Fucking god it took me two months but here's the next chapter. It's really lengthy, you're welcome.
Also the next chapter is mostly written, so it shouldn't be long at all before I update again. Within the next couple days it'll be up, since I've been neglecting it so much.
Okay, go read and review please to yell at me for taking so goddamn long and tell me your thoughts.
I tried to stop the incessant tapping of my foot, I honestly tried. I also tried to stop the way I was slamming everything down on tables and all other surfaces, including but not limited to: my school books, my tea, Eli's coffee, and his car keys. My klutzy nature knows no bounds, and thinking anything but is a severe understatement of how destructive my clumsy hands can be.
It wasn't that I was mad. If anything, I was giggling like a maniac, in spite of the daunting day that lay before me.
My first day at a new school. I feel justified in saying that it'd be enough to make anyone jittery.
Eli certainly wasn't letting up on the torment about it, having watched me scurry around the house like a madwoman for an hour before we left. My mostly unnecessary but quite uncontrollable freaking out seemed like one heck of a show to him, wearing an amused smirk all the while. As if he'd never gone to a new school himself – like NYU was a cake walk on the first day he attended. His smugness isn't warranted, but to a degree, it does talk me down from my proverbial ledge.
Now that we're sitting in the car, preparing to head off to the school, those content nerves begin turning against me, instead morphing into relentless stomach pain inducing ones. Curse my excitable state.
"They're going to think you've got a bad twitch if you don't calm down, Clarabelle." he jokes, starting up his car and then pulling out of the driveway. Half of me wants to beg him to slide right back into his spot and let me stay home, but the other half is eager to get out. A few weeks of being indoors with nothing intellectually stimulating will do that to a person. I've got a bad case of cabin fever.
It's just the fact that I have missed a sizable bit of school that's getting to me. I can't even imagine how much work I must have missed already, how much I'll be forced to catch up with. As if changing schools, moving to another country even wasn't enough to begin with.
"They'll probably look at me like I'm a spectacle anyway. New kid syndrome. I've never envied the new kid on their first day. Or their first week. It looks like pure hell." I grab my messenger bag and rifle through it once more, making sure I have the right notebooks and paperwork for when I arrived. My schedule was taped onto the inside of my folder, and while it was a dweeb thing to do, the system helps me. I need some sort of rhyme and reason to this chaotic, uncharted territory.
Eli's hand wanders over to my knee, squeezing it gently as he turns down the road. His reassuring touch settles my stomach the slightest bit, his fingertips almost sending healing comfort through my bones. "You really need to calm down. You're going to be fine. The more you panic over this, the worse it'll be."
"That's easy for you to say, Mister NYU."
"I hated high school. You know that. It was hell on Earth."
I turn to face him and note the stern expression on his face, one that can't help but fail in being stoic. I do remember Eli being bullied during high school, always coming home with a few bruises or bloody knuckles. A part of me credited it to his instigating ways – how he effortlessly angered people with his endless supply of snarky comments. But he never deserved it, either way. I never liked seeing him come home with a bloody lip, always eager to help him clean himself up before mom got home so she wouldn't worry.
It's always been Eli and I caring for each other. Not to say our mom didn't- but running a one parent household with two kids who generally were hectic in and of themselves couldn't have been easy. I remember many a time Eli telling me to wake up early on a Saturday morning with him, so we could clean the house to the best of our ability and make breakfast for her.
To be fair, said breakfast included poorly made cereal and a piece of fruit, but she always seemed to appreciate it nonetheless.
Now that we're on our own, it's much the same, except we're caring for one another. Between Eli sleeping beside me every night to keep the nightmares at bay, to me rubbing his shoulders when he gets home from school and work, the nurturing hasn't left us. I'm praying it never will; nothing makes me feel as loved as knowing he cares about me.
"But..." I start earning a subtle shift of his eyes to me. "You don't get teased at NYU, right?"
The moment I blurt out the question I feel silly, the mood shifting from tense to teasing as he lets a boisterous laugh rip from his throat, his hand squeezing my thigh once more before returning to the steering wheel.
"No one's stealing my lunch money at recess, babe. Don't worry." he replies as his laughter dies down, my ears missing the sound as soon as it leaves the space between us.
