I.

The first time he gave her a flower, it was red.

The petals were wide and soft, and with further inspection, she found the stem carefully cut at an angle, as if someone had taken great care into harvasting the precious rose.

She asked about it, later, but he just shrugged.

"They're pretty. Reminded me of you. "

She blushed.

"You do like flowers, right?"

She'd just nodded, and blushed a little harder, and Eli hadn't said anymore.

(But the smirk on his lips told her everything.)

II.

The second flower came a week later, and it was white.

Again, it was carefully clipped, and she marveled over the pigmented color and sweet scent.

The next morning, when he picked her up in his hearse, she didn't ask. They played games like this and Clare knew fully knew that if she asked, it'd be breaking the rules.

That evening, she carefully pressed the flower into a scrapbook.

It wasn't a proclamation, it wasn't shouting from the rooftops, or a giant box of chocolates. It was indescribeably Eli, and Clare was sure that it was something.

What, precisely, Clare didn't know. But she kept it anyway. It was beautiful.

"I can't just be friends, Clare."

III.

Every Monday for the month following, Clare awoke to a flower on her windowsill.

They were never boring or cliched, with the exception of her first red rose. It was always something exotic, with an intoxicating aroma and a strange hue.

She guessed he arrived rather late, since she never once saw him leaving them, nor did she ever once hear him.

One night she tried staying awake for him, but she never saw him and eventually slipped into sleep as dawn broke over the horizon. Less then an hour later, she awoke to find a carnation there, with a note saying, "Nice try."

The next Monday following, she was awoken to a quick rap on the window. Groggily, Clare pulled a robe around herself and opened the window.

"It's the middle of the night, Eli! What are you doing here?"

He just smirked and that's when she saw the rose caught between his lips. "I just had to give you your flower, Clare."

Blushing, she reached a hand to grasp the flower, but he caught her wrist, causing her to blush harder.

IV.

"I think you know a better way to retrieve your flower, Blue Eyes."

A heat sunk through her body as she realized the meaning behind his words. With a nervous glance to her locked door, she bit her lip.

"Do I have to?"

In response, he just raised his eyebrows as if to say, if you want the flower.

Clare leaned in, and when his lips touched hers, her mind short-circuted. They were hot and chapped, and the flower between them made it feel awkward, but it still made a whimper in her throat surface.

With a quick dart of tongue, Eli pulled away, satisfied, the flower now held between Clare's teeth. He took in her quickly-moving diaphragm and flushed cheeks and felt quite proud of himself.

Before she could say a word, Eli rushed forward, placed his hot lips against her temple, and murmured, "Same time next week, Blue Eyes," before disappearing into the night.

Alone, Clare stood dazed, the rose forgotten by her feet.

-x-

DEGRASSI IN 5 HOURS. 3

For those who have a Tumblr and aren't, I urge you to follow my Clare roleplay Tumblr, .com. Verbal Acuity is my Eli and there's lots of fluff. ;D It's like a giant Fanfiction.

This weekend I'm posting 10 updates to Fanfiction because I reached 100 followers on that Tumblr, by the way, so if you like Eclare, I'll be supplying a vast quantity of fluff.

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