A/N: This one's a little short and didn't come to me nearly as easy as the first. Maybe it's a sign Please keep reviewing, let me know what you think.
"How dare you." John replied, Claire could have sworn she saw fire in his eyes -- actual flames. "You don't know anything about me, Princess. If you knew what was best for you, you'll walk away right now."
Fury built inside Claire, in her mind he should have known better. "Maybe you should stop telling me what's best for me. Christ, leave that to my parent's, God knows they do enough of it." She had meant to add in that she was hoping for more from him. Maybe somebody to stop looking at her like she was a China doll that needed to be protected, but he interrupted before she could.
"Cry me a fucking river, Cherry!" He yelled as he looked down at her. She knew she must look a mess, but could do nothing but stare at the finger he stuck in her face to emphasize his words. All she could do was look at him and try to understand. "You know what? I'll save you the trouble of having to make the decision." He said as he turned on his heal and started to walk away.
She ran after him and caught up with him only steps later. "John!" She yelled through the worsening storm. "Talk to me, will you?" She said. She really did not want to beg, but certainly did not put the option out of the question.
"Fine. Then listen. Stay away from me – stop looking for me at school. Stop staking out my classes. And for Christ sake, stop waiting for me in the freezing cold rain! Christ, look at you! You're shivering. Go home, Claire, it's too nasty out here for you."
"I can handle it!" She yelled, looking into his eyes trying to tell him that she understood what he meant. But it was only when he only shook his head and walked away, that she let tears mix with the rain that was stinging her cheeks.
Hours later when she finally returned home, she was soaked and chilled through. "Honey!" her mother called to her as she was ascending the stairs to the top floor of the house. "Just look at you!" She gasped.
"Don't worry, Mom," Claire replied, icy cool. She looked down at her mother who was at the bottom of the steps "Nobody saw me."
"Claire, you know that's not what I meant!" She said, sounding almost offended, but not quite. "What happened?"
"Nothing, Mom. Absolutely nothing. I'm going to take a bath." She called as she hurried up the steps leaving her mother to stare at her disappearing feet in awe.
Claire ran a hot bath. A scalding hot bath, at that. She grabbed a copy of her favourite magazine and sunk into the steaming tub letting her body be enveloped by the lavender smelling bubbles. This was her favourite past-time, she loved the spend time alone, just thinking. It was amazing how people would leave you alone when in the washroom for mass amounts of time. She always relished the time that her parents weren't pestering her and her friends weren't trying to track her down. This was it.
But today, somehow the steaming hot water did nothing to warm her. Somehow she still felt cold. She wondered if this is what it always felt like. She had never been in a situation before where boy had said no. And it felt dreadful! He was there, right in front of her, and yet so incredibly out of reach. She could have sworn that she felt her heart ache – physically ache.
Even her favourite pyjamas didn't cheer her up. She smiled as she put them on. She figured everybody would picture her favourite pyjamas as silk and expensive but little did they know. She shrugged into her brother's old rugby shirt and sat in front of her bay window. She loved this spot, she figured if she tried to calculate the amount of time she spent there that is would be astronomical. She pulled the shirt over her knees and rested her chin on them.
The window faced the river, and in the daylight she could see the woods that extended beyond it. But not tonight. She had turned off her lights and lit candles in the room to minimize the glare. She stared out into the darkness hoping for some sort of epiphany. The rain had ended and brought with it an eerie calm that enveloped the house. Or perhaps just her.
Steam lifted off the river like an offering of the most primal kind. And on the dock, where as a child she used to play, stood John Bender. Her breath hitched in her throat and she could do nothing but stare at him. Was she hallucinating? This kind of thing never happens in real life. It took her a moment to realize that he was staring at her, too. Slowly, she stood, pulled on a pair of threadbare jeans and quietly descended the stairs.