Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. My heart and the title of this fic belong to Panic! At The Disco
Author's note: To answer one of your questions... Yes, I DO read all your reviews! It takes me forever to catch up with them, but thank you so much for all your feedback/suggestions/jokes/etc. You're amazing!
Short chapter, but I'm kind of sick... Also, next chapter, I think you might want to prepare for that. :)
"So tell me right now, you think you're ready for it? I wanna know why you've got me going. So let's go, let's take it out of here. I think I'm ready to leap, I'm ready to live, I'm ready to go."
Ready to Go (Get Me Out Of My Mind), Panic! At The Disco
"You look so fantastic," grins Zane, looking tired but excited nonetheless.
"Thanks," I smile shyly. I run my fingers over the black suit jacket I'm wearing, grateful that Drew let me wear my normal black jeans. I don't think I could handle wearing a complete suit, it would suffocate me.
Drew gives me a thumbs-up, and I realize that all of us look exhausted. Having to spend the night at the motel was hell for most of them, and then Johnny had to break several speeding laws on our way here. Drew was very adamant about getting here on time for the damn interview.
I'm tired because of a completely different reason. Talking about Julia's death was draining, but I'm glad I did it, and I'm glad I talked to Clare. She was very understanding about the entire matter, which surprised me, but made me feel relieved too. She didn't run away.
I glance at Clare and she looks beautiful, as always, and the smile she is directing toward me is enough to make me blush slightly. Everything between us is different now, and I think we both know why. Strangely enough, I'm not freaking out.
"Come on, Eli," says Adam, glancing at his watch. I give Clare a last glance and she mouths "good luck" to me, and I smirk confidently at her.
Pfft, interviews. I'm quite decent at them.
The set is surrounded by bright lights, and I scratch my chin as I feel the makeup starting to sting. Apparently, I'm too pale for TV, although I've never considered myself pale at all. Oh, well. A pretty redhead is standing next to the show's producer (I met him earlier... Blue? I think his name is Blue), reading a script.
"Hey!" says Blue cheerfully as he sees us approaching.
The redhead looks up and a tantalizing smile is on her lips. "Well, a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gold," she says, shaking my hand. "I'm Holly J. Sinclair, I'm the one who's interviewing you today. And call me Holly J."
"She's a pro," beams Blue, and I try not to roll my eyes. Ah, so Miss Sinclair is obviously fucking him. Holly J is not my type, but she's beautiful, so I can't really blame the guy.
I mean, I fell for Clare Edwards. It happens.
"Follow me," says Blue as he tries to fix his horrid tie. I step on the set, a fake version of a "cozy" library, and Blue points at one of the chairs, so I sit down.
Holly J sits on the chair across from me, placing the script on her lap as she continues to smile at me. She's making feel uneasy, because her smile is not sincere, it's the smile of someone who knows something they shouldn't.
"There's water here," says Blue, pointing at the bottle. "Anything you need, we'll stop the filming since this is not a live interview, we'll edit, and so on. Are you ready to start?"
I nod as I rub my eyes with my hand, wishing I were somewhere else, not here. Yes, I'm quite decent at interviews, but I still hate them. Because I have to lie, I have to twist the truth, and it gets tiresome after a while.
"5..." starts Blue, and I look directly at Holly J. "4... 3... 2...1..."
"Welcome back to our Arts and Entertainment special, I'm Holly J Sinclair," says Holly J into the camera, all smiles. "We are now sitting with Elliot Gold, best-selling author of the novel Utopia, which has caused quite a stir around the world."
She turns to look at me, and I give her a modest smile. "So, Elliot, how do you feel about the response for your work?" she asks cheerfully.
"It's been a bit overwhelming," I admit. "But I really appreciate that people are taking the time to read my books, it means a lot to me, as a writer."
"You're currently in a multi-city book tour," she continues. "And after you're done with Canada, a world tour is next. Has it been fun?"
Fun. Ha, sure, why not.
"I think interesting is a better word to describe it," I say dryly. "I mean, the readings have been amazing so far, but the traveling part has been ridiculously chaotic. But yeah, I guess I've had fun."
"Who's J?" asks Holly J out of nowhere. Not even a goddamn transition question, wow. People are very ballsy these days.
I raise an eyebrow and I can feel Drew and Adam panicking in the background, but they shouldn't worry. I can handle this. Better than that infamous Q&A, I suppose.
"It's you, Holly J," I retort sarcastically.
