Chapter Text
As Octavia lugged yet another box of champagne glasses in from the delivery truck, she glanced at Clarke, who was struggling through the back kitchen door with her own load.
“So, I’m not complaining, because I did offer to help, but why are we carrying everything in while the delivery guys are standing there watching us do their job?” She asked under her breath while they set down their boxes.
“Because last time they broke half the glasses, and Mrs. Sydney doesn’t trust them to be careful enough anymore,” Clarke wheezed back, pulling her hair up into a ponytail as they rested for a minute in the kitchen.
“And Mrs. Sydney is the one who actually sniffed in distaste when your mom introduced me?”
Clarke snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. When she opened her mouth to apologize, Octavia cut her off. “Don’t say sorry, again, seriously. I’m finding it kind of hilarious, to be honest.”
“They will be talking about you all night, you know. Especially because my mom is rarely under their microscope. It’ll be a field day for them.”
“Is your mom okay with that?” Octavia asked hesitantly. “I really don’t want to cause her any more trouble.”
Clarke grinned, looking almost feral. “Oh don’t worry. There is a reason they avoid talking about my mom. It’s just about time for her to remind them why they don’t, anyways. Should make it interesting for us, at least.”
“And here I thought I was going to be the gossip of the evening,” a quiet voice joked from behind them.
Octavia turned along with Clarke to see a short, dark-haired girl smiling at them from over her own box.
“I’m Maya,” she said as she deposited her delivery on the table next to theirs. “Just moved here from D.C. and somehow my mother already managed to get on the club wives’ bad sides.”
“It’s not that hard to do,” Clarke said kindly. “I’m Clarke, and this is Octavia.”
Octavia nodded hello, watching as Maya smiled in return and asked hesitantly, “So, what did your mom do?”
“It’s my fault, really,” Octavia admitted, even as Clarke nudged her in protest.
“Oh, so what did you do?” Maya corrected.
“Aside from being a juvenile delinquent arrested for using a fake ID, I was born into the wrong side of town,” Octavia said dryly, causing Clarke to snort in amusement.
“Well, how can the new girl compete with that,” Maya murmured, surprise and admiration lingering in her expression.
Clarke laughed, and Octavia declared, “I like you, Maya.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Maya responded happily, hopping up onto the counter next to them. “Good to know there are some friendly people here.”
Octavia clamped a hand over Clarke’s mouth, anticipating the coming complaint about Newport society. She shrieked when Clarke licked her hand in retaliation, scowling at her friend who just grinned triumphantly.
“Don’t scare her off, Clarke,” Octavia admonished, wiping her sticky hand on her shorts.
“She deserves to be fully informed,” Clarke argued back.
Maya interrupted, saying, “I don’t scare easily, I promise. And I probably know what you were about to say, that there are plenty of untrustworthy people here. West coast, east coast, it’s all the same. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
“Alright, then,” Clarke said.
The kitchen door swung open, revealing a hassled-looking Wells.
“You did not just abandon me to the Newport housewives,” he grumbled, sending a dark look at Clarke. “I’m going to strangle one of them with their own Prada purse handles if I get asked one more time if my dad is seeing anybody. Get your butts out here, or I’ll be asking you to help me dispose of a body, or maybe even several.”
“So rude,” Clarke teased. “And in front of a guest, no less.”
Octavia hid a smile as Wells finally noticed Maya, who was grinning at the exchange in amusement. He stuttered out an apology, eyes never leaving her face. Maya bantered back, asking for details on exactly how he was going to sneak a body out of the busy club, a question for which Wells actually managed to answer cleverly. Glancing between the two of them, Octavia registered mutual interest and whispered her suspicion to Clarke, who in turn smiled widely in agreement.
When Wells noticed their conspiratorial conversation, he frowned, reminding them to join him in a few seconds or he would frame the murders on them. With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Clarke hopped off the counter, dragging Octavia along with her. As they headed for the front room, Octavia motioned for Maya to join them. Maya smiled brightly as she followed, and Octavia grinned back, happy at the prospect of adding another friend to her roster, especially one who made her feel a little less out of place in this glitzy world.
“I told you the green would look amazing,” Clarke commented as she poked Octavia in the side.
“Shush,” Octavia bantered back, smoothing her hands over the borrowed dress. “I still think the red would have looked just as good.”
“This one makes your eyes pop, or at least that’s what my mother’s assistant would say,” Maya added.
