Part one of my two-part finale. (: I managed over 2,300 words with this, so expect some major fluff.
By the way. This is dedicated to KH-Akyra, who took the time to review every one of my Eclare stories. She's really inspiring, and her stories are great as well.
It's been twenty minutes and twenty-three seconds.
Twenty four...
Twenty five...
Twenty minutes and twenty-six seconds since she asked me if I liked her, nineteen minutes since she last spoke, and it's killing me.
I feel the corner of my mouth twitch as my eyes dart to her, again, only to find she's ignoring me, staring out the window, again.
My fingers tap on the steering wheel, and I hear her sharply inhale.
Finally, something I do affects her.
I think she's expecting me to break the ice first, and really, I'm supposed to, aren't I? She's the one who asked me the question, so, naturally, I should answer.
Only I can't, because I'm Elijah Goldsworthy and I'm tongue-tied over a girl I should have stayed away from since the second I laid my eyes on her. The kiss was amazing, to put it lightly, but now we're treading in waters I don't even know.
She doesn't deserve to be kept in silence.
She doesn't deserve to be kissing a guy so damaged.
She doesn't deserve to be hanging by a thread, upset, because of me.
I don't deserve her.
How can I care for a girl I shouldn't get to be with?
There really isn't a reason for this tension, this silence, this anger, besides my own stupid insecurities. We should be laughing and talking and stealing kisses and just getting away from it, but we're not. I'm terrified, but also angry.
Clare, couldn't you have just left it alone?
All I know is that I'm feeling claustrophobic; this hearse isn't really a good place for a conversation like this; for all I need to say and express to her. I need to see her.
Twenty-five minutes.
A sign to the right of the interstate catches my eye, there's a rest stop at the next exit. My heart races, an idea beginning to form. It would only be a minor detour, enough for me to talk to her, which is what we both need. We'd still be back on time if I speeded a little.
Perfect.
As I swerve the car towards the exit, Clare jumps up, surprised.
"Eli, what are you doing?" She's outraged, and I savor it anyway because it's the first words she's spoken to me in twenty-seven minutes.
"You said you wanted to talk, correct?"
"That doesn't expl-"
"It's hard to form a conversation and drive at the same time." My voice is sharp, and I regret the tone instantly. She leans back, visibly hurt, and I feel a pang in my chest.
There's silence again.
The rest stop is empty, save for a few idling trucks in a back lot. I'm not surprised, it's early. I pull Morty into a spot and exit, crossing over to hold the door open for Clare. Old habits die hard, and she shoots me dagger-glares as she smoothes her dress and steps out.
Ouch.
I clear my throat and gesture to a dingy, cement picnic table that's closed off from the world by a three-walled shelter that's adorned in dark green, peeling paint. It's probably the furthest thing from romantic, but it's the closest thing that could connect Clare and I right now, so I'll have to deal. She nods and we walk awkwardly as she seems to purposely do everything in her power to keep her body from even brushing mine. It's insufferable, and the searing fire in my chest burns.
I need her.
She takes a seat on the table, wrapping her arms across herself. The button-up shirt she's wearing is very, very blue and it makes her eyes stand out indescribably.
"So. Talk." She demands.
"I don't have a lot to say, I was kind of hoping you'd do some of that, you've seemed upset since what happened on the roof." I keep my tone light, concealing the desperation.
"How observant." Her voice is laced with bitter and it's not like her.
"I just want to know why you're so worked up. I mean, we kissed, but –"
"Eli, I'm sorry. You were being a good friend and I took advantage of that." She says immediately in a lofty, tightly strung tone that makes my jaw clench.
"Took advantage? That's awfully high and mighty of you, Edwards, considering I kissed you."
Her cheeks flush a dark rose, and I smirk.
"Either way, we can agree it was a mistake. I'm sorry I assumed things. I took it too far." Her eyes are glassy, and she's probably fighting tears, but she's also not looking at me. Her eyes are studying the graffiti on the picnic table, her fingers tracing names and dates, but not meeting my eyes. I choke back a lump in my throat.
She is so not pulling this on me.
Clare rises, leaning against the wooden post of the shelter, putting distance between us.
I'm not letting this happen.
"So that's it? This was a mistake?" My voice is hurt, I'm not covering that.
"You certainly seem to think so."
Wait. What?
"Stop. Rewind. Elaborate." I demand.
She looks down at the ground again, her curls curtaining over her face. I can't see her eyes clearly and it bothers me, she's being completely confusing.
"You're just..." She takes a deep breath. "You kissed me, Eli." Her voice is small. I've never seen her look this broken, and it's because of me. "I don't kiss people for no reason. But you obviously do, considering you won't even look at me, and you won't talk to me, and I'm just a stupid, naive fool..." I watch as she trails off, her hands wringing in her lap, eyes still downcast. "Who likes people that could never like them back, at least for long, and who they don't deserve. I'm sorry I made assumptions and it's okay if you want to leave and never talk to me again, I can get someone to pick me up."
I'm dumbfounded. This is surreal.
"Wait. I don't deserve you?"
She nodded, and I hear her sniffle. It's soft and quiet, I can barely detect it over the sound of the cars rushing behind me, but I hear it.
Suddenly.
It dawns on me.
It really doesn't matter what I think.
She's Clare, this wholesome, beautiful, independent girl.
This strong, witty, surprising goddess that's, against everything, here with me, by me, now.
And she's crying for me.
I take a step towards her, and she takes a step back, bumping into the graffiti'd wall of the shelter. My knees are shaking, but this is it.
"Clare. Do you really believe that?" She can hear the husky overtone to my voice, and I know it makes her heart race.