Holly J laughs, but it's an eerie laugh, and her mouth is twitching. "Nice save, Mr. Gold," she winks. "But I think that everyone is dying to know who this mysterious person is, because it seems that Utopia is all about her."
"Or him," I say, my smirk becoming very pronounced.
I think Drew just fainted, because I just heard a thud somewhere.
"Yes, what's up with all these gay rumors?" asks Holly J , eager for gossip.
"It's the hair," I say lazily, and I'm just having fun now.
"Well... are you gay?" insists Holly J.
"I don't know, there is only one woman in my crew," I drawl. "Is that a clue, maybe?"
Holly J's eyes widen, and I know she's falling into my little game, which pleases me. "I thought we were here to discuss my books," I chuckle.
"Well, yes, but people are also interested in your personal life," says Holly J briskly. "It's bound to happen when you become a famous author. Do you have anyone to share this triumphant moment with? Someone special?"
"My agent, my publicist, and all the people you see in that corner," I say, pointing at the crew. Drew is nowhere to be seen, but Adam smiles nervously at me. The camera focuses for a bit on them, and I can see Clare trying to hide.
"No, you know what I meant," says Holly J cheekily, and the camera focuses on us again. "Your books are filled with loneliness and darkness, so I wonder if you're actually happy in real life. Are you single? Are you in love?"
It takes every single ounce of willpower in my body not to turn and look at Clare again. Am I single? Well, Holly J, I have nothing official going on with Clare, so I guess so. Am I in love? I'm not sure, but all I know is that every single second I spend with Clare is amazing. So, I really don't know.
"Are you asking me out?" I sneer at Holly J, but she remains composed.
"I'm afraid not," she says curtly. "But, I'll take your evasion of the question as a yes."
"You would be assuming," I point out. "And you would be mistaken."
"Would you rather have me ask you about Terrace, British Columbia?" she asks dangerously, and this is not funny anymore.
"Stop! Stop!" says Blue, waving his arms around and looking upset as Drew trails closely after him. "Holly, what the fuck?"
"It's Holly J," snaps the interviewer, standing up.
"I swear to God, you and Ellie are driving me insane!" groans Blue. "None of those questions were on the script-"
Drew is also yelling but I'm sitting here, my palms sweaty, my heart racing. Ellie... Ellie Nash... fuck, they know each other. What is going on? When did this get out of control?
"I know nothing, Ellie just told me to ask him about Terrace!" barks Holly J as Drew closes a hand on her wrist. "Let go of me, you asshole!"
"Come on, Eli," says a deep voice and I look up. Johnny is grimacing at me, and I follow him, grateful that I don't have to stay and witness this mess. I don't pay attention to my surroundings, I just know that we're walking... walking...
No big deal, my past is out there now and soon, everything will be destroyed. It was fun while it lasted, I guess. Pretending to be someone I'm not.
I blink and I realize that we're in a cab on our way back to the hotel. Johnny is sitting next to me and hands me some tissues, and I start wiping off the makeup on my face. He is silent, only talking when he gives directions to the driver. I stare at the tissues on my hand, the makeup stains all over them. Now I feel weird without the makeup, I feel bare and unprotected. I don't know, I feel like my mind is playing tricks on me, like it's trying to destroy me.
It's as if every time I'm starting to feel happy, something shitty happens and it all falls apart.
"You... need to be careful," says Johnny finally. "With the people you trust. Just... be careful."
"What are you talking about?" I ask hurriedly.
"Don't trust people, that's all," says Johnny gruffly, and the cab comes to a stop. "Let's get you to your room."
We step out of the cab and Johnny beckons me to walk in front of him, which I do. But his words are in my head now, and I wonder if he knows something I don't.
Wouldn't be the first time. I'm always the last to know.
Later
She is the calm before the storm. When I'm with her, nothing matters. But as soon as I step out from this thing we have, everything burns.
I stop typing and stare at the screen, reading my own words with contempt. I know that I'm a good writer, but I don't think I'm as good as people make me out to be. I feel like I'm an impostor sometimes, because I only write about my life but it seems that people like it. So maybe I'm not really a writer. Maybe I'm just a narrator.
My phone buzzes again, but I told Drew I wanted to be left alone. After that horrible excuse of an interview, I feel exhausted, and I just don't want to talk or pretend everything is all right. I did tell Drew about Ellie Nash, though, and he said that he would work on it. Fine, I don't want to worry about that anymore.
I try to ignore the persistent buzzing, but it's getting on my nerves, so I grab the phone and look at the screen. It's a text from Clare.
