This is going to be the last chapter, and then there will be an epilogue. I just want to say again how grateful I am for every reader. You guys are awesome.

This chapter contains some potentially triggering content. I don't want to spoil exactly what kind of trigger, I want to let Eli do that, but I did want to warn you guys that there is a sensitive topic covered.

Lyrics from the Miniature Tigers' album "Tell It to the Volcano" are featured in this chapter. They are also recommended listening.

A week later, after a hectic academic week with a paper due in my World History class and my first Physics test, I found myself in Eli's bed, eager to let loose.

It had started with an innocent suggestion: we had been sitting up against the wall, holding hands, feet dangling over the edge of the bed, and playing a question game. We would go back and forth, thinking of interesting things to inquire and then eagerly listening to the answer.

After we had been playing for an hour or so, I asked him if he had any strange bucket list-like goals. He mentioned he had always wanted to make out to a specific album, letting the rhythms and beats lead the evening along.

Blushing but not all that put off by the suggestion, I asked if he had an album in mind.

And that was how we ended up with Eli hovering over to me, pulsing music in the background, slowly exploring each other's physical boundaries. My own mind had melted into a haze of Eli and the music. He was being very respectful indeed, but every now and again his hand would slide up my side teasingly.

Hot venom is mixing with my blood. I can feel it on my fingers and taste it on her tongue.

As if in tune with the music, Eli's hand wandered down to my hip and gripped it possessively, pulling me close against him. I gasped, feeling warm all over my body. Eli pulled back for a moment, checking to make sure he hadn't overstepped his bounds. The lust in my eyes seemed to reassure him because he started to nuzzle against my neck, his cool breath sending shivers along my spine.

Her power turns me on, turns me up on high and lets me burn.

Feeling braver and braver thanks to jolts of excitement, I let my fingers toy with the hem of Eli's Flaming Lips shirt. My hands slid up the smooth expanse of his back, and I couldn't help but hum at the way his soft skin felt under my needy fingertips.

Apparently fueled easily by suggestion, Eli sat up. I was about to protest, but then he pulled his shirt all the way off. I was only sort of aware of the distant thud of his shirt hitting the ground; most of my focus was on all the skin I suddenly had access to.

Eli wasn't a buff guy, but it was apparent that he had some muscle lurking behind the gentle flow of Eli's shoulders to his waist to his hips. Without even thinking, my hands twitched forward to touch. Eli smiled kindly at me. My eyes shyly flickered from his gaze to his chest.

Suddenly, his lips were on mine again, desperate to devour.

And as long as she's gone, I can never be happy.

"I love you." He whispered heatedly into my ear, kissing down the side of my neck.

My surroundings had suddenly come rushing back, all of my reservation surfacing. "Wait, wait," I struggled to sit up. Eli pulled away quickly, worry written all over his expression.

"Did I do something wrong?"

I took a deep breath, trying to center myself again. "Everything just started happening so fast. I need to cool down."

"Yeah, totally," Eli nodded and smiled softly at me. It didn't quite erase the worry from his eyes, though. I placed my hand on my heart and felt it slow to a healthy, normal pace as Eli climbed down the ladder to retrieve his shirt. He settled back into place on the bed, and we were silent for a few, long moments. "Do you…," he gulped, choking on the question. "You don't feel the same way?" he asked, staring intently at his comforter.

"It's not that," I immediately reassured him. "It's just…my parents…and the last time I said that to someone…." I knew I wasn't making any coherent sense, but I also didn't really understand why I couldn't repeat Eli's sentiment myself.

He looked sad but no longer dejected. Eli opened his arms to me, patting the space on the bed next to him. I curled in to him eagerly, resting my head on his chest. "You can say it whenever you feel it, no pressure or obligation. I don't use the word lightly either. I understand."

I sighed instead of responding and let my eyes drift closed happily. So Eli loved me. In all the rush of my personal little world whirling around me, rushing to morph and fit itself back together, it was nice to know he could be my anchor—holding me to solid ground.

###

"Come on, chica! The boys are waiting for us downstairs." Imogen was pouting, trying to tug me out of my desk chair.

I, after my mother had ignored all of my phone calls the past week, was desperately resorting to e-mail. The problem was I couldn't make any of the words sound right together. It was weird to have to try so hard to present myself to my mother, but I hadn't talked to my dad since I had made my plea. I wasn't sure what things were like at home, and it was a weird disconnection.

I sighed, saving the current, messy e-mail as a draft. "Okay, okay. I'm coming."

"Is that really what you're wearing?"

The door to our room thudded closed as we started down the stairs. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked, glancing down at the simple grey tank top, jeans, and light blue cardigan I had on.

"It doesn't project school spirit!" Imogen admonished, waggling her finger at me. She had gone all out; even her makeup had been done in red and black. Imogen also had—not one—but two foam fingers tucked under her arm. I had more sensibly brought along an umbrella and my rain jacket.

