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“Stop squirming,” Octavia snaps, grabbing his chin to hold him in place. “If I poke your eye out, it will be your fault.”
Bellamy sighs. He can’t help his fingers fidgeting with his keys, anxious to get out of this chair. His ass is numb from sitting at his sister’s vanity for an hour.
“Are you almost done?”
“Patience, big brother,” Octavia tells him, smirking at his twitching. “You’ll be thanking me when you win this stupid contest.”
“That’s the idea,” he mutters. “You’re the expert here.”
His sister is a professional make-up artist. Bellamy could have smeared some cheap drug-store paint on his face and called it a day, but Octavia all but begged him to let her help. She loved treating him like a dress-up doll.
Ever since they were kids, O had been painting his nails and giving him makeovers with her collection of glittery eyeshadow and hair clips. Bellamy cringes when he thinks of the photo evidence. He’s never been good at saying no to his baby sister.
She smudges the last of the black paint around his eyes and finally pronounces him finished. “There! Take a look.”
Bellamy turns his head to see himself in her vanity’s mirror. He’s impressed. The skeleton make-up looks amazing and creepy, like something out of a movie set. He doesn’t even recognize his own reflection.
He’s wearing a black T-shirt that he painted himself with a white skeleton outline, black jeans, and black combat boots. The whole thing actually looks pretty good. It’s more effort than he’s put into any costume before.
“This looks great, O!”
Octavia smiles through the mirror, pleased. “Yeah?”
He turns around to pop a grateful kiss on her cheek. “You did an awesome job. Thanks.” He stands up from the chair, stretching his stiff muscles. “I gotta head out.”
His sister nods, starting to gather up the make-up supplies she used on him. “Good luck! And have fun tonight.”
“I will.”
Bellamy heads to the open doorway, only to be stopped by Octavia calling him back. She has a wicked glint in her green eyes.
“Play nice with Clarke, yeah?”
He scoffs. “Not a chance in hell.”
His annoyingly uptight co-worker, otherwise known as Clarke Griffin, is the reason he gives a shit about this stupid costume contest in the first place.
The Princess has won the last two years at their office’s Halloween party. This year, Bellamy is going to claim the title and rub it in her smug little face.
The party has already started by the time Bellamy parks at their building and makes it up to their office floor.
Naturally, the Princess is head chair of the Party Planning Committee. He has to hand it to her. The office is completely transformed in the spirit of Halloween.
This year’s theme is a zombie breakout. The walls have signs of radiation warnings and signs to keep-out. There are glasses on the desks with floating brains and red punch that looks like fresh blood. The windows are all boarded up and decayed zombie mannequins are crawling out from under tables and chairs.
His co-workers are scattered throughout the floor in a variety of colorful, funny and scary costumes. Bellamy nods to a few he manages to recognize on his way over to the receptionist’s desk, which has been turned into the bar for the night.
Bellamy smirks at the sight of Murphy bartending. He’s dressed up as a pirate complete with the heavy eyeliner and gold hoops in his ears.
“How are you supposed to mix drinks with that eye patch?” Bellamy taunts.
Murphy squints at him. His friend doesn’t recognize him at first. After a moment, his blue eye not covered by the eye patch widens. “Holy shit. Bellamy. I didn’t even know it was you, man.”
Murphy runs his eye over him again. “Kinda hot, not gonna lie. And creepy.”
That makes Bellamy laugh. “Does looking hot mean I get a free drink?”
Murphy smirks, humoring him. They both know all of the drinks are put on the company’s tab for the party. “What can I get ya?”
Bellamy orders a simple whiskey sour and takes his drink in a lap around the room. He hasn’t set eyes on his nemesis yet, but he searches for her in the crowd, wondering what costume she put together this year.
Clarke Griffin doesn’t do anything in half-measures. She’s the most uptight person he knows, actually caring about office rules and being a good little employee. It’s no wonder that she’s their boss’s pet. Jaha thinks she can do no wrong.
It makes Bellamy roll his eyes as he sips at his drink. What he wouldn’t give to see her lose her shit. Stop acting like she’s so perfect for once in her damn life.
He’s tried to get the Princess to crack. Many times. He’s pulled a dozen hilarious pranks in their years of working together. Bellamy even staged a mutiny when she was left in charge of the office once. No one showed up for work that day thanks to his clever orchestrating.
But Clarke never loses her cool. She’s unshakable. It drives him insane.
The Princess just smirks at his “childish” pranks. She rolls her eyes at his snide comments during meetings without engaging. All Clarke said is, “It’s flattering that you’re so intimidated by me, Blake. I must be doing something right.”
Completely infuriating. It’s like she really thinks she’s better than him.
Bellamy is relieved when he finds Miller and his boyfriend Jackson. They’re dressed up as a doctor and an operation patient.
Bellamy clamps his hand on Miller’s shoulder in greeting. “Damn. That’s clever.”
