Archive of Our Own

Clarke Griffin stood on her tiptoes to reach the box on the top shelf of her closet.  She brought it down and ran her fingers slowly across the brim.  It was an old-fashioned, satin hatbox.  Her father had gotten it for her when they went antiquing five years ago.  He had held it up to her face and said that it matched her eyes perfectly.  

Clarke bit back a lump in her throat as she opened it.  Four letters inside, wrapped in fancy envelopes and complete with addresses, because she needed every detail on them.  

Bellamy Blake, seventh grade birthday party 

Niylah Brooks, summer camp

Lexa Woods, model UN 

Wells Jaha, 5th grade homecoming.   

She dropped in another letter, feeling a weight lift off her chest.  

Finn Collins,  Raven’s boyfriend. 

Raven Reyes was her next door neighbor, and Finn lived in the house across from hers.  Maybe it was petty of her to think about, but by the time Raven had moved into the neighborhood, Clarke and Finn were already friends.  She had liked him a lot.  But Raven was like a force of nature, and within two weeks of her moving next door, they had all become best friends.  

Then two years ago, Raven had flopped down on the bed beside Clarke, her cheeks flushed and eyes radiant.  “Finn told me he liked me, and I kissed him.”  

Clarke’s smile came easily because she loved seeing Raven happy.  “That’s amazing!” she said, even as a tiny part of her heart ached against her will.  

Raven and Finn invited Clarke on their dates sometimes, which was endearing but awkward.  Things weren’t ever going to return to the way they used to be, but Clarke soon found a distraction.   

Her parents had adopted a little six-year old named Madi.  At first she would run away from Clarke and hide in her room, but after some gentle coaxing with movies and sweets, she tagged along behind Clarke like a duckling.    

As much as she also liked Finn, Madi adored spending time with Raven and Clarke.  None of them were related, but they were sisters nonetheless, with a pact to always stick together.  

That pact got shaken when Raven fast-tracked her GED and got accepted to a university in Germany.  

_________

“Do you have to go across an entire ocean?” Madi asked, sitting next to Raven on the bed.  Raven smiled.  

“It’s got an amazing mechanical engineering program.  And it’s less expensive than most of the schools here.”

“Can you even speak German?” Madi asked, raising an eyebrow.  Clarke shushed her as she wove a long braid into Madi’s thick mane of chestnut hair.  Raven laughed softly.  

“I’ll pick it up as I go.  My brain is all kinds of awesome.”  

“What about Finn?” added Madi.  Raven sighed, looking up at Clarke over Madi’s head.  

“Finn and I will keep in touch,” she settled on saying, but Clarke could see the tension on her face.  She had overheard them yelling last night; Raven had caught Finn searching for flights to Germany, and she didn’t want him throwing money away like that.  It ended with Raven storming away, and Finn standing frozen on the sidewalk.  

“Yay, then he can drive us to the store to get your favorite pie for Thanksgiving!” beamed Madi.  Raven sighed.  

“You’re not seeing me until Christmas, sweetie,” she stared at her hands for a moment, then said, “I have to go finish packing.  I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”  She got up from the bed, and Clarke could see Madi’s bottom lip beginning to tremble.    

“Hey Rav,” Clarke called out, and Raven turned back around.  “Peach Street girls, right?” she said, nudging her head towards Madi.  Raven grinned. 

“Always and forever.”  

Madi giggled, but her laughter faded away once Raven was gone.  She leaned back against Clarke. 

“I’m going to miss her so much.”  

“Me too,” whispered Clarke, kissing her forehead before pulling back the covers to tuck her little sister into bed.  

Abby Griffin had warned her about junior year, how acing anatomy and physiology was key to success on her pre-med career track, but what was more annoying to Clarke than formaldehyde-laced animal dissections was the fact that some people couldn’t fucking grow up. 

Clarke shut her locker and heard the click of a tongue before she turned around.  Echo was surveying her outfit with an arched eyebrow and a look on her face as if she had perpetual dung smeared under her nose. 

“A green leather jacket?” she asked derisively.  “Not very flattering, especially on your figure.”  

Clarke inhaled slowly, ready to walk away with a shrug when an arm looped around her shoulder. 

“Actually, I think Clarke’s new digs are pretty dope,” said Jasper, shit-eating grin slowly appearing on his face.  “You’re the one wearing a black Northface fleece in September.”   

Echo was five inches taller than him, but Jasper Jordan wouldn’t know intimidation if it spat in his face.  That was one of the strong reasons why he and Clarke were best friends.  

“So are you always cold or is it just your soul?” he continued.  Echo scowled, and Clarke was about to pull him away when another figure walked closer and leaned up against the lockers. 

“What’s going on?” asked Bellamy.  

“Nothing,” muttered Echo, her hand tugging at the fabric of his hoodie.  Bellamy’s eyes fell to Clarke. 

“Nice jacket,” he nodded, missing the dirty look that Echo threw him.  Clarke watched them leave in separate directions as the bell rang. 

“Word on the street is that they’re on the outs,” said Jasper, his voice raising in pitch on the last word.  Clarke rolled her eyes. 

“And why would I care about that?”  

 Jasper snorted.  “Cause Bellamy Blake was your first kiss.”  

Well, he wasn’t wrong.  It was Monty Green’s birthday party and Jasper had convinced everyone to play Spin the Bottle.  He tugged Clarke away from her sketchbook and she sat between Raven and Harper, across from Bellamy.  He spun the bottle and it pointed directly at Clarke, no room for debate.  She looked up at him with a nervous smile.  He was so cute, all freckles and curls.  She could hear Echo gasp from five feet away, because Echo was the one with the flaming crush on Bellamy, but Clarke didn’t care.  

She leaned forward slightly as Bellamy shifted forward on his hands and knees.  He kissed her and Clarke got lost in the sensation of soft lips and the taste of vanilla cake icing.  It was chaste and fleeting, but she couldn’t help but blush at the relaxed smile on Bellamy’s face, his eyes still closed.  

God, he had pretty eyelashes. 

She was still thinking about them when Echo stormed off in a bit of a huff. 

Bellamy Blake was my first kiss.  

“That was four years ago, and I don’t care,” said Clarke, holding her books tight to her chest.  Jasper shrugged.  

“You can deny it, but you two would be cute together.”  Clarke rolled her eyes. 

“Bellamy Blake is the last person I would ever date.” 

Later that day, Madi came bounding out of the middle school doors, nearly knocking Clarke off her feet.  

“I got a 95 on my book report!” she cried.  

Clarke smiled, running her hand over Madi’s braid.  

“That’s awesome.  Ready to go?”  

Madi nodded, and Clarke took her hand to cross the parking lot.  

“You know I can take the bus home if you want.”  Madi mumbled as they came closer to Clarke’s car, which was really Abby’s that they borrowed for the day.  

“Why would you do that? I can drive!”  Clarke raised her brows defensively.  Madi looked at the car and shrugged.  

“Maybe, but you sure can’t park.”  Clarke sighed, shaking her head.  

“Give me a break, I’m bi and only one tire is across the line.”  She tossed her backpack in the space next to Madi and strapped into the driver’s chair.  As she pulled the car into reverse, a torso appeared in her rear view mirror.  She slammed on the brakes just as the figure jumped.  

She groaned, seeing the figure walk over to her side through the corner of her eye.  The groaning increased as she rolled down the window. 

“Hey,” said Bellamy, resting his forearm on the roof of the car. 

“Hey.” 

 “You doing good, Princess?” 

“Yes, I am,” said Clarke, straight-faced.  Bellamy nodded, staring at the ground for a moment. 

“Well that’s good to hear, because for a second I thought you were going to run me over.”  

“Well I wasn’t.  I am an adequate driver,” she enunciated, willing him to leave.  Bellamy took another look at the lines in the lot. 

“Can you drive better than you park?”  he asked, a smile peeking through his poker face.  Clarke scowled, her composure breaking. 

“Yes, I’m fine, and you know it isn’t the worst parking job you’ve seen!”  

“She says she can’t park because she’s bisexual!” Madi called out from the backseat.  Clarke’s head fell onto the steering wheel and she counted to five.  She peaked through her bangs and Bellamy was still there, now fully smiling. 

“Learn something new everyday,” he said without malice, taking a step back from the car.  “You be nice to your sister!” he said to Madi.  She waved to him in response.  Clarke’s head returned to the steering wheel. 

“Who was that?” asked Madi. 

“That was Bellamy Blake.” 

“When are you starting the car?” 

“When all the other cars have left.” 

______________________

Clarke melted chocolate chips to drizzle over the popcorn as she sat down on the couch next to Madi, who had queued up a few reruns of Full House.  Clarke wasn’t the biggest fan of Full House, she would prefer to veg out with half a season of Bones, but Raven wasn’t around to veto Madi’s favorite.  

“You doing okay?” asked Madi.  Clarke nodded, throwing the blanket over her knees. 

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”  

Madi shrugged.  “Well… Ethan invited me out roller skating tonight, and the only reason I said no was because I didn’t want him to think it was a date.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “You’re in middle school Madi, you’re too young to date.” 

Madi threw her a pointed look.  “Exactly.  It’s Saturday night, and I’m the one with the almost date.”  She hit pause on the remote.  “You were okay with spending the weekend watching reruns of a show you don’t even like?”  

Clarke’s shoulders sagged.  “Well, Mom’s working the overnight, I had to be home with you.” 

“I’m 13, it’s not like I don’t know how to use a phone.  Besides, there aren’t any seventh graders throwing awesome parties.”

Clarke sighed.  “Being in high school’s not all about parties and going out.  It’s okay to stay in and have time for yourself.” 

Madi’s retort dies on her lips, but her expression turns pensive.  “I just don’t want you to be lonely, that’s all.”  

Clarke put on a false smile.  “I’m not lonely, Madi.  You don’t have to worry about me.”  

Madi hugged a pillow tighter.  

“I’m sorry about outing you to Bellamy.”  

“It’s okay, I forgive you,” Clarke responded soothingly.  “I don’t try to hide it at school, Madi.  And he won’t be mean about it.”  She paused for a moment, then added, “just take it as a learning moment, especially if you have friends who aren’t straight.”  

Madi nodded and said solemnly, “I will, I promise.”    

Clarke smiled, poking her affectionately in the side with her foot.  “Hit play, let’s see what happens to Uncle Jesse.”  

Third period gym wasn’t too bad, despite the heat of the noon sun beating down on Clarke as she jogged around the track.  Her lungs were burning, but considering how Jasper was panting like a dog, she couldn’t have been doing that bad.  

“I…hate running,” he said in short breaths.  Clarke snorted.  

“Jasper, if you don’t run, you’ll be the first to die in the zombie apocalypse.”  

“Why not?” he lamented dramatically.  “I’m already dead inside.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes, then a person jogging towards them caught her attention. 

“Hey, can we talk?”  Bellamy called out.  Clarke looked at him curiously. 

“…to me?”

 Bellamy nodded.  Jasper raised an eyebrow.  

“Blake, is it true that my step-cousin’s seeing some college guy named Roan?”  he asked. 

“Is it true that you have weed growing out of your ears?” countered Bellamy.  

Jasper laughed.  “I wish.”  

Bellamy rolled his eyes.  “I have to talk to Clarke.  Alone.” 

 Jasper gave Clarke a sly grin.  “If you need me,” he said, loping off the track.  “I’ll be in the nurse’s office with a migraine, googling pictures of Florence Pugh.” 

Bellamy turned to Clarke with a conflicted expression on his face.  

“I just…came over to say that I’m flattered, but it’s never going to happen, Princess.” 

Clarke scowled.  “What the hell are you talking about?”  Bellamy knitted his brow. 

“Look, from what I remember, you were a good kisser.  It was a hot kiss, by seventh grade standards,” he said, oblivious to Clarke’s mind having a nuclear meltdown as her eyes picked up on the pastel green envelope in his hand.  “I’m flattered that you think my freckles look like constellations…”

The rest of his words, something about a recent breakup, faded into dull noise as Clarke, overwhelmed with embarrassment, started backing away from him.  Her foot snagged on a sprinting block and she lurched backwards.   

Right before her head would have cracked against the concrete, freeing her from her misery, a large hand gripped her wrist and jerked her up.  

“Whoa whoa whoa, you alright?”  Bellamy had taken two strides to catch her.  “You looked like you got dizzy, have you hydrated?” 

“I’m fine,” Clarke mumbled, leaning into him, but over Bellamy’s shoulder she saw another boy walking towards the track. 

It was Finn Collins, and he was carrying a blue envelope. 

Every neuron in her brain was firing at light-speed and the only coherent thought in her head was the observation that Bellamy Blake still had his arms around her.  

In an impulsive rush, she gripped the front of Bellamy’s t-shirt and kissed his cheek.  Or rather, she tried to.  Her lips fell right on the scar above his mouth.  She froze for a moment and then broke the kiss with a slight push on his chest.  

All she managed to say was a hurried “thank you” to Bellamy as she raced past Finn and towards the sanctuary of the bathroom.  

___________

Maybe she would wake up and the whole experience would have been a dream, a nightmare worse than the one where she was standing naked in the football team’s locker room.  

But when she opened her eyes, she was still clad in her gym clothes, still hiding in a bathroom with her hands braced on the walls of the cubicle.  Footsteps tapped on the tiles.  Nice shoes, a men’s size. She only knew one boy at school who wore shoes like that.   

“Hey Clarke, you in here?” he called out.  She let out a soft groan.  

“Yeah, I am.”  

He slipped a lavender envelope under the door.  Wells Jaha, with an address only a few roads away from Peach Street.  

Clarke sighed, picking it up and unlocking the cubicle.  She leaned against the frame, looking at Wells and trying not to cry.  He didn’t seem upset, just concerned and a little amused.  

“You alright?” he asked.  She shook her head. 

“I’m not.  Wells, I’m so sorry. I wrote that letter a long time ago-“  He held up his hands.  

“It’s alright.  It’s actually kinda cute, because when I was eight, I did think I had a crush on you.”  He shrugged his hands awkwardly into his pockets.  “But you know I’m gay, right?” 

Clarke nodded.  “I didn’t then, but now, yeah…” 

“Like, I’m out, but I’m not out-out, you feel me?” 

“Yeah, like you’re not hiding it but you don’t have it on a neon sign.” 

“Exactly.  My mom knows, but my dad… he kinda knows but I haven’t told him that it isn’t a phase yet.”  

Clarke winced sympathetically.  “I know that feeling.”  

“And he thinks that it’d hurt my chances if I went into politics but I…” he shook his head and exhaled.  His attention fell back to the letter now clutched in Clarke’s fist. 

“Was I imagining things when I saw Blake and Collins holding letters like that on the track?”  

Clarke shook her head again.  Wells let out a small whistle. 

“Damn girl, what kind of mess are you in?” he asked.  Clarke let her face fall into her hands. 

“I have no idea, I can’t face either of them yet.”  

Wells checked his watch.  “I’ll take notes for you in French and tell Madame Byrne that you’re sick,” he said easily, shrugging.  “If you want to go home early.”   

Clarke rubbed the tears off her eyes.  “You’d do that for me?” 

Wells laughed softly.  “What are friends for?”  

Clarke sprang up and gave him a hug.  He patted her back affectionately. 

“But you owe me, Griffin.  Keep me updated on this love letter drama.”  

“That’s a lot to ask of me right now!” she called as she picked up her bag and fled.  

She wanted to go home right away, but her neighbors would gossip and tell Abby if she arrived home from school almost two hours early.  Madi was staying at a friend’s house tonight, which meant that Clarke had an afternoon to breathe. 

 So she biked to a small lot downtown and walked three blocks to the cafe.  It used to be called The Dropship.  Her dad would take her there every Friday after school for fries and milkshakes.  Since his death, the owners had switched, and now the neon pink and blue sign read Luna’s.   

Luna was nice though, and she gave Clarke a peppermint mocha frappe with nothing more than a smile and a raised eyebrow.  The minty chocolate helped Clarke relax, and soon after she reached into her bag and drew out a sketchbook.   

Drawing was her safe place.  She put pencil to paper, started sketching curves and shadows, and the outside world faded away.  The bell hanging above the door periodically dinged as she sat for a couple hours, completely absorbed in the landscape.  She added in the figure of a young woman with long, luscious hair, and a Darcy-esque young man walking towards his love.   

She was marking details to the flower petals in the top corner when a chair skidded out next to her.  She looked up, eyebrows raising in alarm at the sight of Bellamy.  

“Since when does the Princess of Peach Street cut class?” he asked, peering at the menu.  Clarke set her sketchbook down, prepping herself to face the problem she had tried to flee.  

“It was just half of gym and French.  What are you doing here?” 

Bellamy ordered a strawberry milkshake and turned to her.  

“I went by your place after school, and you weren’t there.  Collins was, and he said that you like to hang out here,” he said, his jaw twitching ever so slightly.  “He had to stay home, so he told me to ask if you’re alright.”  

“I’m fine,” said Clarke, a little snappishly, glancing at her phone and realizing that she had a missed text and call from him.  “Why were you looking for me?” 