As we pull up to the school, the coil in my belly twists together uncomfortably, each breath coming out shorter than the last as a result. It isn't like me to panic so much, at least not usually. I was reasonably personable back at my old school, but then again, I had been there since I was little. Everything was familiar, I had a core group of friends to hang out with. Not once did I feel alone. Even after Eli left, I still managed to feel at ease.
But all alone, branded the new girl, here at this new school? I'm beginning to wonder if home schooling would have been the safer route. Or maybe dropping out altogether.
As if he can read my mind, Eli parks just a short ways away, close enough for me to scurry over but far enough to supply us with a little privacy.
"If something goes wrong, if you hate it, you know all you have to do is call me and I'll get you." he tells me in a soft, even tone. My eyes are focused down at my lap until he reaches for my chin, tugging it gently in his direction. "I know how tough this is, believe me. But you're going to be alright. You can do this." I watch as he leans forward, my eyes fluttering shut as his lips grace my forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back.
My lips curl into a small smile, the best I can manage before I step out of the car, waving to Eli before stepping onto the curb. He hesitates for a moment, like a parent dropping their kid off for their first day of school ever before driving away.
Once I'm standing all alone, amidst a sea of mostly uptight looking students, I finally force my feet forward. Each step feels like it sucks out a bit more of my soul but I try to tell myself that this could be good. Genuinely good. This could the start to a whole new life for me.
I say this as if dating my brother isn't a major life alteration, but I'm hoping to reignite my own interests, light a flame under my tush to get me moving wherever I need to in life. I never planned to uproot myself to the city, thrust into a completely different environment. But this is where I am now, and this is what I need to do.
It's so much easier said than done.
After meandering down the short path to the double door entrance, I let myself in and immediately feel awash in foreign teen angst, as well as stupidity. Three boys come barreling full speed in my direction, and I narrowly dodge them by squishing myself against a locker, my face making contact with the cold metal. Feeling a chill run through me, I move away from it, thinking I managed to avoid being knocked over by three burly guys the minute I enter the building. What a wonderful first impression.
But as I pull my bag further up my shoulder, I feel a thud against my shoulder, pushing me back a bit until I regain my footing.
"Oh! Shit! My bad, my bad." a voice speaks, one of the boys turning to face me. Anxiety-ridden and thoroughly mortified, I look up, making eye contact with him. His swooping blonde hair hanging just over his eyes should be enough of an indicator to me that he's probably trouble. After all, he did just bang into me. But against my better judgment I give him the time of day, clearing my throat as my nerves swarm within me.
"It's um, it's fine." I answer noncommittally, still aggravated but also eager to get on with my day. I shouldn't be ready to jet out the door already, not even five minutes in.
Before I can turn and walk away, he steps in front of me, blocking my path. "Have I seen you before?" His tone is coy and I don't want much to do with it, only imagining the look that would be on Eli's face if he knew some boy (who had just shoved me) was blatantly trying to flirt with me.
Boldly I meet his gaze, a forced smile painting my lips. "If you have then I believe we have a bit of a stalking issue." I state, feeling dumb for the saying it immediately after. Every time I try to say something witty it all comes out a mess. I'm not sure why I even bother. "I'm new here. My name is Clare."
The grin he wears as I speak is nearly enough to change my first impression, but not quite. "That would explain why I don't know you. I'd recognize a pretty face like yours anywhere."
This time I don't bother hiding my grimace, cringing to myself as I peer around, wondering if I'm about to miss the warning bell. Does this school even have one of those?
"Right. Well..." I crane my head around him, looking at the clock on the wall just behind him. "I should find my locker."
"Oh, but-" he starts in again as I try to move, and this time I can feel my annoyance rising. "I never introduced myself. I'm KC. KC Guthrie."
His broad hand is offered forward and instead of shaking it, I give him a curt, clipped smile. "Clare Edwards." I say, letting him be privy to my last name.
Which I quickly realize is a big mistake.
"Edwards? You'd be in my homeroom then. D through H is that block of lockers." He points to the left and for once, I find his company useful. "I'll help you find your locker. Come on."
