Holy hell, sorry for the delay on this update. I got stuck on it for a bit. Coupled with the fact that I started Illuminate...yeah, ha. I got distracted.
So from this point on, the plot is going to pick up steadily. As in, shit will hit the fan. I feel like a 500 Days Of Summer-esque disclaimer should be put on this story, but I'll stay mum on that for now. Just know that after this chapter, the plot, the smut (I stress the smut), the bond between Eli and Clare - it's all going to get more intense.
Thank you all so much for the reviews! I can't even believe there's 71 comments on this thing, seriously. I'm flattered beyond belief.
I'd say more but I'm eager to get this posted since I've made everyone wait long enough.
Read, enjoy, review if you feel so inclined. Reviews make me a happy writer.
It took once subtle shift of her hips.
One tiny wiggle, her frame swaying before me as she showed off her dress. I could stare at the way it hugged her curves forever, how it cinched in just below her breasts and then billowed out towards her stomach, flaring as her round hips filled it out. The sky blue shade only brought out the natural hue of her eyes, orbs that I found myself doting over shamelessly as of late.
Aside from the way her body looks, it's her face. It's the light shade of pink that adorns the apples of her cheeks. It's the way her nose crinkles up slightly as she smiles, her lips then curving into a smirk as she sees how I'm soaking her in. I swear she's stealing that trademark twist of the mouth right from me.
What a monster I've created.
I've become a man absolutely bewildered and beside himself because of this elusive, entrancing creature.
"You like, Mr. Goldsworthy?" she teases, calling me by my preferred last name much to my relief. Hearing Edwards makes my skin crawl. My mother's maiden name is more forgiving, less like a punishment to bear.
Elijah Edwards never sounded good to me anyway.
"Is there a more potent synonym for 'like' out there? Adore? Fancy? Covet? Love?" I let the last word fall from my lips slowly as I approach her, my hands aching to settle on her waist.
I see her brows lifting a bit, intrigued at how I drew out the word. It intrigues me too. Of course I love Clare. I love her like anyone would love their sibling. But there's something more, something unrelenting in my gut that tells me. This is a different brand of love.
For a moment, I think she's about to clarify what I'm already pondering but in a blink, she zips her lips back up, instead offering me a smile. "I think I cleaned up pretty well after that." Her bashful smile gives her away and I smirk smugly, not willing to spare her the look of pride I know is etched into my face at my feat.
I'd give anything to unravel Clare like that every night, to know her small noises and exclamations belong to me. Now more than ever, I'm grateful for the fact that she's remained untainted, untouched in her most intimate of areas.
Well...except – and then I realize I'd rather not think about that.
For all my caution because of the fact, she seems receptive to my advances and I know it's a healthy sign. Some people can't bear to unveil that side of themselves after being taken advantage of, to any degree. But she shows an enthusiasm for furthering that part of our relationship. While I'm still dead set on being careful, moving at something close to a snail's pace, it's a good sign.
She peers up at me, those sapphire orbs boring into my own. Even when I can feel her scrutinizing me or my expression, I never feel uncomfortable. Clare would be the very last person to judge me harshly, I know it for a fact. "You look pretty nice yourself." Her tiny fingers clutch at my jacket, then venturing to my tie.
"I figured if you were going to blow me away with an outfit, I should do the same. Did I disappoint?" I can feel her tugging on my tie, pulling me towards her in a way that threatens to break my cool facade. This girl can make me heated in a split second if she wants to.
"As if you could." she quips back at me, dragging me down to her lips by my tie. "You look quite dapper, Mister." We kiss briefly despite my attempts to draw it out, and then she pulls back a bit.
"Do you think the sweater goes well enough with the dress?" she asks, tugging on the buttons of her white cotton sweater as she looks down at herself.
I can see her staring down at her feet as she waits for a reply, her shy, always kind demeanor leaving me in awe of her. I've never known a more gentle creature than my sister.
"Hey," I reach for her chin, cupping it in my hand as I lift her head. It's a similar gesture to the one I used in our bedroom, but not a speck of lust is intended.
She returns my stare, the tint on her cheeks brightening a few shades, a warm glow emitting from her. "Every woman on Earth wishes she looked like you in this dress, with that sweater. You're the most gorgeous girl I've ever known, sweetheart." With that, I kiss her forehead gently, then letting her go and reaching for her hand. If we don't leave soon, I know for a fact we'll be late, and that just won't do for our first official date.
