A huge thank you to everyone who has read and commented; I feel really humbled reading all your sweet feedback. This story is most likely going to be seven or eight chapters, in case anyone was wondering.

This chapter is a bit long, and I'm sorry it's so delayed. I had a lot of papers and midterms, and no time to creatively write.

Now, on with the show!

Thursday evening of the next week, I found myself sitting on the floor of Eli's single room with him and Adam. Outside, an early September thunderstorm was in full swing, the building creaking from the strong winds every few seconds. Eli had his window cracked, a towel lodged in the open space to catch most of the water, so the smell of warm rain had totally filled the tiny room.

And what a strange room it was. Eli had covered every inch of the walls with posters and photographs, and the effect was a little dizzying. I had to admit, though, it was much homier and interesting than the mostly plain, off-white walls of my own room. Eli's room ceased to feel like a dorm—it was like falling into a rabbit hole and turning up in Eli's own, personal world.

"This is a cinematic masterpiece," Adam muttered in awe for what felt like the millionth time. Eli's bed was lofted up high, and he had a futon positioned in the space underneath, facing his desk where his laptop was set and playing the Dead Hand reunion tour DVD.

Adam had very subtly—and by that I mean totally obviously—found a way to wedge me in the middle of him and Eli. This meant that, in order to talk to Adam, Eli was continuously leaning over me. "Man, it's like you are actually incapable of shutting up."

"This is just so cool." Adam was completely unfazed—enraptured by the action on the screen—and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"I think we've lost him," I stage whispered to Eli. Adam raised his middle finger at me.

"Resorting to violence is never the answer," Eli clucked his tongue at Adam.

"You two suck." Adam waved us off, never tearing his eyes away from Eli's laptop where the band had just finished telling some origin story about a song before starting to play again.

Lowering his voice, Eli whispered in my ear, "So what do you think of Dead Hand so far?"

I shivered as his breath fanned across my neck, raising tiny goose bumps of excitement. "They are a band," I observed teasingly.

"The best band ever," Adam grumbled.

I took advantage of the fact that Adam wasn't wearing a beanie and mussed his hair before turning back to answer Eli honestly. "They're decent, I guess. Not my usual style, but I like them."

"High praise," Eli mocked. "What is Clare's usual style? Taylor Swift? Katy Perry? No, don't tell me…you like Nickelback, don't you?"

I gasped, my mouth falling open in horror. "Do you really think that little of me?"

"Yeah, don't insult Clare like that," Adam piped up, his eyes still never leaving the screen.

Eli chuckled. "I'm just checking. I mean, if I'm going to be spending time with you in the public's eye I want to make sure my reputation is not in danger."

"Of course; I wouldn't want to soil your reputation as university badass."

"Exactly! I'm so relieved you understand."

"Would you two shut up?" Adam pled. "I am trying to watch the best band in the universe perform live together for presumably the last time, and you're flirting louder that the laptop volume will go."

I laughed at the petulance in Adam's voice, and I noticed that Eli was flushed. He started to tug at his long sleeves—something I noticed he did when he was nervous—stretching them out so that they hung well past his fingertips.

"Scout's Honor that I'll be quiet," I held up my three fingers to show my commitment.

"Of course you were a Girl Scout." Eli smirked, wicked delight in his eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I challenged, but before Eli could answer, Adam shot him a withering look. Eli made a show of pretending to lock the padlock on his lips.

A peal of thunder shook the building then, making me jump. Tentatively, Eli placed his hand on my upper back, the warmth of his palm seeping through my shirt, and started to rub small, soothing circles. I relaxed into his touch, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. With similar hesitance, I let my hand fall between us where our thighs were just shy of touching. My fingers brushed the rough denim of Eli's dark jeans just above his knee.

We remained in that position for a few tense minutes, my breath coming in weird spurts, until Adam unexpectedly broke the silence, making Eli and I jump—ceasing all contact immediately. "Okay, now you guys are too quiet and it's just weird."

"There is just no pleasing you, is there?" Eli glared playfully at Adam.