"I'm going to the game, aren't I?"

Eli and Adam were in the foyer. Eli was leaning against the heater, staring at his boots, while Adam was making fun of the lobby's cheesy corkboard. "It's like the RAs get together to have a giant brainstorm about how to make these things as stupid as possible," he was rolling his eyes, batting at the gaudy streamers. Even though it was nearly October, the board was still decorated for August: Being a Super Smithdale Citizen.

"Clare isn't being properly enthusiastic." Imogen pouted, going immediately to rest her chin on Adam's shoulder.

"Neither is that lug." Adam jabbed his thumb in Eli's direction. Eli just shrugged, turning toward me to flash a special, Clare-reserved smirk.

"I put forth a minimum effort." He drawled, tugging on the collar of his t-shirt. It had the school mascot plastered across the torso, the words Smithdale University written in Comic Sans in bright red supporting the lion's feet.

"Where did you get that?" I snorted, wrapping my arms around his torso. He kissed my forehead.

"They were discounted in the bookstore. I'd like to meet the idiot who pitched Comic Sans and shake his hand." Eli was grinning ruefully.

"So you're wearing it for the irony."

"Of course," Eli scoffed. "And because it's black, so I can still be seen in public wearing it."

"Which just adds purchase to my Eli Chose His Higher Education Based on the School Colors theory," Adam joked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

Eli flipped him the bird. "So, not that I'm in a rush or anything, but if we're seriously doing this, we should probably get going."

We were going to a football game. And not just any football game: it was against our "rival" school. Eli and I had protested the idea vehemently, not really wanting to spend the afternoon sitting in uncomfortable bleacher seats and watching a bunch of Frat guys get wasted. But Adam and Imogen really wanted to try out the double date thing and sneak in a critical college experience moment.

Plus, knowing my weaknesses, Adam had mentioned that we had a girl on our football team, and this was her debut in the starting line-up. So, as a feminist, I was going to support my fellow, strong woman.

The afternoon air was a little nippy, but it was mostly invigoratingly crisp. A soft haze had fallen over campus, making every straight line shimmer in the Saturday gloom.

The stadium wasn't technically on campus, so it took us a solid thirty-five minutes before we were flashing our student IDs at the gate to get in for free.

"Who wants some hilariously unhealthy stadium dogs, on me?" Adam was beaming. Eli was watching as the crowd ebbed and flowed around us, tugging on the sleeves of his thermal nervously. Imogen seemed to be doing some kind of interpretive dance, waving her foam fingers around unceremoniously.

I checked my phone. Nothing. "What the heck," I threw my hands in the air in defeat. "I've got drinks: hot chocolate and hot dogs for all."

"Clare Edwards found her school spirit!" Imogen clapped her foam hands together and did a wiggle that caught the attention of two buff guys walking past with enough beer to put me in a coma. I narrowed my eyes at them as they let out wolf whistles. Imogen whipped around. "Objectify me again and I'll grab your junk so hard it'll scare your precious, little sperm away for a decade."

They looked mortified, but Adam, Eli, and I all doubled over with laughter.

"I might steal that from you," I warned her, still giggling.

Imogen bowed. Adam beamed. "Isn't she the best?"

With hot dogs and hot chocolate in tow, we settled into a slightly quieter section of the student bleachers. The walk had taken longer than we had anticipated, so the game was already in process. Adam's brother, Drew, was apparently on the team, and Imogen's mother was some kind of football buff. Eli and I had to rely heavily on them to understand the action on the field.

But it actually wasn't that bad. Sure, the institution of sports was overblown to a disgusting degree, but it was kind of fun to get excited when your team scored. And Smithdale's football team was actually pretty good, especially Rosie Faulkner. It was really nice to see the other members of the team treat her so respectfully.

During the fourth quarter, while Adam and Imogen were unabashedly making out because Imogen had told some video game joke that made Adam go all starry-eyed, Eli noticed I was distractedly checking my phone every few seconds.

"My offer still stands," he whispered in my ear. The morning after I had talked to my dad, I told Eli what I had done. He seemed to disapprove of such an abrasive form of meddling, but he had been supportive nonetheless. And when I mentioned my mother wasn't returning any of my calls—again—he offered to drive me back home in Morty.

"I don't know…." I hesitated. The idea of going home was intoxicating: neither my mom nor my dad could ignore me if I was physically there. On the other hand, though, the last time I had gone home it was tense and I could tell they were trying to put on the happy-family façade for me. Plus, I didn't exactly know how to present Eli to my parents. No doubt they would want to know who it was that had driven me back home in a hearse.

"That's okay," he promised. "I just want you to know it's an option."

I kissed the tip of his nose. "Thank you."

"Eww, gross!" Adam shouted in our ears, a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. "PDA!"

Eli looked affronted. "Says the guy who, seconds ago, had his tongue shoved so far down his girlfriend's trachea, surgery was almost necessary to disentangle you two."