Once we're seated at a cozy table for two, I can't help but eye the area. We're out of town. Far out of town. Forty four minutes to be exact, plus all the evening rush hour traffic I had to wade through to get here even remotely on time. As far as I can tell, there's no one we know here. Each stranger and each unfamiliar face I spot sets me more at ease.
I'd rather not have my attention torn away from my beautiful date sitting across from me anyway.
Clare's skimming over the menu, her eyes narrowing at some spots and then widening again, shifting left to right, left to right as she looks at the options. I realize I should be doing the same but the girl steals my focus without even trying. She'd never have to work to get a guy to notice her, no blatant flirtation necessary to win them over.
To think she's all mine...I'm constantly left in sincere awe of the fact.
"Eli, I realize you have a job and clearly you're capable of paying for our meal, but really? Some of these are really expensive."
I chuckle to myself, finally tearing my gaze from her and scanning the same options she's referring to. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't going a bit overboard with this date, but I have every intention of making it a night she'll never forget. To my knowledge, Clare has never been on an official date, and making her very first special is my only goal. The price tag means very little, it's something I'll face later.
"Can you stop over-thinking and worrying for one night, Clarebelle?" I ask with a grin, shaking my head chidingly. "If I couldn't afford it, we wouldn't be here. One can only eat so much take-out and microwaved food, seriously." Deciding I'm going to go for the ziti, I place my menu down, peering over at her again. "I can't say this will be a frequent thing. I'm still in that struggling-to-make-ends-meet-college-student phase, but I want this to be a nice night for us. Don't spare another thought on it."
With that, I seem to have successfully shut her up, and as if on cue, a waiter comes over to serve us. "I'm Maggie, I'll be your waiter tonight." a chipper woman with her hair tied back in a tight bun greets us. I'm glad for the enthusiasm. Clare's visibly on edge but she seems to lighten up a bit with her arrival. "Can I start you both off with drinks?"
I look to Clare, lifting my brows for her to speak.
"Um, do you have water?"
"Clare-" I interject, narrowing my eyes at her. "Come on, water? Get an actual drink, you can have water at home."
After thinking for a moment longer, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, releasing it once she's made her decision. "I guess um, do you have iced tea?"
Maggie nods, scribbling it down on her notepad before shifting her eyes to me.
"Just a glass of white wine, please?" I ask, and I see Clare glaring at me a bit. Choosing to ignore her critique of my beverage choice, I watch as Maggie writes that down as well, then taking the menus and wandering off, promising to take our orders when she returns.
I look back to my sister reluctantly, her furrowed brows already making me feel guilty despite the fact that she hasn't spoken a word. "Why must you drink? Just because you can?"
"That's a part of it," I agree with a blasé shrug, sitting up a bit straighter in my chair. "It's not wrong to have a glass of wine with dinner, Clare. And it's perfectly legal for me to. I have my ID on me if you think someone will doubt me."
She shakes her head, and I'm still having trouble figuring out why this bothers her so, until she pipes up again.
"You never drank when you lived at home. I never once saw you with alcohol."
"Well, that's because I didn't drink at home. Mom would have murdered me." I laugh in good humor, my grin falling a bit as she fixes her frown into a scowl. "I've changed since then, alright? So have you. Does this really need to be a problem?" I find myself growing slightly annoyed. I much prefer to forget that Clare and I are even related. When that fact comes to light, we bicker and bitch like the brother and sister we legally are.
She shifts a bit in her seat, adjusting the skirt of her dress. "I'm just trying to get to know you again is all." she mouses, her eyes fixed on the fancy empty glass perched right before her.
Leaning forward, I reach for her hand, gently grasping it in my own. I can see her gasp, looking around at those in nearby tables, but I don't bother doing the same. I already know we're fine here. No one we know will be around to witness or ruin this date.
"That's what this date is all about, sweetheart. Getting to know each other better. All those years don't make it so we know much about one another. I want to learn everything there is to know about you." My thumb smooths over her hand, my eyes searching hers entreatingly. "So please have some faith in me? There is a method to my madness, I promise."
Her mouth falls open to speak but before she can, Maggie returns, smiling bashfully as she interrupts our moment. "I'm sorry, lovebirds." she smiles, clearly expressing how endearing she finds us as I release Clare's hand, making room for the drinks on the table. I look over to her as the iced tea is set before her, and her cheeks are stained a deep crimson shade.
I love being responsible for that reaction.