"Nope," Adam stuck his tongue out.

"This is the last song anyway," Eli noted. "I could always sing along if you miss the sound of my voice so much."

"Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not." Adam got down on his knees in front of the futon to actually beg Eli.

"I see you pattern, and I can match it!" Eli started to squeal out, his voice in a grating falsetto.

"Oh, God, I will pay you to stop doing that." I giggled, placing my hand over Eli's mouth. He, being the mature 20 year old he was, started to lick my palm. "You don't know where that's been," I pointed out. Eli kept licking until I couldn't stand it anymore; I had to pull away. "Gross," I sneered.

I wiped my slobbery palm across his chest. Eli gently shoved me away. "Get out of here with those germs," he complained teasingly.

"Yeah, your saliva's gross, isn't it?"

"Seriously. You two, I am right here…in the room…next to you."

"You want some action, too, buddy?" Eli teased, puckering his lips at Adam.

"Unless you suddenly start wearing dresses with cat tails, sing in the campus choir, like old school video games, and talk in adorable non-sequiturs, I'm not interested. Although you do have very kissable lips, and I regret having to turn you down." Adam placed a hand over his heart with sarcastic devastation.

Eli looked confused, though. "You have a crush Imogen Moreno?"

"Hell yeah! Wait… you know her?"

"I had to take a Fine Arts credit, and I ended up in a theater class with her last fall. We're kind of friends." Eli's face was flaming, and I wondered if there was more to the story. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and the DVD title menu started to play though another loop.

"Are you okay, Captain Moody?" Adam cocked an eyebrow at Eli, and I giggled.

"I hope you know I'm going to refer to you as Captain Moody from this day forth. It has been decreed." I announced gleefully.

Eli glared at me for a moment. "Shall I bring Saint Clare back to life?"

Blood flooded my face. "I told you about that in confidence!"

"Then play nice," Eli pouted, and I raised my hands in surrender.

"Hey, flirty flirts, can you guys focus for, like, five minutes. Eli, can you put in a good word for me with Imogen?"

"Adam, man, I'd love to help you out. I would. But I don't think Imogen would take too kindly to me talking up other guys to her."

"Why?" I asked before Adam could, suddenly sure I didn't really want to know the answer.

"What, are you two practicing to be the Spanish Inquisition for Halloween?"

"Lame comeback," Adam pointed out breezily. "Why are you avoiding the answer?"

"Because it's complicated, and I don't want to talk about it."

That seemed to be Eli's default answer whenever I asked him about something personal, and I bristled. "You must lead a very complicated life, Mr. Goldsworthy." I said pointedly.

"You have no idea," Eli mumbled under his breath.

"We could, if you let us," I pointed out.

Eli glanced up at me, a wounded puppy look in his eyes, and I met his gaze with steely determination. He hadn't exactly been resilient when it came to his I-don't-want-to-be-friends, I-have-a-rough-and-tough-exterior first impression. But he also hadn't really charged forward with cheer, either, and it was driving me crazy.

"It's just, we dated. And I wasn't…what she needed. It wasn't a bad break up or anything, we both agreed that it didn't work, but we try to avoid talking about our personal lives because it's weird. I don't know if she would be too receptive to me, you know, throwing your name around. That is, if she understood what I was doing; Imogen doesn't do subtle."

"You know, I noticed that," Adam smirked, his eyes dreamy.

"Happy?" Eli turned to me. His voice was laced with hardness, but his expression was looking for a real answer.

"For now," I teased, mostly relieved that anything he might have had with Imogen was over. He rolled his eyes.

Adam glanced at his watch and then jumped up off the futon. "Holy mackerel!" He exclaimed and started to gather his stuff.

"You know, the more I think about it, you and Imogen would make one hell of a couple." Eli smirked.

"I have a 7:45 lab and it's 12:30. I have to go, moron. You coming Clare? I can walk you back to your dorm."

"Look at you, all chivalrous." Eli stood and stretched before moving to take the DVD out of his laptop.

"Don't be so sure," I giggled, grabbing my keys. "He's just hoping Imogen will be there so he can sneak in a couple minutes of flirting before bed."