“You didn’t see the red one though! It had all of these cutouts and fancy ruching—”
“And I told you, don’t give the biddies any more ammunition than they already have,” Clarke clarified. “No need to attract more of their attention. I mean, I personally don’t care what they think, but I also don’t want you in their crosshairs.”
“Fine,” Octavia groaned. “I agreed to the green already, didn’t I?”
“Yes you did. And only after I mentioned it was Lincoln’s favorite color.”
“Who’s Lincoln?” Maya piped in curiously, adjusting her own black strapless dress in the mirror.
“Wells’ very hot older brother who Octavia has a thing for, and vice versa, if that eye sex the other night after the party was any indication.”
“You were too drunk to see straight, Clarke, let alone notice any eye sex!” Octavia protested over Maya’s laughter.
“Octavia, if I saw it despite being too drunk to see straight, then obviously there is a thing between you two.”
“Shut up,” Octavia muttered, much to Clarke and Maya’s amusement. “Just put your dress on, alright?”
As Clarke started singing some teasing love song from the bathroom while she changed, Octavia chucked a stray heel at the door. She didn’t want to think about Lincoln, or that fact that he was going to be here tonight, because what was the point if she was leaving come tomorrow morning?
All thoughts of Lincoln and the future fled when Clarke walked out of the bathroom, posing against the doorframe dramatically.
“Well, hot damn,” Octavia said, whistling in appreciation at the frothy, hot pink cocktail dress that Clarke had chosen for the night.
“It’s gorgeous, Clarke,” Maya commented.
“While I agree, but I’m a little surprised,” Octavia admitted as Clarke twirled mindlessly towards them. “Not what I would’ve thought you’d pick,”
“To be honest, I do it to screw with Wells. He takes offense at my limited daily wardrobe, and so I always choose some ridiculous dress for events like this to bug him and make him beg for my normal outfits back. Most of the time I think they’re horrendous, but this one—this one is a little fun,” she added with a smile, swishing the skirt back and forth playfully.
A knock sounded at the door, and after a pause Wells stuck his head in the room hesitantly. “Can we come in?”
Clarke simply walked forward and pulled him in by the arm. “Aw, look at you, all dressed up in a fancy suit like a good like society boy. How adorable,” she cooed mockingly.
Octavia assumed Wells responded bitingly in turn, but she didn’t actually hear what he said because she was too busy staring at Lincoln, who looked too damn good in his own suit as he walked through the door. A hint of a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth, and Octavia felt her stomach drop as he gave her a once-over, his eyes darkening a few shades as he took in her dress.
Beautiful, he mouthed.
Octavia grinned and stepped forward to thank him, but as she did, the door swung wider open, revealing her brother. Bellamy had a suit at home, but it was a leftover from one of their mother’s better boyfriends, and much too small. This one, though, fit him perfectly, and Octavia felt more than a little proud at how nice he looked.
“Look at you,” she murmured, laughing.
Bellamy just blinked at her, staring. Tilting his head he continued to look at her, a bittersweet gravity in his eyes that made her feel both mature and like a five-year-old at the same time.
“You look nice, O,” he said gruffly, tugging at his collar.
“Why, thanks,” she replied, striking a flamboyant pose to help him shake off his melancholy mood. When he chuckled under his breath and rolled his eyes, she knew it had worked.
“Do you need help with that?” Clarke said, suddenly at Octavia’s side. She gestured at Bellamy’s tie that was slung around his neck, still loose. Bellamy’s expression fell, nearing a scowl again.
“I’m fine,” he said tersely. “I know how to tie a tie. I just don’t want to.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Clarke sighed.
With a huff, she charged forward, grabbing the ends of the tie and beginning to loop them together rapidly. Bellamy didn’t have time to resist, and soon her fingers were flipping down his collar and tightening the knot that she had expertly formed.
“Wells has always been hopeless at this, so I’ve been doing his since we were ten,” she commented lightly as she made her final adjustments. “Besides, Octavia looks fantastic tonight and we can’t have a sloppy tie bringing her down. So I’m doing this for her, okay?”
Octavia noticed how Bellamy’s expression relaxed just a tad, realizing Clarke was teasing him to make him feel more at ease, which Octavia was thankful for. She knew she owed him for coming tonight. Though it might make things difficult for her to spend time with Lincoln, she was relieved to have someone here who was completely on her side. Sometimes being a brother like him, as overprotective as he could be, was a great thing.