I step closer again, and our chests are touching. I can feel her heartbeat through our t-shirts. She blushes, and I repress the urge to take her there.
"Y-Yes. I mean, you're here. But you obv-"
I can't stand for lies. I'm not letting a girl of religion say something so sinful.
So I do what instinct tells me to do.
I kiss her.
It's not like the kiss on the roof; this is too raw and primal to be compared to something so soft. My knees shake a little when she gasps and I'm allowed to slip my tongue into her mouth. She makes little noises in her throat and grips my collar, pulling me in closer. My arms snake behind her waist as I use my height to my advantage, effectively pinning her against the wall.
Her lips are hot and a little chapped as we battle against each other, and I can feel my lead on her; I'm winning.
I reluctantly pull away, leaning my forehead against hers as we inhale in each other's heated breath.
"Clare Edwards," I murmur, and she moans, the sound vibrating through my body. "Do you really,-" my lips drop to her collarbone, and I swirl my lips around the raised area, tasting her sweet skin- "honestly think I don't care?"
She doesn't answer because I'm tracing patterns into her neck with my lips, but I think I feel her shake her head.
"Good." I say huskily as my lips search for hers again, my fingers seeking her waist, dipping below the hem of her shirt to touch the soft skin there.
"Eli..." She says something, finally, and the tone of her voice- high and desperate, yet so impossibly virginal makes my head throb.
"Mm?" I state as I bite her lip softly and pull away, chest heaving.
She raises her left hand up and slides her purity ring off her pinky. With a slight blush, she offers it to me.
I just stare at her, baffled.
"I don't believe in it anymore." She blushes again, this time deeper. "And with the way this is going, I won't need it."
She thinks I'm going to... Oh.
"Clare." I say, incredulous. "I'm not going to have sex with you."
She blushes and I think I can see tears in her cyan eyes.
"I-I'm sorry, I just th-" Her voice cracks, and I realize how awful that sounded.
"Blue eyes, listen to me. I'm not having sex with you. Yet. Not now, and certainly not here." I pause, sensing an opportunity to make her blush- and a way to claim her as my own. "If – No, when we take the next step, it'll be roses and candles and everything you've ever dreamed of."
Her eyes widen.
"And you'll be positive, and you'll be shy and beautiful as I kiss you, and there won't be a thing on your mind but me, not your parents, or your ex-boyfriend, or school."
Her cheeks redden.
"And you'll love every second of it."
She seems shocked, and I wonder if she's capable of words now. When I hear her whimper, I smirk.
"But I'll take this anyway. Not that I'll keep it for long, I expect you to kiss and make up with your religion real soon." I drop my lips to the pulse on her neck, pressing lightly against it again, this time soft. "Saint Clare."
When I pull back up to look in her eyes, she's smiling, the widest and most beautiful smile I've ever seen. As horribly clichéd it sounds, I wish I could take a picture.
"Thank you, Eli."
"Anything for you, Clare."
There's a slight silence, and I close my eyes, feeling her beneath me and the cars behind me and just generally feeling alive. It's a magical moment, and for once, my heart doesn't feel shackled by lead.
She says softly, "We should probably get going."
I nod. As always, she's right. "C'mon, girlfriend."
There's that color of crimson again. I can feel my own cheeks heat up when I realize what I just said. "So... we're together?" She asks sweetly, staring up at me through her long lashes.
"If you want to get official..." I quote, and she laughs and hits my arm.
"Ouch, Clare. Who knew you were so violent?"
"Who knew there was a softie underneath all that leather and black?" She's only half-joking, which makes me smile. "And who knew he could fall for the saint?"
I fake-huff. "Now who's cocky?"
She takes my hand, leading me back to the hearse, to us, to home.
Maybe tomorrow she'll wake up and regret everything. Maybe we'll fight and never talk to each other again. Maybe this is all wrong, all false, and maybe I'll regret this moment for the rest of my life.
But when she stops in front of Morty, rolls to her tiptoes, and kisses me chastely, I swear I can taste honey and hear angels. Forget everything I just said, there's no way I'm regretting this.
"Elijah Goldsworthy." She whispers, her lips brushing my ears. "You've kidnapped my heart, do you know that?"
"I had a suspicion... Do I have to give it back?"
"No... If you promise to be gentle." Her tone is light, but serious.
I cup her face, tracing the contours of her cheek. I gently kiss her temples. "Don't worry," I kiss her temples, "I'll be" her cheeks "very," the hollow of her nose, "very," the space between her eyes, "very" the corners of her lips, "gentle."
She smiles and grabs my face, pulling my lips to hers in a kiss that seems to convey everything we're not conveying out loud.
"Come on, Romeo." She smiles. "Let's go home."
"Wait."
She turns, curls flying.
"Yes?"
"Promise to be gentle with mine, too."
It's the closest thing to a confession I can manage, and she knows that. Her hands clasp mine, and our eyes meet. She stares me down, as if looking for something in my eyes, and I swear she knows, in that moment, the true extent of my emotions.
"I couldn't hurt you."
Our lips meet again, and god, I could get used to this.
Two days changed my life. Already I'm imagining next weekend, all the places I could kidnap her to next.
After all, it's this, it's us, it's Clare and I. Who knew?
-pause for impact-
It took me two days to spit this out. I've written and rewritten about twelve times, and I'm still not sure I like it. Yes, there's one chapter left- an epilogue of sorts.
I'm just saying, I could have never done this without you guys. I'll probably gush more in the next chapter, but 400 reviews, over 21,000 hits, being on the favorites list of 80 authors... It's completely unreal to me. Seriously, it's amazing having people be surprised that you're reviewing their work. I feel so blessed for, gah, all of this.
Reviews inspire me. (: