The Ending Beginnings: Clara (An Ending Series Novella) (The Ending Series) (7 page)

“No
matter how much you deny it, you know there’s an attraction between us. Why are
you trying to ignore it? You work long hours…you deserve some fun, too.” She stopped
a few feet in front of him, leaning against the shelving. “I won’t tell anyone,
if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Judgment
hardened his eyes, and Clara was growing impatient.

“You
want me, Devon…admit it.”

But
Devon’s expression was unwavering, and he remained silent, contemplating, his
eyes boring into hers.

Undeterred,
Clara stepped closer, leaving only a few inches between them.

Devon
frowned. “I don’t know why I’m even considering this,” he muttered as he ran
his fingers through his curly, brown hair. When his gaze rose to hers again,
his eyes raked over her body with an intense longing he’d never let show before,
like he had a hunger he could no longer subdue. “But for some reason I can only
picture you…beneath me
.
”

Clara’s
anger fizzled, and a tranquil heat flowed through her. She exhaled, schooling
her smirk so not to upset him, but her triumph made it difficult. He was
finally seeing things her way.

Pulling
off her sweatshirt, Clara draped it over the laundry cart, knowing her white
tank top covered little of her braless chest. Devon’s eyes studied the curves
of her body like they were an offering meant only for him. She could tell his
mind was reeling with possibilities, and she liked it.

 Devon
dropped the towel he’d been holding and reached for her, gripping her bare arms
roughly and pulling her into him.

“Oh,”
Clara squeaked.

Devon
swallowed thickly. “You’re gonna get me fired,” he groaned. He sucked in a
breath as she brought his hand up to cup her breast through the thin material
of her tank top. There was something erotic about having such control over a
man. It was heady and intoxicating. She closed her eyes and breathed out a keening
moan.

 Tugging
on her arm, he led her into the back of the laundry room, tossed her down on a
heap of warm, clean towels, and screwed her senseless until her body trembled
with fatigue and her head ached so badly all she could think about was sleep.

5

After
another night of being blown off by Andrew, Clara decided she would surprise him
by showing up at the club he’d gone to with his friends. Turning her old Volvo
onto First Street, where she knew she’d find Sparky’s, an old club in downtown Boulder,
Clara searched for a place to park, grateful when she found a spot less than a
block away, just a few cars past Andrew’s truck.

Clara
readjusted the strapless top of her dress, fluffed up her hair, pursed her
glossed lips, and headed toward the club. After batting eyelashes at the
bouncer to no avail, she paid the $10 cover charge and strode inside.

Senses
assaulted by bad odors, bright lights, and loud noises, Clara tried to focus on
her surroundings. A DJ stood up on the balcony above the dance floor, his
turntable illuminated by blue and pink strobe lights. The bar and standing cocktail
tables were situated in the back of the warehouse-like space. She spotted some
of Andrew’s friends clustered to the right of the bar.

Pushing
her way past the gyrating bodies that crowded the floor, Clara bumped into one
person after another, apologizing at first but soon growing so irritated that
all she could do was glare and curse at them. Men were groping women, kissing
their necks and grinding against their legs. Women were doing the same, some
with men, some dancing with women. Sweat glistened on all of them, and there
was a certain euphoria humming in the air that Clara strangely found alluring.
For a fleeting moment, Clara wondered why Andrew had never taken
her
to a
place like this, a place where they could be so close and intimate in public.

The
blue and pink lights continued to flash around the room, bringing faces in and
out of focus as Clara waded through the throng of sweating bodies. Dark,
shadowed faces flashed around her. Smiling faces.
Her
face.

Joanna
stood with Andrew’s friends, black hair parted to one side, her eyes narrowed,
and a smirk on her face. She looked triumphant.

Clara’s
stomach roiled, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn’t possible. When she
opened her eyes again, Joanna was gone.

Horror-struck,
Clara felt her legs moving of their own accord as her eyes scoured the dance
floor, searching for the one person she
never
wanted to see again. She pushed
between sweating bodies, not registering the looks the dancers were giving her.
She didn’t care; her mind was a tornado of puzzle pieces swirling around, and she
was trying to reach for them, trying to put it all together.