Begrudgingly, and because I really could use the help, I follow him, grabbing my folder out of my page and opening it. I peek around inside and spot the paper with my locker number and combination, the latter of which I already have committed to memory.
Reaching it, I quickly undo the lock, smiling to myself briefly as I place my belongings inside. I can feel KC's gaze fixed on me but I ignore it, pushing a stray curl out of my face as I put my books inside.
"That's cute." he says suddenly. My brows knit together as I look up at him, perplexed. The boy towers over me, even more so than Eli. But they both have that bad boy look, as though their bark is so much worse than their bite.
"Pardon?"
"Your book covers. They're cute."
My eyes drop down to the kitten book covers that adorn my textbooks, my cheeks flushing a light pink. "I um, I like kittens." I state stupidly, internally chiding myself yet again as I keep the book for my first class in my bag – Biology.
"More like juvenile." someone just behind me mutters. I can't help but feel offended at this stranger's commentary as I look back, spotting the owner of the voice. Her heels are bigger than my whole face, her perfectly tamed curls nearly consuming her features. Something about her belly shirt and the low slung jeans she wears makes me feel as though everything I am is juvenile to her. The look isn't flattering on her at all but I stay mum, knowing if I don't have anything nice to say, I ought not to speak at all. Everyone here might be rude, but I refuse to be myself.
"Shut up, Bee." KC spits out, my head turning back to my locker as if something fascinating dwells inside. I feel like shoving myself in it and hiding inside for the remainder of the day until I can go home. No bully needs to lock me in, I'd do it all on my own.
"Ooh, KC sticking up for new girl? You just want somewhere warm to stick it. Stop trying so hard."
At her accusation my face feels inflamed, my fight of flight instinct kicking into high gear, the latter bit my obvious choice.
"T-thank you for helping me find my locker." I sputter out to him out of courtesy, quickly slamming the locker shut to rush into my homeroom door in horror.
Somewhere warm to stick it?
Goodness, what's wrong with these people?
Once inside, I spot the teacher, her warm smile finally coaxing my to calm down.
"You must be Clare!" she speaks, her tone rich and firm, but not intimidating. A nice change of pace.
Nodding meekly, I grip my books a bit more firmly. "Clare Edwards. Yes. I already got my schedule and locker information from the main office." I tell her, garnering a somewhat impressed looking smile in return.
"You're on top of things. I like that. I'm Miss Dawes. I'll be your homeroom teacher. Also your English teacher. You'll be coming back to this classroom seventh period for my class. Did you find your way here alright?" she asks, and I nod in return even though the honest truth is that things could have been a bit easier.
After she tells me a bit about where certain classrooms and offices are, I sit down at a free seat towards the front. That is, until "Bee" comes in.
"New girl," she hisses, and I reluctantly look up at her.
"My name is Clare-"
"I don't really care what your name is. Let me spare you the social suicide and advise you not to sit at the front. You already look like a big enough dweeb." she spits, as though it would kill her to say something nice.
I don't move at first until she grabs my bag from the side of my desk, bringing it to the back of the classroom with her.
"Hey!" I sputter, bewildered as to how people here are so bold, so presumptuous.
So unabashedly rude.
"Get your ass back here." Her lips curl into a taunting smirk, and with a huff, I relent.
Sitting myself in the desk beside hers, I snatch my bag back protectively. "You seriously have no manners."
"And you're the biggest fucking prude I've seen in a while. Here I am trying to give you some guidance. At least I don't have ulterior motives like Mr. Horndog over there." Her head nods in KC's direction as he waltzes in, not sparing me a smirk as he does.
Goodness, I want nothing to do with him.
"Anyway, my name is Bianca. I'm seriously just trying to spare you a nightmare, kid."
The way she addresses me, as if I'm significantly younger than her irks me a bit but I bite back my response, instead giving her a scrutinizing stare. "Pray tell, how are you sparing me anything? You stole my bag, called me juvenile and prude and-"
"People will eat you alive here, alright? Your little...good girl appearance and shit. The kitten covers..." she trails off, and while I admit she has a point, I'm not too eager to change to spare myself scrutiny, for the sake of others. But her words make me a bit self conscious, my complexion betraying me as per usual.
"You really think so?"
