threw her head back and laughed in elation. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so alive. Every nerve ending in her body was throbbing acutely - buzzing with the rhythm of the music – vibrating with the pulse of the crowd.
As Vitriolic Youth launched into one of their more well-known hits, Clare's hips started moving of their own accord. She didn't know if it was due to the alcohol or the music, but her body felt light, fluid - almost insubstantial. It was as if the being known as Clare Edwards had abandoned her corporeal body and had melded into this immense, pulsing, mass of heated energy.
Distantly, as if in a dream, Clare felt Eli's hands snake around her hips. She turned her face, just to check that he was, in fact, real – not trusting her senses in this hazy, throbbing, moment in time.
Eli smirked down at her, his eyes alight.
"Having fun," he hissed into her ear, his lips barely grazing her earlobe.
She grinned lazily and nodded, grasping one of his hands where it rested on her hip and giving it a squeeze before turning back to the band and letting go.
She was fucking killing him. Ever since she had walked out into his living room all decked out in that short, little skirt and that ... um… form fitting top, Eli had had to consciously restrain himself. He had to keep reminding himself not to stare – not to touch – not to say anything that would get him in trouble or break the tentative bond of friendship that they had forged. It was incredibly hard – in more ways than one.
And now here she was, dreamily dancing in front of him, her body moving languidly to the pounding beat. Hell, it totally figured. Eli had been waiting for months to see Vitriolic Youth live and now here they were, playing just a few feet away from him, and, like some love sick idiot, he couldn't take his eyes off of Clare.
He breathed in and tightened his grasp on her hips. God, he just wanted to pull her back towards him – feel the length of her body on his – put his face in the crook of her neck and smell her perfume. "Shit, Eli," he mentally chastised himself. "Stop being such a creep. She's your ex-girlfriend, for Christ's sake."
Fiona looked over at him and smirked slyly, noticing the position of Eli's hands. She nudged Adam, who looked over at Eli, frowning slightly.
As the band launched into another one of their brutally hard-hitting songs, Adam bent down and whispered something in Fiona's ear. She nodded in comprehension and danced towards Eli, smiling at him craftily before turning her attention to Clare.
Putting one beautifully manicured hand on Clare's shoulder, Fiona carefully took Clare's drink from her and passed it to Adam. Then, grabbing Clare's hand, she pulled the younger girl towards her and started dancing.
Clare smiled a lazy smile and gamely began moving in time with Fiona, her free hand boldly coming to rest on the inside corner of Fiona's shoulder, her thumb idly tracing the outline of Fiona's collarbone.
Initially ticked off at Fiona's usurpation of Clare, Eli couldn't help but be mollified when he looked over and caught the incredibly erotic sight of Clare and Fiona dancing together. In the sea of people, the two girls were only centimeters apart, their bodies moving in tandem. Clare's eyes were half-closed, her mouth turned up in a hazy smile as she gave herself over to the music.
Fiona was gazing steadily at Clare, her blue eyes alight and flashing. She released Clare's hand, and let her own hand fall to the side of Clare's ribcage, slowly slipping it down to rest on Clare's hipbone, pulling the tipsy girl further towards her in a fluidly rhythmic move.
Adam moved over to Eli, grinning as he watched the two girls dance. He turned to Eli and shouted, "God bless Captain Morgan!"
"A- fucking- men!" Eli shouted back, acknowledging the fact that, unlike Fiona, a sober Clare would have never dropped her inhibitions enough to suggestively dance with another girl in a public setting. He looked to the stage where Vitriolic Youth was going all out and then back to the dancing girls. "Best night ever, man!" he shouted to Adam, beaming in elation. "Best fucking night ever!"
"Oh my God!" Clare cried, throwing herself on Eli's living room couch. "That was the absolute best night of my entire life!" Clare was drunk, but, in this case, she wasn't exaggerating. The night had been amazing – the music incredible. She had danced and laughed and yelled and cheered the entire time. At one point, half-way through the concert, a couple of guys in the front row had picked her up and hoisted her towards the stage where the lead singer of Vitriolic Youth had grabbed her hand and proceeded to sing directly to her. For a naturally confirmed wallflower such as Clare Edwards, it had been a truly mind blowing experience.
And, after the show, they had been able to go backstage with Bullfrog and meet the band. Clare had tried to keep it together as much as she possibly could so as not to alert Bullfrog to her drunken state. However, she was pretty sure that Bullfrog had been clued in to her inebriation after her fawningly sloppy speech to Vitriolic Youth's bassist about how the band had completely changed her life with their amazing musicianship and their "super hot" looks. "Super hot - like molten lava hot," Clare had gushed.