Jo…Joanna.
Visiting from Oklahoma. Andrew ditching her…

“No,”
Clara nearly sobbed. Joanna was
not
going to take Andrew away from
her, she was
not
going to ruin
everything
. Clara pushed through
the crowd, desperate to find Joanna. She would do anything to make her
disappear. Anything.

Clara
shrieked as a hand clasped her shoulder and whirled her around.

Andrew
stood in front of her, his eyes searching her face and confusion twisting his
features. He leaned in, bringing his mouth down to her ear. “What are you doing
here? Are you okay?”

Clara
could barely hear him as the music reverberated around them.

Andrew
pulled back, appraising her. “What’s wrong?”

Clara
hated how innocent he appeared, and she tore out of his grip, making a beeline for
the exit. She couldn’t stand the sight of him, not when she felt so vulnerable.
What had Joanna told him? What did she plan to do?

Flinging
the club door open with all her might, Clara ran to her car, her heels clacking
against the pavement.

“Clara,
wait a sec!”

She
fumbled to find her keys in her purse. Hearing them jangling around inside, she
grabbed them and was just about to unlock the door when Andrew’s hand wrapped
around her wrist.

He
pulled her around to face him. “Clara, what the hell happened?” Once again he
scanned her body. “What are you doing here?”

Clara
scowled. “I came to see
you
,” she said coolly. “I thought it might be a
nice surprise.”

“It
is, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay?” He wasn’t acting any
differently, at least not yet, but she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t all for show.

“I’m
fine.”

Andrew
frowned.

“I
was hoping to meet your friend Jo…”

His
eyes widened. “Oh, well, it’s just me and the guys tonight.”

She
eyed him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yeah,
I told you that.”

“You
said you were going out with your friends.” There’d been no mention of “guys
only,” and besides, Clara had seen Joanna there. He was lying.

“What’s
gotten in to you?” he asked, searching her face. Clara could tell he was
getting annoyed.

Good.
She was fuming. “Why don’t we ever come to places like this, Andrew? Are you
keeping me a secret or something?”

He
blanched. “What? No. Why the hell would you say something like that?”

“Because
why come to a club with your friends, and not your girlfriend? Especially if
Jo
isn’t even
with you guys?”

“Clara,
Josh is DJing,
that’s
why we’re here. Why are you acting so crazy?”

She
stilled. Crazy? Clara knew Joanna had said something to him…she’d poisoned his
mind against her. “What has she told you?”

“What?
Who?” His brow furrowed. “Are you drunk or something?”

She
was infuriated now. “Never mind.” She needed to take a step back, to think. “I
need to go,” she said. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Well,
we need to talk about this, Clara. I want you to tell me what’s going on. I’ve
never seen you like this before.”

Clara
bristled. “This is the real me, or didn’t she tell you that already?”

Andrew’s
face was scrunched with feigned confusion, yet again.

“Have
fun with your friends,” she hissed and climbed into her car.

Jarring herself
from sleep, Clara hung over the side of her bed and wretched until it felt like
every single morsel of food she’d eaten over the last week was expelled from
her body. Her throat was raw and burning, her stomach still churning, and her
body quivering and covered with sweat.

She vaguely
remembered someone’s cool hands on her forehead and a lukewarm rag wiping off
the chills that were making her tremble. Her head was throbbing so badly she
thought she might be dying.

After a few more futile
heaves over the side of the bed, Clara lay back down, lost in a fog of swirling
memories.

Pulling
into the parking lot outside the gym, Clara searched for Andrew’s truck. They’d
texted each other a little throughout the day, but they hadn’t really talked
about the night before, not since she’d sped away. She realized now how
outrageous she’d acted and wanted to set the record straight. If Joanna had
told him anything, it would no doubt be lies to gain his sympathy. Clara needed
to tell him the truth, and she was convinced that once she did, he would
understand why she’d been so upset.

She
had a couple minutes to find a place to park before he was done with practice. Spotting
his truck a few rows down, Clara inched her way toward it, careful not to
startle a man and woman walking with their backs to her. The woman giggled and
pushed the guy’s shoulder, causing him to step into the light of the street
lamp.

It was Andrew…with
another woman.

Clara focused
on the woman. She had long, black hair pulled back in a ponytail that swung
back and forth as she walked and laughed.