She scoffs, as though I'm naïve for even asking. Maybe I am. "I know so. Just let me be your guide to this place, yeah? You're in good hands."
The warning bell rings before I can rebut, and Miss Dawes starts taking attendance. Out of respect I keep my mouth shut, but I can't help but wonder if I'm in good hands at all with Bianca. It's not like I have many options though, so I keep my skepticism to myself.
It was after my Ethics class that she caught me. The moment I noticed her bouncy, ridiculously high-set pigtails, I should have run for the hills. I always know this but the girl has ancestors who were ninjas, I swear it. I was nearly frozen in the proverbial headlights as she wandered over, the residue of our last altercation still adorning her face. She was intimidated by me; startled. Good, I don't want her to feel safe around me. I sure as hell couldn't care less about her well-being at this point.
"Elijah, we need to talk."
It was the first sign of trouble, and if I had been wise at all, I would have jetted however haphazardly and left. I wasn't going to like whatever she had to say and I knew it. But no, I stayed right there, right in that goddamn spot that I still feel like I'm rooted to, at this very moment.
"I'm fairly certain that there's actually nothing to talk about." I quickly corrected her but even with my sidestep, she was ready to block my path. Cat-like reflexes.
"Is that why your father has been calling me? Addressing me as your girlfriend when clearly, I'm not anymore?"
It was as though she knew she would suck the air out of my lungs, her expression unrelentingly stoic, her tone venomous and betraying her external calm. I'm not sure which she was more upset about: my father contacting her out of the blue or being reminded that I'm no longer dating her. Knowing Imogen, it's the latter but I couldn't care less about that bit.
Before I can properly put together a reply, she was yapping again. "Something about your little sister. And I just thought to myself, what has Elijah Goldsworthy been hiding from me this whole time?" As if she was fully entitled to interrogate me, she walked in a semi circle around me. She was failing in making me feel uncomfortable or trapped. But I was certainly growing more irate as the seconds ticked by. It's a special skill of hers, I'm sure of it.
"What did he say? When did he speak to you?"
"Oh, so now you're getting defensive. Elijah gets up in arms about his little sister, duly noted."
It took every ounce of my self control not to wipe the smug smirk off her face with my own hand.
"Are you going to stop being a bitch and tell me what he said?"
The only way to get through to her is callous phrasing and insults. Her resolve broke right then, and in dribs and drabs I caught the pieces of information I needed.
He had called her three days ago, saying he knew she was in contact with me, and was one of the few who had a way to reach me. Although, he was wrong about us being an item. He told her I was being "unreasonable" and just wanted to speak to me about Clare's living situation.
"He misses you both, Elijah." she tried to tell me sincerely, as though she really believed him. And she probably did. He has a way with words when it comes to those who don't know better. He's a charmer. It was always something my mom said I adopted from him, but at times, I don't know whether it was a compliment or a stab at my character. I want no piece of him.
According to her, he made it abundantly clear that he was intent on finding a place in our lives. But to me, that only means cutting me out of the equation so he can have her to himself again.
Before we parted, she handed me a piece of paper with a number scrawled in her neat cursive on it.
"Do the right thing." he told me.
I stuffed the number in my pants pocket with every intention of tearing it up and throwing it in the trash later.
Now that I'm climbing the stairs to the apartment, all I can think about is getting Clare in my arms, feeling her right up against my chest and knowing she's right there, that no one's going to step in the way of us.
As I enter, I see her immediately, as though she was waiting for me.
"I missed you so much! I've been waiting for you!"
Well, there's my clarification.
The weight of the world doesn't have a place on my shoulders as I take her in, dropping my bag to the floor before I wander over to her. "I missed you so much." I tell her honestly, wrapping my arms around her frame and lifting her off of the floor. "Tell me about your first day. You're not a mess of tears and I didn't get a phone call, so I'm assuming all went well?"
Her hand travels into my hair and she ruffles it, letting a few strands fall in front of my eyes. I place her down and she begins toying with my hair again, smoothing it back once more. "It was...interesting."
