Tah- dah !
Eli:
Can't pry it out of my dead hands, because it's a guarantee
Can't pry it out of my dead hands, because I'm taking it with me
Can't pry it out of my dead hands, because it's a gift I got for free
It's the one thing that I have I'm taking with me
It's the only thing that matters in this world
Jules, she makes me feel alive again. She's the only thing that makes me feel like… I could ever get better. I still love you, and I'm not betraying you, but there's none of that intensity between us that we had back before, you know? But I am so scared of tainting her, Jules, she's so pure. I don't want to ruin her life like you ruined mine. I love you, but you ruined me. It's because you died that I have to work for your dad, it's because of you that he beats me up. But it's because of me that I let him…
Eli closed his journal with a satisfied puff of air, gazing fondly at it. It had been way too long.
Today was Friday, which meant he had yet another midnight shift at the grave. Thinking back, it probably wasn't the best idea to climb that tree last night, considering he had scratched himself at least twenty times, but he didn't regret it. He got to see Clare's room, lie on her bed-and of course, the highlight of it all, hold her underwear. The lamest smile spread across his face as he remembered the priceless look on her face.
The sexual tension in that room was absolutely ridiculous, but exhilarating. With Julia, it had taken them until second base for him to really get turned on. And even with as far as they went, it couldn't even come close to the intimacy he and Clare had shared playing footsie- footsie, for Christ's sake! It sounded preposterous, he knew, and completely irrational. But there's something about a bedroom that makes things a little more nerve-raking…perhaps it was the bed that was strongly suggestive? Or the whole notion of sneaking up to see a girl he was starting to have feelings for? Yes, he admitted it. Eli was developing romantic feelings for Clare, and there was no denying it.
He stumbled into the change room in a haze, still intoxicated from last night's occurrences. He couldn't wait for lunch to roll around. He couldn't wait to see Clare again. And knowing that each agonizingly slow tick on the clock meant he was closer to being with her once more, would be enough to fuel his perseverance.
"What's wrong emo boy? Too insecure about your body to strip in front of us?" Fitz cooed mockingly, eliciting a burst of guffaws from his idiotic cronies. Eli rolled his eyes dramatically, having grown used to his unsubtle insults and taunts.
"You're hilarious. No seriously, stop it. You're killing me," he said flatly, chugging down the contents of his plastic water bottle. Fitz scowled at his blasé manner. He reached out, and before Eli could stop him, he tilted his bottle downwards with such force that the water came splashing all over his lap.
"Funny enough for you to wet your pants," he declared smugly, causing another riot to erupt from his buddies.
Asshole.
Eli clenched his teeth together, glaring scornfully at him with balled fists. White hot blood boiled under his skin, pumping at dangerous speed throughout his veins, and it took him every ounce of willpower not to deck him right in his conceited face. What Fitz did to him was never enough to prompt him into doing something drastic. He knew that retaliation was never the key. He knew that he was outnumbered, and that he'd just be making a war out of a measly fight of provocation. But damn it, it was so tempting, and if he wanted to see Clare, he couldn't risk being suspended.
He simply stood up, ignoring the howls of laughter directed towards him when water dripped further down his pants. Without a fear in the world, he walked straight up to Fitz, eyes blazing with something deadly and positively frightening.
"Funny enough to confirm that you're incapable of being the bigger man," he said lowly. If looks could really kill, Fitz would be ten feet underground with a bruise in a certain area right now.
"Out of the change rooms!" The gym teacher bellowed, storming inside. He zeroed in on Eli's lack of uniform. "Goldsworthy, where's your shirt and shorts?"
"I'm changing," he murmured, gasping sharply when Fitz purposely bumped his shoulder. An excruciating pain seared through his shoulder and upper arm, another gentle reminder of why he couldn't afford to get involved in a physical fight.
"Freak," Fitz snarled under his breath.
A freak he was, indeed- who else bears more purple blossoming bruises than he did on his body, and voluntarily go through hell to keep them a secret? A pathetic, guilty excuse for a moron desperate to atone for sins he hadn't committed on his own, that's who. Though sometimes, it was easier to pretend that the drunk driver who ran over her didn't exist. Instead of bottling up anger that would be directed towards someone he didn't know, he occupied himself with plentiful guilt for initiating their fight in the first place. If he hadn't interrogated her, and if he hadn't been so obsessed with discovering the truth behind her countless absences, than Julia would still be alive. She wouldn't have stormed out on her bike, and she wouldn't have left him with an irreparable heart.