Adam waggled his eyebrows. "I love when you talk dirty to me."

"Should we be jealous?" I asked, giving one of Imogen's pigtails a gentle tug.

"Yes," Eli and Adam answered in unison.

I laughed heartily, my family issues once again forgotten in the presence of my best friends.

###

Tuesday morning I slept through my first class and was almost late to Physics. I had no idea why I was so groggy, but something about the day was already off-putting. I felt wrong, unstable.

Clipping my hair back haphazardly, I pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt before sprinting to class. I hadn't even bothered to see what the weather was like, but I was greeted by a bone-rattling gust of frigid wind as soon as I walked outside.

Coffee-less and book-less, I fell into my usual seat next to Adam.

"Whoa there, somebody's starting to feel the effects of university life. You look worse than I did when my black eye was still visible."

"Shut up." I grumbled, pulling out the notebook in my bag only to find that I had grabbed my Women's Literature notes instead of Physics. I groaned and flipped to a blank page.

"Seriously, is everything okay?" Adam asked.

"I don't know. I think I'm just having an off day."

Dr. Leskov was already off and talking about free body diagrams and their usefulness, but when he gave us some practice problems to work with it was apparent I was just more confused than ever.

"You forgot gravity, Clare." Adam whispered, pointing out where I had gone wrong on the second problem. He was side-eyeing me like he was expecting an explosion, and I let my head drop with a thunk onto the table. I was ashamed to realize there were tears pooling in my eyes. I bit them back stubbornly. Adam started to rub my back, and I relaxed a little, finally lifting my head.

"Thanks," I whispered meekly.

"Don't mention it." He shrugged, flashing me a reassuring smile.

I smiled back, feeling like I had a tentative hold on my sanity once again.

"Alright, let us stop there. I have graded your tests. Please come forward to retrieve them when I call your name. If you have any questions about your grade you may wait till the end of class, come to my office hours, or schedule a personal consultation. Jenny Thornton…Steven Black…."

I waited for my name to be called, and took a few deep breaths. I don't know what I was expecting. The first section of the test had been fairly easy; it was mostly key terms. The second section I had run into a snag or two. It had been multiple choice, but I the answers I had calculated weren't always an option. The third and biggest section had been hell—story problems galore.

I had studied and stressed for weeks.

"Clare Edwards."

I grabbed my bag. "I'll see you later?" I asked Adam as I started to scoot out of the row.

"Count on it," he nodded before going back to fiddling with his phone.

My anxiety built with every step I took toward the front of the room. When I got there, Dr. Leskov wordlessly handed me my test, face down. No eye contact, no comment…sometimes the difference between university and high school stood in sharp contrast.

I started for the door, too nervous to look yet. I had a doomed, gurgly feeling in my stomach. As soon as I was out the door, I looked.

68%

My face paled instantly, and my veins seemed to shrink in size. Everything froze, and my vision tunneled. All I could see was the bold, careless curves of the six and the eight. I could hear my heart as if it were personally pounding on my eardrum.

I couldn't even cry I was so shocked.

But since I had stopped right outside the door, the flow of students still coming out pushed me forward and out into the shrieking wind. I could feel the prickles of tears in my wide-open eyes, and I just kept stumbling forward, unsure of where I was going. Eventually, I got my bearings enough to slip into one of the residence halls that also had a public place for dining.

I sat down at a random table and stared at the paper still clutched tightly in my hand.

Suddenly, my phone started to buzz in my jeans pocket. When I saw the caller ID, a fresh wave of tears started to pool in my eyes. Never before had I needed to talk to my mother so much.

"Mommy," I answered, the vulnerability painfully evident in my voice.

"Clare Diana Edwards, what have you done?" Her voice was grating, sharp and thin as a sheet of steel. She might have simply sounded furious to people who didn't know her well, but I could hear the edge of panic and the slur of tears.

"I—what?"

"Your father moved out. He wants to file for divorce. He told me you inspired him to live life righteously? I told you everything was fine, but you couldn't let things be, could you? I am adult, Clare; I am your mother! What were you thinking?"

She was screaming by the end of her rant, and I was openly weeping in the middle of the public dining hall. "I just wanted you to be happy, Mom." I tried to keep my voice to a measured hiss. On top of everything else, the last thing I needed was a huge scene. "You can't honestly tell me that you wanted to stay with him. Dad was cheating on you."

"What am I going to tell your grandma? She'll be furious! And the parish? You saw how they treated Angela after her divorce from Jim. I told you everything was fine!"

I couldn't help it. The day had already stomped on me enough, and I felt a sudden burst of fury. "But everything wasn't fine! He was cheating, Mom! Why are you trying to make me the enemy? Maybe I shouldn't have gotten in the middle, but it's my family, too, okay? You weren't doing anything; you were pretending nothing was even happening! I just want you to be happy."

"Well I am not happy, Clare. I think it would be best if we don't speak for some time."

