It took me a bit to write this one up, since I was unsure where I wanted to take it. This picks up right where the last chapter left off, with Eli and Clare's "bonding" night. Not exactly how most siblings would bond, but I digress.

The interest in this story has been really encouraging! Thank you again for the lovely reviews and for adding it to your favorites!

The next chapter will have some *ahem* mature activity in it. Just a heads up.

Enjoy!

I'd be lying if I said I haven't been waiting anxiously for Eli to come home. Though I generally check the clock frequently as it is, the amount of times my head has jerked to the face clock on the wall has doubled today. It's outrageous, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

It's encouraging in a way. He agreed to spend the whole evening with me, indulging my love for cheesy romantic comedies and Nicholas Sparks. He'd prefer something blood and guts related, but luckily he's relenting for my sake.

Over the past hour I've prepared for the night, preheating the oven for a pizza, tidying up the living room area and stealing all of the pillows from Eli's room, placing them on the couch instead. I did the same with the blankets, grabbing three and leaving them about. Now the living room looks like quite possibly the most comfortable place on Earth. I hope he'll agree once he arrives.

I hear the oven beep, signaling that it's preheated to a toasty three hundred and fifty degrees. The nervous energy I'm harboring influences me to scurry in, a small smile adorning my lips as I open the freezer door and extract a pizza box. Eli and I are no chefs. I can make a mean stove top mac n cheese, but my skills don't reach much beyond that. Neither do his, so neither of us mind these precooked meals or even take out. Mom would be frowning, waving her finger chidingly at the pair of us. I only wish I'd paid more attention to the creation of her meals while she was alive.

Once the pizza is placed on the center of the first rack, I close the oven door and set the timer for twenty two minutes. By that time Eli should be back, as long as Imogen doesn't detain him.

I would hope that for the first time we're really going to hang out, Eli wouldn't let himself be late. Even though she has a habit of running his life, I'm hoping against hope that he'll choose not to be whipped this time around. To think someone as headstrong as him could be swayed by a 5'4, barely one hundred pound heavy girl is astonishing. Such a tiny person, such a strong hold over him. I envy that.

As soon as I wander back into the living room I see the door crack open, his raven hair peeking just around the side of it. At once my face lights up and I hurry over. I wish my enthusiasm was just a bit more muted, but there's no helping it.

"Hi!" My voice is about five octaves higher than I intended it to be while taking in his breathless entrance.

He turns to me and slowly the corners of his lips turn up into a smirk. That smirk that instead of feeling bitter about, I've come to adore over the past few days.

I'm alarmed at how rapidly my heart begins to beat because of him, my cheeks flushing just slightly as well.

"Hey there." he replies with that grin, his own face a light pink from the chilly November evening air. "You look nice." he comments, though I fail to see how until I remember that I stole one of his shirts this morning. I look down at my own frame and chuckle, loving how the Arcade Fire shirt fits so loosely on me. What makes it even better is the fact that he likes the way his clothes look on me.

Compliments from my older brother shouldn't effect me in such a potent way, I know. But his approval is beginning to mean more and more to me. Though he forked over the usage of his bed to me indefinitely, I usually convince him not to go to the living room, claiming I sleep better with him beside me. And I do, that is true, but it isn't necessarily the only reason either.

I watch as he shrugs off his wool coat and hangs it up, then leading the way back into the living room.

"What are you making?" he asks as I grab the remote, turning on the TV.

"Pizza," I call out in reply, though I imagine he's already well into the kitchen and already took notice of it baking in the oven.

Turning on Netflix, I search through the options, settling once I see they have The Vow in the listings. Though I was previously fixed on watching The Notebook or A Walk To Remember, I find the pull to this title too strong to resist. My soft spot for Channing Tatum cannot be denied. Eli will have to grin and bear it.

I push some pillows aside to make room for myself and Eli, sinking into the nook of it. Already everything feels cozy, but I crave his warmth next to me. I've become far too accustomed to it.

With the sound of his footsteps coming back in, my pulse quickens slightly. "Oh no. Not that one. Come on," he groans, his voice lacking jest and actually suggesting sincere displeasure in my choice. He points an accusatory finger at the screen, but it's doing nothing to dissuade me.

"You said whatever I wanted, and this is what I want." I state in a sing-song tone of voice, earning a roll of his piercing green eyes at my decision and taunting. He may moan and whine all throughout, but I'm sure he'll enjoy it. Even if he never owns up to it.

With a huff of annoyance, Eli sits beside me and right off the bat, my nerves kick in. I click play and it starts. Not surprisingly Eli grabs the remote as the previews start, impatiently fast forwarding through them. When I look to him he grimaces, shaking his head. "Might as well get right to the torture, skip all of this pretense."

"Torture, sure. You know you have a small, closeted romance film lover in you."

"No." he replies quickly. "Especially not after the day I had."

This piques my curiosity, and although I shouldn't inquire, I can't help myself. "Today? What happened today?"

The look on his face is surly and for a moment, I think I'm the cause until his expression perks up and pulls me into him. "Shh, enjoy your movie." My head falls to his chest, my pulse picking up again as his hand rests on my arm. As if we were a couple. Non-related, enjoying a movie together night together.

But we are related, and it's not a movie night for a pair of lovers..

Still, I wouldn't shy away from him for anything in the world, my eyes remaining fixed on the screen as the beginning of the movie plays out.

"I broke up with Imogen." he says quietly after a few minutes, stroking my arm gently as he speaks, his fingertips leaving a tingling sensation behind in their wake. I look up at him but he doesn't return the eye contact.

"What happe-" I begin to ask as the timer for the pizza goes off.