As Clarke gave Bellamy an approving nod, his sullen expression returned, but the defensiveness in it was gone. With a snort, she turned away, going back to Wells and Maya.
“You’re the best, Bell,” Octavia chimed, stepping up to his side.
“Mm, aren’t I though,” he replied distractedly, his gaze curiously still on Clarke.
“Clarke’s not what you’d expect, is she?” Octavia asked.
“She’s a Newport princess, O,” he shot back, shifting tensely next to her. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
Octavia sighed, wondering if her brother would ever stop being so stubborn. “She looks it tonight, sure, but otherwise, I disagree. So we’ll call this a draw for now, kay?”
“Deal,” he agreed, though his tone was more than skeptical, something she chose to ignore for the moment, because she was much to excited for the night to let her brother’s judgmental tenancies interfere.
Luckily, the party lived up to her expectations, or at least it had so far. As Octavia circled the now-bustling function room with Maya at her side, she still couldn’t believe the extravagance that went into a simple casino night. Black and red fabric panels draped elegantly down every wall, with twinkling fairy lights cascading down on top of them. Larger-than-life playing cards, poker chips, and dice hung on the walls as well. The glittery centerpieces on each of the tablecloth-covered cocktail tables had the real-life-sized versions in them, scattered amongst the red flowers and greenery.
And as if the décor wasn’t enough, the elegance of the people pushed the event over the top. Their boys weren’t alone in wearing tuxes, and the variety of cocktail dresses the women were wearing, all accompanied with appropriate amounts of flashy jewelry, made Octavia’s head spin. She really had seen nothing like it, and between the opulence, the stuffy air, and the loud chatter of the crowd, she was feeling a little overwhelmed. She was glad Maya had stuck with her, because Clarke had been pulled away by her parents long ago. The music was about the only thing that felt familiar, as the live cover band played a lot of top-forty hits that were easily recognizable.
“This band is really good!” Octavia whispered in Maya’s ear as they walked through the busy room.
Maya nodded. “Definitely better than the ones we had back home at functions like these.”
“Oh, look, craps! Let’s play,” Octavia said, tugging her new friend hurriedly. Stepping up to the free spot at the table, she heard Maya groan in half-hearted protest. Clearly gambling was not her thing. Not that it was Octavia’s either, given her less-than-stellar performances at the blackjack table and slot machines earlier.
It was fun, though, so Octavia just grinned at Maya. “Wanna be my good luck charm?” She asked teasingly, giving her an exaggerated wink.
Maya just raised her eyebrows and snorted out a laugh. Her expression dimmed suddenly however, and when Octavia followed her quickly averted gaze, she saw Wells. He was at the other end of the table, smiling goofily and standing very close to Raven.
Raven didn’t seem to notice his proximity much, however, as her enthusiastic gaze was focused on the table in front of her. It was only when she scooped up the dice for her turn that she turned to Wells, holding them out in her open hand expectantly. Octavia had to suppress a scoff at the way Wells excitedly blew on the dice, for good luck presumably, even though Raven’s focus was still on the table.
“Let me play,” Maya insisted, the quiet but fierce determination in her voice taking Octavia off-guard for a second.
Then she grinned, realizing that her friend had a bit more bite to her than she had assumed. “Go right ahead,” she relented, stepping back from the table encouragingly.
Unfortunately, their chance at beating Raven flew out the window when she chose that moment to pull out her phone, frowning when she looked at the screen. Without even so much as a goodbye to Wells, she abruptly turned from the table and strode off, leaving the boy stunned and confused. Octavia couldn’t help but sigh, because while she felt bad for Wells, he had to know that Raven just wasn’t that into him.
“You sure you want to like someone that oblivious?” Octavia murmured to Maya, only half-teasing.
Maya blushed, and Octavia felt a little guilty for that comment.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “Like I warned Clarke, I was a defective product, made without a filter. My brother tried to exchange me, but sadly, they have a no-return policy, so he and everybody else is stuck with me and my loose tongue.”
“We need more of that here,” Maya replied kindly. “It’s refreshing compared to the veiled barbs and insinuations.”
Octavia laughed, glancing at the way a few of the older women were eyeing them curiously, warily.
“I can only imagine,” she chimed lightly.
Maya grinned, sliding a glance at the women and then catching Octavia’s eye. “Ignore them. Since you’ve dragged me up here, I suppose we should get to it, so let’s gamble.”
