A/N: Well, it seems as though people like this story! Sorry it took me a while to get this out. Since I wasn't sure I'd continue, I barely had an outline, so I solidified that before writing this chapter. I'm really trying here, but this is a bit difficult for me to write. Not sure why. Please let me know what you think!
Oh, if you want to follow me on twitter, please do! I'm under the same name: literarylolita
Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi.
Clare
Clare rolled over the morning after the night she showed up at Eli's door and threw herself at him. Sunlight blazed through the window; early summer's heat burned her forehead. She leaned over a sleeping Eli to check the clock. "Shit," she muttered softly; it read nine o'clock. She planned to be home by now.
Very carefully, Clare eased her naked body out from under the covers. Taking care to be quiet while dressing she gazed at her boyfriend.
He looked peaceful, not at all like she felt.
Clare wasn't an idiot; she knew Eli felt neglected. Ever since Spring break, she had been far busier than ever before in their relationship. New responsibilities placed a heavy weight on Clare's shoulders; she hardly had time to think anymore. Pushing Eli away was the last thing she wanted to do (besides talking about everything.) Eli knew her too well. If the couple spent too much time together, he'd figure out something was eating at Clare; the stubborn boy wouldn't give up until Clare confided in him, either.
When Clare tossed in a sleepless frenzy last night in her bed at home, Eli haunted her mind. She needed to see him. After throwing clothes on she hopped into her car and headed across town to the comforting arms she knew and missed.
Leaning down to kiss Eli's forehead, she whispered an "I love you" before slipping out.
For a moment in time, she could forget.
Eli
Eli woke up and rolled over to nothing but mussed sheets. Sitting up, a bit alarmed, he called: "Clare?"
No answer.
Before he could think her showing up and basically fucking his brains out had been a dream, he caught a whiff of her scent from the pillow next to him.
"Where did she go?" the dark hair boy wondered aloud as he tumbled out of bed. "Clare?"
Not in the kitchen.
Not in the bathroom.
Eli grabbed his phone and texted Clare.
Where are you? Are you ok?
No answer, so he tried again.
Are WE ok?
Nothing.
Clare
Clare sighed when she passed the threshold of her home.
"Clare, is that you?" called the familiar voice from upstairs.
"Yeah, it's me Darcy." Clare trudged up the stairs and into her bedroom. Well, what WAS her bedroom.
"Where were you all night?" the elder Edwards asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Out. Where's Mom?"
"Out WHERE?" Darcy tried to sit up from her reclined position on the bed. "And she had to leave at nine. You knew that."
"Darcy…" Clare sighed and sat at the foot of the bed.
"She is really mad at you."
"Yeah, I figured that."
"Were you with Eli?"
Clare paused. "Yes."
Darcy's face softened. "I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"It's my fault you haven't seen him as much."
Clare felt guilty for thinking exactly what her sister just expressed and for lying about it too. "No Darcy, it's most definitely not." She stood and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm going to shower then I'll make us some brunch. Okay?"
Darcy smiled softly. "Okay."
Eli
Eli stomped into his favorite coffee shop, The Donkey, annoyed. He hadn't heard from Clare since their romp a week ago. Needless to say, he was pissed.
The few members of his poetry club from school still in town for break agreed to meet twice a month over the summer. He enjoyed his college friends; they were much more like him than the majority of the robots that walked the halls of his high school. That is, they had brains and if they were fictional characters on paper, they would no doubt be three dimensional.
"Hey, Eli!" Bruno, a burly guy most wouldn't associate with feelings and poetry came up to hug Eli. "How are you?"
"Ugh-can't-breathe!" Eli grunted out as Bruno squeezed him too tightly.
"Sorry!" Eli's feet ended up firmly on the floor. "Are you reading tonight?"
Eli held up his black moleskin notebook. "Think so."
"That's great!" With the grin of a cheshire cat, Bruno headed to the back room, which was decorated in deep purple tones with vintage hats hanging on the wall. It was quirky and one of the reasons Eli loved the place.
"Can I just have a large coffee?" Eli asked Liza, the owner of Donkey.
"Sure thing, Eli." The middle aged woman grinned. "Black?"
"Must you ask?" Eli smirked. He liked Liza; she was a hippie in every sense of the word, from her bohemian beaded skirts to the braids of her graying brown hair. She often slipped him free coffee when it wasn't too busy.
"Where's Clare? I haven't seen her with you here lately."
Eli frowned. "I'm not really sure, Liza. She's been…" he trailed off, not wanting to burden his friend with what could be seen as trivial problems.
"She's been…?" Liza handed Eli the coffee and waved his cash away. "It's on me."
"Thanks," Eli grinned sheepishly and stuck the bills back in the pocket of his skinny jeans. "She's just been different for a while now. Distant. I haven't heard from her in a week."