"Okay," Maggie breathes emphatically, ever the picture of contentment as she serves us. "And for dinner? Do you both know what you'd like to order?"
Clare still looks uncertain so I opt to go first, letting her know I want to try the ziti. After she scrawls it down, she looks back to Clare, who happens to be sipping nervously on her drink. "Oh, um," she mumbles, placing her drink back down. "Can I just get what he's having?"
I smirk at her nervousness, however unnecessary, and then nod to Maggie as she heads off towards the kitchen. "I see you're still apprehensive when speaking to new people." I note, taking my first sip of my wine.
Her eyes follow mine as I take an especially long sip, then nodding her head. "I've never been very good with talking to people, introducing myself, all that. If I can avoid speaking at all, I do."
I've always known Clare for her usually timid demeanor, but I'm glad that around me, such a guard doesn't exist. Again, the lines of relation and our mutual attraction blur in this scenario, making me wonder which is more responsible for it, but I try not to dwell on the fact too long. Either way, I get to see a side of her that most people don't even realize exists.
"And I see you're still extremely charming and personable, despite your brooding attitude." she quips, shaking her head at me. "I'm not sure how you manage that balancing act, but you pull it off."
"Mom always said it was my inner writer." I laugh, leaning forward and settling my stare on Clare. "She knew me better than anyone, really." My thoughts start getting a little lost in my mind, but soon I see her face falling at the mention of our mom. Internally, I make a mental note to not mention her again.
"...Can I try some of that?" she suddenly squeaks out, pointing to my wine.
"Miss Prohibition wants some wine? Color me shocked, jesus christ," I tease, widening my eyes in mock horror at her.
"Will you hush, my goodness. I just...want to try it." Yet again she peers around, forever bashful and overly concerned with what others might think. But if she wasn't like that, she wouldn't be my Clare. I wouldn't want her any other way.
"One sip. Two, tops. I'm not bringing you home tipsy, lightweight." I concede, handing her the glass carefully. Once it's in her hands, she gives it a small sniff, and I can't help but laugh at her.
"Just try it."
Nodding, she wraps her lips around the top of the glass, my chest tightening at the sight of her mouth alone. She gets to me in ridiculous ways, I know. I'm hardly put together when I think on her for too long. No other woman has been able to affect me in such a way, rendering me speechless while doing something as mundane as drinking.
Taking two sips, I watch her lips crinkle up a bit, her nose wiggling. "It's...different." Handing it to me, I place it back down. "I don't see myself becoming a casual drinker."
"And that's a good thing. No need to touch alcohol, really."
"Really exemplifying your hypocrisy there, Elijah. Good job."
I roll my eyes and sigh heavily, but soon my mouth picks back up into that smile she so easily brings about. While we wait for our meals, we somehow trail off into conversation about favorites. It only dawns on me now that even the most elementary facets of Clare, the little bits and pieces that make her up are lost on me. For instance, her favorite book is Jane Eyre, when somehow I was about to guess something along the lines of John Green. She likes cold pizza, which is why I always see her going for it after it's been left in the fridge for a while. Her shoe size is seven and a half, except in flats, which somehow always land her in an eight.
She tells me about how her favorite memory from when we were little was when we went to a park a few towns over. I even remember it myself, as it was perhaps the most elaborate park I'd ever been to. Everything was made of wood, high towers you could climb through spread across the expanse of it. Some of the most intense slides I'd ever been on were there. While I don't remember going there too frequently, the memory she conjures up is one I recall.
"I shot out of the twisty turny long slide, the one you kept telling me not to go in, because I was too little." she laughs, covering her face as she recounts the rest of it. "I went flying in midair! My goodness, and when I landed – well – that was a pretty little bruise on my tush, my word." I smile silently, reveling in her genuine laughter, how these latent memories manage to crawl back up inside the both of us when we're together.
"You were bawling so hard. Such a baby," I mutter, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
"Do you remember what you did though?"
I nod my head, wiggling around the wine in my glass. "It was the first time I ever gave you a piggyback ride." I reply, remembering all too well how I overestimated my own strength.
"Well," she pauses, wiggling her finger at me, "you nearly dropped me, if I'm being honest, but I know you were really trying." Clare smiles sweetly, making my chest melt.
"I think I remember turning into your personal piggyback ride slave after that, if memory serves."
"You act like you hated it." Clare looks down at her coupled hands on the table, then glancing through her lashes at me.