But, in the end, it didn't really matter to Clare if Bullfrog knew about her underage drinking or not. Thanks to rum she had imbibed, Clare was currently in rapturous love with the entire world. She had even gone so far as to tenderly embrace Imogen at the end of the night, fondly patting the knobs on Imogen's head and declaring her undying affection and admiration to the startled girl. In fact Eli and Adam had had to literally peel Clare away from Fiona and Imogen when it was time to leave, as the thought of parting from her "two beloved girlfriends" was horribly upsetting to Clare.
Adam, having sobered up long before the end of the concert, had rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation at Clare's behavior. However, Eli had smiled indulgently – loving the incredibly rare sight of Clare Edwards finally letting go.
He looked at her now, sprawled out on his couch, her skirt riding even farther up her thigh and smirked.
"I'm glad you had a good time."
"Oh, Eli," Clare drawled, still nursing a lovely, warm buzz. "I had a good time at the journalism conference I attended last month. I had a good time playing Old Testament Bingo at Church camp." She sat up and looked at him pointedly. "Good time doesn't even begin to describe what I had tonight. Tonight was," she frowned, wracking her fuzzy brain for an appropriate adjective, "fucking brilliant!"
"Why, Clare Edwards," Eli teased in mock horror. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
Clare giggled. "I do lots of things with my mouth that my mother doesn't know about," she quipped. "Oh, that sounded dirtier than I thought it would," she hastened to add with a laugh.
Eli felt his face flush, and he swallowed nervously. "Wow! Drunk Clare is quite a … uh...surprise?"
Clare frowned. "Am I acting like an idiot?" she asked concernedly. She grimaced remorsefully. "I don't mean to. I think Adam was getting a little tired of me there at the end. He kept sighing and rolling his eyes at me." She looked at Eli apologetically and waved her hand towards the doorway. "Feel free to leave me here and go to bed, if you want."
Eli smiled and grabbed Clare's feet, lifting them off the couch and freeing up a place for him to sit. "Clare, you are not being an idiot. You are wonderful - always – drunk or not," Eli assured her, settling her legs back on his lap, his fingers running over the pattern of her knee socks of their own volition.
Clare smiled in return. "You are so sweet, Eli – so, so, sweet." Her voice trailed off sleepily. She looked at him thoughtfully, her gaze hazy and intense. "Thank you for this," she said, gesturing grandly with her hands. "You know, I was kinda scared to go to the concert – to break out of my safe, little, 'Clare' box; but it turned out to be the most amazing experience of my life." She smirked knowingly at Eli. "You are always so good at getting me to take risks, Eli - just like Mrs. Dawes said when she made us English partners last year – just like when you made me write that letter to my parents or when you made me scream in public."
Eli sighed self-deprecatingly. "Yep, that's me. If you want to add a little risky behavior to your life, just call Eli Goldsworthy. He's as unpredictable as a car wreck."
Clare laughed good-naturedly, unable to comprehend the deeper meaning of Eli's remark in her altered state. "I'm so glad we're friends again," she said her voice suddenly thickly earnest. "I missed hanging out with you, you know."
Eli flushed. The conversation was getting a little intense, and the fact that his hands were currently caressing Clare's legs didn't help matters. "I… uh… missed hanging out with you too," he stuttered, smoothing one hand up towards the rim of Clare's sock, lightly grazing the skin of her knee. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the contact.
Unaware, Clare continued. "We were such good friends, Eli – like best friends forever! Only," she furrowed her brow sadly, "forever wasn't as long as I thought it would be."
"It never is," Eli said sincerely, throwing caution to the wind and boldly running his hand up and over Clare's knee. He knew he should stop. Clare was drunk; she was vulnerable. He should say good night and go back to his room. Now, if he could just make his body move…
"Oh, Eli," Clare cried, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. "What a stupid thing for me to say. I'm so sorry," she said, slurring her words into each other in her anguish.
Perplexed, Eli leaned over towards Clare, touching her face in concern. "Clare, what are you sorry for? Why are you crying?"
Clare gave him a watery smile. "You probably thought you had Julia forever," she breathed apologetically. "And now she's gone, and I just go and make it worse by stupidly talking about forever and how it doesn't last." She paused and gazed at Eli mournfully. "I'm so, so sorry, Eli," she said, her eyes shining. "I want you to know," she continued, her voice thick with drunken emotion, "if I could fix that for you – if I could go back in time and prevent Julia from dying – I would. I would do it in a heartbeat, Eli. Because you're my friend, Eli - because I care about you - so much."
