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“Shit, have you seen my bra?”
Roused from sleep by a voice in her room, Clarke opens her eyes and lifts her head from her pillow, watching as the half-naked girl searches Clarke’s bedroom for the missing undergarment.
“You’re leaving already?” Clarke asks.
It’s not even fully light outside yet. Through the cracks in her blinds, Clarke can see the first glimpse of daybreak just starting to wake up the world. One glance at the screen of the phone laid face up on the nightstand is enough to confirm that this is an ungodly hour to be awake on any day, but especially after a night of very little sleep.
“I have to get to the gym,” says the girl - Lexa, a name that Clarke only remembers now because she kept getting it wrong for the first half hour after they met each other in an off-campus bar last night, much to her mortification when she found out the truth. “Aha!”
Lexa holds up a bra between her thumb and forefinger, a triumphant expression on her face, before she puts it back on.
“You have to?” asks Clarke, rolling onto her back and rubbing at her bleary eyes with the heels of her hands.
“Coach’ll be pissed if the captain doesn’t show up.”
Lexa pulls her sweater over her head, covering up the truly magnificent set of abs that Clarke had the pleasure of appreciating up close last night, then sits on the end of Clarke’s bed so that she can lace up her shoes.
“You’re the captain?”
“Of the soccer team,” nods Lexa.
“And you’re sure I can’t tempt you with an alternative workout?” asks Clarke, sitting up in bed and deliberately letting the sheets pool around her waist so that her breasts are exposed.
Predictably, Lexa’s eyes drop, widening slightly as she stares for a few seconds. Clarke remembers exactly how much Lexa enjoyed her tits last night, and her cheeks flush hot as she recalls the feeling of Lexa’s accomplished tongue painting circles around her nipples as Clarke’s back arched off the bed in search of more contact.
Lexa’s green eyes flicker back up to Clarke’s face, pupils blown wider than before, but with a playful little smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
“Nice try,” she shoots back at Clarke, “but it doesn’t work like that.”
Lexa gets to her feet and makes her way to Clarke’s bedroom door, stopping with her hand on handle.
“Thanks for a good night. I had a lot of fun.”
And then, before Clarke can formulate an answer or even contemplate asking for Lexa’s number so that they can meet up again, Lexa is gone without another word.
There are only two major colleges in Clarke’s city. Clarke knows enough of the women’s soccer team at Arkadia University for it to be a simple process of elimination that Lexa must be the captain of the other college’s team.
It’s pretty hard to concentrate on anything even vaguely productive with her mind still full of the memories from last night. Clarke is supposed to be revising for a test next week but she gets distracted too easily, and it takes only a simple google search of the Polis University women’s soccer team for Clarke to be staring at their glossy red and black website, complete with a professionally shot photograph of the full team in two neat rows in front of the goalposts. Lexa sits in the centre of the front row, hair pushed back into a slick ponytail and wearing the captain’s armband around her left bicep. She’s even hotter than Clarke remembers, almost aloof in the way she stares at the camera with her head held up and a formidable look in her eyes.
“Hey, Clarke!”
Clarke nearly falls off her chair in surprise as Octavia and Raven drop into the empty seats on either side of Clarke at her table in the Arkadia University library.
“Wait, why have you got a picture of the Polis soccer team on your computer.”
“Because I’m bored of studying and there’s some nice eye candy in their team,” answers Clarke. “The captain is very nice to look at.”
Clarke pauses, wondering whether to elaborate and explain the encounter she had with the Polis team captain last night and into the early hours of this morning, but her hesitation gives Raven and Octavia the time needed to shut her down before she can even speak.
“Absolutely not,” says Raven.
“If you even entertain the idea, you’re dead to me, Griffin,” adds Octavia.
Clarke recoils at the abruptness of their reaction and minimises the window on her computer before it sparks any further outrage.
“Wow, I was just looking,” says Clarke, defensively. “I’m not going to propose marriage to the girl.”
“You’d better not!” says Raven, giving Clarke a stern look. “You know the Lexa Woods is the sole reason we lost out on the state championship last year?”
“I thought it was because…”
“No,” interrupts Raven, holding up a hand to stop Clarke mid-sentence. “It was Woods.”
“The rest of the Polis team aren’t anything without her,” agrees Octavia.