I smirk back, unable to feign distaste for the memory. "I loved every moment of it."
Once our meals arrive, I dig in, shamelessly ravenous after waiting nearly a half hour for it. My plate is only a quarter full by the time she works through half of hers, fiddling with her fork as she stabs at a piece of pasta.
"Too much for you?" I ask with my mouth full, chuckling as I realize I've obviously left my manners elsewhere for the night.
She scoffs, judging me for my full mouth. "You're gross, you know that?"
I swallow my food and wipe my mouth on my napkin, my stomach finally contracting in a way that lets me know I ate too much. I'll be driving the forty four minutes back bloated, that's for sure.
Leaning back in my chair, I nod. "At least one of us can do things with poise. It's never been me, so it must be you." My arms stretch as I yawn, closing my eyes for a second and then opening them again.
"Would it just be okay if I take the rest of this home? I don't think I can finish." she laughs lightly, patting her own stomach. "I shouldn't have been so ambitious."
"More like you shouldn't have copied my idea, but I digress." I stand to my feet, looking around for a bathroom. "I don't see why they can't wrap it for you. If you see our waitress coming back around, ask her. I'm going to use the bathroom, then we can pay and head out." Stepping closer to her, I pause, trying to take a mental snapshot of this perfect moment. This little piece of an ideal world I'm trying to desperately to replicate for Clare and I. In this moment, she's my date. My girlfriend, in fact. In this moment, no one can do anything to mar the night.
She peers up at me, offering a gentle smile. Leaning down to her, I kiss her cheek, then bending closer to her ear.
"I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world." I say softly in her ear, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear before I retire to the bathroom. She's blushing up a storm, I can tell, but I won't call her out on it by looking back. By the time I enter the bathroom, I can even feel my own cheeks heating up, thoroughly elated by just being here with her.
Even though the night is almost over, I don't intend on letting up on the festivities just yet. I can tell she's getting a little tired, mostly because she ate beyond her stomach's capacity, but if I know one thing about my sister, it's that she always has room for ice cream.
After doing my business and washing my hands, I slam down on the hand dryer button hastily, realizing it's the slowest goddamn piece of machinery known to man. Instead, I wipe my hands on my pants, realizing they'll dry faster than my hands would if I stuck to this mechanical method.
Stepping back out into the dining area, I adjust my tie before scanning the area, attempting to recall where Clare's seated. I figure by now, she might have flagged down Maggie, our waitress, and managed to get her mitts on a box for the rest of her food.
But as I approach the table, the sight before me isn't one I expect.
A curly haired man is in my seat, across from Clare, a smile lighting up both of their faces. He's leaning forward, quite obviously not holding back on the body language that all but screams 'I'd fuck you'.
Clare has always told me my temper has a mind of its own, and that it would get me in trouble one day. I can't help but agree most of the time, so in this case, I attempt to give it the benefit of the doubt.
That is, until I see him reaching forward and patting her hand. My self-control has a limit that this man is breaching effortlessly.
Hastily approaching the pair, I'm set on punching this guy's lights out until I get a better look at him. The beehive head of curls, the doe-like brown eyes.
I know this guy.
And so does Clare.
"Eli!" she breathes, noticing the tense expression I wear. My fists are still balled at my sides as I drink in this situation, but panic starts hitting me in waves. "You remember Liam, right? From when we were little? He was in my grade three class?"
Oh, I remember Liam. The little shit that followed Clare around like a lost puppy, sent her ten Valentines all with shitty drawings of her on them, and invited himself over to her birthday party a year later before he moved away. I'd never been more glad to hear someone left the school district.
"Hey man! It's been a long while, man." he says, extending his hand for me to shake it. I force my lips to curl up into a grin,
"So it has." Reaching to return his handshake, I grip his hand more firmly than truly necessary, my grin only growing up as I feel his joints crack in my palm.
He retracts it quickly, shaking it out and then looking back to Clare. "Anyway, I thought it was you guys, but I couldn't be sure. It's been years, seriously."
Clare nods, smiling graciously at him. "I'm sorry I didn't notice you sooner! We just...kind of got seated and that was that. Had I known you were a waiter here, I would have requested to see you."
My eyes grow wide at this, glaring daggers at her. Why on Earth would she request to see someone from our past when we're on a date? How does she not understand the severity of this? The risk involved?
I can't help but worry that Liam saw something he shouldn't have transpire between us, though I have been refraining from kissing her. Still, it's too close of a call from a douchebag I never liked anyway.