"I'd like to get my hands on the guy who invented this pathetic excuse for a sport," Eli grumbled to no one in particular, concentrating intensely on shadowing the large boy in front of him.
"You're telling me," the boy panted, incessantly swiping his damp bangs out of his face.
He had to admit- he was kind of disgusted by how profusely that boy was sweating, but figured that hiding behind him would be his best bet. The red rubber balls were flying haphazardly in the air, all of which he narrowly avoiding with the aid of the massive shied in front of him. Gym was never his favourite subject, but now that Fitz and his buddies seemed to really have it in for him, it was his personal hell on Earth.
"Dang it," the boy frowned, roughly bouncing the ball that had hit him on the ground. Eli watched in panic as he shambled over to the bleachers, eyes darting around in search for a new shield.
"You're next, emo boy," Fitz announced ominously, lips curving into a sinister smile.
Shit.
It all then happened very fast. One second, he was backed up against the wall, watching a red ball being hurled at him in slow motion. The next, he was on the ground, curled up in a fetal position. He was writhing uncontrollably now, and the voices around him faded into a distant whisper.
Can't pry it out of my dead hands… Can't pry it out of my dead hands…Can't pry it out of my dead hands…
"Freak."
"You're not my father Eli, I don't need you to protect me!"
"I'm not going to leave you right now."
"That's far past delusional, kid, even for you."
It's the only thing that matters in this world…It's the only thing that matters in this world…
"Don't leave Jules!"
"You're not in charge of me, Eli! If I want to leave, I can damn well leave without your permission."
"You're going back to there, aren't you?'
"So what if I am?"
"The Ravine's not a safe place, Jules-"
"Don't call me that! Just leave me alone, Eli."
"You're drunk; you're not in the right state of mind. Don't do this, Julia please."
"Ugh, why can't you stop worrying so much? I don't need you, and I don't want you, so just let me go!"
"Chill, man," someone said. "You're the only person I know who can't turn cool under ice- hey, that was a good one, don't you think?"
"Yes, Mr. Torres, you are very cool."
"Haha, I see what you did there. But If I'm cool…does that mean you're hot?"
"Please don't tell me you're hitting on the school nurse again, Drew. How many times do I have to tell you: forty- something is not your type."
Eli stirred, squinting at the dim lights gleaming down at him. His back ached dully, as if being stretched and strained at the same time.
"Mr. Goldsworthy, how are you feeling?" A middle-aged woman dressed in white scrutinized him with another ice pack in her hand, shadowed by two very familiar-looking boys.
"I'm just peachy," he moaned sarcastically, trying not to wince too hard. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Drew and I were in the other gym fetching an extra ball rack when we witnessed your um…thing," Adam explained uncomfortably, tugging on his beanie. "I thought I recognized you, so we offered to take you to the nurse's."
"You should be familiar with your surroundings, Mr. Goldsworthy- this isn't your first time here," the nurse admonished. "Is anything wrong? You can tell-"
"I'm fine," he muttered abruptly, forcing himself out of the hard, uncomfortable cot and onto his feet. "What period is it?"
"First lunch. Mr. Goldsworthy-"
"I need to go now, thanks for your help," he said, averting his gaze as he rushed out the door. He quickly picked up his pace, wanting to shove all memory of the incident behind. And even though he can't even remember most of it, he just thought of it as another mess to clean up later. Walking with a bit of a limp, Eli dodged gossipy freshmen and large groups of girls avidly discussing their new year's plans. People stared at his awkward strut, whispering lightning-fast rumours to each other as they scrutinized the poor, injured boy. Eli rolled his eyes. He cared little for what people thing, but it did annoy him that they made assumptions quicker than they could give him an once-over.
"Hey man, are you sure you're okay?" Drew asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He let out a hiss and jumped at the contact, freezing dead in his tracks. He closed his eyes- as if that would subdue the dull stinging.
"I told you, I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth.
"Are you sure?" Abysmally oblivious or annoying persistent- take your pick.