Bellamy sighed, dropping his voice slightly.  “I came by to say again that I’m flattered, honestly.  But Echo and I just broke up.” 

“Is this another rejection?”  Clarke rubbed her temples.  Bellamy seemed affronted at her tone. 

“Well, yeah… I don’t think the message sunk in earlier.” 

Clarke shook her head as the strawberry milkshake was placed on the table.  “Bellamy Blake, read my lips.  I don’t want to date you.” 

“I am reading them but earlier…they were doing something quite different,” he muttered, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly as his thumb rubbed the scar on his lip.  

Clarke groaned, resting her face in her hands for a few moments.  “Okay, here’s what happened.  I don’t actually like you, I just had to make it look like I did, because otherwise another person would think that I liked them.”  

Bellamy took a long sip and raised an eyebrow.  “Alright… tell me who it is.” 

“What?”

“Tell me who this mystery stud or hot girl is,” Bellamy shrugged, “or I’ll just think you’re lying, and you have a tattoo of my face somewhere.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “Absolutely not.”   

“C’mon,” he persisted.  “I don’t care enough to tell.” 

She sighed, turning to him.  “It’s Collins.” 

Bellamy’s eyebrows disappeared under his bangs.  “Collins? Isn’t he dating your neighbor?” 

“Yes… then Raven went to Germany and broke up with him beforehand,” Clarke ran a few fingers through her hair,  “and Finn got a letter too by the way so that’s going to be a whole othe-“ 

“Whoa-whoa-whoa hold on, stop-“ Bellamy held up a hand.  “I wasn’t the only guy who got a letter?” 

Clarke shook her head.  Bellamy exhaled, staring off at the window. 

“Wow, for a few hours, you feel really special, then you find out another guy got a love letter.”   

 “Well, I wrote five, don’t go feeling too special,” she sassed.  

“You wrote FIVE?” he asked incredulously. 

“Five.” 

“Five guys?” 

“Three guys and two girls.” 

Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck.  “Damn Princess, you know how to play the field.” 

“Yeah, for both teams,”  Clarke said without thinking, then she immediately started laughing.  She looked over and saw Bellamy smiling at her stupid joke.  

“Okay, so who are the other three?” he prodded.  Clarke rubbed her temples. 

“If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”   

Bellamy shrugged.  She stared at her hands for a moment. 

“Okay.  Wells Jaha.” 

“Isn’t he gay?” 

“He is, but he was really cool about it.  The letter, I mean, obviously he’s cool with being-”

“Clarke.” 

“Right.  The other two are a girl from summer camp and a girl who I went to model UN with.  Fairly sure you don’t know them.”  She zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.  “So…are we done here?”

Bellamy waved his hand, sipping his drink again.  “I guess so.”  

Clarke stood up and was about to walk past his chair when Bellamy tugged gently at her sleeve. 

“Wait,” he said, and Clarke hovered next to him.  

“What?” 

“What are you going to say to Collins?” he asked.  Clarke shrugged.

“I’ll tell him the truth, I guess.”  

Bellamy furrowed his brows.   “But what is the truth? Do you really like that guy?”  His voice dropped a bit. “Cause honestly? You can do a lot better than him.”  

She thought for a moment, then gave a noncommittal sigh and left the cafe.  Halfway to her bike, she heard Bellamy call out behind her.  He jogged to catch up, his stupid messenger bag bouncing against his hip. 

“What if you didn’t tell him?”  he asked, a bit breathless.  Clarke’s steps grounded to a halt.  

“What are you talking about?”

“What-what if we let people think that we were together?”  Bellamy offered.  “Just for a little while.  And not just Collins, I mean… everyone.” 

Clarke raised a brow.  “Why would you want that?” 

Bellamy put his hands in his pockets.  “When Echo heard that you kissed me at the track, she went haywire.  If she thinks we’re dating…”

Clarke scrunched her nose.  “You want to make her jealous, so she’ll get back together with you.” 

“No, not at all,” he said quickly.  “She dumped me out of nowhere, and it hurt.  I want to get back at her.”  His grin became a little more sinister, and Clarke hated the rush that it sent up her back.  “I want her to know that I am fine without her.  Amazing, actually.” 

Clarke chuckled.  “I see.  So I’m your rebound.” 

Bellamy squinted.  “Didn’t you use me as a rebound first?  When you… accosted me?” 

Clarke bit her lip.  “Fair point.”  She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and started walking away.  Bellamy walked beside her.  “I’ll think about your idea.”  

“Tell me tomorrow,” he said, after they had reached her bike.

Clarke sighed.  “Alright, I will.” 

He took a look at the basket on the front of her bike, decorated with as many ribbons as Madi was able to find.  “Taking a break from trying to park a car?  As a bisexual?”    

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “Goodbye, Bellamy.” 

___________

She arrived home ten minutes later and raced up to her room.  She tore through her closet and underneath her bed, but the hatbox was nowhere in sight.  Heart pounding, she sprinted back downstairs to check Abby’s Goodwill pile.  No hatbox to be seen.  Then her eyes fell on a soft yellow envelope on the counter.  She picked it up immediately.  Addressed to Niylah Brooks, stamped RETURN TO SENDER.   

Clarke fell onto the sofa and exhaled loudly.  Three letters accounted for.  Finn was a loose cannon.  Wells knew and was fine with it.  Bellamy knew and found a way to benefit from it.  Niylah would never know.   

She put her palms over her eyes.  In all honesty, she wouldn’t mind if Niylah knew.  She’d probably think it was cute.  Lexa, on the other hand, would make some snippy comment about Clarke’s sentimental nature causing her to make impulsive, foolish decisions.  Ugh. 

And then there was Finn, who was sitting on his front porch when Clarke ditched her bike in the driveway to run inside.  He hadn’t knocked on her door, thankfully.  She crossed her fingers that Abby wouldn’t try to invite him to dinner that night.  

Clarke tossed a pillow at the other end of the sofa, her heart crumpling at the loss of the hatbox.  Maybe Madi knew where it was.  But for now, Clarke took a cookie from the porcelain jar in the kitchen to console herself.  She went back up to her bedroom and took out her yearbooks.   

The middle school one had a whimsical cover that Clarke had helped design.  She flipped to the front of her class page.  

There was Bellamy, his face rounder, but still full of freckles.  She thumbed through the next few years, seeing him with an unflatteringly short hair cut, then one where his hair nearly fell to his shoulders.  Some where he smiled, one that had him scowling.  She bit back a laugh at that one. 

Bellamy Blake was undeniably handsome.  And he wanted her to pretend to be his girlfriend.  Why should she not?  Clarke pulled out a notebook and made a list.  

Pros of Fake Dating Bellamy:

1. Finn doesn’t find out 

2. Which means Raven doesn’t find out 

3. Echo is pissed off until… graduation? Maybe forever? It’d be worth it, so worth it. 

Cons of Fake Dating Bellamy:

1. Weird, it has to be weird, right?

2. He’s so ANNOYING 

3. How to explain to Madi 

Her head hit the pillow, but she had reached a conclusion.  She had never dated anyone before, all she had was a string of failed crushes and flings.  So why not practice on someone she didn’t like? It’d be like a science experiment, and she could control all the variables.  Figure out what was effective, and what failed.  With no emotional fallout. 

A while passed, and she heard the front door opening.  Abby was home.  Clarke pulled up her laptop.  She sent a few emails, then opened a Bob Ross tutorial to decompress.  Her Skype icon binged with a message. 

Raven: Hey girl, want to skype in ten? 

Clarke bit her lip.  She hadn’t seen Raven in two weeks, and her heart ached.  Her fingers flew to the keyboard. 

Clarke: Got a paper to do :( tomorrow? 

. . . 

Raven: ok, sure 

Clarke shut her laptop, rubbing her hands over her eyes and groaning. 

Any other situation, Raven would be the first to hear about this.  

But that couldn’t be the case.  

This scheme was going to pay off. 

It had to. 

The next day, Clarke took the early bus with Madi and dropped off her bag in her locker.  It was 7am Thursday, which meant Bellamy wasn’t in school at the moment.  He was finishing up practice at the ice rink across the street.  Clarke zipped up her jacket and walked ten minutes from the ground floor of the school into the rink.  

This meeting would be over, quickly.  She’d be in homeroom with plenty of time to sketch.  

A faint cold breeze hit her face, followed quickly by the stale scent of sweaty hockey gear.  It lingered even before tryouts.  She scrunched up her nose, quickening her steps until she reached the bench where the opposing team would sit.  Bellamy was in net on the other side of the rink.  

When it seemed like the skaters were dispersing, she held up a hand and waved to him.  He glided over smoothly, dropping his stick, gloves, and helmet with a teammate before coming up to her, that tiny wall between them. 

Clarke held in a momentary breath.  Bellamy was a head taller than her, and the skates gave him an extra boost.  His padded gear gave more breadth to his already broad shoulders.  His hair was in wet curls, nearly falling into his eyes. 

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, but with that knowing, crooked smile of his.  He put his forearms on the wall so that they were at eye level.  Clarke smoothed down the front of her jacket.  

“I’m saying yes,” she replied, watching his eyes widen slightly.  “Let’s do this.”  

“Great,” Bellamy breathed out, and not even a moment later, dropped his forehead to hers.  He kissed her with his hands on her waist, the rest of his teammates watching.  Clarke indulged in it for a moment, his jersey fisted in her hand.  He smelled good but it wasn’t enough to drown out the background scent of used hockey gear, and she pulled away from his lips quickly.  

Over the sound of her heart hammering, she could hear a few snickers from his teammates. 

“Meet me outside at lunch,” she hissed at Bellamy as he got himself over the wall and onto the bench.  He raised an eyebrow and nodded.

___________

The mid-September afternoon was sunny with a cool wind when they sat outside the cafeteria.  Clarke ignored the faint sound of onlookers giggling as she faced Bellamy.  She bit the side of her mouth.  

“You can’t kiss me like that, Bellamy.” 

Bellamy cocked his head.  “I thought we were going to be public.  Me kissing you in front of the guys was the fastest way to do that.” He took a bite of his sandwich.  “I’m sure Echo’s friends have already found out.” 

“Echo has friends?” asked Clarke.  Bellamy nearly choked, then he swallowed and nodded.  

“She has a little posse who just like her Instagram stuff.” 

“Just because we’re …pretending to date,” she dropped her voice, “doesn’t mean that you’re going to make out with me when you feel like it.”  She pulled out a notebook and opened it to a blank page.  “Let’s set up a contract so we can outline some rules.” 

Bellamy let out a whistle.  “Setting up some rules?  Clarke, you’re really knocking the fun out of this situation.” 

She ignored him.  “It’s important to know where both of us stand on certain issues.  First off, I don’t want you kissing me like that anymore.” 

Bellamy furrowed his brow.  “Okay, but who’s going to believe that we’re in a relationship if we’re not kissing each other?”

Clarke sighed,  “I know you’re kind of a Casanova, but I’ve never had a boyfriend.” 

“What about a girlfriend?” asked Bellamy.  Clarke shook her head. 

“Neither of those girls really wanted me like that.”  

His face fell slightly.  “So you feel a little insecure about dating,” he concluded. 

 She nodded.   “I don’t want all my firsts to be fake. That includes whatever making out can lead to.”  

Bellamy raised an eyebrow.  “But you kissed me first.” 

Clarke put pen to paper.  “This is non-negotiable. No kissing.”  

She wrote the first rule down, and in an afterthought, added “(on the lips).”  

“Alright, I guess that works,” huffed Bellamy.  “But we need something else.  People will get suspicious if I’m giving you these tiny pecks but not touching you.” 

“Handsy,” Clarke teased, staring up at the tree over them with her pen tapping against her chin.  “Okay, you can put your arm around my shoulders and also my waist.  We can do little picnics on the grass with a blanket during lunch when it’s nice out.” 

“Those are pretty specific, are you referencing a movie?”  Bellamy crossed his arms across his chest.  Clarke pretended not to notice how solid his frame was.  

“Yes, A Walk to Remember,” she said off-handedly.  “It’s a classic.”  

Bellamy shrugged.  “Never heard of it.” 

“Then we’re watching it,” said Clarke, adding it to the list.  “And next, neither of us can ever tell anyone that this relationship is fake. It’d be too humiliating for both of us.” 

Bellamy nodded, “Yeah, you don’t tell people on Monday what happened in Saturday’s detention.” 

Clarke knitted her brows.  “What?”  

“That’s a Breakfast Club reference,” he said, then his eyes widened.  “You haven’t seen it?” 

Clarke shrugged. 

“It’s an iconic 80s movie!  And you’re watching what, some sappy romcom from the early aughts?” asked Bellamy, running a hand through his hair. 

“I wouldn’t call A Walk to Remember a romcom-” she interjected.  Bellamy pointed to her list. 

“Still, write that down.  Double feature.  We’ll watch it after your not-a-romcom movie.” 

Clarke sighed, her eyes skimming the list.  “Okay, no kissing, the movies, no snitching.”  She looked up at Bellamy.  “Anything else?” 

He played with a loose thread on the cuff of his hoodie and shrugged.  He looked up at her, and his expression seemed a little shy and sheepish.  Were his eyelashes always that gorgeous? 

“I could write you notes,” he said softly.  “I’ll slip you notes every day.” 

Clarke’s heart did a little skip-n-a-jump.  “You’d do that?” 

Bellamy nodded.  “Yeah, I would.”  He stared off into the distance for a moment.  “Echo always wanted me to write them, but I never found the time to do it.”  

“Oh,” said Clarke, hiding her crestfallen look with a smile.  “Then that’s sure to piss her off.” 

“Oh, another thing,” Bellamy snapped his fingers.  “You should come to my games.  And any parties I get invited to, because I refuse to go on my own.” 

“Are you implying that I don’t get invited to parties?” 

“Oh for hell’s sake, you know what I mean.” 

“Fine,” countered Clarke, “then can you pick up my sister and I every day for school?  I hate taking my mom’s car.” 

“You hate parking,” smirked Bellamy.  Clarke scoffed. 

“Carpool or not?” 

“I’ll do the carpool,“ he said, grabbing the notebook and pen.  “But I want you to come on the Québec trip with me.  It’s the only weekend I have free from hockey.” 

Clarke felt her cheeks go red for a moment.  The phrase “ce qui’arrive en Québec reste en Québec” flashed through her mind; Emori had giggled and whispered it to Harper in French class last year.  This trip was an alleged hotspot for hookups, more than prom and homecoming combined.  Students pretty much dropped their V-cards at the border.  A wild adventure, one that Clarke had never attended. 

She furrowed her brows. “That trip is three months away.  Are we really pulling this con out that long?” 

Bellamy thought for a moment, then leaned forward.  “Let’s call it a contingency.”  He cocked his head, his gaze quickly flickering to the people sitting at other tables.  “No one in their right mind would let their partner go on that trip without them.” 

“Yes, because high schoolers have no concept of trust or fidelity-“  

“-So if we are still doing this by the time it comes around, you have to go with me,” finished Bellamy.  “Please do not make me spend hours in a museum by myself with no one to talk to.” 

Clarke sighed, not believing that this trip would ever become a reality.  “Okay, I’ll make sure my passport is up to date.” 

She put two lines underneath the contract, and away they signed. 

“MADI!”  Clarke yelled from the base of the staircase.  “ARE YOU READY TO GO?” 

“IN A MINUTE!” came the muted response.  Clarke sighed, running her fingers through her curls and packing a banana into her sister’s lunchbox.  

Madi came bounding down the stairs, one of her braids already coming undone.  “Sit still and let me fix this,” sighed Clarke, retying it as Madi peered at the car outside. 

“Who’s that?” 

“It’s Bellamy.”

“Why is Bellamy here?”  

“He’s giving us a ride.”  

At Madi’s raised eyebrows, Clarke pushed the lunchbox into her hands and gave her a gentle push towards the door.  She bounced into the backseat of Bellamy’s Jeep. 

“I like your car,” she told Bellamy immediately.  “Especially with the cloth seats. Leather seats are too cold.”  

Clarke winced, but Bellamy merely chuckled.  “Glad you like it kid, I’m too broke for leather seats.”  They buckled their seatbelts and Bellamy put the car into drive.  From the backseat, Madi noisily opened one of her snacks.

“What are those, kid?” asked Bellamy.

“Fruit snacks,” Madi said around a mouthful of gelatin.  

“Can I have one?” 

She handed him a strawberry one.  Clarke tried not to notice how his shirt stretched thin over his shoulders as he reached backward.  

“Those are good, what can I do to get a pack of them tomorrow?” 

“You’re driving us again tomorrow?”  Madi raised her brows in excitement.  

Bellamy nodded to her and with a smirk at Clarke, whispered, “progress.”

Madi stretched out across the backseat.  “Why are you driving us, though?  Did you lose a bet?” 

Bellamy stared at Clarke for a moment before facing the road. 

“Uh… I’m driving you because I’m your sister’s boyfriend, I guess?” 

Clarke choked on her bottle of cranberry juice, but nodded as Madi let out a little cheer.   