I let out a gasp and a hiccup, almost choking on the thick flow of tears. "We've been doing a whole lot of not talking, and look where that's gotten us!"

"Young lady, you had better drop that superior tone. My lunch hour is almost over. I have to reapply my make-up. Goodbye."

She didn't even let me answer before the line was dead. I glanced around. A few people were discreetly murmuring and glancing in my direction way too often for them not to be talking about me. Thankfully, though, most of the outburst had gone unnoticed.

With as much pride as I could muster, I rose from the table, the test still gripped tightly in my fist. My body was on auto-pilot, my brain shutting down to protect itself. Before I could even muster up enough attention to pay to my surroundings, I was in Eli's building, walking up the stairs…and finally I was at the door.

Adam answered when I knocked. His face went slack when he saw me. "Clare, what happened?"

"Is Eli home?"

He was already at the door before I could finish my question, his eyes taking in every detail of my haphazard appearance. He didn't say anything, didn't ask questions; he immediately pulled me in to a tight hug.

"I think I'll go see if Imogen wants to get lunch," Adam said. He grabbed his wallet off the dresser and was gone in seconds.

"Want to talk or snuggle?" Eli asked.

I thought about it for a moment. "Definitely both."

"A wonderful choice, my dear." He pulled back and flashed me a tender smile before climbing the ladder into his bed. I dropped my bag on the floor and followed, settling between the wall and Eli. I rested my head on his chest and felt his arm wrap around my shoulders. He gave me a tight squeeze. "Whenever you're ready…unless you prefer me to prompt."

I let out a gusty sigh. "I failed my Physics test. Well, not technically: I got a 68%" I hid my face in Eli's shirt, the shame and embarrassment making my face go violently red.

"So you're not going to be a prized physicist. We knew this, Clare."

I harrumphed, already feeling a smidge better despite myself. "But I'm a good student; one of the best, even. I excel at school even when I'm not good at anything else."

"I hate to pull the whole older-and-wiser shtick on you, but this isn't high school. The classes are harder, and they are specialized. You're not going to be great at everything. And you know the best part? Nobody cares! You're allowed—in fact, you are encouraged—to find the thing that suits you best. That's why there are majors and concentrations."

I grumbled incoherently for a moment before giving in. "Okay, fine, that's great. But what about my GPA?"

"You can still withdraw, if you're really worried."

"You mean quit?" I asked, appalled.

Eli sighed, and I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "I'm just pointing out that you have options, Clare. You should seriously consider them. A 68 on one test isn't the end of the world. And I suspect you know that. So what else happened?"

It was weird that he knew me so well after what felt like such a short time. Then again, everything with Eli felt so natural and right. It was as easy as a heartbeat; I didn't have to think about it, but it was a powerful force that drove my life.

"You have to promise not to say 'I told you so.'" I said, burying my head in his chest once again.

"Seriously, Edwards? You think I would try to make you feel worse right now?"

"No, I'm just hedging my bets."

"Fine. I do swear on my honor not to utter the phase that shall not be repeated."

Unable to hold back, I let a giggle bubble up from my throat. "Good boy." The smile on my face quickly vanished, and I turned my head to watch Eli's face. He was watching me intently, his features soft and warm. His smile made me tingle from head to toe.

And, suddenly, I didn't want to talk about my parents, about what I had done. It felt like my world had unraveled in the last few hours. I didn't want to talk through my feelings—trying to fix things by talking is what had gotten me in the mess. I just wanted to feel Eli—stable, caring Eli.

I just wanted Eli.

In a move that would have normally sent me out the door in embarrassment of my clumsiness, I launched myself forward and started adamantly kissing whatever skin I could reach. He indulged me for a moment, kissing me back halfheartedly.

When he caught on that I was not going to stop, and when my hand daringly shot under the hem of his shirt, Eli turned his face so I could not reach and grabbed my wrist all in one swift movement. "Whoa there, Edwards." He was mostly surprised, but I heard the edge of discomfort in his voice.

"What? You've taken off your shirt before."

"Well, yes, but we were A) not in the middle of a serious discussion and B) shortly thereafter you requested that we slow things down. What is going on with you?"

I shook my head, and tried to go back to kissing him. Again, he let me, but when my quaky hands started to toy with his belt buckle he sat up with a short, decisive "No."

"Why not?" I pouted, hurt by his rejection.

"Because this isn't who you are." He took my hand gently and subtly fingered my promise ring. "And you're obviously dealing with something serious. This isn't the way I want to be with you for the first time." He blushed.

I was angry at the implication of his objection. "People change; maybe this is who I am," I shot back defiantly.

"Clare, come on, I don't want to argue about this. I said no. Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

My nostrils flared, angry and determined. "I know you've thought about me that way," I tried to look sexy and alluring. I trialed my hand up just past his knee, still too nervous to go much further than that. "Don't you want to be with me, Eli?"