"Interesting? Elaborate?" Grabbing her hand, I pull her along into the bedroom, eager and hungry for any bit of proximity to her I can get. The closer I get to her skin, the farther away I feel from all the problems and things stacked up against us. Luckily Clare can't feel the pressure but I sure as hell can. But when she's touching me, she cools the burn from it all, and replaces it with a serene euphoria that I just want to revel in. She's a remedy, if there ever was one.
I shut the door once we're both in and gently shove her onto the bed, her mischievous grin mirroring mine almost exactly. She falls with a small 'oof' onto the bed, her curls strewn all around her head. For a moment I simply stand over her, admiring her.
"Come down here and maybe I will." she prompts, wiggling her brows at me tauntingly. I lower myself to her frame and she picks off my shirt immediately, no hesitation present in her discarding of my clothes. We're comfortable enough with each other now, perhaps even too comfortable for our relation. It stills dawns on me that this is about as wrong as a person can get, as immoral as they come. But I've also realized that it takes more effort to try and give a damn than it does to take off her clothes and give her a scream inducing orgasm. I live to hear her moaning my name.
I give her the same treatment, pulling down the top of her dress and then removing her bra, immediately tugging one of her breasts into my mouth. Eagerly I suck on her, kneading her opposite breast in my hand. Her tiny mewls spur me on, her hips already starting to buck into mine. I've created a monster with her but I don't regret it.
"As you were saying?" I ask, returning my mouth to her mound.
"Well, I-I-" she starts, unable to pull a full sentence out of her lust driven, frenzied mind as I work on her.
"Hmm?" I hum, influencing her back to arch against me.
"I made a couple friends, well...I m-mean..." she pauses to sigh, my fingers flicking against her hardened nub as I look up at her, a small grin present while I keep my mouth on her. It's too much fun to challenge her like this. I always get my way. "One of them I don't want to bother with so much but I met a girl named Bianca in home- home..."
"Homeroom?"
She moans out a breathy 'yes', as if she's terribly passionate about homeroom. I chuckle against her flesh and decide to up the ante, my hands traveling down to her tights.
Tugging them down her legs, I toss the article aside and position myself between her legs, rubbing my palms up and down her thighs. "And what's she like?"
"She's really bold."
"Bitchy?"
Scoffing, she nods. "I was trying to be nice." She only pauses for a second before speaking again. "And another girl, in my History class. Her name is Alli, she's really nice. We b-both like vampire novels."
With a judgmental expression on my face I look up at her before turning away again, mentally chiding her for her wretched taste in literature. One would think at least some of my good taste would rub off on her in her time here. No such luck.
My fingers grab at the waistband of her panties, pulling them off her legs impatiently before settling down again. I can feel her eyes on me, practically burning holes through my forehead but I refuse to meet her gaze, instead staring at her swollen, wet core.
"Keep talking, baby."
She squirms a bit, trying to jerk her hips up towards me but I pin them down my arm, using my other hand to rub at her gently. I can tell each touch isn't nearly enough to sate her.
"But, I want you to-"
"I will, talk to me." I promise, and she huffs out in exasperation.
"I hate you."
Smirking to myself, I shake my head, pushing her dress up a bit. "Liar." Dipping my head down between her thighs without warning, I take a first experimental lick, then pressing my tongue against her. Soon enough I can't tell what moisture is mine and what's hers- her taste so prominent and folds so wet. She's not shy about getting what she wants, practically riding against my mouth as I work her over, my tongue alternating between prodding at her clit and swiping along her slit.
My eyes peer up for a moment and she's gripping the sheets, her other hand winding itself into my hair angrily. But even with her silent begs for more, I make her stir a bit longer, making my movements more languid.
"Please, please, Eli."
"Begging, are we?"
She answers with a shove of her hips, one that claws a satisfied moan out of me. I skim my lips over her swollen sex, then attaching them firmly to suck on her. In no time at all she's crying out, nearly tearing my hair straight out of my skull as the pressure mounts within her. I push a finger inside her when I know it's coming. When she starts clenching against me it's all over, and I know without a doubt that watching Clare lose it at my touch will forever be my favorite sight. Her dampened, sweat soaked forehead, her heaving chest and bucking hips – all for me. I'm a greedy bastard but she never denies me this glorious sight.
I only take my mouth off her and finger out once she's completely finished, her breathy pants replacing her desperate moans.