Bellamy took his right hand off the wheel as they neared the school, leaving it between them on the console.  Clarke took it hesitantly, her heart beating a little faster as his fingers curled around hers. 

He looked over to her for a second and smiled.  Clarke beamed back in return, nearly missing Madi’s shouted ‘goodbye!’ as she jogged into school.  

“I’m ready,” he said. 

“For what?” 

“For my first day as your new boyfriend.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes as he parked the car, but she let him walk around to open her door. 

For a fake boyfriend, he was certainly setting the standards high. 

_____________

Walking around school with Bellamy Blake was…easy. 

Being with Bellamy Blake was easier than she anticipated.  

Most people looked at them, raised an eyebrow, and then looked away.  Jasper snickered and Wells gave her a thumbs up at every opportunity. 

It felt good strolling into the cafeteria with Bellamy’s arm wrapped around her waist.  She felt his hand slide down to her hip, his thumb hooking on the belt loop of her jeans.  He tugged, and with that nimble flick of the wrist, Clarke had spun fully into his arms, her hands braced on his chest.  She giggled, despite herself, letting her face linger in his neck for a moment before leaning back to look at him. 

“I have to go to history,” he said softly, pulling out a note from his back pocket.  The outer fold had a tiny crown and heart inked in the center.  He tucked it into the small pocket on her blouse. “See you later?” 

Clarke nodded, a grin stretching her face as Bellamy tousled her hair and kissed her forehead before walking away.  She sat down with Emori and Harper, letting their giggles wash over her as she took out Bellamy’s note and unfolded it. 

"That soft pink sweater you wore yesterday?  Please wear it again sometime soon. The way it looks with your hair and eyes?   You’re killing me, Princess." 

Her cheeks warmed, and she put the note back into her pocket.  Between Emori and Harper, she could see Echo glaring at her from another table, eyes cold and lips curled into a snarl.  

Clarke curled her lips too — into a smile.  

“Thank you so much,” Madi said, sitting on the counter and letting her heels swing.  Clarke dusted her hands off on her pants, leaving flour handprints on her thighs.  

“No problem.  At least you remembered that you had to make cupcakes at 4 in the afternoon, not 8 at night.” 

“They’re going to be really good, you’re awesome at baking.”  Her hand swiped for the frosting bowl but Clarke batted it away. 

“You’re supposed to be cleaning the batter bowl so we aren’t left with a sink full of dishes by the end of this.” 

“I have been cleaning it!” 

Clarke looked up and saw chocolate cake batter smeared dimple to dimple on Madi’s grinning face.  She let out a soft laugh and handed her a paper towel.   

“Cute.  But hurry up, the last batch is going in and we need that bowl to melt butter.”  

“Okay, okay! I promise that when everyone loves these, I’ll say that you made them.” 

“Oh, thank you for being so kind to share the credit with me.” 

The two made a pretty good team in the kitchen, moving around each other with practiced ease.  Clarke was elbows deep in powdered sugar when the doorbell rang.  

“I’ll get that!”  Madi jumped down from the countertop and ran through the hallway.  Just over the sound of her own humming, Clarke heard her sister shout, “Hey Bellamy!”  

The hand mixer slipped from her grip, causing the beaters to whir on the granite counter.  “Shit,” she whispered, shutting it off and wiping up the mess.  Madi came bouncing back down with Bellamy in tow.    

“This is quite an operation you’ve got here,” he remarked, surveying the organized chaos of the kitchen.  Clarke sighed, swiping her forehead with the back of her hand. 

“Yeah, well this one forgot that she signed up for the bake sale tomorrow.”  

 Madi looked up guiltily as Bellamy took a seat on the bar stool. 

“Why not brownies?  They’re easy.”  

“Brownies don’t make a statement,” said Clarke, decorating a frosted cupcake with rainbow sprinkles.  Bellamy rolled his eyes. 

“Okay.  Well, there’s a party tonight, I wrote it in my note this morning,” he said, crossing his arms on the counter.  

“Oh yeah, I just thought it didn’t start until 6:00,” said Clarke off-handedly.  

“Look at the clock, Princess.”

She turned to the cat-clock on the wall and raised her brows.  Almost half-past five, time had slipped away. 

“Do we have to get there on time?” 

“No, but I have to take my car through the wash first.”  

“Okay, well uhm… one more batch is going in, this one needs another minute to cool and I have to make another bowl of frosting, and fix dinner for Madi before I go….” 

“Clarke, go to the party, I can make myself dinner,” pouted Madi, pointing to the Kraft boxes in the cabinet. 

“No, you’re not having mac and cheese for the third night in a —“    

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s hand reached out and caught her elbow, “I’ll help you finish these up.”  

She raised a brow.  “You bake?”  

He nodded.  “Yeah, I used to with my si- grandmother,” he cleared his throat.  “And I also worked a summer in the bakery downtown.”  As if to prove his point, Bellamy took the nearly-empty piping bag and made a flawless vanilla swirl on top of a cooled cupcake.  Clarke shook her head.  

“You’re just perfect at everything, huh?”  

Bellamy shrugged.  “It’s a gift.” 

She sighed, taking in the room.  “Okay, Madi, rinse that bowl in the sink.  I’ll wipe down the counters.”  

“I can put these on a rack,” said Bellamy, reaching past her to pick up the last batch of cupcakes.  His arm brushed hers, and the warmth sent sparks up to her shoulder.  He also smelled really good, woodsy scent cutting through the cloud of sugar and vanilla.  It wasn’t helping the situation.   

The process went even quicker with three, though there was less room to move around.  Clarke was sliding the last tray in the oven when the front door opened again.  

 Abby walked into the kitchen, her eyes immediately catching on their guest. 

“Is that Bellamy Blake?” she asked, beaming.  Bellamy smiled and waved. 

“Hello Mrs. Griffin.” 

“You’ve gotten so tall!”  

“I’m glad you think so.”  

Abby dropped her purse on the table. 

“What’s the occasion for the visit?” 

Bellamy shot Clarke a look that implied, “oh, you didn’t tell your mom about me?” 

“I came here to pick up Clarke for a party and uh, got roped into the cupcake factory.”  

Abby came over and wiped frosting off the counter, causing Clarke to wince at the missed spot.  

“Well, I can take over now.  Clarke, go change for this party, you’re covered in flour.”  

“You sure?  I can get dinner started.”  Clarke pulled Bellamy away from the stove as her mother stood next to Madi.  

“Oh nonsense,” Abby waved her off.  “I thought we could order pizza tonight.” 

Madi let out a cheer.  Clarke hid a grimace as she rubbed her eyes. 

“Alright.  Bellamy, I’ll be just five minutes.”  

“Take your time,” he said softly, his hand rubbing her arm as if completely natural.  Clarke took the stairs two at a time, shutting her bedroom door quietly.  It was difficult to put together an outfit when Bellamy was downstairs making small talk with her mother and sister.  What were people expecting her to wear as his girlfriend?  She was walking a tightrope between prudish and slutty.  

Clarke settled on a scoop-neck sweater (she did NOT need anyone looking at her chest tonight, thank you very much), a plaid skirt that accentuated her butt as best it could, and kitten heels.  She gave the look a playful feel by tying up her hair with her favorite pink ribbon.  Satisfied, she swiped on a bit of concealer, mascara, and lipgloss before heading back downstairs.  

“Do you need a coat?”  Bellamy asked.  She shook her head.  

“I’m good, let’s get going.”  

___________

Bellamy drove in silence till they reached the car wash.  Clarke leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes as the car was scrubbed through.  

“I used to love these as a kid.” 

Bellamy chuckled, then he flexed his fingers on the wheel, as if figuring out how to articulate a thought. 

“Clarke, you seemed annoyed at your mom earlier.” 

“When am I not?” she quipped.  He shook his head. 

“It was right when she said she would order out for dinner.” 

Clarke sighed.  “Because that’s all she does if I don’t cook.  If it’s not pizza, it’s Chinese takeout or Italian, or she heats up leftovers I made.”  She rubbed her eyes.  “Madi learned how to make mac and cheese and chicken nuggets because my mother burned them twice.”  

Bellamy’s hand found hers, and he gave her knuckles a squeeze.  

“That must be rough.  Why can’t she cook?  She must have when you were a kid.” 

“I know work stresses her out.  And I really think it’s my dad being gone.”  Clarke looked at the water sloshing against the window.  “I mean… they loved cooking together, it was their thing. And now she really can’t be in the kitchen without one of us in there with her.”  

She looked back at Bellamy, and his face was solemn.  

“It’s been about a year since your dad passed?  I remember you missing school.” 

Clarke nodded.  “It’ll be a year in about a month.” 

Bellamy exhaled.  “Clarke, I should’ve said something then, I did feel bad —“  

“It’s alright,” she assured him, “I was a wreck, but I’m better now.”  She took a deep breath.  “Actually, you saying something now does help, because it feels good to talk about it with a friend.” 

“I’m your fake boyfriend, I think emotional support was an unwritten part of the contract.” 

“Hah.”  

She squeezed his hand back, shutting her eyes and enjoying the warmth seeping into her palm.  When she opened her eyes again, Bellamy had a soft smile on his face. 

“Are you up for this party?  We can turn around right now and do something else.” 

Clarke shook her head.  “I’m good, let’s go to it.” 

___________

Riley’s house was a mansion, to say the least.  When Bellamy and Clarke were ushered in through the front door, a massive chandelier glittered an easy ten feet above their heads.  

Clarke smoothed the front of her sweater and gave her skirt a tug.  

“Ready when you are.”   

Bellamy turned to her, saw her fussing with her bow, and shook his head.  “Hang on, let’s fix this.”  He reached for her bow, but Clarke batted his hand away. 

“What are you- no, Bellamy!” 

“I like your hair down,” he said softly, gently tugging the ribbon out of her hair.  He pulled out his phone to snap a photo of her.  “I’ll even prove it to you.”  

Clarke huffed, patting her waves for frizz as he tapped on his screen.  “Well don’t lose that, okay? It’s my favorite.” 

“It’ll stay right here,” Bellamy tied it on his wrist and used his mouth to remake the bow.  “It’ll make me look like I’m yours.  My favor from the Princess, seems appropriate.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes.   “Whatever, Bellamy.  Can we go in now?”

“One last thing,” he said.  “Hand me your phone.” 

“Why?” 

“Just trust me.”  With another sigh, she passed her turquoise-cased cell into his palm.  Bellamy took it and pointed it at himself, smirking naturally.  The shutter clicked. 

“There,” he handed it back.  “You can set that as your background.” 

“And what’s your background?” sassed Clarke.  Bellamy smiled, reaching into his pocket.  

“Relax girl, I got it.”  He held up the selfie he had just taken of her underneath the chandelier.  Clarke closed her eyes and took a slow breath.   

“It’s going to be a long night,” she thought, right as Bellamy’s hand clasped around hers, and he tugged her into the celebrations.  

_________

But the party wasn’t as horrendous as it could’ve been.  Certainly packed, but people were clustered in groups and navigating was fairly easy.  Riley’s parents had pool and foosball tables at one end of the room and a giant flatscreen television at the other.  Couches banked the walls and were accompanied by red cup-laden coffee tables.  

Bellamy got claps on the back as they walked through, and Clarke found herself smiling.  They found Riley trying to sink a striped billiards ball.  He looked up at them with a grin.  

“Bellamy, Clarke!  Didn’t think you could make it.”  He did a handshake with Bellamy and gave Clarke a side hug. 

“How you doing, man?” 

“Terrible.  Mind subbing in for me while I get another drink?”  He handed the cue stick over as Bellamy agreed.  He tapped Clarke on the shoulder.  

“Can I get you anything?  Water, wine?”  

“Rosé if you have it.”  

Riley smirked, gesturing to the house.  “Look around, do you even have to ask?”  

Clarke lingered at the pool table for a minute or two, watching Bellamy take over.  Then she heard her name, and saw Harper and Emori waving to her.  She crossed over to the couch and sat across from them.  A feeling sunk deep in her stomach when she saw who had been sitting between them, hidden from her line of sight. 

“Well,” Echo’s voice was sickly sweet.  “If it isn’t Bellamy’s golden girl.”  

Harper pushed her shoulder.  “Hey, we told you to be nice.”  She turned to Clarke.  

“So, tell us, how’s it been dating Bellamy?”  

Clarke shrugged.  “Good, what do you really want to know?”  

Emori raised an eyebrow.  “It’s been a couple months, have you … taken things far?”  

Clarke scratched at her fingertips.  “Well, we’re just enjoying the small steps now, it’s nice taking it slowly.”  

Echo chuckled.  “So you’ve done nothing.  Girls, anything you want to know about Bellamy, you know I can really tell you.”  She tapped her empty cup and stood up.  

“Oh and Clarke?”  She looked over her shoulder.  “Don’t take things too slow.  Boys get impatient when they can’t turn a good girl bad.”   

And with a cruel smile, she left.  Clarke sat back against the couch, dejectedness sinking into her features.  Harper immediately switched to her other side, and Emori scooted closer. 

“Don’t listen to her,” cooed Harper, “She just can’t stand seeing you happy.”  

“And it’s clear that you make Bellamy really happy, which she can’t stand either,” added Emori, rubbing Clarke’s shoulder.  “So don’t feel like you have to change yourself for her or him.”  

Clarke accepted their comfort with a smile, wondering how she could ever tell them that she wasn’t actually developing any real intimacy with Bellamy.   

Just at that moment, the young man in question returned with two cups in hand.  Emori and Harper gave her a wink before shuffling away, letting him sit down beside her.   

“Here, Riley told me to give this to you. I took a sip, it’s fine.  I gave him an edge over Sterling and now he’s determined to win the round.”  She started drinking it and wrinkled her nose. 

“Ugh, rosé isn’t bitter!”  

Bellamy quickly swapped the cups.  

“Wrong one, that’s my iced tea.  I’m driving you home.” 

“You’re drinking unsweetened black tea?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you even human?” 

“Very funny.”  He put his arm atop the back of the couch, and Clarke fell back into it.  

“Was she bothering you?” he asked quietly.  Clarke shook her head. 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”  She pulled out her phone.  “Here, let’s take another photo.”  

She kissed Bellamy’s cheek as the camera clicked, and she wished his gentle laugh didn’t make her feel fuzzy.  Maybe it was just the wine.

When Bellamy got up to use the bathroom, Clarke wandered around the room.  She soon felt someone ruffle the back of her head.  Wells greeted her with a warm smile. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming tonight!”  she hugged him and felt him rubbing her arms affectionately.  

“Here I am,” he pulled back and took a few glances around the room.  “So you and Blake, huh? You swung that pretty well.”  Clarke shrugged.   

“I guess he likes me back.”  Wells raised an eyebrow.  

“This is for real?  You know I’m pretty good at guessing when someone is lying.”    

Clarke chuckled, hiding the nerves in her voice by pushing her hair behind her ears.  “It’s real, Wells,” she said, impishly looking at his screen.  “Wait, who is Ilian - oh he’s cute!”  

Wells snatched his phone away, warmth flushing his cheeks.  “We’re just talking. He goes to the high school in Polis.” 

She smiled mischievously.  “I hope the talking leads to something good.  The football team’s playing Polis next week, will you see him then?”  

Wells crossed his fingers, making her smile.  A buzz on his phone drew his attention.  

“Oh and Griffin,” he looked over his shoulder as he walked away.  “Steer clear of Bellamy’s ex.” 

“Don’t have to tell me that,” mumbled Clarke, sipping the last of her rosé.  

___________

Bellamy heard the bathroom door open while he was washing his hands. 

“Still occupied,” he called out, and in looking up, scowled as he shut off the water.  Echo stalked up to him, arms crossed over her chest.  

“What do you want?”  

“Clarke Griffin, huh?”  

Bellamy rolled his eyes.  “And why do you care? What, did your college boyfriend not invite you to his parties, that’s why you’re stuck at this one?”    

Echo curled her lip, but her eyes lit up with glee seeing the ribbon on his wrist.  

“Aww,” she pitched her voice high, “Look at the little dog tag she’s given you.”  She pulled it off his wrist and tied it around the bottom of her braid. “How do I look?”  

Bellamy glared. “Pink was never your color. Give it back.”  

Echo pouted.  “No, I’m gonna keep it.”   

Bellamy swiped, and was just quick enough to pull it free of her hair before she swatted his hand away.  

“Ow, still so rough,” she purred, and Bellamy felt like throwing up.  

“Get the fuck out, and leave Clarke alone.”  

Echo sighed, heading for the door.  “Okay, but when you get bored with your little charade, you know where to find me.”  

And with that, she left him alone.  Bellamy sighed, tucking Clarke’s ribbon deep into a secure pocket on his pants.  He washed his hands again, splashing his face for good measure.  Echo was still finding ways to torment him, was this little charade even worth it? 

His mind brought up the memory from earlier, of seeing Clarke Griffin in her kitchen, her blue apron covered in flour, and frosting all over her fingers as she read a recipe with her eyebrows furrowed, cute lines sketched in the center of her forehead. 