Something about my question unnerved him, and his hands started to shake. He clenched them into fists and squeezed his eyes shut tight. I sat back, suddenly frightened, and watched as he desperately tried to suck air into his lungs. It didn't help: the more he gasped, it seemed, the less he actually brought into his lungs.

"Eli?" I questioned. "What's wrong?"

"Out," he demanded, spitting the word in my general direction.

"But—I…Eli?"

"Get out!" he screeched. I jumped, my joints shocked into a locked position for a moment. "Now," he practically snarled.

Flushed, ashamed, and confused, I scrambled down the ladder and grabbed by bag. I glanced back at Eli: part of me hoping to find him calm and ready to explain, part of me reassuring myself that he wasn't about to hurt himself. He was still visibly shaking, his face red with the force of his effort. He turned a fierce glare on me, though, and—tail tucked between my legs—I ran out the door.

###

I sat in my usual spot in Women's Lit, an anxious jolt stirring in my stomach every time a new person walked in. But every time I glanced up, it wasn't Eli coming to sit next to me.

I had called him several times the night before, leaving a few rambling apology messages, but he hadn't returned my calls.

I sunk into my chair, glumly sketching a row of dark X's in the margin of my notebook.

Dawes swooped into the room, and I opened up my copy of Like Water for Chocolate to the first page of that day's assigned reading. It looked like Eli wouldn't be coming to class.

"I demand the room's attention!" Dawes struck her power stance in the front of the room, the book cradled delicately against her chest, her glasses slipping closer and closer to the tip of her nose, and her notes tucked into the waistband of her flowing skirt. "Good. Now, show of hands, who did the reading?"

At least eighty percent of the hands in the room went up.

"Very well," Dawes nodded. "As punishment, I want a hasty prediction of what you think happened to each of the characters in the exhilarating part of the book on which you have missed out. To convince me that you should not be asked to leave the discussion for lack of ability to contribute, have a defense for why you think your prediction is in character."

This was usually my favorite part of class. Eli and I—even though we had usually done the reading, usually together—would scribble alternate ways the story could have gone in his notebook, passing it back and forth while people scrambled to save their attendance grade. Sometimes we had serious gripes with the way the story of written, and took the exercise seriously, but more often than not we tried to come up with the most wacky scenarios that could still be considered plausible.

I was suddenly struck with how much I really cared about Eli. I was brimming with him. Every part of my day was laced with the far-reaching affection I felt for him, and suddenly I was buzzing with the need for him.

I had to tell him how I really felt. I had to tell him how sorry I was. I had to make things right…because if I lost him now, I wasn't sure how I could bounce back from so much loss.

It was physically painful to stay seated through the hour and fifteen minutes of class, but I managed. As soon as Dawes released us, though, I was tripping over myself to get out the door.

"Miss Edwards!" Dawes called me back into the room. "Can you spare a few minutes of your time?"

Wound as tight as I was, I considered saying no, but I obediently approached where she was seated on top of the front table. "Of course; is there a problem?"

"Heavens no," Dawes waved away the idea. "I wanted to talk to you about the paper you handed in on familial structures in The Awakening. Normally, I frown upon the infusion of personal experience into an academic paper, but I cannot deny the brilliance of your argument or the natural flow of your prose. I was quite impressed and deeply moved. I wanted your permission to submit it with my recommendation to a few feminist, scholarly journals."

I was floored, my eyes widening comically. "Are you serious?"

Dr. Dawes laughed fondly. "My dear, I do not kid about the scholarship of feminism."

It was my turn to laugh, though it came out as a surprised bark. "That sounds…yes, you have my permission," I assured her, dumbfounded.

She nodded happily, unsurprised. "Very well. Also, Miss Edwards, I wanted to personally remind you that meetings which take place during office hours do not have to necessarily pertain to classwork. My door is always open if you need someone to talk to."

Again, I found myself at a loss for the appropriate reaction; I was too busy being shocked by her kindness. "Th-thank you," I stuttered.

She turned to pack up her things, and I started for the door. "Oh, and Clare?" I paused and turned to her. "I am looking forward to see what you and Mr. Goldsworthy come up with for your final project. In a way, your partnership was better suited than I could possibly take full credit for. But I will anyway." There was a knowing gleam in her eyes, and all I could do was smile, nod, and take my exit.

###

I rushed to Eli and Adam's dorm. On the way, I had dialed my mother's cell phone—excited to tell her about Dawes's news—only to remember that we were fighting too.

"Hey, Adam!" I greeted him brightly when he answered my frenzied knocking. "I have awesome news. Is Eli here?"

He seemed confused. "Do you have a split personality or something? Just yesterday you showed up here in tears."

"No," I rolled my eyes at him, "I've just had a lot going on. I assume Eli isn't here; do you know when he'll be back?"

"He went home for the weekend." Adam's voice was guarded.

The information pulled me up short. "Wait, what? When? Why?"