They played a round, losing spectacularly, but not particularly caring. Giggling as they stepped down from the table, Octavia glanced around the room, high on excitement and wondering how difficult it would be to swipe a champagne glass from one of the trays circling the room. Not the smartest, given that underage drinking was part of the reason she was arrested in the first place, but who here would notice?
Just as she was about to tug Maya in the direction of a distracted server, she saw a familiar head of curly brown hair standing in shadowy corner of the room. Sighing and feeling just a bit guilty for forgetting about her brother, she nodded to Maya, who shooed her away understandingly. Octavia sashayed over to the side of the room, plastering a happy grin on her face, a stark contrast to the surly expression that Bellamy was wearing.
“Lose some money?” She asked cheerfully, poking his side in gest.
“I’m not a gambler, O.”
Imitating his low, irritated tone, she teased, “It’s fake money, Bell.”
“Shocking, really. Seems like they have more than enough to spare for these games,” he muttered, and Octavia huffed out an annoyed sigh.
“Seriously, another snarky comment about their money? If you were going to be this much of a sulker, why did you bother to come?” She snapped. Octavia had known he wouldn’t like being here, but she would’ve at least thought he would make an effort. There was a difference between being uncomfortable and being rude, and he was definitely leaning towards the latter.
Bellamy just threw her an expectant glance, rolling his eyes.
“If you’re going to be this difficult, we should just leave, before you say something to one of these people that we’ll both regret,” she huffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her annoyance grew as Bellamy started to grin at her, letting out a quiet chuckle.
“Okay, mom,” he joked, reaching up to tug on her hair.
She pinched his arm in return, scowling as she fought off his retaliating attempts to mess up her updo. Soon enough, though, she was laughing right along with him, too distracted by his teasing to notice Clarke had found them until she started speaking.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said, glancing with interest as Octavia turned away from Bellamy to look at her, still fighting off his pokes and jabs with a grin.
“Uh,” Clarke paused, her eyes flicking towards Bellamy one more time. “My dad was looking for you. Had a question about tomorrow.”
Abruptly, Bellamy’s hands fell away from her, and she felt him tense. Octavia’s own stomach clenched, because she had forgotten she was only playing at Cinderella for the weekend. Tomorrow, she would be placed into another foster home, or back in juvie, away from her brother, and away from her new friends here.
“Sure,” she said, throwing she hoped looked like a brave smile at Clarke. “Where is he?”
“Out on the patio.”
Octavia nodded and started to head in the direction Clarke was pointing. Bellamy straightened up from leaning against the wall, clearly intending to follow.
“My dad said it was private,” Clarke blurted, stopping them both. “Just Octavia.”
“She’s a minor,” Bellamy argued. “I need to be there.”
When Clarke frowned, and then Bellamy stepped towards her in challenge, Octavia slipped between them. Placing a hand on her brother’s chest, she gave him a reassuring look.
“I’ll be fine, Bell. Mr. Griffin has been great so far. He really wants to help me.”
“O—,”
“Plus, we need another player for a poker game,” Clarke interrupted with a bright smile. “Otherwise Murphy’s going to jump in, and nobody wants that. How about it, Bellamy?”
“How about you let my sister and I handle this, without input?”
“Oh, okay. I see. You’re scared I’ll beat you. Understandable.”
“I’m not scared, and like you could beat me.”
“Well, right now, I’m game to play, and you’re not, so I’m thinking only one of us is scared. Hint, it’s not me.”
Octavia let out a muffled laugh, because her brother was fairly good at poker and also never backed down from a challenge, and though Clarke seemed like a princess, something told her that this girl would give Bell a run for his money. Literally. She wondered if the tables would still be standing when she got back from talking with Mr. Griffin.
“Play nice!” Octavia offered, skirting away before her brother could take his eyes off of Clarke, who grinned up at his disapproving expression.
“Have fun!” Clarke called back, her face lighting up in amusement.
Yeah, talking with her lawyer was going to be boatloads of fun. Octavia sighed, realizing her high from the night was wearing off. The material of her dress was starting to chafe, and her feet began to ache in protest of wearing such high heels. She should’ve done what Clarke did and wear sneakers, because weathering the judging looks would’ve been a whole lot more comfortable than these things. Still, she hadn’t been able to resist the sleek heels, because when would she ever get to wear ones these nice again?