Yeah, it was worth it.  

___________

Clarke was daring Wells to chug a cup of kombucha when she felt a hand touch her waist.  

“Hey, I’m not feeling like staying for pizza,” said Bellamy.  “Want to get outta here, go somewhere else for food?”  

Clarke nodded, turning back to Wells.  “You’re off the hook, for now.”  

He snorted, waving at Bellamy.  “Have a good night you guys.”  

“See you, man.”  Bellamy’s hand found hers as they left the party.  He had parked about a block away from the front entrance.  Clarke wrapped her arms around herself as an evening breeze surprised her, strangely cold for early October.  

Bellamy looked at her and shook his head.  “I asked you if you wanted to bring a jacket.”  He unzipped his hoodie and put it on her shoulders.  

“At least it plays up the part,” said Clarke, trying to resist the urge to put her nose in the warm fabric.   “Are you sure you don’t need it?” 

“Nah, car’s got a good heater.  One of the few good things I can say about it.”  

The drive to Luna’s was spent deciding what they wanted to eat, as well as a riveting debate about chocolate vs. strawberry shakes.  They ended up sitting down with a plate of mozzarella sticks to share. 

“A wonderful performance tonight, Ms. Griffin,” said Bellamy, clinking his glass with hers.  

Likewise, Mr. Blake.  Your ex seemed very pissed.”  

“Oh, we definitely pissed her off.”  

Clarke sighed, reaching for another piece to dip in marinara sauce.  “Now I have to hope that she doesn’t have a doll of me at home, waiting for her to stab pins into.” 

Bellamy snorted.  “Love how you really aren’t afraid of her.  Like Emori and Harper, they’re nice girls but she’s got them coerced into hanging out with her.”

“Oh no, I’m very afraid of her.”  Bellamy shook his head. 

“But she doesn’t steamroll you.  Like that day she was giving you shit about your jacket.” 

“You remember that?” 

“Yeah, I really couldn’t say anything without creating a fight in the hallway, but you looked really cool, cooler than she dresses most of the time.  And...” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Kinda hot too, actually.” 

Clarke raised her brows.  “You think I’m hot?” 

“Your fashion style is hot.”  

She furrowed her brows.  “Thank you… I think?”  

The waitress came back with the check.  As Clarke cleared the napkins from their table, she saw Bellamy scowling at his phone. 

“Something wrong?” 

“She just …” he shook his head.  “She ignores me for days and now just blows up with texts.”  

“So why haven’t you blocked her number?”  Clarke sat back down. Bellamy shrugged.  

“I guess… part of me is vindicated that she still cares enough to harass me, so I might as well let her.”  

She cringed.  “That … doesn’t sound healthy.”   

Bellamy rolled his eyes.  “And what would you know? You’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend.”  

Clarke scowled back.  “I know enough that I’d take care of myself in a situation like this. You like me because I don’t let Echo steamroll me, so don’t say that and then let her steamroll you.”  

Bellamy leaned back in his chair.  “I guess you’ve got a point.” He rubbed at his jaw.  “I don’t know why I ever thought you were this quiet, shy person, you have a lot of opinions.”   

Clarke shrugged.  “I might be a little shy sometimes, but maybe no one’s ever been this bluntly honest with you.”  

Bellamy chuckled, resting his forearms on the table.  “Alright, be honest with me now. Why haven’t you ever dated anyone before?”  

Clarke bit her lip, looking down at her hands. 

“I guess no one’s ever liked me enough to ask me out, or say yes to a date.” 

“I find that hard to believe.”  The softness in Bellamy’s tone tempted her to do something stupid, like curl up in his arms and cry into his jacket. 

“Well, it’s true.” 

“No, no I remember someone asking you to spring formal last year.  That weird guy, the one who ended up transferring.” 

“Cillian? Yeah, he was weird.”  

“But still…” Bellamy’s eyes were puppy-pleading.  “Him aside, I know there’s been others. So why haven’t you said yes?”  

Clarke took a deep breath, pushing her hair back from her face.  

“So with love and dating and all that … It’s so fun to read in books and watch in movies, TV…” At Bellamy’s nod, she continued.  “I’ll paint pictures of people in love, because when it’s imaginary, it can’t hurt you. Not really.” 

Bellamy furrowed his brows.  “Hurt you?” 

Clarke looked at the table.  “The more people you let into your life… the more that can leave you, whether they wanted to or not.”  

Bellamy’s hand found hers, bringing her gaze back up.  “Like your dad, huh?” 

She shook her head.  “There was just no stopping the cancer.”  

His fingers curled around hers.  “You know … I live with my grandmother, because my uh, my dad was in an accident when I was little.  Too young to really remember him.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Sympathy and shared grief filled the air around them.  Bellamy looked at the ground, and then his eyes flitted back to Clarke’s.  It felt as if a fog had dissipated, an understanding growing stronger between them.  

“It’s alright.  And I get it too, I’ve got stuff that I don’t tell anyone, just to keep up an image.”  

Clarke smiled.  “Who would’ve guessed that Bellamy Blake was a man of mystery?”    

  Bellamy huffed.  “Very funny.” He checked his watch, finally unfurling his hand from hers.  “It’s getting late. Guess I’ll drive you home?” 

Clarke nodded, though part of her ached to say something else, inexplicably wanting to spend more time with him.   But he hadn’t invited her to his house yet, that was nowhere in the contract.   

She unzipped his hoodie as he drove away from the diner.  

“Want me to throw this in the back?” 

“Sure you don’t want to wear it to school? I’ve got another one,” Bellamy chuckled.  Clarke let out a laugh, pulling her arms free of the sleeves.  

“It doesn’t mesh with my style.”  

“Ah, that’s a shame.” 

“I’m sure it already smells like me, so if you want to cover your pillow with it tonight, be my guest.”  

Bellamy bit back a laugh, shaking his head as he rounded the corner to Peach Street.  He shut the ignition, surprising Clarke by stepping out of the car to open her door. 

“You’re walking me up?”  

“Might as well, right?”  

She strode up the walkway to the front door a little slower than normal, her hand swinging centimeters from Bellamy’s. 

“Oh, before I forget -” He reached into his pocket and drew out her ribbon.  “Kept it safe for you.”  

“Thanks,” Clarke stopped on the doorstep to tie it back into her hair.   “You know, I actually had a good time tonight.” 

“So did I, Princess.”  Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck.  “You’re actually the first girl I’ve driven home who didn’t have something scathing to say about my driving.”  

“Sounds like you haven’t driven many girls home.”

“I haven’t.” 

Clarke smiled.  “I’m sure I’ll think of something awful to say soon enough.” 

Bellamy grinned, ducking his head towards the ground.  He met her eyes again, brown eyes amber in the light of the lamp overhead.  

“Good night, Clarke.”  He lifted his hand and gently pushed one of her errant curls behind her ear.  

“Good night, Bellamy.”  And before she could stop herself, she stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.  

He brightened, a flush appearing under his freckles.  “What was that for?” 

Clarke shrugged.  “Figured I should get used to doing that.”  

Bellamy chuckled.  “Not a bad idea, I guess.”  

Her nerves finally kicking in, she quickly waved and let herself in, not stopping to look behind her one last time. 

If she had, she would’ve seen Bellamy touching his cheek with the goofiest grin ever etched on his face.  

As Halloween slipped away in a flurry of spookiness and chocolate wrappers, sometimes Clarke forgot that she wasn’t actually the girlfriend of Arkadia High’s boys’ varsity hockey goalie.  Well, she was, but it wasn’t as if either of their hearts belonged to each other.  

It wasn’t like her life was completely different, either.  She still spent time with Wells, Jasper, the girls on occasion.  She still drove Madi to school and held her breath while parking.   

Soon enough however, she left the library behind and started doing her homework in the rink with whistles and skates as her background noise.  She was a frequent and welcome guest at the hockey table, and Bellamy would often straddle the bench just to hold her close to his chest.  

It’s all just an act , she told herself as she leaned back into his warmth, feeling his heartbeat thudding faithfully.       

The first big hockey game of the season, the one that had everyone amped up, was the home game against Polis High.  The Skyhawks, set for an undefeated season, against the bruising Warriors.  

Clarke decked herself in school colors, and upon finding an unused piece of poster board in the art closet, painted the letters “BLAKE” with hints of sparkle.  She brought it to the rink and had Jasper help hold it high.  As the puck dropped, the Skyhawks’ team manager Murphy went round with the away jerseys.  

“Griffin!” he called out, holding up the #1 jersey with Bellamy’s name across the top.  Clarke nearly dropped the sign. 

“Wait, really?”  

Murphy rolled his eyes.  “He told me to give it to you, you’re his girl, aren’t you?”  

Clarke grinned despite herself, taking the jersey and slipping it over her shoulders.  It felt so much like a book, she had to remind herself that it wasn’t real.  Bellamy was playing the part, and playing it magnificently.  

She looked into the parent’s crowd and found her mother standing with Madi.  A couple seats away was a woman who must be Bellamy’s grandmother; same eyes and similar brown complexion.  She was small and round, with grey hair sparkling in her dark updo.  She held up a phone pointed at Bellamy’s goal.  Clarke smiled; had the rink not been packed to the brim, she would’ve gone up and said hello.  Surely Bellamy told his grandmother that he had a new girlfriend, right? 

The Skyhawks won that game 4-2.  As the students went wild, Clarke extricated herself from the pack to head to the outside of the rink.  She wanted to hug Bellamy, but he was surrounded by teammates clapping him on the back.  Peering through the Plexiglas, across the ice from her, she caught sight of Finn staring, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket.  Before she could move, he shook his head and walked away.  

Distracted, Clarke felt a tug on her shoulder, and let Harper and Emori pull her into a post-game selfie. 

The next weekend, Clarke was making lunch for herself when the doorbell rang.  Hoping it was Mrs. Lemkin returning her pie dish, she opened the door with a smile on her face. 

It fell when she saw Finn standing there. 

“Hi, what are you doing here?” 

He shoved his hands into his pockets.  “I was wondering if we could talk.  Can I come in?” 

Clarke pursed her lips, then shook her head.  “It’s a nice day, we’ll sit outside.”  

He stepped backward as she walked out and sat on the porch swing. 

Finn immediately voiced his complaint.  “I can’t believe you’re dating Blake.” 

Clarke stared at him.  “Why? Is it so unbelievable that someone wants to go out with me?” 

“No, it’s just … You’re so sweet and good, and he’s just—” 

“What? He’s just what ?”  Her tongue was sharper than she anticipated.  

“An asshole, a self-indulgent, arrogant asshole.”  Finn scowled.  “Like the way he just drapes himself over you at school.”  

She rolled her eyes.  “Wow, you’re really making my affectionate boyfriend seem like the monster.”  

“You shouldn’t trust him, Clarke.” 

“But I do, I do trust him.”  

His face dropped.  “You can’t be serious.” 

Clarke lifted her chin.  “I am.”  She gave him a hard glare.  “Is that all you came over to do?  Berate me for my love life?”  

Finn shrugged, turning to step off the porch.  “You know what … it doesn’t matter.”  

But on the last step, he whirled around.  “Actually, it does.”  He took a step closer to her.  “Did you mean it? What you wrote in your letter?”  

Clarke shook her head, waving her hands half heartedly.  “I don’t know anymore.  And it was … a long time ago." 

“Not for me.”  At his words, she scoffed and turned away.  He moved to stay in her line of sight.  “I want to like, process all of this.”  

“There’s nothing to process,” she rubbed her temple.  “That letter wasn’t meant to be sent to you, you shouldn’t have seen it.” 

“Well, I did see it!”  He threw his hands in the air.  “What am I supposed to do?” 

“Not telling Raven would be a good idea.” 

“Raven’s not even talking to me.”  Finn shook his head.  “You don’t have to worry about that, not like you two are actual sisters.”  

His words hit like a baseball to the sternum.  Clarke tried to speak, but hurt welled up in her throat.  

“I-I’m sorry, but I can’t talk with you anymore.”  She put her hand on the doorknob, but Finn didn’t move. 

“So-So that’s it?  Raven dumps me, you date Blake, and now we can’t even be friends?” 

“I don’t know how to be friends with you like this!” she struggled to keep her voice down.  “There’s no going back to the friendship we had before you dated Raven, and certainly no going back to the one we had when you were dating her.”  

Finn exhaled, glancing at the ground.  

“If I had known I would lose both of you—“ 

“Stop, please stop.”   

She opened the door and stepped through, chest heaving.   

“ARE YOU JUST GOING TO IGNORE ME?” Finn yelled out, but Clarke slammed the door, running up the stairs.  

Her mattress greeted her with instant comfort, and she pressed her face into the pillow, struggling not to cry.  A buzz sounded from somewhere in the vicinity of the floor.  Clarke snuffled, taking a deep breath to calm herself.  It was a text from Bellamy, a dumb history meme.  

She laughed, typing back quickly.  

Clarke : Are you procrastinating on studying?

Bellamy :  I prefer to think of it as multitasking.  

Clarke bit her lip before tapping her phone again. 

Clarke :  If you’re taking a break, mind if I call you for a chat? 

Bellamy :  I was hoping you’d say that. 

She smiled, flopping into her pillows with Bellamy’s voice at her ear.  His travel game stories of hockey boy bus shenanigans made her worries fade into mere memories.  

The following Friday was the scheduled day for item #3 on the contract.   

The living room was decked out with pillows and soda cans.  With some grumbling at the film’s romantic premise, Bellamy soon found himself engrossed in the plot.   

“She has cancer?  Clarke, this movie is depressing as hell.” 

“Aren’t you glad we’re going to watch The Breakfast Club after this one?” 

“That one’s also gonna make you cry, just wait.” 

“Can you two stop talking?”  Madi shushed them from the other seat on the couch.  

“Why do you like this sad movie so much?”  Bellamy shout-whispered at her.  Madi gestured to the screen.  

“Shane West as Landon Carter, hello???”  

Bellamy huffed.  “I’m way better looking than that guy.” 

“You wish,” she snorted. 

“I agree with you,” Clarke nudged his foot, smiling.  “I don’t know if you can beat Mandy Moore, though.” 

“Oh, I don’t hold a candle to her.”    

Clarke giggled, reaching over to wipe a tear off Bellamy’s cheek.  Who would’ve guessed he’d be a softie for tragic romance? 

Madi yawned and announced she was heading to bed before they started the second movie.  Clarke smiled when she saw her little sister go up to Bellamy for a hug, letting him ruffle her hair.   

She hoped that when they ended this little experiment, Madi wouldn’t be too hurt.  

Clarke got up from the couch to stretch her legs and re-drizzle the popcorn with melted chocolate chips while Bellamy switched the DVDs.  She liked that they were using DVDs instead of Netflix, it made it seem more … old-fashioned?  Date-like?  Cozy?  She shook those thoughts from her mind as she headed back to the couch.   

Even though they had more space on the couch, Bellamy still sat shoulder to shoulder with her.  She liked not needing a blanket with the warmth he radiated.  The 80's music blared at them as the camera settled on a high school that could’ve been any high school in the country.  

“I do like the nostalgia.”

“Funny how high school hasn’t really changed in 30 years.” 

. . .

 “Am I really a ‘princess’ like Claire?” 

“Well, she’s really pretty, and you are too.  I also think you have a little bit of Allison’s fire under all the Pinterest-perfect outfits.” 

Clarke snorted.  “And what, you’re a Bender?” 

“An artful mix of all three of the guys, actually.”  

Bellamy put his arm up on the couch, like he did at Riley’s party.  There was no one around to fool, but he did it anyway.  Clarke leaned into him, relaxing when she didn’t feel him jump or flinch.  

“Okay, that shot of her underwear is really gross, you know that, right?” 

“Yeah, parts of this film didn’t age well.” 

“And the film has nothing to do with breakfast, they just all had detention at 8am?” 

“Ding, you’ve got it.”  

 As “Don’t You Forget About Me” rang in her ears, Clarke felt her eyes start to shut.  She yawned, vaguely registering Bellamy letting his hand graze her shoulder.  

“I guess I can see why that movie’s a classic.”  

“Yeah.  Wanna watch the credits?”  Bellamy’s voice was soft.  She nodded. 

“Might as well, it’s respectful to everyone who worked on it.”  

“Course.”  

But as names crawled up the screen, Clarke couldn’t keep her eyes open.  Distracted yet lulled by the gentle rhythm of Bellamy’s breathing, she dozed off.  At some point, the music faded away, and the blue light dimmed.  

“Clarke,” Bellamy whispered, giving her a little shake.  “Are you gonna sleep on the couch?”  

She made a muffled, nondescript noise.  “Might as well,” she murmured.  “I’m too tired to walk upstairs.”  

“Well, you’re laying on top of me.  Either you get up or I pick you up.”  

Clarke shifted further into the couch.  “I’m too heavy for you to carry.”  

Bellamy snorted.  “That’s bullshit. Here —“  He tucked one arm under her knees and the other round her back.  As he stood up with hardly a hitch in his breath, Clarke instinctually wrapped her hands round his neck.  “If I carry you up to your room, will you sit with me at lunch tomorrow?”  