Are you okay?
No, I'm not. I'm never okay.
Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired.
After that "interview", I can't blame you. I'm tired too. Didn't sleep much.
I guess that's my fault. Sorry.
Don't worry about it, Eli.
I'm writing right now. No, text messaging doesn't count as writing, Miss Edwards. Actual writing.
That's great!:)
You know... I think I need some help. It would be nice if someone offered to help. Cough.
Is that an invitation?
Do you want it to be?
She doesn't answer right away, and I put my phone down, feeling stupid. Maybe I should give her some space. After all, I just told her about Julia yesterday. That's a lot to deal with. I glance at my phone again and she hasn't replied, so I go back to my writing.
It's darkness engulfed in blue. It's beauty surrounded by light. But these fingertips of mine destroy, they blemish, they rot. Run away or stay. Stay or run away.
"Stay or run away," I repeat to myself, running my fingers through my hair. I don't know what I want, really.
My phone buzzes and I smile when I see that Clare finally responded.
Room service. :)
I let out an amused chuckle and I stand up as I close my laptop and walk toward the door, feeling like a giddy teenager. I open the door and there she is, her trademark smile blinding me at once, and that idiotic interview is briefly forgotten.
"You needed help with something?" she asks brightly and I pull her in, placing a soft kiss on her lips.
"Yes," I breathe as I pull away from the kiss, and she blushes.
"Writing, right?" she asks as I walk away from her and sit on the edge of the bed.
"I need... inspiration," I say dramatically, and she surprises me by sitting on my lap. I am at a loss for words, and she seems surprised by her own bold move.
"I don't know how to help you with that," she says quietly, and kisses me.
Later
I've had sex many times before, but I have never felt like this.
I pay attention to every single detail of her face, the way her nostrils flare a little when I make a sudden movement, the way her lips part when I dig my fingernails into her skin. She is straddling me, our bodies connected, her legs wrapped around me, and I love the fact that we're facing each other. It feels tremendously intimate, but it's also extremely arousing at the same time.
Her breasts are pressed against my chest and I love this, how her skin touches mine and how it sends shivers down my spine. I breathe shallowly whenever she moves, her movements are slow but sharp, and I kiss her forcefully. My hands are all over her back, scratching here and there, and her fingers get tangled in my hair as she moans. One of my hands moves to her hair, and I tug on it gently so her neck gets exposed.
I hold my breath for a split second, because the way she just moaned almost made me lose control, and I press my lips against her throat, tasting her. We're both taking our time, it seems like we're not in a hurry to finish, and that's fine. This is perfect.
My tongue explores her neck, and I bite her softly, tugging on her sweet skin with my teeth. She whispers my name as if whispering for salvation, and I want her to know that I'm the one who has been saved. She has saved me. Just like that.
I stop kissing her neck and I pull her in for a kiss, deep but slow, and she starts moving slightly faster. "Fuck," I gasp as our lips separate, and her blue eyes are looking into mine, filled with shyness and innocence. How is that even possible?
I hold on to her hips and low moans escape her, her eyes now closed. Her hands are placed on my shoulders, her fingers digging in, it almost feels like she's about to break my bones. But I don't mind the pain, I'm actually getting off on it.
"Oh, god," I mutter as our urgency kicks in, as we both start moving faster, as if our patience is gone. All the tenderness and sweetness that we shared earlier has disappeared; it has been replaced by our instincts, our want, our need. Because I need her, I want her, and I hope she feels the same way. I know that she likes me, she already said that, but I want this fiery feeling to consume her as well.
She's moaning and gasping and I'm trying to hold on, I want her to finish first. Her face is close to mine and our noses brush constantly as she moves, and I finally capture her lips. I'm sucking on them, biting them, making them mine. Because I don't want anyone else to kiss her the way I'm kissing her. I don't want anyone else touching her like I do. Because I know that I won't let any woman be this intimate with me, because I'm hers. Clare had me from the moment she said hello that day at the restaurant, the first time our eyes met. I know it now.
I'm hers, I'm only hers. If the truth about my past comes out, I won't care. I only care about her. I really don't know if this is love, but I sure hope it is.
"I... oh... oh," she moans loudly, clutching my shoulders as she trembles and I kiss her again. My breath is erratic as I come, and we both hold on to each other as we continue to kiss, as we continue being together.
I need to tell her. I need to tell her that I don't want this to be casual anymore, that I want something serious with her. As we both recover our breath, our eyes meet, and she gives me a flushed smile.
I think she knows.