“No,” Clara
whimpered. Her stomach lurched, and a painful chill emanated from the base of
her spine and raked over her body as reality hit her. It was worse than she’d
thought. Andrew wasn’t just walking with some woman; he was walking with
Joanna.

Seething hatred
burned to life. That fucking black hair. Clara’s heart seized, and she felt her
fingernails gouging into her palms as she squeezed the steering wheel. Joanna hooked
her arm through Andrew’s before resting her head on his shoulder. Leaning to
the side, he kissed the top of her head. He was ruining everything…Joanna was
ruining everything…

That arm Joanna
was clinging to was the same arm that had been holding Clara against Andrew’s body
only two nights before. That smile he was flashing her was the smile he
reserved for Clara.
He
was
hers
.

Clara couldn’t
breathe, and her jaw ached as she clenched it. All of the reasons she hated Joanna
came back to her like rows of playing cards turning over with one quick sweep
of the hand, revealing each and every one of the horrible memories Clara had
tried so hard to forget.

This was her
Prince…
her
Prince. Clara had worked so hard to find him, and he was hers,
and they were happy…

A piercing
scream filled the car and sent Clara into action. Pressing the gas petal to the
floor, she felt a sense of liberation wash over her as Joanna glanced back, her
eyes filled with terror.

“Josie, look
out!”

Although Clara
heard his voice, she was too enveloped by the sound of the revving engine and
the sight of Joanna’s pretty little body hitting the Volvo with a solid thud.
She was pinned against Andrew’s truck, hopefully dead, and would never be able
to hurt Clara again.

The tension
left Clara’s body, and a smile tugged at her lips. She was finally rid of Joanna.

Peeling her eyes
open, Clara focused on her surroundings. The walls of her room were white,
barren, the blinds on the window behind her were drawn, and the air smelled of
vomit and sweat.

With a groan,
Clara sat up, the ache in her head was duller than before, but it was still
there. She felt different, lighter somehow. Glancing around the room, she
noticed that it was in complete disarray. Her desk chair was on the opposite
side of the room from the desk, her bedside table was moved further away from
the bed, and the books that had been stacked on her desk had fallen on the
floor; a mound of white rags, mostly stained with yellow and green, were piled
in their place. There was puke on the side of her bed and a small garbage can
against the wall filled with more vomit.

A loud bang
emanated from the hallway.

Clara jumped, confused
and immediately regretting the motion. As her hair swung into her face, a hard,
clumpy mass of it brushed up against her jaw. She froze. Pulling at the strands
with her fingertips, she cringed. Vomit was matted in her hair, and she stank horribly.

Gag reflexes
kicking in and forgetting about the noise, Clara ran for the bedroom door,
flung it open, and ran down the hall and into the bathroom. She made it to the
toilet in time to empty what looked like water into the toilet bowl. Although
there was nothing left in her stomach, she continued dry heaving, unable to
stop. She felt like her insides were tearing apart, and her muscles were
fatigued, barely able to support her weight.

Trembling and
using the wall for balance, Clara inched her way toward the closest shower stall.
She turned the nozzle with all her might until, finally, water starting streaming
from the showerhead. Twisting the nob all the way to the left, she waited for
it to heat from cold to warm to near scorching before stepping, fully clothed, under
the falling water. She didn’t have the strength, nor the energy, to strip out
of her soiled tank top and pajama pants.

Although steam
filled the air around her, soothing her raw throat and prickling skin, her
bones felt brittle with cold. Huddling in the corner, she sat on the tiled floor
in a haze of heat and weariness. Beyond the sound of water pouring ceaselessly
over her, Clara heard Roberta’s voice echoing in her mind. She felt the
pressure of fingers and the discomfort of her muscles as they strained and moved.
She felt the roughness of terrycloth against her skin and the biting cold as
she was rushed out of the bathroom.

Words bounced
around in her mind, but her eyelids were too heavy to open, her mind too numb
to process.

“…bed…warm…sick…dead…careful…”

Teeth chattering
and body convulsing, Clara felt a soft pressure cover her, comforting her, and
something malleable cradled her head.

“Sleep,” was the
last thing she heard before her mind grayed and her thoughts were lost in
darkness.