 Clarke nodded, pressing her face into his chest as he walked slowly up the stairs.  She was at the point where his scent was starting to become familiar, comforting her as exhaustion dragged her consciousness deeper.  

She was half asleep when Bellamy laid her down and pulled the coverlet over her.  She didn’t hear the front door open and close, nor did she hear his car starting.  She woke up in the morning knowing exactly how she got from the couch to her bed.   

Her cheeks reddened, not in embarrassment that Bellamy would do such a thing, but if anyone from her mother to her classmates found out.  

For now, it was just a secret between her and Bellamy, and  she was starting to love their secrets.  

Clarke usually did Sunday family dinner nights.  They had been feeling emptier lately without her father, and without Raven, who usually brought Finn as a guest.  Her mother had picked up another shift that evening upon hearing that Madi was headed to a pizza party.  

She had been preparing herself for a night alone with reheated lasagne when Bellamy called with an invitation.  

“Hey Clarke, are you busy tonight?” 

“No, why?” 

“My grandmother thinks it’s rude that I haven’t brought you over.  She’s insisted that you come to dinner tonight, if you’re free.” 

Clarke grinned, energy brimming again.  “Your grandma wants to see me?”  

“Of course, she only saw us together when we were in middle school, now things are different.”  

Things were different, but were they?  Sometimes Bellamy spoke as if they were actually dating, not just using this elaborate scheme for their own agendas.  It was very confusing.  But friends went over to each other’s houses for dinner, it certainly didn’t imply anything.  

“Y-Yeah, I mean, I’m free tonight.”  

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 6?” 

“Works for me.” 

“Oh… one more thing… you’re good with Filipino food?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? … Did Echo not like it?” 

“That’s a bit of an understatement.”

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “Don’t worry Bellamy.  Her bland, tasteless palate is not something we have in common.”  

His laugh sounded loud, even through the phone.  “Great, see you tonight.”  

Clarke ended the call and tossed the phone on her bed, looking around her room and settling on her alarm clock.  Two and a half hours before Bellamy would arrive. 

Did she have time to shower, change, and make a dessert to bring?

She pulled a quick outfit from her closet — striped sweater, denim skirt, tights and wedges —, then dashed down to the kitchen.  If she pulled this off, Clarke figured she had a shot at winning one of those television baking competitions.  

______________

Bellamy pulled up right at 6 on the dot, grinning as Clarke walked out with a covered plate. 

“What did you make?” 

“Coconut sugar cookies.” 

“They smell amazing, she’ll love them.” 

Bellamy kept one hand on the console between them as they drove, a habit he had quickly developed.  Sometimes Clarke would press their palms together, either on the seat or her leg, usually only around the school.  This evening however, his hand was sneaking to swipe a cookie. 

“No,” she batted his knuckles away.  “After dinner.”  

“You’re mean.” 

“I know, but think how disappointed your grandmother will be if you don’t finish your plate.”

“Touché.”  

At approximately 6:15pm, he pulled into the driveway of a quaint, cream-colored house.  Clarke stood next to Bellamy as he unlocked the door.  

“ Lola ?   Nandito na kami.” He turned to Clarke as they toed off their shoes on the doormat, mouthing “we’re here” at her cocked chin.  She nodded.  

His lola came bustling out of the kitchen, wiping her hands with a dishtowel.  

“Bellamy!”  She embraced her grandson, a good head and a half taller than her, kissing his cheek.  She turned to Clarke, smiling fondly. 

“and Clarke Griffin, you’ve grown so beautiful!” 

 Clarke blushed as she accepted a tight embrace.  “Thank you.” 

“Come sit down, dinner’s almost ready.”  

Bellamy pulled out the chair for Clarke, which Lola noted with an appraising ruffle of his hair.  Clarke exchanged a soft laugh with him when her back was turned.      

“Bellamy usually sets the table and helps me cook,” Lola said as she brought over a steaming stew dish.  

“I tried your chicken adobo when Bellamy brought it to school for lunch,” replied Clarke, setting her napkin on her lap.  “It’s really good.” 

Lola smiled, then waved her hands.  “Everyone does chicken adobo, but one of my best recipes?”  She leaned in with a smile.  “My sinangag, I add a hint of mango for sweetness.”   

Bellamy brought over another steaming dish, this one filled with rice.       

“And this is menudo, help yourself,” he said, passing over the stew.      

“Oh, this looks amazing, thank you!” said Clarke, accepting the dish and heaping a serving of each onto her plate.    

“You see?”  Lola elbowed Bellamy, not bothering to lower her voice or code-switch.  “She’s better than the last one you had.”  

Bellamy shook his head with a laugh, mumbling, “ opo, mas maayos nga siya. ”  

“I do most of the cooking at my house, so I certainly appreciate a home-cooked meal,”  Clarke said, gentle and genteel.  She dug into the food, suddenly feeling famished, and a little flushed from whatever Bellamy had said in response to his grandmother’s tease. 

Lola beamed, gesturing to her kitchen.  “You come over whenever you want, and I’ll teach you.”  She pinched her grandson’s ear.  “Bellamy is always at school or hockey, I have to call my friends and tell them that I’m alone today.”  

Bellamy shook his head, rubbing his ear.  “You like having the free time to knit with your book club friends in Starbucks.”  

“Yes, well I need a bit of gossip every week,” said Lola, "they’ve been complaining that I do not contribute enough to the conversation.”  

“Are they now?” Bellamy chuckled.  

Lola’s eyes settled on Clarke in a surveying gaze, flitting hairline to chin.  “You dress better than Bellamy’s last girlfriend,” she said, winking.  “And less makeup too, more natural.  I like that.”  

“Lola, tama na po ,” Bellamy muttered, but Clarke merely smiled. 

“I’m glad you approve.” 

Conversation eased off as they finished the meal, picking up again when Clarke’s tin of cookies was opened.  

“I saw your mother in the hospital last week,” said Lola.  “Is she doing well?” 

“Yes,” Clarke dabbed her mouth with a napkin.  “She holds up pretty well.”  

Lola leaned in closer.  “But I see your eyes are blue, so you must get them from your father.”  

Clarke nodded.  “I’ve been told I take more after him than my mom.”  

She saw Bellamy look up at her from the corner of her eye. 

“And how is your dad doing?”  

“Lola,” Bellamy said in a low voice, setting his fork down.  “I told you that Clarke’s dad passed away.”  

Her face fell, and she clasped Clarke’s hand with a warm squeeze. 

“I’m sorry, I know how it hurts when our loved ones leave us.”  

Clarke squeezed her hand back.  “Thank you, it’s getting easier, still harder some days.”  

Lola nodded understandingly, then she handed her second, half-eaten cookie to Bellamy. 

“I think I’m going to retire for the night,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder.  “You’ll clean up?”  

Bellamy nodded.  “Of course.”  Lola beamed, looking at Clarke. 

“Lovely meeting you, thank you for having dinner.”  

“No, thank you,” Clarke smiled.

 Lola turned back to Bellamy, kissing his forehead.  He shut his eyes at the affectionate touch. 

“Mahal kita, anak.” 

“Mahal kita, Lola.”     

When she left the room, Bellamy looked back at Clarke with a crease in his brow. 

“What is it?” she asked.  He shrugged his shoulders. 

“She only ate half a plate, it’s barely 7:30 and she’s headed to bed?”  

They stood up and started clearing dishes.  

“You worry too much, Bellamy,” Clarke said soothingly.  “People get tired more easily as they age, that’s all it is.  She’s probably reading in her room.”  

“You’re right,” he murmured.  They fell into an easy rhythm, Bellamy rinsing plates, Clarke wiping them and resting them in a drying rack.  When the kitchen was spotless, they leaned against the countertops.  Clarke knew she had to pick Madi up at 9, but was unwilling to ask him to drive her home yet. 

“Clarke…” he said quietly.  “You think she could be having memory loss?  I know I told her about your dad.”  

She was silent for a moment, then sighed.  “I’d only be worried about it if she was forgetting other things too, important things like her medications, names, you get what I mean?”  

Bellamy nodded.  “I didn’t mean for that subject to come up all of a sudden.  When I was a kid, I just … hated when people felt sorry for me.”  

Clarke nodded.  “It’s okay, Bellamy.  And I get that, but at least I know her empathy’s genuine, your father was her son.”  

Bellamy sighed.  “And I’m the spitting image of him, same with you and your dad.”  

Clarke bit her lip, feeling the sudden urge to cry.  Bellamy’s hand brushed hers, thumb running a comforting line across her knuckles.  She took a deep breath.  

“I’m … I’m visiting his grave on Thursday.  It’ll be one year.”  She stared up at the ceiling, willing back tears.  “I can’t believe it’s been so long, still feels like yesterday.” 

Bellamy opened up his arms, hand tugging her closer.  Her breath shuddered as she fell into his chest.  When he rubbed circles on her back with a soft shushing sound, she let her walls crumble into dust, if only for a few minutes.  

“You’re not alone, Princess,” Bellamy murmured, and Clarke shut her eyes against waves of emotion.                        

“I- uh, I go every month to his grave,” she said, voice muddy from the crying.  “Is that too often?” 

“Of course not,” Bellamy whispered, holding her even tighter.    

“I usually bring flowers,” she said, words flowing into a ramble.  “Blue hydrangeas, those were his favorite.  But I won’t have time this week to get them from the florist across town, my mom’s got a crazy shift schedule and I—“

“Got to be the big sister, I know,” he said, rocking on his heels ever so slightly.  “Believe me, I know.”  

“I’ll be at the cemetery Thursday after school,” said Clarke, voice evening out as she listened to Bellamy’s breathing.  “You don’t have to come with me, but I would appreciate it if you would come by to drive me home.” 

He nodded.  “I can do that.”   

For a few more seconds, all she heard was inhales, exhales, and the distant hum of the refrigerator.  Then she pulled back from Bellamy’s arms, giving him a small smile as she sat on the edge of the counter.    

“Thank you so much,” she sighed.  “It’s so hard for me to talk about this stuff with other people, but with you…” she shook her head.  “It feels natural, feels easy.  And I really appreciate that.”  

Bellamy’s lips quirked up for a second, then his thoughts pulled his features into a frown.  He glanced at the floor, his hands fidgeting.  

“Hey Clarke?” 

“Yeah?” 

With her sitting on the counter and him standing, they were about face to face.  Clarke could’ve started counting the freckles on his cheeks if she wasn’t aware of the sudden vulnerability in his eyes.  

“I— uh I never told you the real reason why I live with my grandmother, did I?”  He took a step back, rubbing his neck.  Clarke shut her eyes, racking her memory, then shook her head. 

“No, I just figured she lived close to the high school, and I knew your dad had passed.”  

Bellamy bit his lip, his gaze scanning the room before returning to her.  

“Do you remember my mother at all?  From when we were kids?”   

Clarke frowned.  She did have a vague memory of his mother, but she had only seen her picking Bellamy from school a few times.  She shut her eyes again.  

Aurora Blake had a thin face, something in her smile that never made it up to her eyes.  She would open the door for Bellamy, his backpack bouncing on his shoulders, and there was a little girl in a booster seat, kicking her heels against the back of the driver’s seat...

“Oh my gosh,” Clarke blinked her eyes open.  “I can’t believe I forgot you had a little sister. O-Olivia?”  

“Octavia.  She’s about 15 right now.”  Clarke noticed a hitch in his breath.  She put her forearms across her lap, leaning forward.  

“What happened?”  

He shut his eyes and inhaled. 

“A couple years ago, a really bad guy came into my mom’s life.  He seemed okay at first, but I think he was trying to control her.  And Octavia … just couldn’t handle that.  And at first it was just shouting, then it led to her kicking, punching walls…” 

He took another breath, head tilted almost completely back. 

My sister’s in juvie and my mom blames me for it.”  

“Bellamy…” 

“And maybe if I hadn’t gotten into so many fights in elementary school, I could’ve set a better example for her.”  

Her eyes sought his beseechingly, shaking her head.  “It is not your fault, okay?  You don’t have to tell me every detail, but I can tell that living with your grandmother is the best place for you.”  She reached out to squeeze his hand.  “Your sister’s getting help, and your mom is an adult.  There’s nothing you owe either of them right now.”  

Bellamy exhaled heavily, looking up at her with a nod.  “Thank you. Thank you for not … thinking I’m selfish.”   

“Why would I?”  Clarke’s voice was soft.  She stared down at her feet, seeing his sneakers not even a foot away and realizing how close they had drawn during the conversation. 

 His proximity was starting to make her heart flutter, her fingers itching to burn against his skin in another embrace.  She reached behind her to grab her coat, sliding off the counter.  

“I better get going, Madi’s party will end soon.”  

Bellamy put his hands in his pockets.  “I’m glad I have you to talk to for stuff like this.  You’re a good listener.” 

Clarke tugged her hair out of her hood, smile broadening at his soft tone.  

“Thanks.  So are you.”   

“C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”  

The next day and a half flew by.  Clarke hardly felt a moment to breathe until she ducked out to the field at lunch on Tuesday.   

 But as a familiar voice hissed to her from beneath the bleachers, her freedom to breathe was hindered by a thin stream of bluish-grey smoke, its fumes reeking of an angry skunk.   

“Ugh, Jasper!  You could get caught with that!” 

“So?  Hey, pop a squat down here, the grass is dry.” 

“Absolutely not.”    

“C’mon Clarke!  Monty bailed on me today to help Harper study for her chemistry test.” 

“I’m not smoking.”  Clarke waved the air in front of her nose, sitting down next to him.  Jasper shrugged. 

“Fine by me.  I just need something to take the edge off before my calc test.”  

She looked at him disparagingly.  “You shouldn’t be taking these exams when you’re high!  Your grades-“ 

“Fuck my grades,”  Jasper took a puff.  “College is a four-year scam driven by the rich to keep us all chained in debt.”

Clarke sighed.  “You may be right, but—“ 

“Ssh!” Jasper cut her off, looking upward.  “You hear them?” 

Clarke tuned in to the voices of the people getting up on the bleachers.  She looked at Jasper in alarm. 

“You win, Bellamy, okay?  I’m jealous of her.”  

“Really?”   Bellamy’s tone was amused.  “That’s why you dragged me out here?  To describe the exact shade of green envy on your face?”  

Jasper cupped a hand over his mouth to hide his snicker.  

Echo’s tone took a more pouty turn.  “You KNOW we were always good for each other.” 

“I was good for you.  Not the other way around.” 

“Why can’t we just start over?  The Canada trip is coming up and—” 

“No. I have Clarke.  I’m not doing that to her.”  

The harsh seriousness of his tone sends a chill down Clarke’s back.  There was a bated pause. 

“You think she’s going to share a room with you?” 

“If she’s ready for that.  I want to spend the trip with her.  Not with you.”  

Clarke could hear Echo rolling her eyes. 

“Like the Peach Street Princess is going to ruin her precious reputation.”  

“She’s not as prissy as you think she is.”       

His defense made Clarke’s heart skip a beat.  

“Bellamy, be real.  We both know this thing between you and her won’t last.” 

Dread settled in her stomach. 

“Oh, I think it’ll last long after you and Roan call it off.”  

Clarke swore she heard a sniff from her sworn enemy. 

“I know Roan’s been cheating on me.  Someone sent me photos.”   For all her nastiness, Echo actually sounded hurt.  And for a moment, Clarke felt bad for her old friend.  

Bellamy was better guarded.  “I’d have more sympathy if you hadn’t cheated on me with him in the first place.  Reap what you sow.”   

Clarke clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp.  Up on the bleachers, Bellamy was storming away with heavy footfalls, and Echo stomping just as heavily in the opposite direction. 

When the coast was clear, Jasper crawled out tentatively, beckoning Clarke forward. 

“Griffin,” he hacked a bit, thumping himself on the chest.  “You gotta put your claws in your man cause that bitch is on the offensive.”  

She shook her head, exhaling slowly.  “Things feel …. really weird right now.” 

______

Clarke paced through the hallways, anxiety creeping up her chest.  She had sworn Jasper to secrecy, but his dopey promise left much to be desired.   

Her distress was like a volcano ready to burst.  

Why didn’t Bellamy tell her?

Clarke’s eyes swept the lockers.  Emori and Harper were nowhere in sight, and they were too close to Echo to confide in on this matter.  Wells was sick that day, surely none of the teachers were interested in hearing her teenage love drama.     

A locker slam drew her attention.  She looked up, and Finn was sliding his backpack back onto his shoulders.  She started to turn around, but her moment of hesitation made his eyes connect with hers.  In less than a blink, Finn walked over to her. 

“Hey Clarke, you alright?” he asked.  Clarke frowned.  

“Uh, yeah, just spacing out.”  She rounded the corner, but Finn followed her steps. 

“I want to apologize for that day on your porch.  I was a total jerk, I shouldn’t have said those things, I’m sorry.”  

Clarke stopped, settling her back against the bulletin board mounted to the wall.  “Thanks, I guess?”  