"You stay here, I've got it." he offers, smiling down at me in a way I could swear he's trying to manipulate to seem charming. As always, no effort necessary.

I nod and watch as he gets up, missing his body against mine at once. The idea of him being broken up with Imogen is foreign to me, as she's made a habit of coming over frequently, making her presence and position in his life known all too well. But for the past week, he'd been canceling plans with her. I realize in giving his bedroom to me each night, he's also opted himself out of getting laid regularly, which is not like Eli at all. At least not the Eli I think I know. There really must be trouble in paradise. Before I can draw up my own conclusions he returns, one plate with two slices of pizza on it in his hand. He lowers it to me, allowing me to whichever one I want.

"I suppose we should continue on with this taste of hell, eh?" Eli suggests, and now I'm sure he's avoiding talking about Imogen. Not that I can really blame him. She's not my favorite topic of conversation either, but my own inquisitive nature is winning out on this. I bite my tongue to keep from bickering though.

The movie starts again and already, I can feel my eyes pricking with unshed tears. I know they'll get in the car accident, and she'll fly through the windshield with the impact. And from there, she'll lose her memory.

I realize I barely have an appetite between watching the movie and sitting so close to Eli.

"You know this was based off of true events, right?" I ask, attempting to give him what I consider to be supplementary information to make the movie more enjoyable.

"Hmph." he nods in reply, scarfing down his slice of pizza similarly to how a lion would consume a bloody carcass.

I make an effort to stay quiet from there on, knowing Eli doesn't care to talk and more than that, he hates what we're watching.

My mind wanders and I get lost in the plot until it suddenly pauses. I look to Eli, wondering why he did it.

"Are you going to eat that?" He gestures to my half eaten slice. I should have known better truthfully With a roll of my eyes, I hand over my plate to him so he can all but inhale it.

"Now press play."

"Sheesh, demanding much?" His smirk is cute but I don't care for it much at the moment.

"Now." I emphasize, and he clicks the button on the remote without further ado.

About halfway through I lean further into the pillows, and he slips his arm around me again. I don't understand his desire for close proximity with me, but when it comes to Eli, it's best not to question these things and simply enjoy them while they last.

Out of nowhere it pauses again and this time, I'm genuinely annoyed with him.

"What? You took my pizza. What do you want?" I barely even understand my own frustration at him. Maybe it's because he won't talk about what happened with Imogen, or the fact that feeling his arm around me is filling me with a desire I shouldn't have.

"You've been kissed before, right?" he questions, and I freeze up. Why would he even be asking me this? It's not a logical, run of the mill inquiry shared between siblings. At least not as far as I can tell.

"I-well, uh, yeah. Of course." I stammer out, hoping he'll let it go. But I feel as though that's almost definitely too much to ask of him.

Her tone says it all, as if I wasn't sure to begin with. I get an almost sadistic glee out of seeing Clare on edge, so I'm going to milk this for all it's worth.

"Oh yeah? When? With who?" Genuine curiosity and that urge to push her buttons fuel my inquiries. Clare shifts uncomfortably in her seat, even attempts to get away from my grasp on her. To no avail though. I wouldn't let her go for anything.

"Some boy at camp last year." Her lie is transparent.

"You didn't go to camp last year."

"How would you know? You weren't even there." I can tell she's trying to spit these phrases out with indifference, but her tone is betraying her true feelings on the matter. She's bitter at me for leaving, I know it.

"We may not have talked, but I kept in touch with Mom. She said you didn't want to go. That you were seeming depressed, withdrawn. She was worried about you."

It's only then that I realize what a sore subject our mother has become since her passing. Her face puckers up like she's jut tasted a lemon, and then the tears. Yet again, she's crying, it's all my fault.

After dabbing at her eyes, Clare looks up at me, her expression stone-like. "I've never been kissed, okay? Happy? Tease me all you want now."

She doesn't understand my intention in asking. It wasn't to chastise or mock her. "I'm relieved." Clare cocks an eyebrow at me in bewilderment.

"You're too good for any boy that could kiss you," I explain, looking away from her. "They wouldn't treat you like deserve to be."

"So you expect me to never get kissed because no one would ever be good enough?" I lack a reply so I say nothing. Her body trembles a bit beside mine and I see she's started crying once more.

"So Mom left. My friends at home don't even call, you're barely around. Do you really want me to be all alone, Eli?"

I can't help it when I pull her to my chest, hugging her as she cries. I can't stand seeing her in pain of any sort. Least of all when I spurred it. When I'm contributing to her pain. A direct source of it. Out of instinct, I press my lips to her forehead, a meager attempt to soothe her.

"I love when you do that," she whispers, her voice shaky from crying. Her head lifts back up to meet my eyes, and the look she gives me terrifies me. Longing, need, adoration. It's all there, or it isn't and I just want to see it so badly.

There's no time to think before I do it, my lips making their way to hers of their own accord. The world seems right for that one instant, her plump, full pink lips on my chapped ones. She barely moves, my lips adjusting to shape hers, to initiate the kiss. But she seems frozen for a second until finally her mouth moves, finding mine carefully. It's a tender kiss, one that acts as more of a question than a statement, and both of us lack the answer.

As I pull back, I know she'll freak out. I've dreamed about this situation countless times, and I'm prepared for it. For the rejection I'm bound to face. But she surprises me.

Her hand moves to my cheek. "Kiss me again." she breathes, and there's no stopping the way my body moves towards hers like a magnet, my hands and lips shaping to everything she needs, everything she wants. There's no denying Clare, and if she'll let me, I'll continue succumbing to her charm time and time again. Morals and legality be damned, I'm entangled in her web. A willing victim, just begging her to devour me.