As she stepped out onto the patio through the glass doors, she shivered a bit. It was that time of late summer when the days were blistering hot, but the chill crept in when the sun went down. Walking forward, she listened to her heels click loudly against the stone flooring, looking around for Mr. Griffin. Scanning the area, which showed a gorgeous view of the ocean, she frowned. He was nowhere to be seen. The wind picked up, and she wrapped her arms her middle and hunched over, trying to shield herself.
“Cold?” A familiar voice called out behind her.
She startled, pressing her hand to her chest as she turned around. There was Lincoln, seated on a bench by the door. His tie was loose around his neck, and his shirt was unbuttoned a bit, revealing just a hint of his tattoos. Forearms braced on his thighs, he was smiling at her, softly. Suddenly, Octavia didn’t feel quite as chilly any more.
“Hi,” she said, wobbling towards him on her sore feet. “Out for some air?”
“Yeah. And waiting for Wells.”
“I’m waiting for Mr. Griffin,” she offered.
He scooted over on the bench, jerking his head for her to sit. “We can keep each other company.”
Octavia smiled, moving to place herself next to him. Her dress rustled at the movement, pulling in weird places, but she didn’t care, almost groaning in delight at the pressure lifting from her feet.
Chuckling at the sound, Lincoln shrugged his jacket off. When he placed it around her shoulders, Octavia shivered at the wave of heat that enveloped her.
“Thanks,” she chimed, bumping her shoulder into his. Even through two layers of fabric, the contact sent sparks through her.
“You’re welcome,” he murmured back.
Silence fell, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was nice, to sit quietly, looking at the gorgeous shadow-covered surroundings, away from the bustle and glamour of inside. Sucking in a deep breath of air that smelled like flowers and sea salt, Octavia felt her earlier turmoil about tomorrow and what it held calm. She slid a glance at Lincoln, who was starting at the horizon, wondering how he had such an effect on her. Because she didn’t think it was the air or the sights that had her so relaxed. There was just—something about it that made her feel at peace.
She laughed, out loud, because she usually wasn’t this sappy. When Lincoln looked at her curiously, she just shook her head and grinned, shrugging. He shrugged back, also smiling. As she cleared her throat to speak, his phone chimed.
Octavia looked away, focusing on her feet as he answered it. When he let out an amused snort, she glanced up at him.
“Everything okay?” She asked.
“Was it Clarke who told you her dad was waiting out here for you?”
“Yes,” she answered slowly.
Lincoln rubbed his hands on his thighs, a fond expression on his face. “She was also the one that told me Wells was waiting for me out here.”
Something clicked in Octavia’s head, the way Clarke had been so pleased with herself as she had left her and Bellamy.
“Oh my god,” Octavia breathed, shaking her head. “And I’m usually great at telling when I’m being set up.”
“Disappointed?”
“No!” Octavia ducked her head in embarrassment then, because her response had been quite abrupt.
Lincoln bumped her shoulder again. “Me neither.”
As Octavia dared a look up at him again, her breath caught. The way Lincoln was staring at her, so focused and intense, was overwhelming. Not in an uncomfortable way, but an honest one. It wasn’t what she was used to. With Atom and other boys, it had been affection hidden deep under sarcasm, all bets and challenges and teasing barbs, the grown-up version of hair pulling and spitballs.
His earnestness intimidated her a little, but it wasn’t enough to keep her from leaning into him, her glance flicking down to his lips so very briefly. Still, he managed to catch it, and smiled, tilting his head in encouragement. Just as she could almost taste him, a pair of angry but hushed voices echoed from around the corner, their owners hidden by the bushes. Octavia sat up straight, watching Lincoln do the same out of the corner of her eye.
“Mom, you can’t go back in there like this.”
“Like what?”
“You’re drunk.”
“I am not—and it’s not your place to tell me what to do. I’m the mother, you’re the daughter.”
“You almost took out two servers on our way out here! Everyone was staring! You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Don’t talk to me in that tone, little bird.”
“Mom, you can’t—”
“I have a date with a black jack table, and I’m fine, so don’t you dare—”
The sound of glass crashing onto the stone echoed in the still night, followed by a retching noise.
“Shit.”
The gagging sound continued, followed by muttered swearing from the girl. After a short pause, she hissed out, “Finn, pick up, pick up, pick up.” She groaned, then continued. “Why don’t you ever pick up your damn phone? Mom’s wasted on the patio, and I need you to drive us home. Please.” Her voice broke on the last word, turning fragile, vulnerable.