"Did I stutter?" he said harshly, eyeballs lolling to the back of his head and into focus.
"Eli, dude, you're limping," Drew pointed out plainly, matching his strides easily. Students were starting to fill the hallways, crowding into what little space Eli had to move. Better yet, Drew's shoulders were unnaturally broad, and often nudged Eli's scrawny ones.
"That is brand new information," he muttered mordantly.
"Maybe you should get that leg checked or something- wouldn't want to sit out of gym classes, would you?"
Okay, so maybe there were some ups to this. Eli said nothing, but nodded approvingly.
"Look man, I just want to make things right- help you, I mean. You know what I'm saying?" Drew looked hesitantly at him.
"You don't owe me anything," Eli said, with every word strained and curt. "I thank you for taking me to the nurse's, that's it. My leg is fine, I'm fine."
Oh, how he sounded like Julia. Oh, the irony.
"I was just trying to help," he mumbled, now shuffling away. Thank God.
And there she was, elbows propped on the cafeteria table and head rested against her tiny fist. Her forehead creased in concentration, as she focused intently on whatever work she was doing.
Touching the glass the separated the hallways from the cafeteria, he shuddered. It was ridiculous how nervous he still felt about being around her.
He approached her. Closer and closer they were, and as the distance between them started to shorten, he felt the bubbling sensation boil in the pits of his stomach.
"Eli," she greeted warmly, but no smile was on her face. "What happened to you?"
Frowning, he glanced over himself. "What are you talking about?"
"Come here," she said, patting the seat right next to her. Her eyebrows were stitched with concern, her gaze never wavering. In spite of her seriousness, Clare had looked absolutely adorable with her big doe-like eyes and all, and as Eli took his seat, he couldn't help but shiver blissfully. His knees had brushed hers, and for some reason there was no pain, no sting. Just brilliant electricity.
She leaned forward, causing Eli to suck in a sharp breath. The aroma of sweet vanilla came off her clothes and hair and invaded his senses, thickening the murky fog in his brain. Her ivory skin was tantalizing, just begging him to cup her face, caress her cheeks, and stroke her forehead with the pad of his thumb. His hands twitched in anticipation.
"What class did you come from?" she inquired quietly, touching his cheek.
What class did he come from? Science? English? No, not English idiot she would have know. Oh crap, damn this mother-"
"Gym," he said hoarsely, clearing his throat.
"Did Fitz…?"
"How did you...?"
"That day in the parking lot," she murmured, stretching out her fingers agonizingly slow. Eli inhaled deeply as her hand molded to cup his face, feeling the softness of her skin smooth against his own. "I've also seen you with an ice pack for more times than I can count."
"I'm not good at dodge ball," he said pathetically. His eyes searched hers, his guard lowering subconsciously. He wasn't worried about appearing weak at the very moment; on the contrary, he felt very safe and secure around her.
"It was deliberate, Eli," she said in a nearly inaudible voice. "There's no way he could make the same mistake over and over again. You have to talk to him."
"He doesn't strike me as the type to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with, Clare," he said pragmatically.
She released her hand, shaking her head disapprovingly. "That's a nasty bruise you have there. Do you really want to get another one?"
Eli let out an exasperated breath of air, propping his own elbow on the table and mussing with his hair in contemplation. "It's not that easy."
"I know," she said sympathetically. "But try, okay?"
The texture of her voice was so soft, so pleading- saying no to her would feel a hell lot like stepping on a puppy.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked irritably, dejectedly. "I can't just-"
"Aw, don't you two look cute?"
Eli's muscles coiled instinctively as a hand slammed down their table, causing Clare to jump. She let out a small gasp, and fearfully cowered closer to him.
Fitz was towering over the two, the same haughty expression plastered over his narrow face like paint on a canvas. Noticing that he had purposely chose to stand on Clare's side angered him to say the least, but seeing that he found amusement out of frightening her made him livid. His protective instincts took over him, and before he knew it, he was up on his feet as well. Clare was safely hidden behind him, peering past his body, and Eli was right up against the insolently disrespectful, shamelessly presumptuous teenage boy. He had to crane his neck a bit to meet his eyes, but this didn't deter his nerves one bit.