Adam slung an arm over my shoulder. "Look at that. She's only known me for two weeks, and she has me totally figured out. She's, like, super human or something."

"Maybe you're just predictable," I pointed out, donning my rain jacket and pulling up the hood. "Thanks for having us over," I smiled at Eli.

"And she has manners that would make a nun glow," Eli addressed Adam as though I was not there.

"You two are insufferable."

"And yet you choose to suffer through our company, so what does that say about you?" Adam reached over to pull my hood down and give my hair a good ruffle.

"You've been waiting to get me back, haven't you?"

"Yup! But, seriously dude," Adam thumped Eli on the shoulder, "let's hang again soon."

"Definitely. We could get together this weekend." Eli responded, glancing at me from under his lashes.

"I'm going home this weekend…because, you know, it's long. And my mom is—I'm going home."

"Oh. Well some other time, then." I hoped that I wasn't reading too far into anything, but it seemed like Eli was disappointed.

I nodded, and we stood there awkwardly for a few beats.

"Well, alrighty then," Adam clapped his hands together. "We should get going. I'll text you!" Adam called as we started down the hall to the elevators. As soon as we heard Eli's door shut, Adam started to assault me with pokes. "You looooove him."

I shoved him away. "Shut up; you're the one who used the phrase 'adorable non-sequiturs.'"

We got in the elevator and the doors slid closed behind us. "You're not denying it."

"Because you're a pest. If I ignore you, you're supposed to go away."

"How's that working?"

"It's a process."

"As if you actually want me gone," Adam scoffed.

"Nah," I agreed. Adam's smile dwarfed his face with its enormity.

###

Late Friday evening, my dad pulled into the lot outside my dorm. I picked up my backpack from the floor, slung it over my shoulder, and then made a valiant attempt to lift my bag of laundry.

"Need some help there, Clare-bear?" Dad asked as he approached, twirling his keys on his finger, his tie loose around his neck and his hair a little out of sorts.

"Yeah, thanks. Hi, Dad." We hugged briefly, and then he hefted my bag over his shoulder. We walked to the car, loaded up, and then I slid into the passenger seat, book in hand. As I was buckling up, my dad slid into the driver's seat and started the car.

"Sorry I'm so late. Things were crazy at the office, and you know if I don't meet my paperwork goals for the day, it'll swallow me and my desk whole."

I laughed it off, trying not dwell on the uncomfortable twist in my stomach that told me he wasn't telling the whole truth. "It's alright. I always have plenty of reading to do for classes."

"I bet. What is that you have there?" he nodded toward the book in my lap, merging onto the freeway.

"The Bell Jar; it's for my Women's Lit class. We're doing partner projects, and my partner and I are doing Plath, so I figured I had better brush up on her work."

"Neat." Dad smiled at me, but he sounded disinterested. "How are your other classes?"

"Physics is hard, but my friend Adam is helping me out. Overall, everything is going well. I like university, for the most part."

"Good, good. I'm glad you're adjusting, Clare-bear."

"Uh-huh." My eyebrows came together. "How's Mom?"

"You know, she's busy, too. We haven't had a lot of time to spend together lately."

My stomach clenched again. "Oh, okay." And then we fell into an uncomfortable silence that made me all squirmy on the inside. I turned my attention to the book, trying to focus on the story, but I ended up staring vacantly out the window instead, watching the trees blur together as we raced past them.

###

As soon as I walked in the door, my mom's arms were trying to surround me in an awkward embrace, my backpack complicating things. "Oh, Clare, honey, I missed you so much."

I hugged her back, breathing in her familiar scent of lemons and fabric softener. "I missed you, too, Mom."

"Come on, Helen, let us in." Dad's condescending tone sent prickles across the back of my neck. "Clare's laundry is quite heavy."

"Oh, yes, sorry. Come in, come in!" She ushered me into the kitchen, taking my bags from me and plopping me in a chair at the table. "I made all your favorites. And some chocolate chip cookies. Are you thirsty? I could make coffee or tea."