Octavia flinched, finally realizing it was Raven, and presumably her mother, who were on the other side of the bushes. Frozen, she was torn between slinking back into the ballroom without so much of a second glance and trying to help. A loud burst of laughter from inside, much too close to the door, made the decision for her. She may not like Raven for being so antagonistic towards Clarke, but Octavia knew what it was like to be embarrassed by family. The situation needed to be taken care of, and quickly.
Standing, she returned the jacket to Lincoln as she asked, “Do you know who Finn is?”
Lincoln nodded briefly, understanding in his eyes. “I’ll go get him.” He headed towards the doors, pausing as his hand reached for the handle. Looking over his shoulder, he considered her carefully. “You going to be okay, handling Raven?”
Octavia sent him a reassuring smile. “I can take care of myself, Lincoln. Trust me.”
Lincoln let out a single, barely audible chuckle, before he turned back and went inside.
With a large sigh, Octavia steeled herself before rounding the border of bushes. She tried to make as much noise as possible on her approach, because surprising them wouldn’t help the situation. Even so, Octavia was practically next to them before Raven snapped her head up, her eyes narrowing dangerously in recognition.
“Hey,” Octavia murmured, trying to sound friendly. “How are you, Raven?”
Raven didn’t reply, just continued to glare at Octavia. Her fingers gripped her cell phone so tightly that they were turning white.
It was the mother who smiled, face relaxed and eyes cloudy, an expression all too familiar to Octavia. The woman stuck out her hand as she said in greeting, “Hello! You must be a friend of my daughter’s. I’m sorry, I’m so bad with faces—remind me of your name, sweetheart?”
“Octavia, and not a worry,” she said, taking the woman’s hand with a soft smile. “I’m new to the area, so we haven’t met before.”
“Oh, welcome, then! Is this your first Newport event?”
And last, Octavia thought briefly before nodding. “Yes, and it’s been wonderful.”
“Isn’t it? The casino theme—always a winner! Though I can’t say the same for myself. I’ve had absolutely no luck tonight…”
Octavia laughed softly at the joke, continuing to listen to the woman chatter away. Through nodding and smiling along, she also kept an eye on Raven, whose jaw was getting tighter and tighter by the minute. Silently, Octavia willed Lincoln to hurry up, because she while she was doing a good job at stalling the mother from going back inside, there was no guarantee Raven wouldn’t take another swing at her for interfering.
Finally, Raven broke. “Mom,” she hissed, jerking on her mother’s arm. “We need to go.”
“Raven,” her mother said sharply, slurring a bit. “You are being rude. Don’t interrupt.”
Octavia bit her lip as Raven opened her mouth, practically fuming, but then soft, hurried footfalls echoed from behind them.
“Ms. Reyes!” A cheerful voice called out, and Octavia turned to see Finn jogging towards them, smiling widely, with Lincoln trailing behind.
“Finnigan!” Raven’s mother replied brightly. “I was wondering when I’d see you tonight.”
“I did hear a rumor that a gorgeous woman was looking for me,” Finn answered complimentarily, making Ms. Reyes blush, but the serious look he threw at Raven, and then at Lincoln, made Octavia realize he was speaking to them as well.
Octavia held her breath as Raven’s eyes widened, flicking back and forth between Finn, Lincoln, and her. Though her expression remained guarded and wary, her shoulders relaxed just the slightest. Almost immediately Finn stepped up, squeezing her arm reassuringly as he continued to work his charm on her mother. Octavia shuffled back to Lincoln’s side as Finn carted Ms. Reyes and Raven off towards the parking lot, spouting some bullshit about wanting her to see the view of the ocean tonight, presumably as a way to get her to the car without going back inside the party.
Just as they rounded the corner, Raven glanced back, giving them a terse nod, presumably the only thanks Octavia was going to get. Sighing, she nodded back, watching them amble off towards the parking lot.
Suddenly, Lincoln let out a low laugh.
“What?” Octavia said, turning to look at him curiously.
“You,” he said simply, an amused, slightly awed grin hovering at the corners of his mouth.
“That’s cryptic.”
“You’re just—refreshing,” he admitted.
Octavia giggled. “What, like a tall glass of water?”
Lincoln just turned back towards the doors to the ballroom, glancing between them and her. “You, and the way you help, unconditionally—it’s not usually what I see around here.”
