Chapter 6

Jonah's POV 

The TV blared, Elliot's face, so damn handsome, so damn composed, filling my small apartment. I stared, my gut twisting into a hard knot. Each word Elliot spoke, "fabricated," "photoshopped," "smear campaign" 

It felt like a punch. I felt the familiar burn of anger, but underneath, a colder dread settled in. I grabbed my phone, my hand shaking so badly I almost dropped it. I jabbed at Elliot's number.

The press conference buzz must have still vibrated in Elliot's ears. He probably plastered on a polite smile, mumbled an excuse about needing to take a call, and slipped through the door, grateful for the momentary escape.

I imagined seeing my name on his phone made his stomach clench. He hesitated, then answered, his voice tight."Jonah," he said, trying to sound calm.

"Elliot," my voice crackled with fury, "I just saw the press conference."

"Jonah," Elliot sighed, "I can explain..."

"Explain what?" I cut him off, my voice rising. "Explain how you stood there, in front of everyone, and lied? Denied us?"

"I didn't have a choice," Elliot said, the familiar excuse rising to his lips. "My father..."

"Your father?" I scoffed. "Always your father! When are you going to grow a spine and stand up for yourself? For us?"

"I'm trying," Elliot whispered, his voice laced with desperation. "I'm trying to find a way..."

"A way to what, Elliot?" I demanded. "A way to have it all? Your perfect life and me on the side?"

"That's not how it is," Elliot protested, his voice shaking. "I want to be with you, Jonah. I do. But I need time. I need to figure things out."

"Figure things out?" I gave a harsh, broken laugh. "While I wait? While I watch you play house with Clara on TV?"

"It's not like that!" Elliot insisted. "I'm coming to see you. Now. I'll explain everything."

"Don't bother," I said, my voice flat, dead. "I don't want to see you, Elliot. Not now, not ever." I hung up, leaving Elliot in stunned silence. I turned back to the TV, Elliot's face still there, a mask of practiced sincerity. I switched it off, the sudden silence amplifying the ache in my chest. 

I felt hollowed out, betrayed.The drive must have been a blur of streetlights and blurry images for him. Elliot’s thoughts, a chaotic mess, replaying my anger, my finality.

He had to see me. He had to make me understand. He couldn’t lose me.He parked haphazardly, ignoring the stares, and ran up the stairs, his breath ragged.

He didn’t knock, he just pushed the door open, his eyes scanning my small apartment. I was on the couch, curled into myself. My face was pale, my eyes red and swollen."Jonah," Elliot breathed. I looked up, my face a mask of pain.

"What do you want, Elliot?" 

"I had to see you," Elliot said, taking a step closer. "I had to explain."

"Explain what, exactly?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. "How you lied to everyone? How you made me look like a fool?"

"They were not all lies," Elliot pleaded, sinking onto the couch beside me. "Not completely. I care about Clara. But it’s different. It’s not… it’s not you."

"Oh, it's different?" I scoffed. "So, what am I to you, Elliot? A secret? A dirty little secret you can sneak off to when it suits you?"

"No!" Elliot’s voice cracked. "God, Jonah, no. You are… you are everything to me. You're the only one who sees me, really sees me." He reached out, his hand hovering over my arm.

I flinched, but didn't pull away. "I know I screwed up," Elliot said, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I know I hurt you. But please, Jonah, believe me. I never meant to. I panicked. I was scared."

"You could have told the truth," I whispered.

"I know," Elliot said, his own voice barely audible. "And I will. I promise. Just… not yet. I need to find a way. A way to do this without… without everything falling apart." He looked at me, his eyes desperate.

"Please, Jonah. Don't give up on me. Don't give up on us."

"Let me make it up to you at least just for tonight." Elliot begged. The silence hung heavy in the air. I looked at Elliot, really looked at him. I saw the fear in his eyes, the raw vulnerability. And beneath it all, I saw the love.

The real, undeniable love that I knew was there. I let out a shaky breath. I knew I couldn’t just shut Elliot out. Not completely. I still loved him, damn it.

But things were different now. Broken. I reached out, my hand meeting Elliot's. Our fingers intertwined.

"Stay," I whispered.

Elliot nodded, relief washing over him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. The kiss started tentative, then deepened, a desperate, hungry need taking over.

It was a kiss full of apologies, longing, and a raw, aching love. We broke apart, our breaths mingling. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal – it was all still there, simmering beneath the surface.

But for this moment, it was pushed aside by something more powerful. A raw, undeniable need. Our hands moved instinctively, clothes falling away, the cool air on our skin heightening the senses.

Elliot’s touch was reverent, exploring my body like a map, his lips following the same path, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My hands clenched in Elliot’s hair, pulling him closer, our bodies pressed together, skin against skin.

Moans escaped our lips, soft at first, then growing in intensity. The world outside ceased to exist, there was only the feeling of our bodies entwined, the desperate need to connect, to find solace in each other's arms.

We moved together, a slow, sensual dance, each touch, each breath, a whispered promise. The tension built, coiling tighter and tighter, until it finally snapped, releasing a wave of pure, unadulterated passion.

Cries and moans filled the small room, a testament to the raw, consuming love that bound us together. We clung to each other, our bodies trembling, our hearts pounding in unison.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. There was only the feeling of being together, of being one. The storm had passed, leaving behind a fragile peace, a silent understanding.

We lay intertwined, exhausted but content, the echoes of our passion still lingering in the air.

As we lay intertwined, the fragile peace shattered by a sharp rap on the door. Elliot tensed, his hand instinctively going to mine. He glanced at me, a silent question in his eyes.

Before either of us could react, the door swung open. Standing there, silhouetted against the hallway light, was Clara.

But her expression wasn't one of anger or betrayal. It was determined. "I know everything," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "And I'm here to help."