“We don’t have to talk about that stuff, either,” he swept his obnoxiously long hair out of his eyes.  “You just seemed upset about something.”  

Clarke sighed, rubbing the inner corner of her eyes.  “I think Echo’s trying to bulldoze my relationship with Bellamy.” 

His eyebrows shot up.  “How do you know that?”  Clarke looked over his shoulder, pretending she was waving to a friend.  

“I was in the bathroom and I overheard her talking to someone about it,” she said smoothly.  Finn nodded slowly. 

“That sucks, I don’t know what to tell you.  I’ve never liked her.” 

“And I’m not worried about Bellamy cheating on me, I just know that she’s really stressing him out right now and I want her to cut the shit, you know?” 

Finn raised an eyebrow.  “You seem pretty sure of that, huh?”    

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged.  “He’s probably going to go back to her.  I mean… toxic people?  They tend to cling to each other.”  

All of her fretting evaporated, and her eyes narrowed.  Memories of Bellamy giving Madi piggyback rides and helping his grandmother around the kitchen immediately came to mind, and suddenly Clarke was mad .  

“Are you out of your mind? You think Bellamy is toxic ?” 

“I haven’t hidden how I’ve felt, Clarke.” 

“But to call him a toxic person, I can’t belie—“ 

“Hey, Clarke!” 

She turned her head, and Bellamy was standing by the doorway to the stairs, bag slung over his shoulder.  

“We walk to math class together,” she said under her breath.  Finn scoffed. 

“Alright, go see what Romeo wants.” 

Clarke ignored him, walking quickly till she was in step with Bellamy.  His mouth was set in a harsh line, and his brows were crossed.  

“Have a good talk with Collins?” he muttered.  She scowled. 

“Like it’s any of your business.” 

“It’s my business if you were talking about your little eavesdrop under the bleachers.” 

Clarke nearly tripped, her eyes wide with alarm.  “You knew we were there?” 

Bellamy shook his head.  “No, I found Jasper clouding up the bathroom.  That boy can’t keep a secret when he’s sober, much less high as a kite.” 

Clarke steeled herself, lowering her voice to a whisper.  “We didn’t sneak up to spy on you, we were just there.  Why didn’t you tell me that Echo cheated on you?” 

Bellamy huffed.  “Should I have thrown all my baggage on you at once?”  

“You could’ve told me upfront.”  Clarke’s voice was hard.  “You’ve had weeks to tell me.”  

Bellamy pulled her close to the wall, right by the door to Mr. Pike’s trigonometry class.  “You two already fight like cats.  Why throw gas on a bonfire?”  

“Bellamy!”  She was growing exasperated.  “Look, you got back at your bitter ex, things are okay-sh with me and Finn, but what if that all blows up the longer we keep this going?”   

“....Québec’s in the contract.”  

She crossed her arms.  “Only if we’re still together.”  

Bellamy looked like he was staring into headlights.  “Are— are you breaking up with me two weeks before the trip?  Because of one little disagreement?”  

Like he had yanked a rug from under her feet, Clarke was startled.  

“I don’t know… I’m just sick of this drama and I know you are—" 

“Clarke, please — you’ve got to come with me on that trip.”  He pulled one final card.  “I need you.”  

Those damn puppy eyes.  She sighed.  “Okay. Only if Jasper is going.”     

Bellamy deflated.  “Okay, Princess. Whatever the hell you want.” 

“MR. Blake, MS. Griffin,” Mr. Pike rapped on the door, giving both of them a stern look.  “Can you two please take your seats so I can begin class?”  

Clarke was in the middle of dinner prep that following afternoon when Madi opened the door for Jasper. 

“Gotta question for you sweetie,” he swaggered into the kitchen and sat on one of the bar stools.  “Why is your boyfriend pressuring me into saying yes to the 'Kwa-beck'  trip?”  He clutched his hand to his chest.  “I hope he’s not like that in the bedroom. Unless you’re into that, and everything’s SSC.”  

“What’s SSC stand for?”  Madi piped up.  Jasper twisted around.  

“Safe, Sane,—“ 

Clarke grabbed the front of his shirt.  “I am not dealing with her questions about that today,” she hissed.  

“Considerate,” Jasper squeaked.  Madi shrugged, already bored. 

“You can go get the mail,” Clarke told her, and soon the room was empty.  She released her grip on his shirt and went back to cutting celery. 

“Bellamy is twisting your arm, because I said I wouldn’t go unless you did.” 

Jasper groaned, reaching for an orange in the fruit bowl and peeling it.  “You know I hate French people.  And you know who’s even worse than the French?”  He dropped the peels and took a bite like it was an apple.  “Canadian people who are French.”  

Clarke smiled.  “I do know that.  We agreed that I didn’t have to go if you didn’t, and if you don’t go, which you’re not planning to, then I get a weekend free from Echo staring daggers at me.”  

The orange fell from his hand.  “Wait, you have to go with Bellamy!” 

Clarke shook her head.  “No I don’t.  He’s acting weird about me talking to Finn.  So maybe we need a little time apart.” 

He looked incredulous.  “You’re just giving her OPEN access like that?”  

“Bellamy’s not a database, Jasper!” 

“I told you that she would sink her claws in, you gotta claim that sonuvabitch!” he punched his palm with his fist.  Clarke dropped her knife on the cutting board and rubbed her temples.   

“I wouldn’t fight my best friend over a boy, and I sure as hell don’t have the energy to fight my ex-friend over one,” she said, softly adding, “not right now.”  

Jasper’s eyes flicked to the calendar, and his face fell.  He wiped his hands with a dishcloth and took over the celery chopping from Clarke. 

“I know things are tough, but I also know that Bellamy’s a great person, and he’s a great person for you, and he’s a great person with you in his life,” he said quietly, starting to ramble.  “I’ve had to deal with Echo getting whatever she wanted since I was a kid, and it’s getting nauseating.”  He looked up at her with a rueful smile.  “And you know Bellamy better than I do, leaving him alone when he wants you, possibly throwing resentment in the mix, that just makes everything easier for her to coax him back into something unhealthy.”

Clarke sighed.  “You’re right about a lot of that.  You’re probably right about all of it.”  

Jasper visibly lightened, putting the celery into the salad bowl and starting on the cucumbers.  “I usually am.  So I will go on the trip,” his chopping was surprisingly quick and neat, “I’ll put up with those despicable croissant people, and I’ll make sure that you and Bellamy are solid.”  

She let a laugh slip out, mood lifting slowly but surely.  

“Thank you Jasper, I really appreciate that.”  

“I have too much riding on this, Griffin.  When you and Bellamy run away to get married in six years and tell all of us like a month later, you know what my response is gonna be?”  Jasper made a dunking motion with his hands.  “Called It!” 

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “I am not eloping with Bellamy.” 

“You don’t know that yet!” 

“Hi, Dad.”   

Clarke shivered in her thin coat; winter was creeping closer every day, and the cemetery never seemed warm even on the sunniest of afternoons.   

The Griffin plot went back a couple generations.  Her father had been buried with a handsome headstone next to Clarke’s great-grandfather.  

Jacob Xavier Griffin 

1970 - 2016 

Beloved Husband, Father, Hero. 

Taken Too Soon.  

“I’m sorry that I didn’t bring the hydrangeas.  I didn’t have a car all week, I couldn’t get them for you.”  

She sat down in the dry grass.  Usually she stood, but today cut deeper into her heart, and her knees felt weak.  Clarke let her hands fall on the earth, grounding herself.      

“Bellamy’s going to come here and pick me up.  Mom’s too caught up in work to visit, and Madi’s not ready yet.  I’m here, though.  You shouldn’t be alone today.” 

Nothing answered back, save for the wind through the leaves and distant chirping of birds.  She sighed.  

 “But I had a fight with Bellamy a couple days ago, so I don’t know if he’ll be here,” she sniffed, rubbing her nose.  “Guess I’ll call someone if he doesn’t show.”  

She glanced around the cemetery, empty save for an older man a few rows away.       

“You’d think what I’m doing is so silly,” she smiled fondly.  “I haven’t even told Mom the truth about the contract.  Not that she’s really cared about my love life.”  

Clarke laughed to herself.  “You were the one who always teased me whenever I mentioned a boy annoying me in middle school.  Then I came out, and you teased me about anyone I mentioned at home.” 

She stared into the distance, letting memories wash over her.  Absentmindedly she toyed with the pink ribbon tied at the end of her braid.    

“You always liked Bellamy, Dad,” she tugged up a dandelion and started pulling the petals off.  “He came to one of my birthday parties, and you said he was such a polite boy.  His mom was late picking him up, and he helped you clean up the backyard while I was opening that 100-piece art kit.” 

It was hard to swallow past the lump in her throat.  She shook her head.  

“He’s a really great guy, and I really like him.  I know you’d tell me to just toss that fake contract in the trash.  You’d tell me just to ask Bellamy on a date.”  Her shoulders sagged.  “The truth is, I’m too afraid that he doesn’t feel the same way.”  

Her lips started quivering, and she couldn’t hold it back.  

“It’s getting so hard.  I have to make sure Madi’s okay, I have to make sure Mom’s not working herself to death.  I have to start thinking about college soon, and everyone’s counting on me to be the responsible one but it’s so hard and I’m so tired all the time.” 

Two twin rivers streamed down her cheeks.  Clarke put her head between her knees and cried until the sharp pain in her chest faded into a dull, raw ache.  As she was calming down, she heard footsteps coming closer.  

She lifted her head and turned, seeing Bellamy standing there.  

Bellamy standing there, holding a bouquet of blue hydrangeas.  

Her heartache rose into temporary surprise.  She stood up shakily, wiping her face.  

“Bellamy?”  

He walked over slowly, offering the flowers.  

“Here,” he said quietly, handing over the bouquet.  “I hope I remembered the right ones.”  

Clarke let out a watery laugh, nodding.  “You did, thank you.”  

She laid them at the base of the headstone.  Looking back at Bellamy, his eyes were heartfelt, arms loose at his sides.  

“I’m sorry for acting like that the other day, I knew how rough this week was going to be for you, and I got arrogant, over nothing.”  He put his hands up and dropped them with a sigh. “There’s no good reason for me ever to act like a jerk when you talk to a guy, or anyone else.”  

Clarke took a step closer.  “It’s okay. I wasn’t thinking about much this trip means to you.  Especially being able to go with someone who didn’t hurt you.”  

Bellamy huffed.  “You didn’t have to care about that, Clarke.  Not when you’ve been grieving.” 

She tilted her head, eyes sincerely.  “But I do care about you, Bellamy,” she said softly.   

His soft look of surprise was too much.  

Clarke felt her breath stutter into tears again, so she went to him, chin tucked to her collarbone.  His embrace was immediate, arms pulling her into his chest.  His hand found her braid, flexing his fingers across it soothingly.  

“Should’ve been here earlier if I knew how much you were gonna cry,” he murmured, holding her tighter.  Clarke shook her head, pulling her head up slightly so her chin was on his shoulder. 

“No, I’m glad you got the flowers, that was so sweet.”  

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.  She shrugged.  

“Yeah, but I just don’t want to go home just yet.”  

Bellamy tugged her hand into his.  “Why don’t we go to the diner then?” 

Clarke nodded, picking up her backpack.   

“I’d like that.  And Bellamy?” 

“Yes, Clarke?”  

She took a deep breath and smiled.   “You can tell me about all the exciting stuff to look forward to in Québec.”  

Bellamy’s responding grin was so bright, it chased a couple of her dark clouds away.    

Two weeks slipped by quickly, and Clarke was finishing her packing for Québec.    

She stared at her close-to-stuffed suitcase in irritation; her pajamas were barely fitting in beside her ski jacket.  The damn thing wouldn’t close.  

She looked at her other options for sleepwear, and her baby blue nightie was winking at her from the drawer.  Her cheeks flushed slightly, imagining Bellamy seeing her in that .  

“Screw it,” she muttered, swapping the pajamas out for the nightie.  “Even if we share a room, I’ll wear my hoodie until he falls asleep.”  

“CLARKE!” Madi banged on her door, surprisingly alert for the crack of dawn.  “MOM SAYS YOU’RE GOING TO MISS THE BUS!” 

“I’M COMING!” Clarke yelled back, zipping her suitcase and throwing on her peacoat to ward off the early December chill. 

She pressed her cheek to the window as they drove, the faint dusting of morning snow gleaming across the grass.   

Halfway to school as they stopped at a red light, Abby finally spoke. 

“Clarke, I know I haven’t been very present lately, and I just want to apologize for that.  You’re such a great help around the house and with Madi, I appreciate that so much.” 

“Thanks Mom,” Clarke replied, hiding a grimace. 

“And I’m happy that you have Bellamy,” said Abby, glancing over for a moment.  “You’re smiling more, getting out of the house, he’s good for you.”  

Clarke’s hand tightened on the strap of her suitcase.  “Yeah, I think he is too.”

“Now… does he know about your … sexuality?”  

“Yes, he does,” she sighed.  

“And he’s okay with it?” 

Clarke let out a tired huff, tossing her hands in the air.  “Why would I date him if he wasn’t?” 

“Alright, alright, no need to get so defensive,” Abby’s tone dipped into condescension.  “I’m just trying to look out for you.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes as they drove into the school parking lot. 

“Well, either way…”  Abby reached into her purse.   “Before I say anything else, I don’t want this behavior in the house, but I know you are an adult, and I want you to be prepared.”  She handed over an electric-blue box.  

Clarke yelped, pushing her mother’s arm down. 

“Mom!” she hissed.  “I’m not taking condoms on this trip!”  

Abby seemed affronted.  “You don’t have to be so rude.  You could pass them out to your classmates if you’re not ready.” 

Clarke shut her eyes tight.  “Please tell me you didn’t just suggest that,” she said under her breath.  When she opened her eyes, Abby still had her mouth pulled back in the universal “disappointed mother” expression.  

“Okay, fine,” Clarke sighed, tucking the box into her bag.  “Thank you for thinking of me.”  

A car beeped behind them.  Abby smiled, brushing aside their disagreement as easily as she dusted the stray bits of lint from the shoulder of Clarke’s coat.  

“Have fun, sweetie.  And be safe!” 

“I will,” Clarke said quickly, opening the door and removing herself and her luggage as quickly as possible.  She joined the students milling around the large coach buses, getting her luggage stowed in the hold as the moderators began hustling them.  

Standing at the front of the bus, she squinted through the seats till she saw Bellamy waving to her, an empty seat beside him.  

“Thanks for saving me a spot,” she said, collapsing with a sigh.  Bellamy smiled. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t show up.”  

Clarke huffed, scooting closer to him as the bus started to fill up.  

“Of course I’m coming.  We made a deal, remember?” 

Bellamy chuckled, looping his arm easily around her shoulders. 

“I know, Princess.  Just glad you’re here.”     

Monty and Jasper were sitting across from them, sharing a pair of earbuds.  Jasper looked over Monty’s shoulder and gave her a thumbs up.  She returned it, grinning as her gaze swept to Harper and Emori watching a video in another row.      

The bus revved, and soon they were pulling out of the school’s parking lot.  Clarke turned and saw Bellamy pull a book from his bag with his free hand.  

“You read on buses?” 

“Yeah, every away game.” 

“It doesn’t give you a headache?” 

“Never has.”  

Clarke smiled, peering closer at the book’s title. 

“You’re reading Antigone? For fun?” 

Bellamy shrugged.  “My copy of the Iliad was too heavy for this bag.” 

She shook her head.  “You’re such a nerd.”  

Bellamy pressed a kiss to her hairline.  “I’m your nerd.” 

Trying to hide the redness rushing to her cheeks, Clarke pulled her headphones over her ears and toggled to her favorite playlist.  She put her feet as far out as the leg room would allow.  

“I might fall asleep on your shoulder.  It’s early, and Coldplay is soothing.” 

 Bellamy let out one of those amused huffs.  His fingertips played with the ends of her hair.  “Fine by me.” 

Clarke shut her eyes, letting the rumble of the road lull her into a doze.  A window was stuck open on the bus, letting in a cold draft, but Bellamy’s warmth was a shield.  Keeping the contract had been worth it for this moment, where she could snuggle as close as she wanted, enjoying the pleasant smell of his hoodie.  She fell asleep wondering what it would be like to always be able to cuddle with Bellamy, whenever she wanted.  

Dreamed of para-para-paradise... 

Para-para-paradise... 

Every time she closed her eyes...  

The bus’s wheels screeched as they stopped.  Clarke started to wake, roused further by Bellamy gently rubbing her arm.  

“Bathroom break.  We’ve got an hour left.”    

She stretched as she stood up, noticing her playlist had been stopped. 

“When did that pause?” 

“I paused it when you fell asleep,” said Bellamy, his hand in hers as they made their way to the front of the bus.  “Figured you shouldn’t lose battery.” 

“Thanks,” said Clarke, squeezing his hand. 

After their stop, she noticed Bellamy snoozing on her shoulder.  His thumb was barely holding his page in place.  She smiled, gently tugging her ribbon out of her hair.  She slipped it between the pages as a bookmark before slowly closing his book and putting it on her lap.  

