Crazy but Sweet, Sweet but Crazy

10: Netflix and leather shoes

*Trigger warning: scenes pertaining to physical abuse & assault *

"Did you forget how we got here? My car's outside, she saw it already," Elliot sighed.

"Right. Oh, fuck."

"Language," he muttered under his breath.

The door bell rang, again. "Clare! Are you inside?"

"I'll just say a friend dropped by and she left her car because she's in a rush- right, that doesn't make sense," I grimaced. "No, I'll say that two of my friends came by and-"

"I'll have to face your mum at some point. Sonia and Ian like me already. Half the work's done." Elliot, nonchalantly, started walking up to the front door.

"Where are you going?" I whispered, trying to yank him back by the sleeve.

"On top of pouring coffee on my shirt in the morning, now you're trying to undress me. What a quick turn of events," he deadpanned, and then, stopped short in front of the front door.

The bell rang, again, and this time, both of us flinched.

"Do I look okay?" he asked after some hesitation, pushing back his hair.

I didn't know if it was the dimness of the living room that cast a shadow on his face, but his face was tight with something as close to nervousness as I'd seen for the first time.

"Super ultra handsome," I said drily. "I already warned you. Don't blame me if she pours something on you."

"Must be a family thing, pouring things," he chuckled, before, without warning, twisting the knob and yanking open the front door.

Then, with a sunny smile, he said, "Good evening, Mrs. Horan."

My mother Jessica Lee stood on our front porch, dressed in a simple dark blue summer dress, a luggage by her side, her face lit up in a smile. When her eyes landed on Elliot, her lips froze in place, stiff.

"I'm Elliot." His Adam's apple bobbed up, and then down. "Elliot Lockwood, ma'am. Clare's boyfriend."

Elliot. Lockwood. Clare's. Boyfriend. The worst combination of words, all in a single utterance.

Dazed, Jessica looked at me, and then back at Elliot. Her lips, painted with her favorite brick red color lipstick, slowly lost its smile.

"Elliot." The name came out with a strain. Jessica's fingers tightened around the handle of her luggage.

Cold sweat snaked down my back under my shirt. Piercing green eyes just like mine, took us in calmly.

Then, her mouth curved into the smile she reserved for magazines covers and movies- the mirthless, perfectly symmetrical, "Hollywood beam".

"Great to have you over." Her eyes took in the dining table behind us. "Staying for dessert?"

"No, but thank you, Mrs. Horan. I'll have to go back home now." Elliot returned the perfect, empty Hollywood smile.

Deftly, I picked up his bag from the couch, and handed it over to him. With obvious relief, Elliot slung the backpack over his shoulder, and Jessica stepped aside, making way for him to leave.

"See you in school," I managed, under Jessica's stare.

Elliot waved. "See you. Good evening, Mrs. Horan."

Without a word, she smiled again, and the two of us stood there not saying a word, until Elliot got into his car, and drove off.

Only when his blue Porsche was out of sight, did I release the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.