Clarke thinks back to last night, when she had no idea that she was bedding the star player of a rival team, and wonders if things would have differed if she had known Lexa’s real identity. Clarke highly doubts that there is much that could have stopped her from going for what she wanted after she met Lexa in the bar last night, and she only feels a tiny niggle of guilt now at the realisation that she might have accidentally betrayed two of her closest friends for a single night of no-strings-attached fun.
“She’s that good, huh?” asks Clarke, and as her memory reminds her of something else that Lexa is skilled at, she feels a familiar throb between her legs.
“I see that look on your face, Clarke!” says Raven, pointing an accusatory finger at Clarke. “Don’t even think about it. She’s the enemy. One hundred percent off-limits.”
Clarke wonders how Raven and Octavia would react if they knew that Clarke has already slept with the enemy.
In her defence, Lexa is not specifically Clarke’s enemy. Clarke’s loyalties lie with the Arkadia team because of her best friends, not because she has a particularly strong allegiance to her own college.
Which is why it is way too easy to lie and say, “I’ve forgotten about her already.”
Clarke waits six whole days, out of respect for her friends, before making contact with Lexa.
She finds her on social media easily - there’s only one Lexa Woods in their city, and Clarke recognises the distinctive red and black kit of the Polis University soccer kit that she wears in her profile picture.
When she decides to reach out to Lexa with a private message, it’s only with the intention of being friendly. And it’s just basic respect that causes Clarke to suggest that they meet again, that causes her to invite Lexa out for a drink and then back to hers, just politeness that motivates Clarke to kiss Lexa, to pull at her clothes and to touch her until she is arching her back and crying out in pleasure.
It is only out of politeness that Clarke lets Lexa return the favour.
Twice.
Clarke doesn’t think about her friends and the strict instructions they gave her until much later, when she is curled up against Lexa’s naked body beneath her covers. And it is very difficult to feel any kind of remorse when she is still basking in the haze of post-orgasmic bliss.
“So, my friends categorically forbade me from sleeping with you,” says Clarke, as Lexa’s fingers absently trace a path up and down Clarke’s bare spine. “Apparently you’re the enemy.”
Clarke feels rather than hears the little snort of laughter than Lexa gives in response.
“Is it me personally that your friends don’t like or is it the fact I go to Polis?”
“Both,” answers Clarke, lifting her head so that she can look into Lexa’s eyes, before she adds, “My friends are Octavia and Raven.”
Lexa’s green eyes stare at Clarke blankly for a few seconds, as if she has no idea who Clarke is talking about.
“Octavia Blake and Raven Reyes?” explains Clarke.
Lexa’s eyes widen in surprise as she asks, “You’re friends with Blake and Reyes?”
“Since high school,” says Clarke, with a little nod.
“You know that Blake is dating our quarterback? Isn’t it a bit hypocritical of her to warn you against sleeping with the enemy?”
“Different sports,” shrugs Clarke, though she does feel a small amount of comfort in recalling the way that Raven had been furious with Octavia for about a week after finding out about her new boyfriend, before forgiving her almost immediately upon actually meeting Lincoln. Clarke momentarily allows herself to wonder if Raven’s reaction would be the same upon learning about Lexa - initial betrayal that is put aside when Raven actually takes the time to get to know Lexa - before she remembers that Lexa is just a hookup, not somebody she has any intention of introducing to her friends.
“The big game against Arkadia is next week,” says Lexa. “Will you be watching?”
“Uh huh,” Clarke hums into Lexa’s neck.
Lexa’s hand stills on the small of Clarke’s back, just a few inches away from resting on the swell of Clarke’s ass.
“And which side will you be rooting for?”
“Arkadia, of course,” says Clarke, lifting her upper body up at the same time as she swings a leg across Lexa’s hips to straddle her. She grinds her hips down suggestively as both of Lexa’s hands come to rest on her upper thighs, then leans down far enough to be able to murmur against Lexa’s lips, “But if you were to score a goal or two, I might be persuaded to offer some kind of consolation prize…”
Clarke dresses head-to-toe in light blue for the game between Arkadia and Polis. She owes her friends that much.
And so what if she misses Octavia’s goal at the beginning of the second half because she’s too busy ogling Lexa’s thighs and thinking about them being wrapped around her own body?
(She cheers a little bit louder and waves her blue and white Arkadia University flag a little harder, just to compensate.)
When Lexa scores the goal that brings Polis level ten minutes later, Clarke cheers just as hard on the inside, but manages to externally project only disappointment at the fact her team has just lost their lead.