Adam let the door fall open and plopped onto the futon. "I don't really know. He left me a note, said it was an emergency. But you know Eli: he gave me as little information as possible. Did something happen between you two after I left?"

I sank down next to him, all my excited energy and need hit an impenetrable wall. "Yeah, I…" I let my voice trail off, not exactly sure how to tell Adam what had happened.

Adam shook his head. "Spare me the dirty details of your weird, complicated relationship."

We were silent for a while: Adam clacking away on his laptop, me lost in thought. "Can I ask you something personal?"

He looked up and grinned his boyish grin at me. "What are boundaries between friends?"

"Have you told Imogen that you're trans* yet?"

He was caught off guard by the direction of my question. "Oh, um, no. I mean, I know it's a talk I have to have with her really soon, but it's pretty delicate. I've been trying to get the timing right, you know?"

"If she takes it badly, what are you going to do?"

He paused, his face lined with the depth of his thought. "I spent a lot of time in high school trying to force myself on girls who weren't comfortable with who I was or who wanted to be with me for the wrong reasons. And it made me fucking miserable, Clare. I care about Imogen a lot, and the more I hang out with her, the more she surprises me. I hope that she likes me for who I am because I really like her. But if she doesn't…I care about myself too much to put me through that again."

I grabbed his hand and squeezed. He squeezed back. "You're my hero, you know."

He lit up. "I am pretty cool, huh?"

"I really screwed up, Adam."

"Eli or your parents?" he asked sympathetically.

"Both," I answered promptly. "But I was thinking about Eli."

"You want my advice? I am a hero, after all. I'm certified to hand out nuggets of wisdom."

I tried not to smile. "Yes, please, advice is necessary."

"I see the way you two look at each other. You act like you're some freakish two-headed monster, one entity. It's freaky how complimentary you two are. So swallow your pride, grovel; track him down and demand to work out your problems. Don't wait till you're wallowing in a heavy dose of regret to get proactive. Every cheesy movie ever made has told us that good relationships are worth fighting for. Earn your badge: fight."

"You know, you may actually be the smartest person I know."

"Don't sound so surprised," he scoffed.

I rested my head lightly on his shoulder. "Do you know where Eli's parents live?"

"No, but I have ways of finding out." Adam flexed his fingers over his keyboard expertly. "Next stop, make up central!"

###

It turned out that Eli's parents lived only twenty minutes out from the city. Adam's brother apparently owed him a huge favor for something that neither of them was wanted to talk about, and he had a car on campus. So that was how I found myself immersed in awkward silence with Drew Torres on a Wednesday evening.

Drew's car smelled like a boys' locker room, and he had fraternity paraphernalia decorating his back window and hanging from his rearview mirror. "So…" I started after about five minutes of unbearable silence. "What's your major?"

Drew flashed an easy smile at me. I could tell he knew it was a powerful weapon: charming and infused with confidence. He used that smile on girls often, I assumed.

Or maybe I wasn't being fair. Adam had told me a few stories about fights Drew would get into to defend Adam's honor.

"I'm a business major." He puffed out his chest proudly.

On second thought, I decided it was okay to judge him just a little. "Oh, good for you." I tried to sound sincere, failed, and quickly moved on. "Thanks again for driving me."

"It's cool. Adam's told me a lot about you. It's cool that you're looking out for him. I don't always have the time with football and my bros and class and shit."

I nodded as if I understood his plight. "Time management can be tricky."

He cocked an eyebrow at me, his face kind of blank. It was like there was some kind of language barrier. I sunk into the upholstery and closed my eyes. Awkward silence it was.

Thirty-five minutes, a bunch of traffic, and three fourths of a Kanye West album later, I was overjoyed to hear Drew's GPS announce that we had come to Eli's street.

"Cool, we're here." Drew smiled at me again after he pulled up to the curb of a simple, brick house. I recognized Morty in the driveway. I would have been offended by the relief in Drew's voice if it wasn't the first thing he said to which I could relate.

"Again, thank you," I tried to infuse as much gratitude into my voice as possible.

"Just keep being a good friend to Adam and we're even."

He pulled away, and I decided that, even if we could never be close or even friends, I liked Drew. He had a good heart.

I quickly bounded up the few steps to Eli's front door, but paused short of knocking. I had an entire car ride to think about what to say, and I still hadn't really decided.

Remembering Adam's advice and swallowing my nerves, I knocked loudly. A middle-aged blonde woman with purposefully frizzy hair and a leather vest answered the door. "Can I help you?" she asked brightly. Her smile was warm and welcoming, so different from the guarded Eli, that I would have assumed I had the wrong house if her eyes weren't exactly the same shade of green as Eli's.

"Yes, um," I fiddled nervously with the buttons on my cardigan. "Is Eli home?"

She squinted at me. "Clare!" she pointed at my face decidedly and then clapped her hand together once in pleasure. "Clare Edwards, am I right?"