“Oh,” Octavia said, her cheeks warming even as the breeze picked up and she shivered.
“Ready to go inside?” Lincoln asked knowingly.
“I guess,” Octavia sighed, figuring it was probably kind of late to be out here.
They didn’t talk as they walked across the lawn and back onto the patio, Lincoln ushering her through the French doors back into the hot, crowded, loud room. As they stood awkwardly by the entrance, Octavia searched for something to say, something to keep him with her, but reluctantly she came up with, “I should probably find my brother.”
Lincoln nodded, the light in his eyes shifting towards something almost sad.
“So this is goodbye, then?” He murmured. “You’re leaving tomorrow, to go back to Chino, right?”
Octavia froze, her breath catching because he wasn’t supposed to know that, he was never supposed to know she had lied, about who she was and where she came from, at least not until after she had left.
“I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly. “I never meant to lie to you, I just—”
“Octavia,” he said, his voice so full of understanding that it made her warm all over. “It’s fine. I don’t care, about any of it, not in the slightest.
“I—”
Before she could finish, a loud crash rang out in the room, dampening almost all nearby conversation. Whipping around, horror washed over Octavia as she saw Bellamy standing menacingly over a kid with long brown hair and a sneering face who was scrambling up from the floor amidst a fallen tray, broken glass, and spilled champagne. She gasped as her brother grabbed the edges of the boy’s suit coat, bringing his snarling face in close.
“What did you call my sister?”
“I believe I said psycho, and apparently it runs in the family,” the boy taunted.
Bellamy’s knuckles whitened, and he shoved the boy back—Murphy, Octavia recalled faintly. It wasn’t until her brother lunged for the boy again that she realized she needed to do something. Pushing her way through the crowd, she saw Clarke, who was also heading for the boys, a determined look on her face.
Just as Bellamy reached out for Murphy again, Octavia caught his arm, digging her feet in as she held him back.
“Bellamy, stop it,” she hissed. “Everybody’s staring.”
It took him a minute to stop struggling, finally registering who was clutching his arm. After shaking her off, he glared at Murphy again as he said, “I don’t give a damn if they’re staring! He said—,”
“Murphy says a lot of stupid things. You should ignore him. The rest of us do,” Clarke said coldly, stepping very subtlety in front of Bellamy as Murphy took a step in their direction.
“You know what, Griffin?” Murphy sneered. “You can go fu—,”
“What’s all the commotion?”
Octavia had no idea where Jake had come from, but she let out a sigh of relief at his interruption. He was smiling, but there was a hardness in his eyes that made Murphy take a few steps back and had Bellamy letting some of the tension out of his stance.
“Murphy tripped,” Clarke stated in a flat voice. “Bellamy was trying to help him up.”
Jake shot his daughter an admonishing, skeptical look, but she just stared stubbornly back. Octavia watched, holding her breath, as his focus then flitted to the whispering crowd around them. Suddenly, he smiled cheerfully.
“Well, no use crying over spilled milk—or champagne, in this case. It was a god awful vintage anyways, so you did us a favor, boys. And we’ll get this cleaned up in no time, alright?”
Bellamy nodded, and Murphy just rolled his eyes before sauntering off, a few nearby boys following him even as they threw disgusted looks at Octavia and her brother. The crowd began to turn their attention away from the scene, as there was no longer drama there to hold their interest.
“How about we get you guys out of here? It’s been a long night,” Jake offered in a low voice. “I’ll get the valet to bring the car around right now.”
“Do you mind if I drive my sister back, sir?” Bellamy asked, and Octavia was shocked at the meekness in his voice. Though maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised. If there was anyone here that her brother would want respect from, it was Jake Griffin. He was just the kind of man that inspired that type of feeling, even in someone as stubborn and judgmental as her brother.
Jake glanced at Octavia, a question in his eyes. She nodded, letting him know she was okay with that. Even though she was pissed and embarrassed and didn’t particularly want to be around her brother right now, they needed to hash this out, especially before she got sent back to juvie tomorrow.
“We’ll see you back at the house,” Jake said firmly, as if it were a promise.
Octavia nodded again, her throat thick and her cheeks red as she followed her brother through the crowd towards the door. As they passed through, disdainful whispers and disapproving looks sprang up in their wake. Angry, ashamed heat flared more intensely across Octavia’s cheeks, and she watched her brother’s shoulders tense defensively. In warning, she placed a hand on one of them and squeezed, but he just shrugged her off.