"Well, either way, we noticed each other." Liam replies, his gaze lingering on Clare a little too long, in my opinion. Clearing my throat, I shift my weight onto my other foot until Liam finally realizes he should get his ass out of my seat. Even then, I don't sit, instead sizing him up as he stands before me.
He strongly resembles a troll, with his wild hair and bulky shoulders. He's no one Clare would pursue, I tell myself.
"It's time to leave, Clare." I grit out, not letting my eyes leave Liam, only glancing over at her briefly.
He sways a bit, clearly uncomfortable as I scrutinize him. Good. I want him to shit his pants in fear of me.
"Eli, I haven't even gotten my food wrapped up yet-"
"We're leaving." I punctuate, grabbing her hand and briskly heading towards the front desk.
She hesitates in my grasp for a moment before following along, realizing I won't be letting go of her any time soon. "It w-was nice to see you, Liam!" she sputters out, waving back at him politely.
Either he doesn't reply or I don't catch it as I go up to the front counter, digging in my pockets for my wallet. She stays silent by my side while I pay, reluctantly holding onto my hand, though her grip is loose.
"So how was Liam, eh? Was it really worth risking our cover to talk to him?" I let go of her hand and stuff my own in my pocket, pacing angrily once we're outside of the restaurant.
Clare looks around the area uneasily, fiddling with the cross around her neck nervously. "Eli, he noticed me. I barely even r-recognized him at first. We were just having friendly conversation." she explains, but I don't care.
"Did you see the way he was looking at you? Like you were a fucking conquest? Like he could actually have you if he tried hard enough?" My indignation over the situation doubles and triples, my knuckles turning a pale white as I ball my hands into fists.
I only halt my pacing as she wanders close to me, unafraid of my ire. "Are you angry because I risked letting him know what we were actually here for, or because he was flirting with me?" she asks, those azure orbs narrowed skeptically at me.
Forcing myself to stay still, I avert my gaze, staring blankly down at the pavement below us. She always does this, every time without fail. Clare never lets me get away with anything, instead calling me out on my hypocrisy and double standards.
Her hands rest on my chest, and at once, my eyes fly back to hers warningly. "Clare- no." I attempt, but before I can stop her, her lips are on mine, pushing me back against the wall of the establishment.
All sense of reserve I once had leaves me as I touch her waist, gripping and kneading her supple skin in my hands, her dress crinkling in my palm. Somewhere in my mind, I know I'm a fucking imbecile for giving in, but she steals my breath and rationality from me.
Her tongue skims over my bottom lip before slipping into my mouth, teasingly prodding at mine before she retreats.
"I'm yours. All yours, Eli." she whimpers, her hands cupping my face gently. "You're a Theatre major at NYU for Pete's sake, I've been giving you all this credit for being intelligent, yet you can't get this basic fact through your skull."
As if suddenly shocked with the knowledge that she's walking on eggshells with her outburst, Clare backs up, winding her arms around herself and peering around. It's comical, how neither of us can keep ourselves in check. More so, it's incredible how my anger ebbs away at her touch, seemingly gone for good by the time she backs away.
She notices this, taking in my flushed cheeks and satisfied smile.
I decide to throw caution to the wind once more as I take a step towards her, grabbing her hand and lifting it to my lips.
"I'm sorry for being an ass." I whisper against her knuckle, lightly kissing the skin there before lowering it again.
"You're forgiven...on one condition." Clare bites down on her bottom lip, peeking up at me through her curls.
"Oh?" I inquire, and she nods in reply.
"You have to give your girlfriend a piggyback ride." The word girlfriend slips from her lips in a hushed but emphasized tone, making my heartbeat pick up significantly in my chest.
"Twist my rubber arm, girlfriend." Turning my back to her, I let out a small 'oof' as she hops on, my hands then gripping her thighs.
"Oh!" she exclaims, making me look up at her. "I'm wearing a dress! I'll flash everyone! Put me down!Now!"
"Too late, Clarebelle. Better pull your dress down before you get charged for indecent exposure."
She squeals as I turn us around and run to the car, shamelessly zigzagging through the parking lot to prolong her embarrassment until I dump her in the passenger side seat of the car, a devious grin painting my lips as I close her door.
I'm yours. All yours, Eli, echoes out in my ears all the way home, with her slender arm wrapped around mine, dozing until we reach our apartment.
She'll be the death of me, but I can't think of a better way to go.