Yet somehow they made it through. Clare took him back on the promise of change. And soon enough, their one year anniversary had come to pass. Right around exams week. Midterms, to be exact. Fitz thought the end of such an occasion deserved some celebrating. Apprehensive and unsure, Clare swiftly avoided the subject for a short spell. But his persistence grew and quickly Clare soon lost herself in his eyes, letting him slip the ring off her finger. With a noiseless drop to the shadowy ground of the ravine, it buried itself deep in the dirt where even the moonlit sky couldn't reach it.
.
.
Mark's promises ringing in her ears, Clare went home that night with eyes heavy and a heart full. 'Nothing would change between them now.' If anything, things would be even 'better' now that the deed was done. Wiping away tears, Clare tried to convince herself what she'd let him do—what she had done—was the right decision. As the night wore on, Clare laid at home in bed, willing sleep to come.
But it never came.
.
.
The next day at school. The final day of exams. The day of the dance. Fitz greeted Clare with an unnaturally public display of affection. Yes, he was proud of his prize. He'd finally won at last.
Meanwhile, his buddies were not blind.
From her spot by the school steps, Clare noticed Owen slip Tyler a twenty, as the two walked over to the couple. Tyler then proceeded to reach out to Fitz. But Fitz was shooting daggers. His jaw tightened and his lip clenched, trying to signal to them that they would settle all bets later. In spite of Fitz's glare—or more likely, because of it—his buddies opened their mouths.
"So, not so Saintly now, are you, Miss Clare?"
"Never thought I'd see the day…"
"… never shoulda doubted you, Fitzy boy."
"I always knew you could do it…"
It was almost as if Clare was hearing it all from under water and the world was spinning much too fast and upside down on its axis. Jaw dropping, she watched as Mark's friends slipped bills into his hand. Heard them whisper none too kindly about her now seemingly infamous wild night the previous evening. Incredulous, Clare stood still as Fitz said nothing in response. Apparently, Clare wasn't to have found out about the guys' little "bet."
"So, Saint Clare, does daddy know about your extracurriculars now?" Owen's smirking face somehow snapped her back to reality. "Will ya have to go to confession twice this week?"
That's when the tears came.
And that's when she ran.
.
.
Her vision twisted and turned, blurry, but it didn't matter. She ran past the front entrance and into the school. She had no idea where she was going, as long as it was somewhere away from Fitz and all his empty promises.
So this was just a bet, huh? A little game for him to master and win?
Clare continued speeding through the halls. At one point, she thought she might have heard the bell ring, not that she cared. No one seemed to notice that she was the only one left alone in the halls. Slowly, she sank her back against the unyielding, unforgiving lockers. She still had that sinking feeling in her gut, as if she were below water, drowning in her own sea of disbelief.
A bet? A bet? She gave him her virtue and for what? For him to be twenty dollars richer?
Was that all it was? All it ever was? All that pressure, just so he could claim her as his property and parade her around for the world to see?
Tightly, Clare pulled her legs to her chest. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. And all she could think, over and over, the question she asked herself until the words became hollow and meaningless: "Is this what love is supposed to feel like?"
You lost the love…
For an indiscernible amount of time, Clare sat there on the cold, stiff floor, with the feeling that her life had just spun disastrously off course. She had no idea what it all meant, what she was supposed to do… so instead of doing anything— showing up for her class, taking her test—she just sat there. Her head in her hands, Clare only knew one thing for certain: she had no ambition to get up off the floor anytime soon.
…I loved the most