"Yes. Hello, it's nice to meet you." I held out my hand for a shake.

She ignored it and pulled me into the tightest hug I had experienced in years. I relaxed into her embrace, thinking of my own mother. "Oh, Bullfrog is going to be so upset that he missed you. I'm Cece, by the way; call me Cece. We have heard everything about you. I mean, honestly, whenever we call to see how Eli's doing it's always 'Clare this' or 'Clare that' and it's just so adorable. You know, I met Bullfrog my second year of university? He was auditioning for a time slot for the campus radio, which was in the same building as all the journalism classes—I was a journalism major—and I just thought he was the funniest lug. I had to have him."

"Ma, are you harassing the delivery guy again?"

Cece finally let go of me, and I watched as Eli bounded down the stairs. He stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw me. "Surprise!" Cece shouted, as if she'd been in on my secret stop-in from the very beginning. "I am not harassing the delivery guy; I'm harassing your girlfriend."

"Lovely," Eli noted, his voice thick with sarcasm.

I went back to fiddling, suddenly so nervous I was sure that if I opened my mouth to speak there would be vomit.

Cece sensed the tension in the room. "Well then. I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you two have some things to talk about. I'll be in my office. If you're hungry, let me know! I can make pasta or toast or brownies!"

She seemed to drift out of the room on a whim, she moved with very little purpose. But once she was gone, you could feel the loss.

Eli was the one to break our tense silence. "She's not kidding: those are the only three things she can make successfully."

I smiled. "Hi."

"Hey."

"You weren't in your room."

"And you, being the sensible and sane person you are, decided that the second best place to look for me was right here."

There was just enough jest in his voice that I found the courage to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow in question, and I cleared my throat. "I had something very important to tell you."

"Ah, I see." He nodded. Then gestured to the couch. We sat. He stared at me, blinking. Okay, so he wasn't going to help me through this. That was fair. I deserved that.

"Okay, so, you know how I've been dealing—very poorly, I know—with a lot of change in my life?" He was listening, his eyes showing that he absorbed every word. I pushed on. "It occurred to me that I've been kinda using you. Like, you make me feel happy and safe, so I just keep letting myself get pulled along by your current without actually holding up my side of the relationship. I've treated you horribly, and if you decide to never forgive me, I'd be devastated and heart-broken, but in the long run I would understand.

"Here's the thing, though: I love you. I do. I love you, Eli Goldsworthy. You, the person you are: not just how you make me feel and not just because you're there for me. I love the way you tug on your shirtsleeves when you're nervous. I love the way you give serious consideration to the questions you're asked before you answer. I love the way you pick up litter on the sidewalk and tell jokes for the poor ladies who work the cash registers in the market. I love the way you can turn a phrase and make it sound as elegant as F. Scott Fitzgerald without a moment's notice. I love your hopefulness…." My voice caught in my throat, and I tentatively reached out to run a finger along his scar. The skin was mostly smooth, healed. Eli shivered. "I am so, so sorry about yesterday."

"I know," he promised, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "Is it my turn?"

"Your turn to what?"

"Apologize," Eli scoffed as if it were obvious.

"What in the world do you have to apologize for?" I asked.

"For not being honest with you; for yelling at you yesterday."

"Eli," I sighed exasperatedly. "You've never been dishonest with me."

"But I haven't told you the whole story, either, and I think it's time that I did. I need you to understand."

"Okay," I nodded. "I'm listening."

He aggressively pushed all the air from his lungs in a gust. "It's not a happy story," he warned, running a hand through his hair.

"One of the major details is that you tried to kill yourself. I kinda figured it wasn't."

He seemed to be building resolve, his hands playing with my fingers in a lost, jumbled way. Finally, he began: "During the summer between my tenth and eleventh year, I met this girl. I had signed up for this thing at the Jewish community center that was basically writer boot camp. They locked you in a room for a few hours and forced you to be productive, occasionally we would workshop, et cetera.

"So anyway, there were also a bunch of art classes hosted there, and every day when I would leave at 2, there would be this girl on the steps, working in a sketchbook. One day, I sat down next to her and ask what she was waiting for. I ended up giving her a ride home, and we hit it off. Julia was older than me; she had just finished her first year at the local community college. So, things were weird from the start.

"I don't really want to get into all the messy details of our relationship," he sighed, one of his hands aggressively rubbing his face. "We were both really stubborn people, and we fought a lot. And one of the things we fought a lot about was sex." I tried my hardest not to grimace, but Eli wasn't paying attention to me anyway. He was staring fixedly at a spot on the coffee table, his hand quivering violently. I was holding his clasped fist in both of my hands gently, and I could feel the tension in his muscles. We were getting to the bad part.

"She had a lot of experience, and I was a virgin. I didn't necessarily have reservations about sleeping with her, but I knew I didn't love her. And I know guys aren't supposed to care about that stuff, we're supposed to be primed and ready to have sex at any time, but I did. I had some weird, romantic illusions about how it was all supposed to play out, and…God, Clare, it's been three years and I still don't know how to spit it out. I hate talking about it."

