Chapter 8
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Clara knew the risks; she knew what could happen. But she decided that she was downright denying her happiness. Feeling him wrapped up in her arms was the best feeling in the world. It wasn't just release from other things, it was the connectivity, the electric shock running through her body and she realised that she had hopelessly fallen for him. Her thoughts directed to that corner in her brain, of that word, 'love.' It was always a tricky subject, something temperamental in her hands that could go either way. Putting it simply, if love was an object she would lose it, drop it, break it, and completely give up on searching for it.
But she had found someone, who not only did she feel immensely comfortable with, but also liked her back. Everything was a muddle inside her head, everything was tormenting her. The hours ticking by on the irritable clock above her head, the hunger in her stomach and the fact she hadn't seen Eleven all day. A scene flashed back to last night, when he had been so close to her she could feel his beating heart, and the way he thrust deep inside her was one that could never leave her head. His smile, his eyes, his laugh. Everything about him appealed to her in such a way. It felt so long ago that he had just walked into her classroom, and they had stared at each other intriguingly, like they knew subconsciously, they were now apart of the other's life. Looking back now she had never dreamed of this happening. Fucking her was one thing, but fucking her on her desk was slightly awkward yet amusing. She had to work on that desk, and people put their hands on it, and she could hardly concentrate on work or on what other people were saying, as it all relayed back to the fact they had sex on it. Chewing her pen thoughtfully she found herself staring at the clock once again for the umpteenth time. She had never felt so alive, so tremendously happy as she did that night, when her dreams came to be reality and she could run his soft, silky hair in her fingers. And that was when it hit her. Oh god, oh god, what had she done? Her head in her hands, she reminisced that scene again, hoping beyond hope he hadn't actually heard. She contemplated banging her head on her desk in frustration, but stopped herself in the very ironic idea.
Why the fuck had she said that? Confusion swirled round her head. It was only a whisper, only an intake of breath that she released which formed into words that were lurking in her mind. Pushed to the forefront without her knowing, it had slipped out in a sigh of relief. This was why she valued herself as a bad person, even though Eleven continuously told her the opposite.
Yes, she was a married woman. Eleven probably knew that now. The next time he saw her he would tell her just how disgusting she was, how cheating on her husband was despicable and that he didn't want anything to do with it. She feared this so much because she knew he was that type of person, and a tear rolled down her cheek as she took a shaky breath. She had ruined it. Ruined it completely, like she did everything else. That object had fell to the floor and smashed, no longer in her hands and no longer disguised from the truth. Her lies had caused her too much already in her life, and now she had only made it worse. Why was she always in such a mess? Why couldn't she just let it all go? She had never worried about him finding out, only the school. He was never the problem. But now of course, he was part of the problem, which had shuffled back into the depths of her mind and hidden so well before she had blurted it out. Thinking of Eleven's disappointed face only made matters worse and she felt relived when she didn't see him again that day.
His hand encircled her wrist, stroking her skin softly as she became enchanted with his eyes staring back at her. He stepped in closer, and the warmth of his body that she had longed for had finally hit her.
He hadn't brought it up yet, and she could tell it was now. Closing her eyes and hoping it would end well, he finally spoke.
'I remember what you said the other night,' he began, 'I wasn't really paying attention at that point but I remembered you saying it afterwards. I'm...I'm confused. You never told me. I just want a straight answer, nothing else. Are you married?'
She couldn't look at him, but felt the force of his eyes weighing down on her and the pressure he applied to her wrist, like he was hoping she would deny it.
'Yes.' She said finally. He too looked down at the ground in something like disappointment, and she had never felt so angry with herself for causing that expression on his face.
'Eleven, look, I'm so sorry, I never meant to actually say that. I don't quite know what to say. But I understand if you don't want anything else to do with me-'
'Of course not.' He told her, and a shock of relief shot down her spine like a bullet.
'What?'
'It doesn't change anything between me and you, does it? Because I don't want it to.'
'But I...I lied to you, I kept you waiting...I told you those weeks ago that you really didn't understand what you were getting into, didn't I?'
