Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, or Let's Get Fucked Up and Die by Motion City Soundtrack

Anyways, review please *heart*

Let's get fucked up and die. I'm speaking figuratively of course, like the last time that I committed suicide, social suicide.

Eli

I meant it when I offered to Clare to spy on Imogen. I wanted to ruin her just about as much as she did. But I guess I was just waiting for someone to have the balls to want to try. It was social suicide. But that's okay, because I wasn't one to care about that shit anyway.

I met her on the steps of the school. The bell had just rang and the air was buzzing with excitement to be leaving Degrassi for the day. The September air wasn't very cool yet, but the wind had a bite to it, that made you draw your jacket a little closer to block the cold winter that was soon to come. Winter came fast in Toronto, but maybe that's because we live in motherfucking Canada. Just a thought.

Clare strolled up to me, her auburn curls bouncing in the light wind mixed with the spring in her step. She wore a particularly mischievous smile on her face; her lips permanently curved in all her pink lip glossy glory. She was wearing a light purple dress today, and I had to admit that I liked it. I had to think about my mother naked in order to counter the growing tightness in my pants.

Focus, Eli, focus.

"So where to?" she asked as she approached me.

"Well, our victim," this earned an eyebrow raise from Clare, "parks a few spaces down from me in the parking lot. We'll sit in my car and wait for her to leave and then tail her at a respectable distance." I nodded, finishing our battle plan. Clare pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly, squinting her eyes.

"And if we don't find anything?" she asked.

"We wait it out for a few days and then try again. She's got to have some sort of schedule where she hangs out with her friends on certain days." I shrugged my shoulders.

Clare seemed satisfied and nodded, and with that, we walked silently to my car. Morty's black surface shone in the sunlight, and it was times like these where I was thankful for having such a unique car. I could spot it from a mile away and never have the problem that people usually do at some point in their life; stuck in the parking lot of a grocery store and forgot what aisle your car was parked on. Or even worse, an amusement park. But I guess that's why they invented the panic alarm.

The parking lot was loaded with free teenagers – escaping to their vehicles as if the school was on fire. But it might as well be, because it was surely worse than any hell that could ever exist.

I spotted Imogen out of the corner of my eye walking with her other slut friends. Although seriously, they all look like they came out of Mean Girls, except it was the goth and scene version, not to place any labels, and yes, I have seen Mean Girls. My mother is a teenage girl on the inside. By the way, oh my god, Karen, you can't just ask people why they're white. I looked over at Clare, who caught my eye and one of her eyebrows twitched, our minds transmitting hidden messages and nodding silently.

We climbed in the car and (thank you based God for tinted windows) proceeded to stare unhealthily in Imogen's direction, waiting for her to say goodbye to her army of skanks (yet another Mean Girls reference) and ride away in her white sports car. How incredibly cliché – a popular white girl with two best friends and has a rich daddy and expensive everything. I swear my life is a bad ABC movie.

Clare glanced at me and had an unsure look in her eye, as if wondering if this was the right thing to do. I guess her moment of bravery and mischief has faded and now she is back to being tenacious. I reached over the long front seat and rubbed her shoulder gently. I really hope she didn't feel my hands shaking, because I was a leaf at this point. Even the thought of touching her in a non-sexual way made me nervous. She eased her tension at my touch, which slightly deflated my nervousness to just a slight buzz in my brain.

Finally, Imogen left the parking lot, which I waited to be about two cars behind her in order to tail her without causing suspicion, despite driving a hearse for based-God's sake. She stopped at The Dot, and I parked a few spaces down and watched her as she sat in a booth next to a window. She ordered what seemed to be a coffee, and just sat alone scrolling on her iPhone.

"Why is she alone?" Clare asked, "Shouldn't she be going to a party or something?"

"Generally you don't throw parties on a Wednesday, Clare," her mouth slowly formed an O as her head tilted back a little. God, how I wanted her to make that face when I made her hit her...I shook the dirty thought from my head, readjusting my jeans discretely.

We watched Imogen for twenty minutes. Nothing happened. She ordered a coffee, sat to enjoy it, paid and left. What an utter disappointment. Clare's shoulders slacked slightly in sadness, puffing out a disappointed breath and her bottom lip poked out ever-so slightly.

"Day One: target has done nothing important. Proceed mission to day two," I pretended to say into an invisible walkie-talkie. Clare started giggling madly and looking at me with those big blue eyes, and I swear my heart stopped. She was so beautiful like this – and natural. Her hair was shining in the low light of 5 o'clock in the afternoon, as did her skin because of its porcelain color, smooth and soft-looking, and it made my mouth water a little. This frustration over my new-found feelings for Clare was making it hard to just be her friend.

And I think what I realized the most in this moment, was that I wanted to be more than just her friend.

A thought came into my head, and I had to stop myself from blurting it out loud. I could ask her to homecoming, but that wasn't my thing; sure I was spontaneous, but to ask her this? I might as well sign my own death certificate. She'd know I liked her. But what if she doesn't like me back? What if she says no?

The more positive side of me said: what if she says yes?

"Hey, Clare?" I asked.

"Yes, Eli?" she answered, her blue eyes sparkling.

I wanted to ask her, so much. I just wanted to say Clare, will you go to homecoming with me? But it was so cliché, and we were sitting in my car spying on her enemy. My heart thumped so loud I wondered if she could hear it. It was killing me. Just ask her, I thought. I was having this internal battle with myself where half of my brain was screaming for me to ask her, and the other half was listing everything that could go wrong if she said no. Maybe if I just took a risk, yes, a risk, and maybe it will turn out good for the both of us. I took a breath.

"Same time tomorrow?" I blew it. I totally just went against everything I've just thought about doing because I didn't want to get hurt. God, I was so stupid, just so…

"Of course," she answered, and my heart inflated. I would ask her to go to homecoming with me. Just not here – I wanted her to remember it. I smiled at her, breathing out the breath I didn't know I was holding. She smiled back, and I drove her home in silence. I glanced over at her and she had what seemed to be a disappointed expression on her face as she looked outside the window, watching the pavement roll underneath Morty's wheels. Did she think I was going to ask her out? Did she get her hopes up?

Pulling up to her house, we exchanged looks as she muttered a thank you before opening her door and going up to her front door without another word, or so much a glance back.

Not asking Clare out when I had the thought to was one of things I will regret the most, and in my heart, I made a promise to myself that one day, I would do it even if my chance was gone.

End of Chapter