Once I'm beside her again on the bed, I turn on my side, smiling peacefully at her. She's still letting the high wash over her and I don't mind being a witness to it one bit. God, she's so beautiful-
"Your turn." she suddenly states, reaching for my belt with her tiny hands.
"My turn?" I repeat, dumbfounded. As often as I've been getting Clare off, she hasn't done much to me yet outside of touching over my boxers, and that's been fine with me. Although I'm aching to feel her warm palm over me, I'm never going to push the issue. At times I almost feel like I'm protecting her from myself, hardly trusting my own ability to control myself.
Her eyes roll at me, and it's hard to believe that she's the same girl who was exhausted from her climax mere moments before. "Unless you'd absolutely hate letting me give it a shot." she teases, and I can't pretend like the idea isn't appealing. Once the belt is undone, she starts at the buttons of my jeans. "I've never done this before so...I just-"
I pause her, cupping her chin so she'll look at me. "No pressure, at all. We can take our time with this. I know you'll be great, babe."
Demurely she nods, tugging on my pants once the button and zipper are undone.
I'm so close to that ecstasy, so damnably, ridiculously close. And then just like that, the thing I never intended for Clare to see rears its head.
She notices the clump of paper jutting out of my pocket as she tugs my jeans down, and before I can snatch it away from her, her eyes are skimming over the number.
"This...this is a girl's number?" she questions carefully, as though any answer I give will be a lie because she already knows. Even though she doesn't. God, she has no idea.
The fear traveling through my veins kills the erection I was working on, the mood entirely ruined by the severity of the matter. "No." I state firmly, but before I can elaborate, she's on my case.
"But this handwriting is most definitely female, Eli. Didn't we agree not to date anyone else while we're together? Or was that just a rule for me to follow? You still get to sleep around with any girl you want?"
My heart is pounding like a jackhammer in my chest and I just want her to shut up for one fucking second so I can explain, or at least try to. I can't tell her the truth. The truth would be worse than saying it's a girl's number.
"It's just a friend." I try to blurt out, but she just throws a sardonic, painful laugh my way.
As if I could ever choose another girl over her, she really doesn't get it.
"A friend? A friend you can sleep with? Am I not enough?!" It's when she starts crying that I try to reach for her but she recoils, pulling her dress up her torso and covering herself. "This isn't fair! It's not fair at all, Eli!"
Frustrated, I lean forward, trying to grab it from her again. "It's not what you think!"
"Oh?" Her eyes light up with an idea and before she even says it, I don't like the way this is headed. "Then if I call and ask her if you two are just friends, she'd agree, right?"
It feels like my worst nightmare is coming true as the scenario plays out in my head, her hearing his voice and then this whole situation collapsing before my eyes. Before I can do anything to make it better, to get him away from us. Before I have any chance to troubleshoot.
"N-no, don't do that, Clare..."
She takes her phone and begins dialing, my hands immediately winding around her, trying to rip the phone from her grasp.
"Get off me!" Her voice is a shrill and I'm literally terrified of her right now – afraid of her and for her, for what she'll hear if he picks up the phone, for what she'll know if she manages to get through to him.
Reluctantly I let go, not wanting to hurt her.
She scrambles out of the room and I feel frozen in my spot, counting the seconds until she comes back. When she does, she'll know and she'll hate me. She'll leave and god knows where she'll end up. There's nowhere for her in the city except with me. I love her, I need her, she needs me. This wasn't how she was supposed to find out. I was supposed to disengage the situation before she ever could find out.
But when she comes back, she throws her phone down on the bed bitterly, handing the crumbled paper back to me. "You're so lucky she didn't pick up."
I can't fight off the sigh of relief leaving me at her words, though she misconstrues it as an admittance of guilt.
"I'm not sleeping with anyone else Clare, I promise,"
"Save it. I don't want to hear it."
She falls asleep with her back facing towards me, her mind and heart a million miles away from me. I don't have room in me for anyone but her, but already I can feel her pushing me aside. I don't sleep, only toss and turn, fruitlessly hoping to see her turn towards me in her sleep to no avail. I always knew my secrets would forge a wall between us, but this wasn't one I saw coming.