"What do you want?" he asked in a low, but menacing voice. He was careful not to scare Clare even more than she already was.
"Who's this?" Fitz grinned at the small girl behind him, completely ignoring his question. "Hi, cutie."
"You didn't answer my question," Eli pressed, feeling more and more enraged by the minute. His fists were clenched so tightly at his sides, his knuckles were turning white.
"Your snarky-ass comments started something, man, and I plan to end it." Fitz smiled maliciously at him, but shifted towards Clare again. "So cutie, you got a boyfriend?"
"She's not interested," he growled, shoving him roughly to put some distance between him and Clare. "Why don't you just leave us alone, and we can go back to ignoring each other's existence?"
The cafeteria plagued with silence. Every eye was now on them, some nervous, some worried, others pleased by the engrossing show being out on before them.
"I'm sure she can speak for herself," Fitz said, looking at Clare again.
"Go away, Fitz," she said softly, surprising everyone who could hear her. Eli swore he heard someone say 'so that's what Saint Clare sounds like!' "Please."
"Well, since you asked so nicely." He winked suggestively at her. "I'll catch you later emo boy."
Eli didn't stop glaring daggers at him until he left the cafeteria, still seething over what had just happened. He wasn't sure if it was just the feelings of disdain he harbored for him that was enraging him anymore, but he felt something else in the latter. Watching him audaciously saunter over to him and disturb his lunch was one thing, but having to watching him openly flirt with the girl he liked…well, now things were really personal.
"Eli, look at him," she coaxed, tugging on his sleeve. Reluctantly he turned, face still contorted with fiery resentment. "Look at me. Don't let him get to you, okay? He's just trying to get a rise out of you."
"It's working," he muttered, plopping back down on his seat. "Sorry you had to see that."
"Don't worry about it," she smiled lightly, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. "Come on, why don't you eat something? Do you have a lunch?"
He shook his head.
"Well then, I guess it's my turn to return the favour, hm?" With a slight sparkle in her eye, she reached into a brown bag she had sitting next to her messy spread of books, and pulled out a yummy-looking oatmeal cookie. "It's supposed to be nutritional."
"I'm not a health nut, but since you made it…" a smile tugged on the corners of his lips as he brought the treat to his mouth. "Oh my God, Clare."
"Do you like it?" she asked warily, putting her fingers to her lips.
"I love it," he moaned, devouring the rest of the large cookie. "That's it, we're opening up a cooking school. We are not letting good talent go into waste."
"By 'we', I hope you mean you, me, and my mom, because she did most of the work," she laughed cheerfully, taking out a second cookie and breaking it in half- at least, she attempted to. The cookie crumbled between her fingers, creating a mess of brown crumbs. "Oops."
"I got it." With a wicked smile on his face, Eli scooped up a handful of crumbs and brought it to Clare's face. "Open wide, Clare."
She giggled and obeyed, tilting her head backwards and welcoming the delicious goodness as it melted in her tongue. Cookie crumbs began to sprinkle into her lap, prompting Clare to push his hand away with a silly grin on her face.
"Elijah Goldsworthy, look at the mess you made!" she scolded playfully, gesturing her lap as he impulsively reached out to brush the morsels off of her.
"Sorry miss, I didn't mean to- sorry!" he blurted the last word, quickly withdrawing his hand back when she let out a soft yelp. Unintentionally, his hand had rubbed her inner thighs, dangerously close to somewhere he secretly wanted to venture.
She scooted her chair back immediately, clamping her legs together inconspicuously. A furious blush made its way up her cheeks, but much to Eli's alarm, an even darker one had already spread across his. He gulped nervously. Clare averted her gaze,
"Sorry, sorry, that wasn't intentional," he said hastily, mentally smacking his forehead. He had made it sound like the thought had ever crossed his mind, and though it did, he didn't want her to think that he was some creepy pervert. "I mean, it was an accident I didn't really think about-"
"Eli!" Imogen exclaimed, appearing to come out of nowhere. And for the first time, he was grateful for the interruption.
"Hey Imogen," he greeted huskily, scratching his neck awkwardly. "What's up?"
