Long wait- I'm sorry! I haven't really been around the computer lately, so I apologize greatly!
Now that Eli an Clare are living together, it must be paradise.
Perfection.
Right?
:)
By the end of the week, Clare's new bedroom was completed- the effort put into the hours worth of labour, of forbidding either of the two boys to take a peek, was worthwhile. Neither of them could believe their eyes.
"Where am I?" Adam says loudly, gaping at the beautifully painted walls and the elegant new armchair and matching ottoman. Every square inch is a pretty, pastel yellow color, and the ratty old curtains are replaced with silky ivory ones. The bedspread is made of fresh linen, and the tidiness overall is just unbelievable.
"It smells so good," Eli moans, sniffing the air. "Why doesn't our room smell like this?"
Clare shrugs, beaming. "It's lavender. And depends- are you averse to air freshener?"
Aversion isn't exactly the problem- it's negation really. Lack of initiative, tied with straight-up laziness.
"So this is why we haven't seen your face for so long," Adam nods in approval, still gawking around. "Great job, Clare."
Eli throws his arms around her shoulder, looking wonderstruck. "I'm taking you out for breakfast. Amazing as this all is, I think you need some fresh air."
"Nothing like some icy cold winter air to give me frostbites, huh?" Clare grins, quite pleased with herself.
Eli smiles and leans in, burying his nose in her curly mass of morning hair. The tip of his nose feels cold to the touch, as the chilly morning had their skin much colder than usual. Even with the heater on full blast, and bulky robes wound around their body, the air inside the house remains thick and arctic-like. Clare jams her freezing hands into her pocket, clenching them into fists.
"What's the temperature like outside, anyways?"she asks, a shudder rippling down her spine.
"Minus seventeen from what I heard," he murmurs, brushing his lips against her head.
"Bring on the sweaters and corduroy pants," Clare sighs. She presses her hand on his chest, and then glances down at his slippers. They're little black bunnies, one of the ears anew and one of the whiskers pulled off. "I think I have a furry hat to go with your bunnies."
"The bunny team," Adam snorts, giggling under his breath.
"The sexy bunny team," Eli clarifies, dismissing him with a lazy wave of his hand. "Meaning you're not on it."
"There's bacon in the freezer, anyway," he says snobbishly, thrusting his nose up in the air and exiting dramatically.
There's a pause, and the couple turn to each other with a smirk on their faces. As soon as Clare says "I hate bacon", the words "you hate bacon" come out of Eli's mouth. She grins sheepishly; he triumphantly.
"Why don't we get changed now," he suggests, finally unwinding his arms around her. "I'll meet you outside?"
"Sounds like a plan."
He smiles again, quietly shutting the door behind him. He knows everything about her, of course; he knows what she doesn't like, what she does, what she's afraid of, what she can't stand. Like the back of his hand, he knows how Clare adores fluffy white snow. How the dark freaks her out, how she likes being protected, but despises being suffocated. He could list her favourite colours in the order of preferences, and he can confidently say that autumn mornings and summer evenings are her favourite. He knows all the little things about her. He knows the big things. He knows her.
-x—
The Dot is busier than usual, especially considering it's only ten in the morning. The snow is falling hard, and traffic is pretty bad. It takes them twice the time to drive there, twice the time to find a seat, and even longer for their order to come.
Clare delicately sips her hot cocoa, her cheeks rosy and her button nose Rudolph-red.
"Mhmm," she hums blissfully, tangling her legs with his beneath the table. "Do you want to try some?"
And so he drinks, eyes never leaving her face. He tastes the sweetness, immediately hating it and wanting to gag, but pressing his lips together to prevent hurting her feelings. The way her bright blue eyes light up when he represses retching, it's precious and he wants to take it all in. It matters little that his tongue is burning from the sugariness, it can all be taken away by the bitterness of coffee gliding down his throat. She's absolutely precious, and it's worth it.
"You hate it," she accuses with a lighthearted laugh, enclosing the mug with both her mitten hands. "I know you, you know."
Matching blueberry bagels arrive, slathered generously with strawberry jam. Ripping the bagel in half, he asks, "Do you?"
Clare chews slowly, looking intrigued. "Your favourite band is Arcade Fire. You hate blue jeans and lurid colours, you think they're annoying. You're a light sleeper, but when you want to sleep, you just don't- don't wake up."
Eli raises an eyebrow. "Go on."
"You've been to four Dead Hand concerts. You love brownies and bunnies and bubbles and- "
"I do not like bubbles," he says, sounding offended.
Clare raises an eyebrow.
"I don't," he says defensively.
She makes a pop sound with her lips.
"Stop it," he pouts, unable to keep the grin from forming on his face.
"Fine, fine," she allows, feeding him her bagel. "But let's play a game, okay? Something to distract from this awful weather."