It’s when Lexa scores a second goal, just a few minutes before the end of the match, that Clarke is really torn between the two sides. Her only knowledge of soccer comes from picking up bits and pieces from Octavia and Raven over the years, but even she can tell that Lexa is a brilliant player. She looks so unassuming one second, and the next Lexa will be sprinting along the wing so fast that the Arkadia team don’t even notice her moving until it’s too late to do anything about it.
Octavia and Raven look broken as their side goes behind. Clarke really feels bad for them and finds herself furiously glaring at Lexa for doing this to her two best friends.
And then Lexa glances up and makes eye contact with Clarke, and it’s not even like she does anything even remotely sexual, but the tiny nod of acknowledgement she gives Clarke is enough for all Clarke’s irritation to melt away as her chest fills with mixed affection and lust for Lexa.
The game ends a few minutes later with Polis University’s two goals leading Arkadia’s one. Clarke watches from the stands, torn as Lexa celebrates with her teammates on the same pitch that Octavia collapses onto, exhausted and broken as she lets out a frustrated cry of defeat that carries through the air.
Clarke loiters outside the locker rooms once the game has finished, playing on her phone as she half-hopes that Lexa will send her a message asking to meet, but it is Octavia and Raven who appear first, freshly showered and wearing scowls that can probably be seen from space.
“You both played brilliantly,” says Clarke, slipping her phone back into her pocket and wrapping an arm around each of them as she bundles them into a group hug.
“Not well enough,” grumbles Octavia. “We should have won that game. We were all over them in the first half.”
“Fucking Woods,” adds Raven, shaking her head in disappointment. “Anyway, Harper is having the team around to hers tonight. We’re all going to drink ourselves into a coma. You coming?”
Behind Octavia and Raven, Lexa walks through the door from the Polis changing room, hair hanging in damp curls around her face and her black sports bag slung over one shoulder. Clarke makes eye contact with her, then immediately looks away before her friends notice what she’s looking at.
“I think I’ll pass,” answers Clarke, trying to keep her voice as level as possible, even as she sees Lexa drop down onto one knee and fiddle with her shoelace, as if she’s trying to hang around until Clarke is alone.
“Really?” asks Octavia, the surprise at Clarke turning down an opportunity to party evident in her voice.
“I’ve got other stuff to do,” says Clarke.
“Like what?” asks Raven.
“Revision.”
“On a Saturday night?”
Clarke hesitates, her eyes flicking between Octavia and Raven, who stare at her with matching expressions of disbelief, before she says, “Yeah. I remembered during the game that one of my professors is expecting me to read two chapters before Tuesday and I haven’t even opened the book yet.”
Octavia and Raven exchange a glance, and then Octavia says, “Bullshit.”
Clarke can’t help but let her eyes wander to the real reason why she doesn’t want to accept the invitation. Lexa is now preoccupied with rummaging around in her sports bag for something - whether she is actually looking for something or is just trying to make herself look busy so that it doesn’t seem suspicious that she’s hanging around outside the locker rooms, Clarke’s doesn’t actually know - but she glances up, as if sensing Clarke’s eyes on her, and shoots Clarke a smile.
Clarke smiles back, before she has the chance to remember that she is talking to the two people who have forbidden her from even lusting after their rival captain, and realises her mistake only too late. She watches, almost in slow motion, as Octavia and Raven follow Clarke’s gaze to see who she is smiling at, and the panic starts to rise in her chest.
“Maybe I could join you at the party a bit later?” Clarke blurts out, a desperate attempt to distract Octavia and Raven from what’s really going on here.
It doesn’t fool them.
“How long have you been sleeping with Lexa Woods?” asks Octavia, folding her arms across her chest as her attention turns back to Clarke.
“What?” exclaims Clarke, letting out a snort and shaking her head. “I’m not… what are you talking about? You think I’m…?”
“Clarke,” interrupts Raven. “We’re not stupid.”
Clarke feels her cheeks start to burn with embarrassment at being called out so spectacularly on her actions, though she valiantly maintains the frown of confusion on her face as if she has done nothing wrong at all.
“How long?” asks Octavia. “Was it before or after we told you not to?”
