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

by Lindsey Pogue

  “Oh.” Clara tried not to sound too disappointed that she wasn’t included. “Okay, well, maybe we can go out tomorrow night instead.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” His truck roared to life on the other end, and Clara could barely hear him.

  She frowned. “Maybe? Do you already have plans tomorrow night?” She felt an invisible weight on her chest.

  “She’s only here for a week, visiting her brother, so I think we’re trying to get the group together as much as possible.”

  She? “Well, then why don’t we all plan something together?” Clara didn’t like the high pitch or the slight waver in her voice, and she hoped he couldn’t detect it.

  “Sure, I’ll talk to the guys tonight, and we’ll figure something out.”

  Flopping down on her bed, Clara kicked off her flats and flung her free hand above her head. “Alright…” She stared up at her blank bedroom walls.

  “Sorry, beautiful. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  “You better. Call me when you get home, so I know you’re safe, okay?”

  “Promise.”

  “Okay, have fun,” she said. “But not too much fun…”

  He chuckled. “I won’t. Talk to you later.”

  Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Clara removed her best jeans and flowy top, replacing them with her favorite pajama ensemble—yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt she’d bought her first semester at the University of Colorado. She crawled into her bed, and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until finally settling on a stand-up comedian who wasn’t very funny in hopes that he would make her feel less miserable as she lie there, alone. The longer she watched TV, the more tired she became, and the easier it was to forget about Andrew and the fact that he was out with a girl Clara had never even met.

  Around three AM, Clara woke to someone jiggling the locked handle of her dorm room door. Her roommate worked nights, so Clara knew it wasn’t her. The knob jiggled again, and then there was a light knock from the other side.

  “Clara,” Andrew whispered. “Unlock your door…”

  Clara jumped out of bed and ran to the door. She eased it open to find her boyfriend propped up against the wooden doorframe.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  She was beyond happy to see him, and a smile engulfed her face. “Hey, yourself. What are you doing here?”

  “I missed you,” he said, stumbling inside as she opened the door wider. He was drunk.

  “How did you get here, Andrew? You didn’t drive, did you?”

  Shaking his head, he peered out the window, down at the complex’s parking lot. “Nope, Kenny dropped me off.”

  “Good.”

  When he turned around, Andrew wrapped his arms around Clara and started kissing her neck. She nearly melted in his arms.

  “Did you miss me tonight?” he asked as he trailed kisses from her collarbone up behind her ear.

  Steadily and with effort, Clara stepped away from him, causing him to stumble forward. “Why do you smell like perfume?” she asked, trying to keep her emotions in check.

  “What?”

  “You reek of another woman,” she bit out. “Why do you smell like another woman?”

  Andrew scrunched his face for a moment “Oh”—his eyebrows rose, and he smiled—“I was dancing with Jo.” He shook his head, like that explained everything.

  “With who?”

  “My friend from Oklahoma I was telling you about.” He sobered, registering the burning fury in her eyes. “It’s not like that. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Excuse me?”

  Andrew hooked one thumb in his pocket and scratched the top of his head with his other hand. “You’re seriously going to freak out about this?”

  “Of course I am, Andrew!” She turned away from him, trying not to lose it completely. “How would you feel if I sauntered over to your house in the middle of the night with men’s cologne pouring off me?”

  Andrew heaved a sigh, watching her as she began to pace.

  “Look, I’m sorry if I’m over reacting,” she said. “But it’s not like you to ditch me in the first place, and then you come here, smelling like another woman…a woman I’ve never even met.” Her voice was exasperated, but with great effort, she remained calm.

  Moments of silence passed, and Andrew’s face was unreadable. Just when Clara was about to scream in frustration, Andrew took a step toward her and gently cupped her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I wasn’t thinking, Clara. I’m sorry, but nothing happened. It’s not like that with Jo. She’s just a friend.”

  His sincerity made Clara feel like a fool for doubting him. “Promise?” She hated herself for falling back into the complying, lovesick dimwit she’d once been, but she couldn’t help it.

  A wolfish grin spread across his face. “I’ve been thinking about you all night,” he said and began trailing gentle kisses down her neck, his hands finding their way beneath her sweatshirt. He apologized, over and over until they were both bleary-eyed and too sore to move.

  Everything was Joanna’s fault. Andrew leaving her. The Josie woman dying. Clara sentenced to a year in Pine Springs before she could be re-evaluated. It was truly poetic. After years of screwing each other over, Joanna had finally won.

  Clara shook her head, wondering how long Joanna had planned it and how she’d found out about Andrew in the first place. Although Clara knew it was borderline paranoia to think her mom had been involved in any way, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a possibility. Or if Andrew…

  Bile rose in Clara’s throat as reality smacked into her. Had her entire relationship with Andrew been a ruse? Had any of it even been real? Had it all been part of Joanna’s elaborate, sadistic plan to get back at her? Questions and memories careened into one another, vying for space; everything began to make sense.

  Clara trembled with rage. She fisted the letter in her hand, ready to explode. Her head was throbbing with surmounting emotions, emotions she didn’t want to think about, emotions she didn’t want to feel. She needed to numb them. She needed something to take the burning anger away…

  Hearing the squeaky wheel of the laundry cart down the hall, she glanced over her shoulder in time to see Devon slip into the laundry room.

  Determined, she stood and strode after him, away from the chattering girls and complaining orderlies. She could hear the strong but silent Devon whistling a slow, comfortable tune in the laundry room. Pulling her hair from its noose, Clara let the golden tendrils fall around her shoulders and into her face. With a quick rap of her knuckles on the laundry room door, she pushed it open and stuck her head inside. The room was steamy and smelled of detergent and bleach.

  The whistling stopped. “Someone there?”

  Clara felt a thrill at hearing the deep timbre of his voice. This would be a challenge, she thought, and then smiled with anticipation.

  “Want some company?” she said as she stepped inside, clicking the door shut behind her.

  Devon cleared his throat. “What are you doing in here?” His voice was detached, but Clara thought she detected a hint of desire. His features hardened into a mask of aversion.

  She knew he was determined to turn her away like he’d done so many times in the past, but what he didn’t know was that she was determined to get what she wanted this time; she wasn’t simply flirting. Something about today felt…promising. Whether it was her sheer resolve to bend him to her will, or her need to be distracted, she was dead-set on making him worship her body. She needed to regain control over her life, the life she’d lost the moment she met Andrew. She was already in hell, so she might as well have as much fun as she could while she was there.

  Clara flashed Devon a sultry smile.

  “You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, his body tensing as she stepped closer.

  She glanced around the room and lifted her hand to the laundry cart parked beside the door. Running her fingers over the
stacks of folded towels, she wondered what Devon’s skin would feel like against hers.

  “You should go back to the rec room with the others.” His voice was strained and impatient, likely a result of the sexual tension flooding the room, she thought.

  Clara’s smile grew, and she cocked her head to the side. “I should be doing a lot of things…” She noticed his eyes flick from her chest to her lips, so she licked them sensually in a silent offering.

  A slight twitch gave Devon’s otherwise inscrutable emotions away.

  Clara chuckled softly, letting her eyes scan the room as she wondered which corner they could stash themselves away in. “You intrigue me,” she admitted.

  “Cut the shit, Clara. I already told you, I’m not losing my job over you.”

  She frowned and walked around the shelves in the center of the room, dividing the machines and the folding station. She strolled toward him, her fingers trailing over the metal shelving as she passed. She felt a thrill of excitement as their gazes met and lingered between the riveted, steel uprights as she walked around the shelves.

  “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 so
mething 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.