"Whoa, Mom, slow down." I laughed. "Let me breathe."

She smiled fondly at me, and comfortingly brushed a stray curl back from my face. "Of course. I'm just so happy that you're home."

"I've only been away for a couple of weeks." I pointed out, but I couldn't help feeling thrilled at the warm welcome from her. After the awkward car ride with my dad, it was nice to be around a parent that seemed to genuinely want me around. "And it's only a forty-five minute drive: you should come out for lunch sometime."

"Maybe this coming week," she agreed, lighting up.

"Helen, it's late. I think I'm going to tuck in." My dad came into the conversation, placing his large hands on my shoulders and squeezing. I tried not to tense up.

My mother's eyes flashed. "Randall," her tone was brimming with fake cheeriness, "we talked about this. I've been cooking all afternoon, and we are going to have a nice, family dinner."

My dad raised an eyebrow, looking decidedly unhappy, but he didn't put up an argument. "Fine. But we should get started. I have to go into the office early tomorrow."

"What? Tomorrow is Saturday." Mom clipped off the end of every word.

"Yes, and I told you that we were in the middle of a huge case, Helen. I have to go in."

My mother's nostrils flared, and she opened her mouth to speak. I—having been the object of my mother's wrath on occasion—could tell that she was about to start yelling. I coughed lightly, shifting in my seat, and she glanced at me. Her expression softened a little. "We will discuss this later."

"There isn't anything to discuss. The firm—,"

"Later," she promised ominously, cutting him off. With that, she turned and went into the kitchen.

"Do you need help?" I called out to her.

"No, thank you, sweetie, you just relax."

I sat back in my chair, trying to avoid my dad's eye. Mom came back in with a plate of steaming green beans and a pitcher of lemonade. She retreated back to the kitchen only to return with wild rice and seasoned salmon. "Wow, Mom, thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm just glad to have you home for a visit. Would you like to do the honors?" she asked, holding out her hands for me and Dad to take.

"Sure. Um," I was a bit rusty for having given up praying before every meal. "Bless us, O Lord, and these your gifts, which we are about to receive from your bounty. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."

I released my parents' hands, and started to pour myself a glass of lemonade. "So," Mom smiled brightly, scooping green beans onto her plate, "tell us everything."

Between mouthfuls of food, I gave my mom—in painstaking detail—the scoop on all my classes, the food, how I was doing, Imogen, and Adam. Something told me that my conservative mother and father wouldn't be too pleased to hear too much about Eli. Not that I had too much to say, but—call it instinct—I figured they would be skittish at best at even the smallest details.

Thankfully, my endless chatter about school kept there from being any seriously awkward or long pauses. In fact, by the end I had started to convince myself that everything was normal. Of course nothing was wrong. My parents had always both been really opinionated, strong-willed and that lead to a lot of casual-but-heated arguments that were always resolved eventually.

This was just a rough patch. They would make up.

After, over cookies and milk, Dad had finished making us laugh with a story about a couple of the interns they had at the office, my mom turned to me. "You're probably tired, sweetheart. I'm sure you've had a long week, and it'll probably be nice to sleep in your own bed. Plus, I was hoping you'd take the trip to the farmer's market with me tomorrow morning."

"Sure thing, Mom. That sounds fun." I gave her a smile before grabbing my bags and making my way back to my room. It was weird being in it when so much of the stuff was missing.

I took a quick shower, found an old t-shirt and shorts that I had left behind for the year, and then settled into bed with my laptop. I had just finished sending out some e-mails when my cell phone started to rattle on my bedside table: Adam.

"Hey, buddy," I answered, a smile in my voice. "What's up?"

"I was just calling to see how home was treating you," he replied.

"Oh, well, it was a little weird at first, but it's good to be back."

"Cool. I'm bored, entertain me."

"Okay…did you know that Sylvia Plath was published by age nine?"

"God, is thinking about Eli all you ever do?"

"Excuse me, how was that about Eli?"

"It was about your English Project."