Just before they got to the door, Octavia caught a glimpse of Clarke out of the corner of her eye. Looking over, she watched her friend cross her arms and scowl at her mother, who was frowning right back. Clarke’s lips were moving rapidly, angrily, her hands flying up in frustration when her mother hissed an interruption. She didn’t notice Octavia, but Mrs. Griffin did, and her frown deepened as she looked from her to her brother. The way she was looking at them left a bitter taste in Octavia’s mouth, because none of this was her fault, but regardless, this whole situation had apparently confirmed Abby’s doubts about her.
One last time she tried to catch Clarke’s eye, because who knows if they’d be allowed to talk once they were back at the Griffin house, but her friend was much too busy yelling at her mother to notice. Resigned, Octavia walked outside finally, jogging to catch up with her brother, who was walking in long, angry strides towards his car.
The frustration of the night bubbled up inside her, and maybe it wasn’t fair, but right now Octavia was choosing to direct it at Bellamy and his hotheadedness. When she got into the car, she slammed the door closed, kicking off her heels aggressively before crossing her legs on the seat. Bellamy shot her a dark look, but she pointedly ignored him, instead choosing to stare at the windshield instead.
He didn’t say a word until they had pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.
“I don’t know why you’re so pissed off,” he muttered.
She exploded. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, I’m fucking not,” he snapped back.
“You embarrassed me, and the Griffins! We were their guests and you started a damn brawl in the middle of the party!”
“That kid was insulting you, to my face, O. What was I supposed to do? And anyways, you don’t want to get started on fighting. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened last night at that party. What the hell were you thinking? You’re on parole—one wrong move, and you’re back in juvie!”
Beyond furious, because where the hell did he get off on lecturing her right now, Octavia slammed her hand on the dashboard. “I’m going back to juvie anyways, moron, because after tonight, the courts sure as hell are never going to let me stay with you, and I’m also sure that the Griffins are going kick me out as soon as we get back there, so congratu-fucking-lations, for screwing me over, yet again, Bell.”
“Why do you care so damn much about what those people think of you? You’ve known them two goddamn days. They don’t matter, O!”
“Clarke is my friend, so yeah, I care about what she thinks, and what her parents think! Jake has been nothing but kind to me, and to you, and you go and ruin that because you can’t keep your fucking ego in check!”
“It wasn’t about me,” he yelled, switching over into another lane with an angry jerk of the steering wheel. “I was trying to protect you!”
“News flash, Bell, I’m a big girl. I don’t need you to protect me anymore!”
Dead silence descended on the car. Still seething, Octavia glanced over at her brother. As she stared at the thunderous expression on his face, she noted just the slightest bit of pain and longing lingering underneath. She squeezed her eyes shut, which were now stinging with fresh tears. Trying to hold onto her anger, Octavia thought of how her brother’s rash, violent stupidity would look in Clarke’s eyes, in Jake’s eyes, in Lincoln’s eyes. Oh god, Lincoln—what he probably thinks of her now.
Still, though, despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t help the little bit of guilt and regret that seeped through at her last words. It had been a long night; she was tired, and if she was being honest, she just didn’t have it in her to hold a grudge right now. So, when she heard the blinker click on, signaling their impending exit from the highway, she made a decision.
“I don’t want to go back there,” she whispered.
“O—”
“Bell, please. I can’t face them tonight.”
“Where are we going to go?”
Octavia remained silent, knowing there was only one place she could go: back to juvie.
“Octavia, no,” her brother murmured, finally understanding. “I’m sure the Griffins will let you stay tonight. Look, I’ll explain what happened, and apologize. They’ll let you stay, at least for tonight, to say goodbye to Clarke, I’m sure of it.”
She huffed at the pleading tone in his voice, her throat a bit raw. “I’m going back tomorrow anyways, Bell. Might as well save them a trip.”
“Octavia—”
“Bell, please,” she pleaded, eyes still closed as she let her head fall back tiredly against the headrest. “I can’t go back there tonight.”
The blinker switched off. “Alright,” he relented thickly. “Alright. Whatever you want.”
“Thanks, Bell,” she whispered, reaching her hand over to find his, which she knew would be resting on top of the stick shift. She smiled slightly when she found it, squeezing it reassuringly. “Love you, big brother.”
Bellamy sighed and replied, “Love you too, O.”