"I am very glad you asked, Eli," she beamed, looking as if she was ready to launch into details. "It's my birthday is coming up shortly, and I am hosting a small dinner party at an elegant little restaurant by Main Street. Fiona Coyne is attending, and I would be absolutely delighted you could, too."
"Cool. Who else will be there?"
"Fiona will be inviting her boyfriend Adam Torres, and Drew and his girlfriend Bianca DeSousa are coming as well. I was hoping, that perhaps you would be my date for the evening," she said sweetly, batting her lashes ever so subtly. "It is my birthday, after all."
"Maybe Clare could come too," he suggested, wanting to bring her in the conversation as well. Clare's eyes widened in surprise, having not been expected to be included in their little exchange.
"Hello Clare Edwards," Imogen said softly, a small smile on her face. Her eyes, however, were clouded with something darker than its usual chocolate brown. "I remember you."
The way she said it was so eerily, so spooky, it was as if she and Clare had some sort of secret.
"Hello Imogen," Clare said politely, twiddling her thumbs uncomfortably.
"So, you two know each other," Eli said.
"Yes, and I would love it if you could come, Clare Edwards," Imogen said smoothly.
"Oh, I don't think..."
"Clare," Eli murmured earnestly, persuading her with his eyes. She pursed her lips glanced down, legs still compressed together tightly.
"Perhaps you could bring a date, "Imogen suggested with a smile, and the thought triggered something volatile in Eli's chest.
"Or maybe we could just all go together," he forced through gritted teeth, before Clare could accept or decline. "I don't think that will be necessary, Imogen."
She looked crestfallen for a quarter of a second, and Eli contemplated feeling guilty. But the disappointment was quickly erased, replaced with a mysterious, curious look.
"Hmm. Very well then. The odd number will be a bit difficult to work with, but I suppose I'll find a way to make it work. Good-bye for now, you two."
She flitted away, but hadn't disappeared completely from sight before saying "Oh, and I had a wonderful time at the concert the other night! We should go out again sometime soon!"
"It wasn't a date," Eli explained quickly, waving to Imogen. "Fiona was there."
"You're acting as if we're exclusive," Clare teased a bit. "I'm not your mother, Eli, you don't have to explain everything to me."
He pressed his lips together, saying nothing at first. "So, are you coming?"
"To be honest, I don't want to," she sighed. "But seeing how I was invited, I don't think I can back out of it."
The bell rang, and Eli grudgingly picked up his bag. Clare hurried to collect all her books in a neat pile, leaning over to his side so that she could reach them all. As a last- chance at persuasion, Eli bent forward towards her ear, standing up as he did.
"Come on Edwards," he whispered influentially, lips a razor-thin distance from the shell of her ear. "Live a little."
With a slight quiver in her lips, Clare stood up and walked away, giving him a brief smile that nether indicated whether she decided on going, nor let him know what she really thought about where they stood.
Clare:
And the worst part was, she forgot to ask him for her journal.
"Um, Clare?" Adam said tentatively. Mashing a pillow to her face, Clare let out a muffled moan, wiggling around in exasperation. Drew just laughed at her frustration, shoving the remains of his burger into his mouth and dumping himself right next to her on the couch. With a shriek, Clare slid towards him from the sudden slant, automatically putting the cushion between them as a barrier.
"Not my fault," Drew declared irrelevantly, draping his arm around her shoulder.
"Stop-stop being so heavy," Clare groused, pushing at his chest.
"Stop being so not-heavy."
"That's real mature," she scoffed, unamused. "Get off of me!"
"Whoa," he said, sounding impressed. He looked at Adam who shrugged and continued to scribble the rest of his answers on a sheet of paper. "Someone's feisty today."
"How did I forget?" Clare groaned, sitting down on the floor beside Adam.
"I don't know, love can do strange things to a person," Adam said sagely, keeping his eyes on his homework.
"Whaaaat?" Drew barked, shooting up. "Clare's got a lover?" He looked alarmed, but only for a second; he then slapped a hand against his chest, looking immensely relieved. "Oh thank God. I was so worried you were turning into a nun."
At lightning speed, Adam's arm cut across the air, and a small pink thing flew across the floor. With a scream, Drew's face whipped to the side, contorting in pain.