They arrived at the resort lodge a little before noon.  As they stood in the lounge area, the chaperone came forward with a stack of papers. 

“I’ve got your room assignments,” said Jackson, then he tossed the papers into the air.  “Sleep wherever you want!”  

As the group cheered, Jasper rolled his eyes.  “Who decided he’d be the responsible adult here?”  

Clarke scoffed.  “He’s just an attention-seeking jerk.  I don’t know why Miller has a crush on him.”  

Jasper nodded in agreement.  “Bryan was good for him, it’s a shame he had to move.”  

They heard a shout from the entrance; Bellamy and Monty were walking up to them.  Jasper and Monty did their signature single hand-clap before splitting off to head up the stairs.  Bellamy looked at Clarke, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder.  

“The rooms have double beds,” he said, squeezing her hand.  “Up to you if you want to share.”  

Oh.  She hadn’t thought about that in hours.  

“I mean, yeah, double beds are fine…” 

Flustered, she started stumbling over words, and in her hesitation, Murphy came up and clapped Bellamy on the shoulder. 

“Give me your bag, I’ll get dibs on a room.” 

“What? I’m not staying with you!” 

“Dude, last time I was here, I roomed with Miller.  He snores so loudly, I didn’t get a wink of sleep.”  He turned to Clarke.  “Look, there’s plenty of places for you and this guy to hook up here, but I need my 8 hours.” 

Bellamy gave him a shove.  “I’ll stay with Miller — go see if you can leech onto someone else, cockroach.”  

Murphy flipped them off as he walked away.  Bellamy turned back to Clarke, frustration creasing his brow. 

“Clarke, I’m —“ 

“It’s alright,” she jumped in quickly, giving him a little nudge.  “We didn’t put room-sharing in our contract,” she added quietly.  The side of Bellamy’s mouth went up, but his eyes seemed disappointed.  

“I’ll put my stuff up and meet you down here in 5 minutes for the museum shuttle?” 

She nodded.  “Sounds good.”     

Bellamy brightened visibly, winking (or at least, trying to) as he headed upstairs.  Clarke looked through the throng of classmates, but everyone was buddied up: Emori and Harper, Monty and Jasper, Echo was heading upstairs with a recent transfer student named Jade.                     

Finally her eyes caught on Wells.  She sidled up to him, linking her arm with his.  

“I need a room buddy.”   

He chuckled, looking around the lodge.  “What about Romeo?” 

“He’s settling a room dispute with some of his teammates.”  She smiled to herself.  “But he’s not sharing with Echo, so it can’t be a total loss.” 

Wells grinned, his white teeth glinting in the light of the lodge’s chandelier.   “Alright, gays gonna stick together.  Want me to take your bag upstairs?” 

“I got it, thanks!”  

When they reached an open room, Clarke dropped her bag on one of the beds and went immediately to the mirror.  She heard a laugh from Wells as she smoothed the travel frizz from her hair.  

“What?” 

“You hate museums, you complained about the sixth grade field trip that entire day.  And now you’re all but running out the door to go to one.” 

Clarke shrugged.  “Bellamy was looking forward to it.  And we are in a new city, it’ll be fun to explore it with him.”   

Wells smiled.  “You really love him.”  

She let out a soft laugh, her heart stuck in the middle of a truth and a lie.  

__________

If snoozing with Bellamy was pleasant on the ride up, it was positively wonderful to walk with him throughout the museum and the city.  He pointed out artifacts and exhibits that Clarke would have skimmed over, had it not been for his animated explanations.  And when they came across paintings, he hung on every comment she made about the various art styles, his eyes so intense and happy.  

Clarke had forgotten to put blush in her makeup travel bag, but she didn’t need it when Bellamy smiled at her like that .  

The hand holding hadn’t stopped at the marble flooring of the museum, but carried throughout their walk on the concrete pavement of the modern city and the cobblestones of Vieux-Québec.  She couldn’t stop grinning as they entered every little store and boutiques, laughing at the ridiculously tourist keepsakes, enviously eyeing more pricier items.  

“It’d be fun to come back here again when we have money to buy nice things,” Bellamy said when they were back on the street, casually hooking his arm into hers like a proper gentleman.  Clarke made a face.  

“And we don’t have to travel with 30 screaming high school students.” 

“Exactly.” 

“But you’ve been to this city already, just last year.  It hasn’t lost its novelty?”  

He shook his head, finding her hand and holding it.  “I mean being here with you.”      

She let out a soft laugh, letting her head rest against his shoulder as they kept walking.  They passed an elderly couple walking hand in hand.  The older woman looked at Bellamy, then gave Clarke a suggestive wink.  

Clarke bit her lip to avoid hiding her face, relaxing when Bellamy (oblivious to the entire exchange) pointed out a crepe stand ahead.  He paid for hers before she even opened her purse, and she giggled when he got powdered sugar all over his nose.  

She dusted it off and thumbed the smear of chocolate on the corner of his mouth.  

“I’m a mess, huh?” he said softly, lips turned up in that lazy, irresistible half-smile.  

Clarke gave a shrug, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.  “Nothing I can’t handle.”   

It was nearing nightfall when they made it back to the hotel.  Still not tired, they followed the herd of their classmates around the first floor.  Then a gleam of bluish-white outside, at the rear of the hotel, caught Bellamy’s attention.  Squinting, Clarke saw figures darting back and forth. An outdoor ice rink.  

“Oh, they still have it,” he grinned, pushing her along.  “C’mon, there’s a little booth on the other side that lets you borrow skates.”   

She followed him outdoors, but soon stopped dead in her tracks.  The rink was more like a frozen pond with no Plexiglas, no railing, no walls to break a fall.  She could barely remember the last time she had strapped on a pair of skates: one of Madi’s birthday parties, maybe.  The skates had been ill-fitting, and cut into her shins as she had tried to gain momentum on the ice.  Her ankles hurt at the mere thought.  

Then one of the figures glided past, and it was Echo, wearing the daintiest white skates with tight leggings and the slimmest down vest.  She turned to skate backwards with ease, her hair glossy and perfect. 

“I can’t skate well.  There… there isn’t anything to hold onto,” said Clarke, rubbing her forearms for warmth.  Bellamy furrowed his brows. 

“You’ve got me for that.”

Clarke bit her lip, shaking her head as she imagined falling on her ass in front of Echo, hearing the snickers and whispered comments.  She’d rather watch Bellamy skate circles effortlessly than make him take baby steps with her.  

“I… I think I’ll pass.”       

“Wait… Clarke…” 

Her phone buzzed.  Wells had sent her a photo of the pizza box in their room.  She held it up with a helpless shrug.  

“I’m still kinda hungry, I think I’m just going to go up to the room.” 

Bellamy’s face was stricken for a moment, but his confusion cleared and he offered a noncommittal toss of his hands. 

“O-Okay, guess I’ll see you later.” 

“Yeah, see ya,” she said hastily, struggling not to trip over her own feet as she went back inside and all but ran up the stairs. 

"I’m such an IDIOT." 

__________________

Upstairs, safe in the refuge of her room and with a stomach full of pizza and cola, Clarke felt more at ease.  

And maybe what had given her the relief wasn’t the food, but the confession to Wells.  

“You mean you and Bellamy have been faking it this whole time ?” 

“Yeah.” 

“But you two seem so genuine.” 

“I guess we’re good actors,” she stared at her hands helplessly.  “But now I’m so confused.”   She looked at him.  “Thank you for letting me vent.” 

“Us gays gotta stick together,” he smiled.  “And this is the best tea I’ve gotten in a while, I’ll tell you that.”  

“Probably because you’re the only one getting it.” 

“Mhm, that’s the best kind.”  

Clarke sighed hopelessly, taking the little tube of hand cream on the nightstand and massaging it into her dry knuckles.  No amount of pampering, not even wearing the fancy robes that the hotel had left freshly laundered in their closet, was going to assuage her distress.   

“Wells, I’m screwed.”  

“No, you’re not.  I don’t care how this thing between you two started, but it is definitely different now than it was then.”   

“How do you know that?” 

“Because of how he looks at you.”  

She furrowed her brows.  “How does Bellamy look at me?” 

“Like you’re a sexy lil crossword puzzle,” Wells laughed.  “He’s trying to figure you out, and you keep giving him all these hints to push him one way or another.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Clarke sighed, shaking her head.  “I left him at the skating pond, and Echo will use that to get in his head.” 

“Oh hell no,” Wells sat up in bed.  “You’re going to go find him right now.” 

“Now?”  Clarke stared like he had suggested jumping off the roof. 

“Yes, now!” 

“After I just imploded the perfect day we had?  No, we’re friends, best friends , he’ll be weirded out that I want to actually kiss him all the time.”     

“Look at the facts, Clarke.  You created the no-kissing rule, you’re the one letting your insecurities implode your relationship, and you’re hiding in here.”  He shook his head.  “I bet that guy’s waiting for you down in the hot tub.” 

Her heart lurched at the thought.  “Why would Bellamy be in the hot tub?” 

Wells shrugged.  “He skated for a while, he needs to decompress.  Relax those hockey jock muscles. ”  

Clarke was quiet for almost a minute, lost in mental debate, then she tossed her romance book onto the nightstand.   “Okay, I’ll go.”  She pulled her robe snugger, glad that the thick fabric disguised her nightie from any late-evening strollers.  

She turned back to Wells at the door, bravado trembling down her arms. 

“If this blows up in my face, we never had this conversation, okay?” 

He waved his fingers with a cheeky smile.  

“I won’t wait up for you, stay out as long as you like.”  

She rolled her eyes, sighing with an exaggerated slump of her shoulders as she crept out of their room. 

__________________

Thankfully, the hot tub was indoors; she would risk a lot for Bellamy Blake, but she wasn’t sure hypothermia was one of those things.  Navigating down the hall, the scent of chlorine led her right to the pool area.  

She tugged off the fancy hotel slippers as she walked in, but the tiles were dry.  No one was in the pool, given the late hour.  But in the foaming hot tub towards the back of the room near the sauna doors, she saw a familiar, dark-haired head.  

Clarke took a breath, heart hammering hard as she walked up.

“All by yourself?”  

Bellamy looked up, eyes alighting with a flicker of relief before he stared back down at the water.  Clarke raised an eyebrow. 

“You can’t ignore me when we’re alone, Bellamy.” 

 “Oh, but you can ignore me when there’s other people around,” he huffed.  “That’s cute.”

She rolled her eyes, pacing around the tub to face him.  The Whirlpool was small, only about six feet in diameter.  She pulled the edge of her robe up to keep it dry as she sank her feet in.  Bellamy’s gaze dipped to her bare knees.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t go ice skating with you,” she said quietly.  “You’re just amazing at skating because you’ve been doing it for so long, and I didn’t want you to be embarrassed by how badly I suck at it.”  

Bellamy shook his head.  “I wouldn’t have been embarrassed.  Clarke, I wanted to skate with you.”  He looked around helplessly.  “You know, I really thought this trip would be good for you, get you away from all the stress at home.  Then you run away after a great day.”  He lowered his voice, tone almost drifting into boyish petulance.  “Just wanted to skate with you.”  

She put her elbows on her thighs, holding her face in her hands.  “Not with someone who looks and glides like a figure skater?” 

His brow creased, comprehension dawning.  “Why do you feel like you have to be perfect around her?  Around me?” 

Clarke sighed.  “Because deep down, I’m afraid that you would rather be with her than me.”   

Bellamy tossed his head again, leaning his forearms up on the edge of the tub.   

She hated how good he looked right now, with the water dripping down his chest, the heat of it sun-kissing his bronze skin.  That was a lie — she loved how good he looked.  

“For someone who can draw the tiniest details,” he muttered, “you can’t see the bigger picture.” 

Clarke looked up, startled.  “What?” 

Bellamy threw up his hands.  “I didn’t get you those flowers for your dad because of our fight.  I was going to get them for you as soon as you told me you wouldn’t have time for them.”  

Her heart gave its deepest lurch yet.  “But the only florist who sells hydrangeas is across town.” 

“Yeah.” 

“You would’ve had to skip most of your last class.”  

“Block 3 was the last one that day… you would’ve had history.” 

“ Yes .”  

Clarke’s brain refused to get off the train of denial.  “But history’s your favorite class.” 

Actual pain etched itself on Bellamy’s features.  “So if I skipped my favorite class to go across town and buy you your father’s favorite flowers, then that means…” 

Clarke shook her head, saying the first joke that came to mind.  “You’re a rebel who likes bouquets?” 

Bellamy slapped the water with a frustrated sigh and half a chuckle on his lips.   

“You are impossible,” he said.  “You tug me in ten different directions, and I just let you do it.”

For several lingering moments, she just looked at him, his words sinking in.  Then she took a breath, and untied the knot on her robe.  His eyes caught the motion, and he didn’t look away, breath stalled in his chest.  

Clarke bit her lip as she let the robe fall off her shoulders.  Her bare arms felt the steam from the tub, and the heat burning across her collarbones and chest could’ve been from the jets or Bellamy’s gaze.  She lowered herself into the tub, locking her eyes with his.  Hardly anything was left to his imagination, and there was no turning back for either of them now.

“Alright,” she said.  “Tug me where you want to go.”    

His chest was rising in heaving breaths, pupils blown to the rims.  He held himself back with fists clutching the edge, until Clarke stepped forward, letting the tip of her tongue touch her lips. 

Then in a heartbeat, she was in his arms, his mouth pressed hotly to hers.  No vanilla frosting, no hockey gear, just Bellamy kissing her like it was his last day on Earth.  All pretense fell away, and Clarke shuddered at how real it felt.  This moment wasn’t out of a fairytale, she was kissing and kissing the person she loved, and he wasn’t pulling away.  

“No one else I want, Princess,” Bellamy murmured, hands reaching to pull her thighs to his hips.  “Just you.”   

“Bellamy…”  Her head was spinning from the heat, or maybe from him.  He seemed to know exactly how to hold her, how to press his tongue ever so gently against the seam of her mouth.  

“ He’s done this before, ” whispered an evil little voice in her head.  

“Clarke, kiss me,” he said, putting his lips on her cheek as he moved them back against the wall of the tub.  “Don’t stop kissing me.”  

Clarke wouldn’t argue if she could, curling her fingers into his steam damp curls.  She let her lips trail down his throat, inhaling the scent of his skin.  Bellamy groaned, then cupped her jaw as she kissed his collarbone, bringing her back as if her lips were a font of ancient ambrosia.    

“ T’es belle ,” he whispered.  

Clarke laughed against his skin. 

“ T’es beau .”  

He made a pleased sound at the back of his throat.  His touches were different with no watching eyes, his hands moving slower but gripping harder.  Adoring as they cupped her cheeks, indulgent skimming down her back, possessive at the swell of her hips, greedy as they grazed down her legs.  

He squeezed her thighs, fingertips on the edge of her nightie.  In her dazed state, Clarke realized that she had changed into her nightwear without anything on underneath.  That thought and a hardness forming underneath her shifting hips suddenly brought her sobering clarity. 

“Bellamy …we —”  she pulled herself away from his teeth leaving a mark  “— we can’t have sex in a communal hot tub.” 

He looked at her, then glanced down at his lap.  

“Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly.  “I … got carried away.” 

“It’s okay,” said Clarke, laughing as she breathed through the burning in her lungs.  “So did I.” 

Bellamy’s eyes grew impossibly softer, and he leaned forward to kiss her again.  She hummed at the softness of his touches, fire simmering into sweet embers.  

“I have uh… protection in my room,” he mumbled.  Clarke blushed.  

“So do I, actually.”  

Bellamy nuzzled her neck, his curse muffled.  “Now I wish I was rooming with Murphy, because I can kick him out, but I really don’t want to do it to Miller.”  There was a glint in his eyes when he said though, as if insinuating, “ I’ll do it if you want me to.” 

Clarke loosened her hands from his neck, sliding them down his arms.  She shook her head, looking up at him nervously.  

“I’m not ready for that,” she said softly.  “You’re my first…”  Boyfriend?  Fling?  Romance?  

“You’re the first person who’s held me like this,” she settled, flushing under the adoration in his eyes.  

“I know,” he said quietly, offering her his hand as he stepped out of the tub.  “I don’t want to rush you.  Your pace, alright?” 

She nodded, relief rushing through her with each breath.  

They dried off with the hotel towels and slipped back into their robes.  Clarke held back a giggle at the pouf of Bellamy’s drying curls.  He interlaced their fingers as they walked back to the second floor.  They ducked behind corners whenever hotel staff passed by with their carts, Bellamy stealing a kiss whenever he could.   

They lingered outside her door.  Clarke smiled, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss him one last time.  Bellamy’s arms were warm, and she kicked herself for not giving Murphy the middle finger and claiming a room for her and her …boyfriend? 

Bellamy deepened the kiss, then he dropped his forehead to hers for a soft caress. 

Yeah, her boyfriend.  Or at least, he would be tomorrow morning, for real.  

“Goodnight, Bellamy.” 