I rolled my eyes. "It was indirectly about Eli, I suppose. And, excuse me, mister, but if you don't like the way I entertain, why don't you go find someone physically there? Imogen, perhaps?"

"I already tried that," Adam admitted sheepishly. "I practiced this stupid speech in the mirror for hours, and I had this grand adventure planned. But she had gone home, too."

"Oh, so I'm your second choice," I pouted.

"Did you not hear what I just said? Console me!" he demanded.

I was about to say something when, suddenly I heard my mother screech, "You promised me we would talk about this!" I tensed, holding the phone away from my ear so I could strain to catch what came next. I could only make out my mother's edgy hisses and my dad's low rumbling—no individual words.

"Clare, are you still there?" Adam's voice carried softly up from where I had dropped my hands into my lap.

I quickly brought my phone back up to my ear. "Um, sorry, I have to go."

"Is everything okay?" Concern was thick in his voice.

"Don't know; gotta go. I'll talk to you later. 'Night, Adam."

I slipped out of my bed and crept over to the door. I cracked it and tried to listen intently, but I could still only make out a few words…nothing that made sense. I swallowed over the lump in my throat, and crawled back into bed.

If I tried hard enough, I could fall asleep before I had the chance to really think about what was going on.

###

She didn't say anything about the fight while we walked up and down the aisles of people selling fresh, brightly colored fruits and vegetables. Instead, she prodded me for more information on Adam and my favorite teachers. I told her about how Dr. Dawes was really intimidating, but also someone I really respected. I told her I was scared of my Physics professor.

I played along with her game so that I didn't have to say anything about the fighting either.

We left the market around 9:30 with a bit of spoils for me to take back to school and plenty of fresh ingredients for some vegetable lasagna recipe my mom wanted to try out.

As we were getting in the car, my mom patted my leg excitedly. "You know what we should do?"

"What?" I asked with a smile, warming to the excitement in her voice.

"We should pick up your dad and go out to Benny's Diner like we used to do on the weekends after church when you and Darcy were younger. I didn't hear him eat this morning; I bet it would be a welcome surprise."

She was smiling so widely, her enthusiasm infectious, that I couldn't help but agree. "Sounds awesome! Let's do it."

As my mom headed home so we could unload our perishables, I dwelled on the fact that maybe it really, truly was nothing. Maybe I had been right at dinner. Things were just a little rocky, but clearly my mom was making efforts to work it out. Maybe Dad was, too.

When we finally got to the office, my mom tried calling my dad's cell and office phones a couple times each. When he didn't answer, the worry lines around Mom's mouth got deeper and deeper. "I'll just run in and get him, then." Mom said as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

I waited in the car, fiddling with my cross necklace, my stomach tightening. Something wasn't right. There weren't a lot of cars in the parking lot. Usually, if the firm had a lot going on, more people picked up weekend hours to stay on track.

After fifteen minutes passed and neither of my parents came out to the car, I started to feel seriously off. I was just about to get out of the car and find my own way into the building when Mom pushed through the front door, a determinedly calm mask on her face.

"Mom?" I questioned as she got into the car again. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is great. Your dad is too busy to come. It's just you and me."

"What happened in there? What took you so long?"

"It's nothing, Clare!" My mom's voice strained against the words. "Let's drop it."

I stared out the window, not knowing what to think.

After a few silent minutes, my mom spoke up. "You know, I forgot that I promised Irene that I would go antiquing with her this evening. And Grandma and I are helping with the church bake sale all day tomorrow. I know you came home to spend time with us, but I'm sure you have a lot of homework. I think I should probably just take you back to school, huh?"

"W-what?" I was stunned.

"It's just, this isn't a good weekend. I'll come for lunch sometime. I think you need to go back to school, though."

"Mom, are you okay?"

"I mean, this is your first semester of university. Of course that's overwhelming. It'll be better for you to stay ahead. You have a lot of homework, don't you, sweetie?"

"Y-yeah, tons." I slumped back in my seat.

"Great. It's settled then. I'll just pack you up a care package and take you back."