Neither of them recognizes him at first too. Both men compliment his skeleton make-up. Bellamy makes a mental note to tell Octavia later about her obvious skills.
They chat about some of the best costumes around them and some office gossip.
After a while, Bellamy inquires, “You seen Clarke around?”
It’s unlikely that she wouldn’t show up for this thing. But Bellamy is going to be pissed if he went through all of this effort for nothing.
Miller smirks over to the top of his glass. “Sorry, man. I haven’t seen your princess yet.”
Bellamy chokes on his drink. It burns through his nose and he splutters out a cough. “She’s not my anything, Miller. What the hell?”
Jackson’s eyes light up. He looks between the two of them excitedly. “No way. Did Bellamy meet someone?”
Bellamy turns his glare on Jackson now. Jackson is making it sound like he’s some kind of loser that never dates. Sure, he’s stopped sleeping around since his years of partying in college with them. But he still dates. He just hasn’t found anyone since his break-up with Gina a few months ago.
Miller’s little smirk has become a full-blown grin. “Nah. Bellamy’s just obsessed with this girl we work with.”
His lip curls up in disgust. “I’m not obsessed with her! I can’t stand her.”
He faces his boyfriend, speaking to him as if Bellamy isn’t standing right there. “He’s like a five-year-old on the playground. Pulling on her pigtails and trying to get her attention. It’s cute.”
Bellamy walks off then. He grits his teeth to the sound of Miller laughing behind him and heads back to the bar for another drink. This time there’s a lot of people crowded around and he has to wait, drumming his fingers impatiently.
“Hey.”
He stiffens. Bellamy recognizes that husky voice.
Clarke is standing beside him. His jaw drops at the sight of her. Her blonde hair has been dyed a dark red, falling in waves past her shoulders. She has a purple seashell bra holding up her impressive cleavage and his eyes get stuck there before he takes in the rest of the costume.
A shiny green mermaid skirt. Purple heels. A starfish pinned in her hair. Her eyes seem impossibly blue with the eye makeup she has on.
Bellamy nearly swallows his tongue. She looks…gorgeous.
He shakes that thought off as soon as it appears. So Clarke is attractive. She always has been. He’s not blind. She’s still a huge pain in his ass.
Clarke bites her bottom lip. Her eyes skim up from his legs to his chest and his face in a slow caress. Did she just check him out?
“I’m Clarke.” She leans in a bit closer. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
Bellamy stares. The scent of her perfume must be going to his head. He’s hallucinating.
Or this is some payback prank Clarke is pulling where she pretends she doesn’t know who he is. For what purpose though, Bellamy can’t figure out.
He’s too caught off guard to say anything. Clarke doesn’t let his silence deter her.
Her blue eyes twinkle at him. Blatantly interested. “Are you here with someone?”
This can’t be happening. Bellamy almost laughs in her face. Clarke is hitting on him. She has no idea that it’s him.
In a quick second, he makes a decision. He’s going to go along with this and see where it leads. At the very least, he can make Clarke look dumb when he succeeds in fooling her.
Bellamy shakes his head. He tries to give her a look that conveys his attention is all hers. He angles his body towards her, not wanting her to wander off just yet.
Clarke hums, pleased at this answer. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
He pushes back a smirk. She really doesn’t know who he is. Bellamy has to disguise his voice if he’s going to get away with this ruse.
He adopts a higher tone than he usually one when he says, “I think the point of costumes is the anonymity.”
Her mouth curves up in a flirty smile. He can’t believe it. She’s never looked at him like that in three years. Come to think of it, he’s never seen her look at anyone in their office like that either.
“A mystery man, huh?” She teases. Her fingers brush over his knuckles on the bar. A shock jolts up his arm. “I can work with that.”
Murphy swings around then to take their order. He gives Bellamy a surprised glance at finding them together. Bellamy widens his eyes at him and hopes he catches on not to say anything.
Smirking to himself, Murphy asks, “What can I get ya?”
Bellamy gets another whiskey sour. He refrains from ordering Clarke a Cosmo and revealing himself. He knows that’s her go-to drink whenever a few of them from the office go to happy hour after work.
Clarke sips at her Cosmopolitan when it arrives. She makes a low moan in the back of her throat at the first taste.
Bellamy dips his head close to her ear to murmur, “You make a pretty mermaid.”
He’s rewarded with a bright smile for his compliment. Nothing like the tight, closed-lip smiles she makes when she’s annoyed and trying to hide it.
“Thank you.” Clarke tilts her head as she studies his face paint. “Did you do this yourself?”
“No,” he says, laughing a little. “My sister did it. She has all the creativity in the family. I could never pull this off.”
“It looks really good,” she adds. “So, you have a sister and you’re not skilled with make-up.” Those bright eyes run over him slowly again like a physical touch. “What else don’t I know about you?”
Bellamy doesn’t have the response that he expected to her flirtatious tone. He feels like he’s being drawn into her orbit, helpless against the force of gravity. He wants to be closer. He wants to keep her full attention.
