Clare and I filled the silence with the words we'd always wanted to say but never could. We talked about everything-how she felt about her mother getting remarried, about her father practically abandoning her, how Darcy hadn't talked to her in months. I listened, drinking in her words like a man that had walked deserts. I watched how the streetlamps made her cinnamon curls turn the color of burning embers, how her eyes sparkled whenever she talked. The gun felt heavy and seemed to burn a hole in my back pocket. Whenever I caught her staring at me, I always panicked. Did she see it? Does she know? Whenever we finally reached my house, I let out a small sigh of relief. Finally. I could hide the gun, and Clare would never know.
Clare looked relaxed as we walked up to my room. Cece and Bullfrog were asleep-it was almost four in the morning. They probably hadn't even noticed me leaving. "I need to take a shower and get some new clothes." Clare whispered, pulling me from my thoughts. "Of course." I said, finding towel for her and leading her to the bathroom. "Do you want one of my T-shirts or something?"
"Sure." She whispered, a ghost of a smile on her face. Her eyes twinkled with an unnamed emotion. She suddenly leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks, Eli." She murmured as she walked into the bathroom. I heard her turn on the shower in the back of my mind, because the rest was filled with a rushing noise. It sounded like thunder behind pouring rain. She had kissed me. And suddenly joy, an emotion I hadn't experienced in a long time, burst inside my chest like a firework.
"Yes!" I cried, and punched the air. She wanted to kiss me! She wanted me! I ran my hand through my hair and walked into my bedroom. It was still clean, I hadn't relapsed with the hoarding. I slid the gun out of my back pocket. I sat down on my bed, running my fingertips over the cold metal, caressing the weapon over and over. I had almost killed someone. The realization that I was almost a murderer hit me like a truck. You almost killed someone, Eli. You almost killed Jake Martin. My hands were shaking. I walked to the window, passing the gun back and forth between my hands. If I had killed him, I never would have gotten Clare back. A loud banging noise from downstairs startled me, and I dropped the gun. Shit! I looked down out the window, trying to locate it. It had fallen into the bushes, and it was too dark for me to see. Another loud pounding noise from downstairs. "Eli! What's going on?" Clare yelled. "Nothing!" I called back, exiting my room and walking down the stairs. Another booming knock on the door. I twisted open the door. "Are you Elijah Goldsworthy?" said the police officer standing in front of me. Oh shit.
"Um, yes sir. Can I help you?" I slid easily into the mask I used around teachers in school. Casual, do-gooder, pacifist. The cop, a big beefy monster, grabbed my arm and twisted me around. Cold metal clipped around one of my hands. "Elijah Goldsworthy, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Jacob Martin."