"Sure. Settled," I agreed, a throbbing headache suddenly pounding on my temples.

###

"I'll call you tomorrow after the sale," Mom promised as I stood by the driver's side window. "I love you, Clare."

"I love you, too, Mom."

She pulled out of the parking lot, waving out of her open window. I stood where I was, watching her car till it disappeared. I felt like my brain was suddenly filled with white noise, and I had the overwhelming urge to scream.

Instead, I trudged silently up to my room. My first weekend at university had brought a lot of chatter and energy to the halls of the dorms. Now, everything was eerily silent, most people away at home.

After a couple hours in my room, alone, trying to get work done, I even started to crave the obnoxious repetition of Imogen's warm up vocals, or the constant, bouncy sound of show tunes that she usually kept on when she was in the room.

Instead, I still had white noise drowning everything else in my brain.

Fueled by some off-kilter energy, I got dressed in a turquoise, scoop neck sweater and some of my nice, darker jeans. Keys and phone tucked into my front pocket, I started off around campus, watching as the light slowly leaked out of the day.

When I reached Ripley Hall, I caught the door from some guy in a leather jacket and took the stairs up to the third floor. Room 319. I knocked.

"One second," a groggy voice called, and I heard the creak of wood, like someone was climbing down from bed. The door swung open a few moments later. "Clare? I thought you were home for the weekend."

"Change of plans: let's go out!"

"Out?" Eli asked skeptically, though his eyes roamed quickly over my outfit.

"Yeah. I want to go to my first university party. Come with me!"

"I'm not really a party type," Eli pointed out, a sneer in his voice. He had on a t-shirt and some plaid pajama bottoms. He rubbed at his wrists nervously, the expanse of his hand almost covering up the entirety of his scar…but not quite.

"Come on where's your sense of adventure?"

"Must have left it under my bed at home along with my faith in humanity."

"And your sense of humor," I teased. "Please, Eli. I had a bad day, and I just want to get out of my head."

He seemed disarmed by my honestly, slumping in defeat. "Your pouty face is a weapon of mass destruction, Edwards."

I smirked at him. "I'm accepting that as your surrender to this evening."

He rolled his eyes, but opened the door to let me in. "Just let me change."

I sat down on his futon, making a pointed effort to evade my eyes as Eli tugged on a pair of skinny jeans, grabbed a t-shirt for a band called The Fratellis, and left a grey button down open on top of that.

I stood when he was ready, and he cocked an eyebrow at me. "So," I trailed off. "How does this work?"

"You don't get out much, do you?" Eli teased.

"Look who's talking. You give Emily Dickenson a run for her money."

"I bet those literary jokes will kill at parties. Let's go."

I followed him out of the room and to the stairs. "But I don't know where to go."

"We'll just take a walk down University Street," Eli shrugged. "We're bound to find a party somewhere. It is a Saturday night."

I relaxed, happy that I chose the right person to venture out into the great unknown with. He was like my college life guide, there to teach me about the finer points of letting loose.

"Hey, let's get some alcohol!" Eli started to laugh so loudly the night seemed to throw the sound into the far corners of the student green. "What's so funny?" I scowled.

Eli made a pointed effort to stop laughing when he saw my serious face. "Oh, uh, you weren't kidding. You just don't strike me as the using-alcohol-to-solve-my-problems type." He eyed my necklace out of the corner of his eye.

I got on the defense. "How closed minded is that?" I accused. "Oh, Clare Edwards is religious so she is obviously a stuck up, self-righteous prude, too."

Eli rolled his eyes. "Not exactly what I meant, but, hey, I'm not in charge of you. If you want some alcohol, we'll stop at a convenience store on the way."

"I don't turn nineteen till February," I confessed.

"Oh boy," Eli shook his head. "Underage drinking: we're getting' rebellious now."

"I'll give you the money…."

"No, no; it's on me. Consider it my contribution to your maiden university voyage."

I didn't put up a further argument, and we crossed the street, officially off campus. Eli quickly stepped into a store and came back out with a bottle of cheap vodka. He handed it to me with only one word: "Careful."