Eli, who had been far too preoccupied with the feel of Clare's skin to have even been thinking about Julia during their conversation, inhaled in surprise. "Clare, I..." he faltered. He looked at her, her blue eyes alight with emotion, her mouth drawn-up in a tearfully sincere smile. It was too much. She was too much.
Not pausing to think it through, he tightened his grip on Clare's face, wrapping his fingers around the back of her head and drawing her face to him. He watched Clare's eyes briefly widen in surprise at his gesture, but then he felt her soft mouth on his and lost all rational thought.
Oh God! Eli felt the heat envelope him instantaneously – a surging, pulsing heat that spread over his chest and diffused searingly up his neck and face. He was drowning in the heat, suffocating in it, and he didn't fucking care. All he could feel was the smooth texture of Clare's lips on his lips, the hot press of Clare's hands on his back.
Moving solely on instinct, Eli pushed Clare further back against the couch pillows, pressing himself into her heavily. He could feel the outline of her body against his, the sharp corner of her hipbone, the delicate ridge of her ribcage, the softness of her chest. Tearing his mouth away from hers, he buried his face in the juncture of her shoulder and neck, pushing away her hair and inhaling her scent voraciously.
Unable to fully comprehend the rapid shift in emotion, Clare let herself be pulled into the intensity of the moment. She smiled a soft, lazy smile and wound her fingers through Eli's hair, drawing him closer to her.
Eli groaned and began kissing her neck, opening his mouth and daring to taste her skin. Shit, he missed this! He missed her! It had been so long – so goddamned long.
Clare's breath hitched in response to Eli's open-mouthed kisses, and her hands fell from Eli's hair and skimmed down his shoulders. She smoothed her palms across the wide expanse of his back and brought them to rest in the curve of his lower back, her finger nails scraping across the fabric of his t-shirt – setting his skin on fire.
"Clare," Eli breathed. He kissed her mouth again, sucking in her bottom lip, allowing his teeth to graze across it.
He felt Clare arch up into his embrace and couldn't help himself from moving against her – roughly grabbing her upper thigh and pushing himself into her. This was wrong – so wrong; but it felt so right.
He traced the line of her jaw with his mouth and then kissed down her neck to her collarbone, impatiently pushing the tiger's head charm out of the way with his tongue. God, he was drunk with her - intoxicated by her scent, her touch, the taste of her skin. Who needed alcohol when he had Clare Edwards? She was so beautiful – so willing—so uninhibited.
Shit!
Eli's rational brain kicked in suddenly. He paused, raising his face from the neckline of Clare's shirt to look at her.
She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling heavily. Her eyes were half-lidded, her gaze hazy. A pink flush covered her cheeks and bled down to her neck and chest. She looked at Eli confusedly.
"Is there something wrong?" she rasped, her voice husky with blatant desire.
Oh God! Eli inhaled sharply and sat up. He violently rubbed his face trying desperately to regain control of his body. "Yeah, Clare. There… uh… is something wrong," he choked out. He closed his eyes and groaned in frustration. "We shouldn't be doing this. You're drunk and ….um… still high on the whole teenage rebellion thing. You're not thinking straight. I shouldn't be taking advantage of you. It's not right."
"Fuck that!" his body screamed at him. It was right! They were right!
Too buzzed to take Eli's truncated advances personally, Clare smiled at him endearingly and reached out to grab his shaking hand. "Oh, Eli," she said, "you're always looking out for me. What would I ever do without you? You're such a good friend to me."
Eli winced in response to the dreaded f-word and shook his head at the irony of Clare's words. "In that case, maybe you should raise your standards on what makes a good friend, Clare," Eli remarked disparagingly.
With a massive marshaling of will, Eli detangled himself from Clare's legs and stood up. "I should…um… go," he said suddenly embarrassed and ashamed. God, what the fuck was he thinking? He had totally taken advantage of Clare. And, unlike Clare, he couldn't even blame alcohol. He was so fucking messed up.
"OK," Clare agreed, blissfully unaware of any awkwardness or tension.
Eli walked to the doorway of the living room. "Um… good night, Clare. I'll…uh…see you in the morning."
"Good night, Eli," Clare said, sitting up and waving at him from the couch. She smiled prettily. "Thanks for everything! It was amazing!"
"Yeah," Eli muttered truthfully, "it was amazing."
With a defeated sigh, he turned and started up the stairs; his body crying out in protest at every step.