'Clara, why would that change us? We're hiding it from the school, surely we can hide it from him.' The way he used her name made her unresponsive for a moment, her eyes pathetically sparkling with tears that didn't spill but didn't subside.
'I'm so sorry.' She said, leaning in for a hug. He wrapped his arms round her generously, kissing her head, 'I don't care about him, I care about you, believe me.'
'Really?'
'I couldn't love someone like that.'
'Like what?'
'Don't worry. I guess we're just as bad as each other. After all, I'm the one cheating on him.'
'Why? What has he done to you?'
The look of concern on his face made her heart swell. When she gave no reply, he wrapped her small fingers in his and kissed them tenderly.
'You do owe me one thing, though.'
'What's that?'
'Who is he?'
The answer stuck like a lump in her throat. She couldn't tell him.
'I-I can't tell you.'
'Why not? You owe me this much.'
'I just...I just can't. He'd go mad.'
'Clara...what's the matter? I can understand you don't love him anymore but...why don't you just leave him?'
She shook her head. 'It's complicated, Eleven. Maybe one day, you'll understand.'
His hands cupped her cheeks, fixing his devoted gaze on her. Slowly, he tilted down until his lips touched hers, and he kissed her leisurely, small kisses that reassured her, supported her, made her feel wanted. It was so very tender and gentle, like they were finally taking time to actually know each other through kisses, figure out which things made the other gasp, or moan or sigh against each other. Her arms enveloped him and they gradually picked up pace, starting to nip at his lip eagerly and he returned with wet kisses trailing from her jaw to her neck, while her fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, and sliding his braces off his shoulders. In response his mouth dominated hers and he dipped her back. She giggled as she was launched backward, holding onto his shirt, whispering to him as he kissed her further. Finally discarding his shirt he knelt down to her level, and together on the ground they embraced each other in a game of brushing lips and caresses. Fondling her carefully, he laid her down, and she beamed up at him. He surrounded her on all fours, and she stroked his cheek as her other traipsed down to his chest, feeling the thin muscle beneath her fingers. She could feel his hands move lower, down to clinch her thighs, travelling lower until they hovered above the place she wanted him most. Almost smashing his face into hers and kissing him aggressively in approval, her fingers slid underneath her skirt. Pulling aside her knickers and slipping a long finger inside her she inhaled sharply. As he dug deeper she rocked herself against him as she felt his fingers slide in her repeatedly and faster, teasing her as his thumb pressed against her folds and she panted with eyes closed, her body not allowing to respond at the overwhelming sensation. He kissed her lips again, and she moaned against his mouth as he added another finger, rocking even more forcefully in need of release. She made a guttural sound in response to his further teasing, and his laugh reverberated and filled her ears, giving her the hope she needed. Finally he gave in to her pleas, and fucked her harder, his fingers buried deep inside her and his other hand pressed to the spot beside her head. As she came her hands trembled, holding on tight to his sides as she released an exhilarated sigh and her head dropped to the floor, out of breath. Collapsing on top of her, he hooked his legs around hers so they were entangled in an embrace. The floor was cold, but she didn't care as his weight bared down on her and she was exposed to his warmth.
'You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met.' He said sincerely.
She smiled, threading through his hair copiously.
'And you are the most adorable.' She replied, leaning his head down to meet hers so their foreheads were touching. They lay like that for a while, entwined, whispering words of sweet devotion to each other while the minutes ticked by. When finally she let him go and watched him walk toward the door, her heart flipped and her stomach churned. He turned the corner, but not before he had poked his head back round the corner to blow her a kiss and smile that gorgeous smile she got caught up in. She stood there for a while, and she realised that without him there, her heart had sunk. The whole room seemed to darken and she felt normal. His presence was overwhelming, and when he wasn't there she felt so alone and deserted. She blinked as it hit her. The butterflies in her stomach, the beating of her heart, it all told her something she couldn't deny. Clara was hopelessly, and irrevocably, in love with him.