Clarke is momentarily prepared to fight, to lay out her argument and attempt to justify her actions because she is a grown woman goddamnit and can decide for herself who she does and doesn’t want to sleep with. But then she realises that Octavia and Raven don’t actually seem that mad, and wonders if perhaps they’ve known all along, if they had already worked out prior to Clarke’s slip up tonight that her interest in Lexa Woods was more than just a one-time ogle of a soccer team’s website.
Letting out a defeated sigh, Clarke says, “Well, in my defence, it started before…”
“I fucking knew it!” cries out Octavia, slapping her thigh with the palm of her hand. She holds out her other hand to Raven, and then says, “Pay up, Reyes.”
As Raven grumbles incoherently under her breath and reaches into her bag for her wallet to pull out a few crisp notes and pass them across to Octavia, Clarke’s mouth hangs open in surprise.
“Hold up, you guys knew ?”
“We had strong suspicions,” Octavia corrects Clarke, pocketing the winnings from her bet with Raven. “After we told you not to, Raven pointed out that you were probably more likely to go after Woods. I joked that you’d probably already slept with her.”
“I didn’t know who she was, I promise,” says Clarke. Her eyes flicker across to where Lexa leans against the wall of the changing rooms, now combing out her wet hair with her fingers, and her throat goes dry at the memories from the two nights they’ve spent together. “And I mean, have you seen how hot she is?”
“Can’t say I’ve ever noticed,” answers Octavia, shaking her head.
“Nope,” agrees Raven. “Every time I see her, the only thing I can think about are all the ways I could break her legs to stop her from playing soccer again.”
For a moment, Clarke isn’t one hundred percent sure if Raven is joking or not, until Raven speaks again.
“No, but seriously, Clarke,” adds Raven. “I hate her as a soccer player because she’s just too damn good. But if she makes you happy, then I’m cool with it, okay?”
“Same here,” adds Octavia.
“It’s just sex,” shrugs Clarke. And then, because she needs to get it off her chest and there is no such thing as oversharing with Octavia and Raven, she adds, “Really really good sex. God, it’s not just soccer she’s good at…”
“Okay, Clarke,” says Raven, as she winces at Clarke’s words. “We’ll leave you with your girl.”
“But you are coming to the party later,” says Octavia, with just a hint of a threat in her voice. “Just … do whatever it is you need to do with Woods, then get your ass over to Harper’s. I can forgive you for sleeping with the enemy, but not if you bail on us later, okay?”
As Octavia and Raven traipse away, muttering under their breath what Clarke is sure is another thinly veiled complaint about Polis beating Arkadia, Lexa stops pretending to be busy and wanders over to Clarke.
“I’m sorry your friends lost,” says Lexa. “They were a good match for us tonight.”
“You were better,” says Clarke, with a little shrug. “And they’re big girls, they’ll get over it. Actually, they might not - have you thought about hiring somebody to taste your food before you eat it just in case one of them slips you something laced with poison?”
Lexa laughs, and reaches out to take one of Clarke’s hands with her own.
“I overheard a little … I mean, I take it they know about us?” she asks Clarke.
“Apparently so,” nods Clarke. “And they’re surprisingly okay about it.”
“Cool,” says Lexa. “So, um … what are you doing tonight?”
Using their linked hands as leverage, Clarke pulls Lexa close to her and rests her other hand on Lexa’s waist.
“Well, I’ve been told I have to go to their little commiseration party,” says Clarke, pouting to convey that she would much rather be doing other things tonight. “And to be honest, somebody needs to make sure that they don’t all drink until they need to get their stomachs pumped.”
Lexa brushes some of Clarke’s hair out of her face, leaving her hand cupping the back of Clarke’s head.
“That’s a shame,” she murmurs. “How about tomorrow? Would you let me take you out on a proper date?”
Clarke’s heart does an actual honest-to-god somersault in her chest.
“You want to?” she asks in disbelief.
“I mean, only if you do.”
Clarke answers, not with words, but by pulling Lexa’s body flush against her own and pressing her lips to Lexa’s. Lexa seems taken aback at first, but then the hand cupping Clarke’s head buries itself in her hair while the other drops Clarke’s hand and instead winds its way around Clarke’s back, holding her close.
“Is that a yes?” Lexa murmurs against Clarke’s lips, barely breaking the kiss for long enough to speak, before her mouth is back on Clarke’s.
“Yes,” Clarke answers, her mind already starting to wonder just how late she’ll be able to turn up to Harper’s party without pissing her friends off. “Of course it’s a yes.”