I squeezed his hand. I had an idea of what led to Eli's suicide attempt, and it made my blood boil with so much anger that I actually considered finding this Julia girl and pulling out all her hair, one chunk at a time. "She raped you, didn't she?" I whispered, the venom barely concealed in my voice.

Eli barely managed a nod, his entire body was quivering. "We had gone to a party, and I had a lot to drink. I was barely conscious, but I do remember Julia coming back home with me. She knew that, had I been sober, I wouldn't have wanted to. But she was naked in my bed the next morning."

"I-I triggered you when…oh, god, Eli, I'm the worst kind of person. Here I am, wanting to rip this girl's throat out, and I'm just as bad!"

Eli managed to scowl at me. "Yeah, I came home special to see my long-standing therapist. I have one at school, but Dr. York is my favorite. That doesn't make you a bad person, though, Clare. You're going through your own traumas. I understand that. I know who you are; you're the kindest, most selfless, most caring person I have ever met. That hasn't changed."

I hung my head. "I am so, so sorry."

"I know. And I forgive you."

"Thank you." I rested my forehead against his cheek. After a long while, after Eli had stopped shaking so much, I asked, "So when did you try to kill yourself?"

Eli let out a bitter laugh. "My parents were furious. They insisted I take it to trial, but she was my girlfriend and there wasn't any physical evidence. But then, during the first week of grade 12, news got around that Julia had been killed in a serious car accident. Her newest boyfriend had been drinking, but she got in the car anyway. I don't know…it's hard to remember how I had been feeling, but after being motivated and fueled by so much anger and hate, it was weird to know that the source of all that was suddenly just gone. And then…I wanted to be gone, too. So I tried to make it happen.

"Cece was the one who found me," he said after a pause. "She wouldn't let me out of her sight for weeks afterward. I almost didn't complete my year at school. And then, when acceptance letters started coming in, Cece and Bullfrog had a lot of serious discussions with Dr. York about whether I'd be able to handle university. As it turned out, though, university was good for me. I like school, I threw myself into writing.

"And then I met Imogen." The words were pouring out now, unrehearsed and chaotic. It was clear that Eli hadn't talked this much about everything that had happened to him…maybe ever. "And she was weird, but I liked her. She was endearing. And she seemed to really like me. So we went on a couple dates. She had this childlike innocence that I wanted to be close to; like maybe I was hoping she could fix me. And I knew she wanted to. But the morning after we decided to take our relationship to a sexual place, I woke up to a girl naked, in my bed. All I could process was the dark hair, and even though I knew Julia was dead, I completely lost it. I've never actually apologized to Imogen for all the things I said to her. I was horrible."

"I'm sure Imogen would forgive you."

Eli nodded. "Now that she's back in my life, I really should sit her down and explain myself. She deserves that much."

I wrapped my arms around Eli's torso, hugging him close. "I love you," I reminded him. The words felt natural and light on my tongue.

"Even after everything I just told you?" He sounded tortured.

"Especially after everything you just told me. Eli, you are so strong and brave, and you deserve better than what the universe has given you, but that hasn't stopped you from gifting so much back. God, of course I still love you."

He smiled down at me, exhausted but radiant. "I love you, too, Clare."

We hung on to each other for a while, just enjoying the feeling. I closed my eyes and started to drift off. It dawned on me that I didn't have a way back to campus. "When are you going back to school?"

"Tomorrow morning, probably."

"Will your mom and dad be weird about me staying the night?"

"Are you kidding me?" Eli scoffed. "If we spend the night in the same bed, they might throw us a party or bake a cake."

"I think…I'd like that."

"Cake?"

"No," I flushed. "Spending the night in the same bed as you, silly. I mean, only if you want to. You were right yesterday: I'm not ready for anything more than that yet."

Eli practically pulled me onto his lap and kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose, and then my lips. "I think sharing a bed with you sounds magnificent." I giggled. "Let's make a deal right now."

"What kind of deal?" I asked, kissing the space of skin between his eyebrows.

"Let's agree to be partners: serious partners. We'll be honest with each other and talk out our problems. We'll support each other and trust each other enough to point out when the other is being stupid or mean or illogical. Let's take on life as a team."

"English partners for life," I agreed, laughing.

"Shake on it," Eli demanded, holding up his hand.

"Remember when you didn't want to be my friend?" I teased, grasping his hand and giving it a firm shake.

"What a fucking idiot I was," Eli grinned. "Do you want to ask my mom if she'll make us brownies? I've got a copy of Breakfast of Champions upstairs."

"Goldsworthy, I am surprised you even had to ask. You know me better than that."

He smiled, those green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Better make a pot of coffee then, too."

I couldn't help it: every muscle in my body was compelled to kiss the smug smirk off his face. So I did.

And I did.

And I did.