"Just because a person's never dated before, doesn't automatically mean she's a nun," Adam said coolly, before resuming to his work. It was a touchy subject, Clare knew- anything that was related to making assumptions based on someone's dating history would hit a nerve. After having spent a large part of his childhood being a girl, and being picked on for taking no interest in boys, it had become an extremely sensitive topic to Adam.
"I didn't mean it that way," Drew apologized, rubbing his face.
He shrugged, and didn't look up again.
"So who is this guy, anyway?" Drew prodded, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "And what about him thawed you out?"
"There is no guy, and I was never frozen," Clare deadpanned.
"Then why are you all emotional?"
"He just…we swapped journals, and he hadn't turned mine quite yet."
"What a douche."
"Drew." She reprimanded.
"Want me to beat him up?"
"Adam," Clare groaned, seeking liberation from his brother's frivolous comments.
"Drew, go find your girlfriend and make sure you guys are matchy-matchy for tomorrow night."
"Oh yeah, Imo's having a party. Clare, you coming?" he asked.
"Go," she said, pointing at the door with a stern frown.
"So, what's the deal with you and Eli?" Adam asked nonchalantly after the door slammed shut.
'He kind of...invited me to Imogen's party," she said slowly. Seeing his face expand in shock, she quickly added "we're just friends, Adam. In fact, I think he just did that to avoid being her date."
"Drama," he commented sympathetically. "So, are you going?"
"I don't know. Imogen is kind of intimidating," Clare said, sounding completely conflicted.
"So what, you're going to let some girl come in the way of you and Eli?" Adam arched his eyebrow questionably.
"First of all, there isn't a 'me and Eli'. And secondly…yes, I think I am," she sighed dejectedly. "You should have seen them, Adam. They look perfect together, and I don't want to interfere."
Gazing at his best friend with disapproval gleaming in his eye, he put down his pencil and turned to face her, hands clasped together neatly in his lap. Clare reiterated hesitantly, feeling unsure of what he was going to say.
"Do you remember what I said at all?" he queried evenly. His calmness was starting to freak her out.
"Yes but-"
"No buts, Clare. You can't be afraid all the time, and you definitely can't act like there's nothing going on between you and this kid. I've seen it in your eyes when you talk about him- there's something brewing, more than you led on to be. Now, I'm not saying that you want to get with him exactly, but if you do, then remember this: if you want something you never had, you're going to have to do something you never done."
Clare frowned in defeat. "Your sagacious words, though inspirational, are completely uncharacteristic."
"Hey, I can be deep," he said pointedly, humorously jabbing a thumb towards his chest.
"Then, O' Wise One, shall I attend Imogen's soiree or not?" Clare giggled, crossing her arms and cocking her head to the side.
"The answer lies within you, oh grasshopper," he said ominously, letting out a yelp when Clare swatted him. "Fine. Translation: hell yeah, you ain't ditching your best buddy. Plus, stiff, formal dinners means dressing up. Don't you girls like that?"
"Wonderful," Clare groaned, slumping against the back of an armchair. "I don't believe I have anything remotely fancy to wear."
"So go shopping," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm sure Fi would love you come with you."
"I think I'll past," Clare said quietly. She wasn't ready to deal with more cryptic warnings and incessantly changing moods on Fiona's part. "Her style is a little too ostentatious for my taste."
"You could go with your mom?" he suggested awkwardly.
"That'd be too much to ask of her- especially if she lets me go." Clare's eyes trail downwards, her lower lip jutted out just a bit. Adam hated to think that he was partly responsible for Clare's discontent, and would have volunteered to come dress-shopping with her if he didn't have so much homework and a reputation to defend- the teasing had simmered down significantly from when he first came out, and he had been more than okay these days with Clare, Drew and Fiona by his side. As selfish as he was behaving, he couldn't risk throwing away all the progress he made thus far. What would people say when they see him shopping in a women's department store?
"I could ask Drew to take you there," he offered guiltily, throwing his brother in the flames.
"I don't think he'd be very willing, but thanks," Clare smiled mildly, appreciating his efforts.
"No, seriously," Adam insisted, eager to lift his conscience. "He has a learner's permit, and he's an idiot. It won't be hard to string him along."
Clare's lips slowly curved upwards. "Have I ever mentioned that you're the best friend in the world?"