"What kind of game do you have in mind?" He pokes out his tongue, furrowing his eyebrows as he expertly licks off the jam at the corner of his mouth. Clare watches with bizarre interest- he's extraordinarily skilled with his tongue. "Oh, I got one- dare or chicken."
"Rules?" she asks.
"It's simple," he begins, face lighting up at the prospect of playing. Clare feels a bit of uneasiness in her stomach, knowing that if Eli enjoyed such a game, it probably isn't anywhere as tame as she'd like it to be. "We dare each other to do things, and if we chicken out…let's say, every time you chicken out, you have to clean my room."
"Like a redeemable pass?" she asks uneasily, immediately picturing Eli's pig den. "Everything time I chicken out, equals how many time I have to clean your room on command?"
He nods, looking pleased with himself.
"And if you chicken out-"
"-not gonna happen," he says in a sing-song voice.
"-then you have to go shopping with me!" she exclaims excitedly, clasping her hands together in glee.
His wallet immediately begins to ache in his back pocket.
"Sounds fair," he says, downing the rest of his beverage. "You go first."
She taps her chin playfully, pretending to think really hard. A quick scan is done around the room, and then-eureka. There's a gaggle of teenage girls, perhaps all middle-schoolers, occupying the large table in the center of the restaurant. They giggle loudly and obnoxiously, delicately sipping their drinks with an air of inferiority. All flipping their hair over their shoulders, constantly looking over their shoulders to see if anyone was watching.
"Your best pick-up line on that girl over there," Clare says, subtly pointing at a particularly haughty girl of the bunch. "Go!"
Eli cranes his neck around, making a face. "Pick the bubblegum pink, puffy-haired girl, now will you?"
"Don't chicken out so early in the game," she says angelically, propping her elbows up on the table. She rests her chin on her hands, watching him with amusement.
He rolls his eyes. "Please, just let the master at work."
As Eli jams his hands in his pocket, turning on his suaveness, Clare perks up. He looks so…hot, for the lack of a better word, when he does that, and she can't help but feel smitten by him. The way his shoulders are hunched over ever so slightly, and how his dark hair is windblown and untended to, is making her swoon like a school girl on the inside.
He saunters over to them, and simultaneously, all five of them turn their heads to look at him. Simultaneously, they take him in, looking quite approving of his appearance.
"Pardon me, miss," he says charmingly, looking at the blonde girl with a smouldering gaze. She looks completely awestruck before regaining her composure, jaws dropping to the floor and eyes bugging out in disbelief. Clare stifles a laugh by biting her lip, hard. "But I seem to have lost my number. May I borrow yours?"
Classic. She giggles in a high pitched tone, and Clare could almost feel Eli's cringe. The girl appears overly delighted at the amount of positive attention directed towards her, and basks in the envy-eyes her friends are giving her. With another supercilious hair flip, she batters her eyelashes and smiles sweetly at him.
"What's your name?" she asks silkily, making novice flirty-eyes.
"Eli Goldsworthy," he says in a low, attractive voice. He flashes her a dazzling smile, and Clare's chin suddenly slips off her hand. Her stomach lurches forward, and she blinks. She'd been so preoccupied, so engrossed by him, watching him flirt with her. How utterly…sexy her boyfriend is, and how she failed to notice all this time! Obviously, she was attracted to him, and had been since day one, but their relationship had always been based on trust, communication and mutual understanding of the other's need. Had it really taken her half a year to realize the alluringness before Eli's wit and tenderness? How could she have missed it?
"Well, Eli," she croons, "I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I can't be your girlfriend."
Girlfriend? Well, that's stretched out quite a bit.
"Shame," he says, feigning sadness. They probably couldn't tell, but Clare knows him, and she can detect the hint of smugness trickling through his voice. "Well, I guess I-"
"Sit with us!" one girl insists, roughly pulling him down on an empty chair. Clare's hands fly to her mouth, covering up a loud snort of laughter. A few patrons nearby shoot her a glare, but she doesn't notice.
"So your name is Eli, right?" another one asks coquettishly, leaning towards him. All suaveness vanished, Eli looks absolutely horrified by the proximity. The girls seem to be cramming into his personal bubble, and all so abruptly that he didn't have enough time to figure out how to react.
"Bethany already has a boyfriend," she says, twirling her hair. "But I'm available."
"You- how old are you again?" Eli asks, giving the bubblegum girl an odd look.
"Thirteen," she answers.
"I'm fourteen!" the girl next to him says loudly.
"Well, that's very nice and all," he says brusquely, getting up slowly, and brushing himself off, "but I have to get going."
"But you just got here," a girl whines.
"Yes, and we have so much to talk about," another adds with a pout.
Eli looks over at Clare, mouthing help me.
She shakes her head, grinning widely.
"That's great, but I really have to get back to my girlfriend," he says loudly, shooting Clare a pointed look. The girls immediately whip their head around to give her a dirty look. As their attention is diverted towards her, Eli hastens to slip away.