"Hmm." She turned around to wash her hands. "Have you asked her about it?"
Eli grinned. "Nope."
Liza rolled her eyes. "You're a dumbass."
"I know." Eli winked and left to join his friends. A surprise awaited him.
Clare Edwards lounged in one of the mauve bean bags, looking gorgeous. Her navy sundress left just enough to the imagination and the curls on her head were full of body and shine. Even in the soft candlelight of the room, her eyes sparkled; one winked at Eli and waved him over.
Reluctantly, he complied. Much of his pride danced out the window when it came to Clare. Not sitting, he asked the obvious question: "What are you doing here?"
His girlfriend (was she still?) frowned. "I came to hear the poetry. I always come."
"No, Clare." Eli sighed and sat next to her. "You don't."
Clare avoided his gaze.
"Look at me, Blue Eyes." She did. "Do we need to…talk?"
She shook her head and held out a lily-white hand. "Come with me?" Her voice was extremely quiet.
As if it had a mind of its own, Eli's hand took Clare's and he allowed himself to be led outside and into the alley next to Donkey.
"Clare, I-" he was (in a rather clichéd manner) cut off by her lips and pressed up against the rough brick wall. Clare wasted no time slipping her tongue into Eli's mouth and doing things with it she never had. Though he still wanted to talk, Eli kissed her back with equal fervor (how could he not?)
She pulled away and swiftly attacked his neck with her teeth. "I need you so fucking bad right now, Eli…"
"Oh God," he groaned as she bit his ear with force. "Clare…Edwards…come on…stop…"
"Eli, shut up!" Clare roughly grabbed Eli's hand and dragged him deeper into the alley where she promptly resumed her ministrations on his neck.
"Oh, FUCK…" He moaned, for he is only human, after all.
Clare pulled away, a glint in her eyes. Falling to her knees, she undid Eli's fly and dragged his tight jeans down in the blink of an eye. Before Eli could attempt to remedy his confusion, Clare was going down to him in a ferocious manner.
"CLARE!" But even as he called her name in joy, Eli couldn't help but wonder…
Who are you?
"Yes, Eli?" Clare eased up. Receiving no reply from her lover, Clare asked in a simple tone: "Well? Aren't you going to ravish me?"
She slowly began to pull her dress over her head.
With angry movements, Eli stopped her. "Not. Here." He hissed. Clare pouted, but didn't protest as Eli led her out of the alley and into the back of Morty.
As Eli took in the gorgeous, yet obviously troubled Clare's sultry gaze from the floor of his hearse, all ounces of resolve seeped out of his pores. He was on her in a flash, tearing her dress over her head while she did the same to his shirt. His pants, still undone, slid off with relative ease and eager hands removed undergarments.
Leaning over her with dominance, Eli growled. "You better talk to me tomorrow, Edwards." Clare ignored this statement and hoisted her hips up, forcing Eli inside her. "Oh…"
He pounded into her, rage at her change in demeanor and attitude evident. All frustrations leaked from his heart and body. Fearing he might lose it all too soon, Eli pulled out and earned a filthy look from Clare. "What the fuck, Eli!" To answer her cry of protest, Eli flipped her over.
"Get on your hands and knees, Clare," he hissed through his teeth.
"That's more like it!" Clare cried as she obeyed. Eli grabbed her hips and thrust into her roughly, his grip probably tighter than it needed to be. "Oh, GOD Eli! Harder!"
He complied.
"Come on, Goldsworthy, is that really all you've got?" Clare turned around, an eyebrow raised on her pale face.
"You asked for it," Eli yelled. He weaved his fingers through her tossled tresses and pulled harder than he ever had. She cried out in pain and lifted herself to him, bare back against bare torso. Through it all, Eli's thrusts became more and more pronounced with more and more erratic power. "Do you like that, Edwards?"
"It's..alright…" Clare panted.
"Fuck you, Clare…this better be more than alright." Eli's hands moved from her hair to her breasts, where he tweaked and teased her nipples mercilessly. This sent her over the edge, and as walls clenched around his dick of their own accord, Eli let himself release too.
They collapsed, Clare's stomach on Morty and Eli's on her back. The stench of sweat and sex filled the small, compact area, suffocating the couple in their aftermath.
Eli couldn't help himself; he still had questions that required answers, but all he could do is voice a simple truth.
"I love you, Clare."
Clare
Those four words made Clare tremble. "I have to go," she muttered, throwing on her dress and stuffing her undergarments into her purse.
"What? Why?" Eli sat up and pulled his boxers on.
"I'll call you later, okay?" She looked at him sadly and leaned over to peck his lips. "I love you too."
With that, she was gone. Again.
A/N: Serious confrontation in the next chapter. Let me know what you think and your theories ;)