“I guess you’ll have to find out,” he responds lowly.
Her gaze flickers with intrigue. He has her full attention too.
Bellamy inclines his head toward the exit. “Do you want to go somewhere quiet so we can talk more?”
A smirk forms on her glistening lips. “Sure. I’d like that.”
Clarke takes his hand, towing him across the office floor. They wind through the packed bodies and tables to the double doors. For a moment, Bellamy hopes that they’re co-workers are too distracted to notice them leaving together.
He has no idea what he’d say if Miller or Raven asked him what’s doing. Because it sure looks like they’re sneaking off from the party to be alone.
Clarke takes them through the back to the hallway of private offices. He knows the way, but he’s still surprised when they end up in front of the wood door with the nameplate that reads Clarke Griffin.
She uses her key to unlock the door and they step inside. Clarke doesn’t hit the overhead lights, just flicking on a lap that casts the small room in a dim, golden glow.
Now that they’re alone, Bellamy’s pulse starts to race. How long can he keep this ruse up? It was stupid to come over here. And Clarke is a lot of things, but she’s not dense. She’s going to figure it out.
“Do you always bring guys you don’t know here?” He asks in amusement.
“Just guys that I think are hot,” Clarke purrs.
His stomach drops. Bellamy tells himself to get a grip. He’s wearing a costume. Clarke is obviously just looking for someone to flirt with at this party. She’d never act like this if she knew it was him under the disguise.
Clarke presses him back against the closed door. The way she’s looking at him from under her lashes is predatory like she wants to devour him. He had no idea Miss Perfect Princess had it in her.
Then she kisses him. Bellamy hears himself gasp at the unexpected press of her warm mouth. It takes a moment before his hands find her hips and pulls her flush against him, kissing her back.
His tongue sweeps into her mouth. She moans softly, her fingers curling into his hair. The sound sends a hot shock of arousal through him. He’s kissing Clarke Griffin and all he can think is, why did he wait so long for this?
Bellamy’s hands slide up from her hips, feeling the exposed skin of her back and curves of her stomach. She’s so soft. This hard shell of a woman that he’s known for three years is molten in his arms, kissing him hungrily.
It makes Bellamy hungry to uncover more about her. There’s so much he doesn’t know. The desire burns through him to be the one that Clarke is soft and open with. This stolen moment isn’t enough. He wants more.
Reluctantly, Bellamy breaks their kiss. His hand strokes down her back as he catches his breath, his pulse pounding.
“What’s wrong?” Clarke asks. Her husky voice makes him shiver.
He sighs. “I have to tell you something.”
The guilt has settled like a hard rock in the pit of his stomach. He has to be honest with her. She deserves the truth, even if it means she’s going to slap him for tricking her.
“It must be pretty important,” Clarke says, playing with the curls on the back of his neck. “For you to stop kissing me.”
He likes her fingers in his hair. He thinks he likes it more than her rolling his eyes at his mocking comments during staff meetings.
“It is,” Bellamy mutters. “We have met before, Clarke. We know each other.”
Clarke’s brow arches up. “Really? Do we work together at the office?”
He nods.
“It’s a big office,” she continues. “You’re going to have to give me a hint.”
Bellamy grimaces. Here goes nothing. “Last week, I rigged your office to shower you with candy corn every time you opened the door.”
To his surprise, Clarke smirks at the admission. She steps away from him and walks over to her desk, picking up something he hadn’t noticed beside her computer. She shows him a jar filled with candy corn. She kept them.
“They’re my favorite Halloween candy,” Clarke says. She sets down the jar and faces him, crossing her arms over her chest. “But you knew that didn’t you, Blake?”
Blake. His eyes widen. “You know it’s me?”
“Not at first. That make-up really is impressive.” She shrugs. “I know your sister is a make-up artist though. I was curious how far you were going to take it.”
“I’m sorry, Princess. I should have told you.”
Clarke winds around the desk and walks over to him. Her blue stare is piercing. He can’t tell if she’s pissed at him or not. “Was this just another one of your pranks?”
Bellamy’s shoulders drop with his deep sigh. “I told myself that, but honestly, I think I just wanted an excuse to have your attention.”
She comes closer, stepping into his space again. His nostrils fill with the scent of her sweet, sexy perfume. “Well, you have it now,” she murmurs.
Clarke tips her head back to look at him. His eyes fall on her parted lips. Hunger stirs inside him. He knows exactly how those lips feel against his.
“Wait,” Bellamy says, realizing something. “You knew it was me and you still kissed me?”
Clarke flashes that bright smile at him. Dazzling and beautiful. She slides her arms around his neck again and leans in, her breath brushing his mouth.
“I guess I have a thing for my annoying co-worker, too,” she says before she kisses him.
“You sure it’s not just a thing for creepy skeletons?” He teases.
“Shut up and kiss me, Blake.”
Both of them miss the announcement for the best Halloween costume of the night. But Bellamy still feels like he won.