"Eight graders flirting with you, huh?" Clare smirks, as he settles down across from her. "And giving me nasty looks. Should I feel threatened?"
"That was hell," he says casually, ruffling his hair and trying to appear unruffled. Clare's smirk only grows, seeing the past-panic etched onto his composure. "And if anything, you should feel threatened by me."
"I'm trembling," she grins.
"You should be," he says seriously, returning the grin. "I have to give you props for that dare, though."
"Props accepted," she says, satisfied.
"Okay, Edwards, I dare you to…" He wracks his brain for something challenging, yet completely legal for Clare to do. Something that would make her stretch far beyond her comfort zone, something that he would entertain him just as much. Past the gaggle of preteens, past the few Degrassi students huddled together, past the parents, past the children he looks, unable to find anything that would spark an idea.
Nothing.
He frowns. He wants something special…just for Clare.
"Hey Peter," he calls, waving the waiter over. Clare wrinkles her eyebrows together.
"What can I get you?" Peter asks, flipping open his notebook. "Can we get a cup of black coffee, and a packet of ketchup?"
He gives Eli an odd look, but nods just the same. "Coming right up."
"I hope it's for you," she says warily, eyeing him with sudden nervousness. "You know I hate ketchup. And black coffee."
He smiles innocently. "Do you, now?"
"You're cruel." Clare has a low tolerance for foods she dislikes. She can't not gag when something horrid is forced down her throat, and she's had particularly bad experiences with food in general. Her mom had been so strict with her meals, it was just awful. How many times she had to spit food into her napkin to stop from vomiting it all out is incredible.
"Ah, here we are," he says pleasantly, taking the warm mug with opening hands.
"I can't drink that," she says plainly, watching him squeeze ketchup into the steaming cup with critical eyes.
"You're going to chicken out?" he asks, raising a daring eyebrow.
"Only if you don't mind me blowing chunks," she cringes, swallowing some disgusting -tasting saliva down her throat. "Eli, that's repugnant."
"That's why it's fun," he says brightly tossing the empty package to the side. He pushes it towards her. "I dare you to drink all of this."
"Eli," she says quietly, eyeing the contents distastefully. The redolent of ketchup invades her nostrils, and wrinkling her nose does little to stop her from retching. She doesn't want to give in so easily, nor does she want to disappoint him either, but the thought of even going near such a horrible smell causes a nauseating rolling sensation in her stomach. She feels sick, and she wants to plug her nose. It's coming, the vomit. It's getting closer, it's coming.
"You look green," he notes, smiling melting off his face. "Are you al-"
"Take it away," she swallows, feeling the sour taste creep up her throat. "Eli, take it away!"
Alarmed by her sickish appearance, he hurries to depose of the contents by rushing outside and pouring it into the snow. As soon as the stench leaves the restaurant, Clare can finally breathe, and lets out an exhale of relief. She smiles weakly at the sight of him dumping it right next to a proper-looking old lady, watching her nostrils flare up with exasperation. She seems very offended by Eli's actions, as her tummy had been from the smell.
"Better?" he breathlessly asks, looking hopeful as he re-enters. His cheeks are already ruddy from the cold weather, but all he seems to be focused on is her.
"A bit," she admits, concentrating on anything other than the memory of the scent. She shudders, prompting him to place a gentle hand on her arm.
"I'm sorry," he says guiltily, caressing her soft skin. "Do you want me to take you home? I could find a nice, warm Snuggie for you and you can lie on my bed and we can watch movies instead?"
"Let's not go to your room," she flinches. "We're probably going to leave a mess, and I don't want more to clean up."
"Don't be ridiculous, you're not cleaning up my room," he says simply, coming around to her side. He rummages through her pile of knit clothing and finds her beanie, and gingerly places it on top of her pretty curls. He takes the time to move each strand so that they frame her pale face nicely, cutely touching her nose before proceeding to wrap her scarf around her.
"But the dare-"
"We can go shopping tomorrow, if you like," he says lightly, adjusting her woolly scarf. "I`m so sorry for making you feel nauseated, Clare. It was stupid, really."
"So what, you're trying to atone by taking me shopping?" she inquires, not at all opposed to the idea, but honestly curious.
He helps her put on her winter coat, gently zipping her up. "It was so stupid, making you sick like that. I was an idiot."
"Hey," she says, frowning. She touches his chin. "You're overreacting here."
"I just don't want you to be anything less than of perfect health," he says tenderly, kissing her forehead. "It'd worry me."
"That's sweet, but I think I'm fine now," Clare says, as he quickly throws on his own jacket.
"You want to leave a poor old Snuggie alone at home?" he queries playfully, winking at her as he places a crisp bill on the table.
"You say it like it's a crime," she teases, letting him take her hand.
"Someone hasn't been reading the rulebook," he jokes, squeezing her fingers. "Come on, let's get out of here."
So Eli just cares. A lot. It's a good thing. A really good thing.
His grip tightens around her, and he smiles warmly at her.