"I'll be fine," I lied confidently, untwisting the cap. "To you, Eli Goldsworthy," I toasted as we started down a side street. It was completely dark out, and I took a quick swig. It was really strong, and it burned my nose and made my eyes water; I nearly spit it out. But I forced myself to swallow it down before I could think too hard about what I was doing. "Gah, yeesh."

"I told you to be careful," Eli's voice was smug, but I could see the concern in the way he was eyeing me funny.

"Yes, Captain Moody," I saluted him, and took another swig.

"How many times have you drunk before?" Eli asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I always chose the grape juice at church," I confessed.

Eli unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile. We walked in silence, the street we were on was fairly quiet. I took another drink. "Can I ask you a question?" Eli asked suddenly as we turned on to University Street.

"I don't know. You sure seem like a dashing, capable young man." I giggled. I felt a little warm, my cheeks flushed.

Eli shook his head. "Lightweight." I tried to elbow him in the side, but misjudged the distance between us and nearly fell over. After Eli righted me, he continued. "What happened at home? Why are you back so early?"

"That's two questions," I sing-songed.

"Clare, I'm serious," he huffed. "This just doesn't seem like you."

"Look! They're alive!" I cried, pointing to a house near the end of the street that was lit up. Music was pumping loudly, and it seemed like several people had spilled out of the house and onto the front porch. A party for sure.

I started off skipping down the street, but not before hearing Eli mumble something about deflection. Taking another huge swig, the world suddenly seemed so simple. I felt…melty. Like the rest of the world couldn't possibly matter at a time like this. There was a guy hanging out next to the door with a stack of red cups. "Single ladies get in for free," he smiled at me, and my skin crawled a little. "But it's two dollars a cup for guys," he started down Eli.

"Designated Driver," Eli held up his hands, a smug smirk on his face. The guy didn't seem too pleased, but he waved us past anyway.

"We didn't drive here," I pointed out.

"If you keep going at the rate you are," Eli gave me a pointed look as I took another harsh swig of the vodka, "someone is going to need to make sure you get home safely. Besides, I don't drink. Not supposed to."

There were a lot of bodies packed into not a too big space. There was some room to walk around, but not much. The air was sticky with humidity and the smell of alcohol, and I could feel the bass rattle my organs—or at least that's what it felt like. I had to strain my ear to catch what Eli was saying, and even then I wasn't totally sure I had caught everything. "Dance time!" I declared.

I held out my hand, but Eli shook his head. Unable to be bothered by anything with so much awesome alcohol in my bloodstream, I shrugged. After taking one last sip of the vodka, I handed the bottle and cap over to Eli.

Scanning the room, I relaxed my body and let it go along with the beat. My hips started to swing in a small circle. I spotted a cute guy standing off to the side, and went up to him.

"I'm Clare," I yelled over the music.

The guy looked down at me, his eyes focusing on my face, then lower, then my face again. He smiled sweetly. Hey, he had really nice teeth. "Mike, Mike Dallas," he introduced himself.

"Let's dance!" I surprised even myself with the sharpness of my blunt behavior. Mike didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, he looked thrilled as he followed me through the crowded room. My body felt loose, and my mind was filled with a more pleasant softness—no more white noise. I let Mike take the lead, his hands spread out over my hips, and we started to dance.

And for a couple songs it seemed perfectly innocent and comfortable. I was dancing, Mike was swaying with me, and his hands stayed pretty respectful. Soon, though, they found their way to my backside, making me tense a little. "I should go to the bathroom!" I shouted at his ear.

"No, no…stay here with me," his fingers squeezed possessively and he tugged me closer to him. I was suddenly too dizzy to know where his face was, but I wanted to slap him really hard.

I squeezed my eyes shut. "I feel sick," I said quietly to no one in particular, trying to pretend nothing but me existed anymore.

"Leave her alone," Eli's voice suddenly filled my ears and my chest flooded with relief. I opened my eyes in time to see Eli shove Mike away, and then his arm was around my waist. The coolness of his fingers seeped into the fabric of my sweater, a welcome sensation to combat my sudden over-heatedness.

