Author's note: Thank you for the kind reviews on here and on my tumblr. You're too kind. :] As for this chapter, I'm not sure if I like it yet. But I hope you do!
Eli was starting to hate "time."
It changed everything.
Clare was more reserved than ever around him now. She spoke with great caution as though the wrong words might shatter him to oblivion. Every smirk had her looking away and she reigned in that adorable laugh when he attempted to verbally spar with her. The flirting had been removed, and Eli could not stand its absence. At lunch, Clare had taken to sitting on Adam's side of the table and staring at her food when she addressed Eli – if she addressed him at all.
"If you sigh one more time, I'm getting you an inhaler." As much as Adam liked his friend, Eli's silent pining drove him mad. "Just ask her to sit next to you today, if it's so important."
"I can't just ask, Adam."
"Well, what do you want me to say, Eli? Do you want me to put my stuff on this seat so she has to sit by you?"
A strange grunt rumbled from Eli's throat as he tried to pretend that he didn't want exactly what his friend had offered. Adam wasn't fooled for a moment. With a roll of his eyes, he hefted his bag into the empty seat.
"You are pathetic."
Eli pretended not to hear.
The moment that Clare entered a room was palpable to Eli. Something shifted in the air, as though the oxygen itself had turned honey-sweet. Chatter dulled when he heard her voice, even across the crowded caf. It was cliché – stupid, really – but the seconds seemed to tick by more slowly as she approached, as her ice-shard eyes met his in a brief moment strung out over so many elongated nanoseconds. Often he would notice her inhale sharply at their eye contact, eliciting a smirk half because Eli knew it made her squirm and half because he knew she felt it, too. The electricity between them, their alignment, all of it.
Only now, Clare attempted no such connection. Her focus was on the floor's tile pattern as she picked her way through rowdy groups to their usual table. When she noticed her desired seat was occupied by Adam's school things, she hesitated abruptly. Eli's eyes darkened and he furrowed his brow.
'Is this really what we've come to, Clare?' He thought, exasperated. 'Is this what "time" means to you?'
Polite as ever and attempting to save face, Clare smiled quickly – not the endearing smile that made Eli's heart roll, but a harried, apologetic grimace – and sat in the only available seat.
Adam shrugged off the awkward silence by mentioning something about Drew and Alli, a topic that Clare gratefully latched on to. She was desperate for a distraction, the obvious color in her face having not yet faded from her initial arrival at the table. Eli tried to think again and again of something to say, anything to break down the strange new wall between them, but Clare's warm vanilla scent intoxicated his senses. All other thoughts were shunted aside to make way for dizzy daydreams.
Kissing.
Kissing in the park.
On a picnic table.
In the shade.
Sun spots filtering through leaves, dusting Clare's hair with warm flecks of light.
The goosebumps on her arms.
Her shirt's fabric so soft under his hand.
That melted, breathless look she had...
"What did you do this time?"
Clare was speaking.
She was speaking to Eli.
"Going to have to be more specific than that, Edwards." It came out more roughly than he had hoped, which he instantly regretted. She bit a nervous lip.
"What did you do to Fitz?"
Their Romeo and Juliet scene faded completely from his mind's eye at the name.
"Nothing since the fake ID. Why, St. Clare? Are you suggesting that it's time to stir up something new?" Eli teased darkly.
Clare tilted her head in annoyance and ignored his idiocy.
"It's just that he's been staring at you like he's out for blood or something."
Hardly surprised, almost bored, Eli scanned the surrounding tables for his nemesis.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Clare Edwards was cute, Fitz had to admit. Her hair curled just the right way and she had the prettiest blue eyes he'd ever seen. But Fitz loathed her. His contempt was inexplicable to most, uncalled for, even. She was such a kind person. But when Eli looked at her that way – like she was some sort of sun that he revolved around – bile coated Fitz's throat.
'No,' he chided himself. 'Shut up. That doesn't matter. He doesn't matter.'
But he did.
Eli's gaze was only for Clare and the jealousy clawed brutally at Fitz's insides.
Damn him. Damn his black-sharpied fingernails and his stupid headphones. Damn his big, creepy old hearse. Damn his shaggy black hair and the way it made him look like some sort of brooding young god. Damn his skinny jeans, his buckled boots, his black blazer. Damn the way his silver necklace reflected light dully onto the soft skin of his neck, shedding an ethereal glow above his collar bone. Damn his enchanting smirk and eyes full of mirth and forest greens. Damn his voice echoing like a sinful lullaby in Fitz's head. Damn him, damn him!
Much too late, Fitz realized that his internal rant had auto-aimed his stare directly at Eli. When the two boys' eyes met through hoards of shouting teenagers, Fitz involuntarily blushed.
"I'm out," he snarled to Owen, making a quick exit before the jock could respond.
Slam.
Slam.
Slam.
Slam.
Fitz's fist bounced back from the denting locker over and over again. Some tender part of his brain was struggling to warn him that his knuckles were bruising, but he paid no attention.
He shouldn't be feeling this way. He hated Eli, didn't he? Stupid little goth boy. Surely Fitz only wanted to touch him so that he could make him bleed. But, no. He ached to feel Eli's warmth beside him, to weave his bruised fingers through dark locks. He longed to taste the boy's witty tongue and steal away what chaste little Clare would never dare to dream of.
When Eli left the caf, he found the lanky bully leaned up against his locker which was now mysteriously dented.
"Goldsworthy." Fitz's tone danced mockingly over each syllable.
"Big word for you," Eli quipped. "I'm proud. Now move."
Eli's fiery retorts only intensified Fitz's need to get his hands on the boy. The feeling frightened him. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep cool.
"Say please first."
And there it was. The smirk. Advancing toward him. Eli was close enough to smell. Fitz felt breath on his face and reeled. Close enough to taste.
"Please move," Eli tried again, feigning politeness. "Neanderthal."
Finally Fitz had found his chance. He wasted no time gripping Eli's lapels tightly and slamming the boy up against a locker once, twice, again, again. Eli struggled, shoving at the broad chest in front of him. His open palms pressed against Fitz's torso, but the boy had no idea about the series of feverish thoughts this action set flying behind his attacker's eyes. Somewhere Clare's voice was urgent.
"Teacher!"
Fitz didn't care, and for some reason, neither did Eli. He finally got the upper hand, knocking the taller boy to the linoleum and clambering on top of him. His blows were welcome to Fitz. A punch to the jaw was somehow more pleasurable when it came from Eli. Perhaps it was the fact that in that moment, Clare didn't matter. Fitz had Eli's full attention, his full weight on top of him, and his full lips smirking down as Fitz's vision developed spots from repeated hits. It was a strange bliss, however short-lived.
"Gentlemen!" Coach Armstrong easily muscled the two boys apart. Only then did Fitz notice the sticky wetness dripping down his own neck and the ring of students eager for a little drama to color their gray-scale school day.
"Detention, and Mr. Fitzgerald, this is your last warning. You should both know better than this by now." Armstrong eyed all of the occupants of the hallway with disapproval. "To class, all of you! Go on, get going. Nothing to see. Move it."
His orders got softer as he went back to his classroom to fill out tedious detention slips as the bell rang. Eli jogged to catch up with Clare and no doubt attempt to convince her that the scuffle was a necessity, and Fitz could not help but allow his bloodied lips their own private smirk.
Eli's hair always looked good all tousled after a fight.
Now what to do next, eh? PLEASE review! Thank you for reading.