"I am very drunk," I observed.

"I noticed." Eli grumbled as he walked me off the porch. "This was a grand adventure, but I think you've had about all the partying you can take for one night. I'm taking you home."

"He was gross. I should have hit him."

"I can't say he wouldn't deserve it," Eli nodded, supporting most of my weight as we started to sloppily walk down the street.

"I think my dad is cheating on my mom."

Eli stopped moving suddenly. He looked me in the eye, and I suddenly felt shame prickle over my skin. He was just so…he was looking at me with a lot of pity. "Clare, I'm sorry."

"Stop feeling bad for me," I spat, suddenly feeling bitterness flood my system. I tried to storm off, but I was still shaky on my feet, and Eli caught me easily, trying to guide my steps. "My dad's been a total jerk, and my mom is so obviously hurt, but I just sit there and watch it, you know? I should say something. But I don't. I just let it happen."

"Whatever is going on is not your fault, Clare."

"Isn't it? My gut keeps telling me something is wrong, and I will do anything to shut it up."

"I got a nice little demonstration of that tonight, yeah," Eli sighed.

We were both silent for a while, just walking along. We made it on to campus, and, suddenly, I was certain that I was going to puke. "I think I'm gonna…."

I didn't have a chance to finish before I leaned into a bush and started to wretch. "Shit," Eli said as I emptied the contents of my stomach. It burned just as much the second time around, the alcohol did: maybe more.

"I think I'm done now," I leaned into Eli's chest tiredly.

"We'll see about that," I could hear the cringe in his voice. "Let's just get you home."

We started walking again. "I meant I think I'm done with alcohol now."

"Oh," Eli suppressed a chuckle. "Probably a good idea."

Several minutes and two more stops to heave later, Eli and I stopped in front of my door. Weakly, I handed over my keys and slumped against the wall. Gingerly, Eli coaxed me into the room, leading me directly to the bed. "Where can I find you some PJs?" he asked.

"Second drawer," I pointed. He retrieved me an oversized, old Degrassi t-shirt and some of my fluffy pajama pants with penguins on them.

"I'll, uh, step out and get you a glass of water," Eli flushed red. He grabbed my keys and the tumbler off my desk, and left the room.

I stood dizzily, stepped out of my jeans, removed my shirt and bra, and put on the clothes Eli had picked out for me. More comfortable, I crawled under my covers and focused on making the room stop spinning.

Eli came back a moment later and set the full glass on the ground by my bed. "Imogen isn't here, is she?"

"Nope," I sighed. He brushed away a stray curl that had fallen in my face.

"Someone has to stay and make sure you don't…I think it's a bad idea to leave you alone," Eli pointed out, his voice thick with tenderness. "Do you have an extra pillow and blanket? I'll sleep in the chair." He pointed at Imogen's bean bag.

I gave him one of my extra pillows and pointed at the blanket folded at the foot of my bed.

He turned out the lights, and I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of him trying to get comfortable. When the room when quiet, I whispered, "Eli?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for tonight."

"Don't mention it." I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

A few more minutes passed. "Eli?"

He chuckled. "Yes, Clare?"

I took a deep breath. "How did you get the scar on your arm?"

"Oh," he sounded like someone had punched him in the gut. "It's, uh," he was quiet for a long time.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…I just noticed and—sorry."

"No, no. It's a fair question," he laughed darkly. "But I don't think this is a good time to talk about it."

"Okay." I let the silence fall again. "Did you try to kill yourself?"

He was quiet for so long that I figured I had definitely overstepped. I closed my eyes, letting sleep come closer and closer.

"Yeah," he finally whispered so softly I almost didn't catch it. "Yeah, I did."

"Why?"

"Clare," his voice was laced with so much pain that I could actually taste his anguish. "Not now, okay?"

"But you'll tell me someday?"

"I think so, yeah. I just need time. I'm not…good at opening up."

"That's okay," I promised. "I have all the time in the world for you."

"I won't make you wait quite that long," he promised.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.