“Sweet dreams, Princess,” he pressed one last kiss to her forehead and stepped away, keeping his eyes on her until he had to turn the corner.  

Clarke sighed, eyes fluttering shut with delight as she opened her door as quietly as she could.  Wells was snoring quietly, and she bit back the urge to cry gleefully into her pillow.  She probably shouldn’t sleep in a chlorine-soaked nightgown, but it would have to do.  She slid beneath her sheets, shivering slightly at the feel of the cool cotton.   

But her heart warmed as she thought about hot, foaming water and hotter, rough hands.  

____________

Clarke awoke from her snooze drowsily, unaware if it had been minutes or hours, the windows still dark.  But Wells was coughing non-stop, and it sounded pretty rough.  

She sat up in bed and turned on the light.  

“Wells?  Wells!” 

“Clarke,” his voice was scratchy.  “Sorry I woke you up. Had a bit of a sore throat this morning—” he coughed again — “and it’s gotten worse.”    

“I just got back,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t ask about her night.  He didn’t, his face pressed to his elbow and his eyes screwed shut.  “What can I get you?”  

“Did you bring any cough drops?” he asked between hacks.  Clarke shook her head, chiding herself for not being prepared.  “No, but I bet Harper has some. She brings everything.”  

She crossed quickly to the bathroom and poured him a glass of water from the tap.   

“Drink this, I’ll be back soon.” 

She wrapped her robe tighter around her frame, not stopping to put on slippers, before slowly opening the door.  The hallway was pretty quiet, with faint voices and laughter coming from some of the rooms.  She crept down the corridor, glad to be barefoot without the annoying “slap-slap” sound of the slippers. 

Clarke knocked softly on Harper’s door, but there was no answer.  She pressed her ear to the door and heard a muffled giggle.  She knocked again, and then the door opened. 

“Oh Clarke, hey what’s up?”  Harper’s voice was breathy, her arms tucked tight against an unfastened robe.  Clarke cleared her throat. 

“Wells is having a bad cough, I was wondering if you had any ibuprofen or cough drops.”  

“Of course, give me a second!”  Harper paced over to her “mom friend” bag and pulled out a yellow bag of honey drops.  Clarke’s eyes swept the room, but she didn’t see Emori anywhere.  

She did, however, see Monty shirtless in Harper’s bed.  

“Oh,” she felt her cheeks flame up.  “I’m sorry if I interrupted.”  

Monty gave her an easy smile.  “No worries, tell Wells I hope he feels better.” 

“I will.  Where’s Emori?”  

Monty cocked his head.  “Probably sliding into third base with Murphy right now.” 

Clarke shut her eyes against that mental image, quickly accepting the proffered bag from Harper. 

“Ew, I hate you.” 

“Love you too, Griffin.” 

“Night, you two.” 

“Good night!”  

Clarke shut their door quietly, holding the cough drops close to her chest.  As she paced down the hallway back to her room, a figure up ahead caught her attention.  Tall, broad-shouldered, definitely a dude.  

She narrowed her eyes, stopping her steps as she realized it was Bellamy . 

What was he doing still awake? 

Though guilt nipped at her heels, she waited until he crossed a corner and then followed him.  With her back pressed against the wall, she peered at the floor-length mirror mounted beside her, showing her a reflection of Bellamy knocking at a door.  

But whose door was it?  

The door’s hinges squeaked open.  Clarke couldn’t see who was inside, so she crept closer, shutting her eyes to focus on what she could hear.  

A piercingly-pitched giggle, and then a horrible, horribly familiar voice. 

“Jade, get out and let him come in!” 

Clarke’s eyes flew open, heart shuddering as she pushed herself away from the wall.  In the mirror, Bellamy was walking in and Jade’s head had appeared in the entryway.  

Clarke sprinted back to her room, silent as a shadow with her bare feet on the carpet.  With trembling hands, she opened the door as quickly and quietly as she could.  Wells was back in a fitful doze, so she refilled his water and left the cough drops on his nightstand.   

Then she curled back into a ball under her sheets, unable to stop shaking.  Her feet were cold, and her chest felt colder. 

Bellamy went back to her.  

He didn’t say anything when she kicked her roommate out. 

Bellamy gave me the most romantic day of my life, and he went back to his ex.

He went back because I didn’t have sex with him.  

This experiment was supposed to help her figure out dating without any emotional fallout.  Easy, rational, a mutual agreement.  

But she screwed it all up, and now the fallout was smothering her heart. 

When she could hear Wells’ deep breathing, Clarke cried into her pillow, letting tears run down the cheeks that Bellamy had kissed not even two hours earlier.   

She packed her bag the next morning with a dull headache, wondering if there was such a thing as an emotional hangover.  Wells’s chest still shook with a few coughs, but he seemed chipper. When Clarke didn’t return his smiles, his expression faded, and he left the preceding night an unspoken topic.  

Stepping up onto the bus, Clarke was greeted with a few hoots and hollers from the hockey team.  She rolled her eyes, finding Jasper sitting by himself, lazy smile stretched on his face.  Monty and Harper were sitting in front of him, cheeks pinked from their giggles.   

She flopped into the seat next to Jasper, waiting for the jeers to die down.  Surely the team probably just assumed she had sex because of the trip itself… unless… 

She nudged her seat-mate with her elbow.  Jasper seemed on the verge of sleep, but his spool-of-thread loopiness easily spotted.      

“Psst… what did you eat?” 

“Monty and I made chocolate chip pot muffins… Girl, it’s galactic … I might have one left in my bag if you want…”  

“Shush—“ Clarke swatted his arm as the bus driver appeared at the front.  “I mean the hockey boys, why were they cheering for me?” 

Jasper gave her an amused look.  “You had Bellamy hanging off your arm yesterday, they knew you two did something last night.” 

Something jolted in her stomach.  “You didn’t hear anything specific, did you?” 

He shook his head, then turned his grin up a notch.  “Nope, not unless you wanna tell me, your best friend.” 

Clarke chuckled, putting on her headphones as she smirked at him.  “Not a chance, pal.”  He grumbled for a moment, then his head lolled against the window in a doze.  With relief swirling through her system that her secrets were intact, she had a moment to relax. 

Then Bellamy boarded the bus.  His eyes were searching for her, and though she should have hidden her face, she kept looking at him.  Anger was burning a hole in her gut; his hair was still mussed from sleep.  

Had those curls been tangled in Echo’s pillows and sheets?  

Bellamy spotted her, brow furrowed as he walked forward.  He gestured to a couple of empty seats, but Clarke shook her head.  His confusion only made her stare colder, and after a few moments of a standoff, he sighed and fell into a seat next to Miller.  

Clarke tuned her attention to the leather pattern of the seat in front of her, turning up the volume as the queue flipped to Paramore. 

I'm in the business of misery, let's take it from the top

She's got a body like an hourglass that's ticking like a clock

It's a matter of time before we all run out

When I thought he was mine, she caught him by the mouth— 

She caught Bellamy’s eyes, his mouth pulled in a frustrated line.  He started to tap on his phone, and Clarke quickly switched to airplane mode before his texts could come through. 

I waited eight long months

She finally set him free

I told him I couldn't lie, he was the only one for me

Two weeks and we had caught on fire

She's got it out for me, but I wear the biggest smile 

She stuffed her hands in her pockets, feeling a scrap of paper.  She pulled it out and unfurled it, revealing a sketch that Bellamy had done a couple weeks ago, when the weather had just started turning cold.  

It was not bad, though his style was certainly more cartoon-like than hers.  He had drawn her as Athena scowling at Ares (depicted as him, obviously), who was shamelessly flirting.  She folded it back up, ignoring the twist in her chest as she gazed around the seats.  A pair of vampy eyes connected with hers.  

Second chances they don't ever matter, people never change

Once a whore, you're nothing more, I'm sorry that'll never change…

Echo’s face was sugary-smug, and Clarke’s stomach churned bitterly.  Fisting her hands at her sides, Clarke shut her eyes and drowned herself in music till the bus stopped outside Arkadia High.  

And about forgiveness, we're both supposed to have exchanged

I'm sorry honey, I passed out, now look this way….

The sunlight was near blinding as it glinted off the bricks of Arkadia High.  Clarke dug her bag out of the bus’s lower hold with a bit of difficulty, one of the handles snagging on a hook.   

When she straightened up, Echo was standing there, looking like she had just stepped out of a supermodel photoshoot.  Clarke let out a breath, feeling all the hair snarled on her neck from the trip.  

“How was your first trip north?” Echo simpered.  “I’m so happy you were able to come.”  

“I liked it,” Clarke pasted on a smile.  “We had a good time.” 

“You and Bellamy are good?”  

“Yeah,” she said smoothly, but Echo cocked her head. 

“You didn’t sit with him on the way back.” 

Clarke gritted her teeth. 

Lie.  You’ve always been good at lying to people you don’t like. 

“I just had to check on Jasper, and Bellamy understood.” 

Echo sniffed, a clear lack of love for her cousin.  “Well, it’s good that you two can have space to be around other people.  Especially for Bellamy, considering that last night we…” she left her words trail off intentionally.  Clarke, a knot tying itself in her stomach, played along.

“What… happened last night?”  She asked with a slight shake of her head.

“He didn’t tell you?”  Echo’s vapid smile had returned, and Clarke was ready to bruise her knuckles against the bus.  She shook her head again.  

“Bellamy and I … reconnected.”

“Oh…okay.”  

Echo had the audacity to pout.  “Aw, there will be other guys, Clarke.  And — girls, I guess.” 

She sauntered away to meld into a gaggle across the parking lot.  Clarke dragged her suitcase, cursing when its wheels balked against the curb.  She hoisted it up with a frustrated growl.   

“Whoa-whoa-whoa,”  Bellamy — fucking Bellamy — chose that moment to appear.  “Are you okay?” 

“No, Bellamy, I’m not okay,” she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes.  

His stance became tense at once.  “What’s wrong?  Why didn’t you sit with me on the way back?” 

“I have a better question,” she struggled to keep her voice low enough to ward off eavesdroppers.  “Why did you go to Echo’s room last night?”    

He drew his brows together, eyes alert with alarm.  

“Did she tell you that?” 

“No,” she poked him in the chest.  “I saw you go into her room.” 

“You saw me?” 

“Yes!”  Her words became a rollercoaster.  “Wells was sick, I went to get him medicine, I was in the hallway, I saw you go into her room, and I heard her kicking her roommate out so she could have sex with you !”  She dropped that final phrase into a hiss.  

 Bellamy, for lack of better words, seemed horrified by her sequence of events.  He put his hands up as if to grasp her shoulders, but then thought better of it. 

“Hang on, you just have to let me explain—“ 

“Oh, do I?”  Clarke cocked her head.  “Because your varsity boys pretty much gave me a standing ovation, and that’s great for team morale before the playoffs, isn’t it?  Hearing their captain got all up in the Peach Street Princess on the school trip!” 

“I didn’t tell anyone what we did,”  Bellamy muttered, his teeth gritted.  

“It doesn’t matter what we did,”  Clarke begged the tears in her eyes to hold off a moment longer.  “Because we’re done.  All of this,” she gestured between them, “is done.”  

“Clarke, Clarke, please wait!”  He called out before she had even turned completely, his hand sliding from her elbow.   

“I’m walking home, Bellamy!”  She dared not look over her shoulder as her cheeks grew damp yet again.  

Snow had fallen while she was away, and Clarke welcomed the warm air of the house as she entered, kicking off her boots with a tired sigh.   

“You’re home!”  Madi’s voice was pure and happy as she ran to the door.  Clarke embraced her little sister tighter, letting her angst fade to the byways.  She looked around in awe; Christmas was not for another week and a half, but the house was trimmed with all manner of holiday delight. 

“Who helped you set all this up? Did Mom?” Clarke asked, dropping her suitcase in the living room.  

“Who do you think?” said a familiar voice on the stairs.  Clarke whirled around, grinning as she stepped into Raven’s hug.  

“You’re back!” 

“I crammed my finals so I could take an earlier flight.”  

“I’ve missed you so much!” 

“I’ve missed you, too, you haven’t called me in months!”  Her fist thumped Clarke’s arm lightly.  “What’s up with that?” 

Clarke felt a sharp twist in her stomach, but Madi saved her by tugging both of them to the kitchen to make sugar cookies.  

________________

It had been so long since Raven baked with them, Clarke had forgotten how much she enjoyed it.  The three of them lumped together on their bar stools, each with a steaming mug of hot chocolate at hand.  

“Do German guys drink a lot of beer?” Madi piped up as they cut trees, stars, and reindeer out of the sugary dough.  Raven nodded. 

“Yeah, and they all have beards.  A lot of them even grow their hair long enough to put into buns too.”  

“How does German sound?”  

“Like someone put English through a food processor for a few seconds,” said Raven with a smirk, licking icing off her thumb.  Madi giggled, and Clarke let out a chuckle too.  

“Baking hasn’t been the same without your commentary,” she admitted.  Raven smiled. 

“We should definitely stay in and decorate all of these cookies together.”   

“Can I go over and invite Finn?” asked Madi.  Raven exchanged a look with Clarke, and Clarke felt another jolt in her gut.  

“Just us girls for tonight, I think.” 

“Okay.  I guess Bellamy can’t come over either,” Madi said, making Clarke choke on her hot chocolate.  Raven’s brow creased. 

“Bellamy, why would he come over?”  

Clarke had a fib on the tip of her tongue, but then the doorbell rang.  All three looked at each other.  “I’ll get it,” she stood up first.  

She wondered if it were Finn, having spotted Raven through a window.  When she opened the door, her breath tripped over her lips, seeing Bellamy there.  

He was shifting his weight from foot to foot, scratching his neck nervously. 

“Can we talk?”  

“Not inside.” 

Clarke stepped over the threshold, crossing her arms over her chest.  She bit her lip, watching Bellamy take a breath.  His hands shook slightly, so he stuffed them in his pockets.

“Look, nothing happened between me and Echo last night.” 

“But you went to her room.  And she laughed.” 

“Trust me, she had nothing to laugh about.”  

“She asked Jade to leave,” Clarke kept her tone sharp.  “I saw Jade leave and you walk in.”  

Bellamy put his hands up.  “I know it looks bad, and I just … what I have with her is so complicated, I had to—"

“You had to go back.”  Clarke said flatly. 

“No… Clarke—“ 

“Was this her idea from the start, to see you string me along for fun?” 

“No—“  Bellamy held up his hands.  “She wouldn’t listen to me over the phone.”  

 “Bellamy, I thought spending time with me was making you forget about her,” said Clarke. “And I am just tired of being … second best, fake best—“  She was choking on the bitterness in her voice, but the pain was relentless.   

“Clarke, you don’t get it,”  Bellamy had his eyes shut tight, struggling for words.  “Last night was…” 

“Last night was a mistake,” she said, squaring her shoulders.  “I trusted you with this physical intimacy, because I thought you’d take it seriously.” 

“It is serious for me.” 

“Is it?  When you go off later to someone different, and you get applause from everyone else?” 

“Screw everyone else!”  Bellamy grasped her shoulders.  “Just listen to me right now, please.” 

Clarke shut her eyes, unable to look at the desperation in his.  “Bellamy, you have to leave, it’s too soon for me to talk about this.” 

His voice was gentle.  “Hey, we can go inside, sit down, I promise that—“ 

“She asked you to leave, pal,” blurted Finn, appearing from the other side of a phone pole, hood pulled over his head.  Bellamy glared at him, softness dissolving like sugar in scalding water.

“I’m sorry, where the FUCK did you come from?”  

“I live here, asshole.” 

“No, you live across the street, you were just creeping in their bushes like some kind of —“ 

“Bellamy!” Clarke shouted.  “You two are not fighting for the whole neighborhood to watch.”  

Bellamy narrowed his eyes as he took in her stance, standing between them with one hand stopping him and the other outstretched back towards Finn.  His expression turned sour. 

“Oh, is this about him, Princess?” he sneered, raising his voice.  “You’re not letting me explain myself because you still have feelings for this jerk?”  

“You have what?”  

All three of them turned to look at the front door.  Clarke’s jaw dropped, voice cracking in her throat as she saw Raven standing shocked in the doorway, Madi behind her with equally wide eyes.  

“Clarke? You have feelings for Finn?” 

“Raven, I— I can’t—" Clarke stuttered, words escaping her as Raven’s expression became stone.  Her ponytail swished furiously as she stormed up the stairs, Madi’s apologetic face lingering only a second longer as she quietly closed the door.  

She might as well have slammed the door for the crashing sensation in Clarke’s chest.  She cupped her hands over her mouth, breathing hard to compose herself.  

Bellamy put his hand on her shoulder, and for a moment she leaned into it.  Then she shook her head and pulled away to stand on the porch steps.  He turned his frustration back to Finn.  

“Look at you, all you cause is a mess.  Just leave Clarke alone.”  

“What makes you think you can be in charge here, Bellamy?  You don’t even KNOW her.” 

The words cut deeper than anticipated, even Finn seemed taken aback.  Bellamy looked at Clarke, his eyes pleading.  

“I… I do, Clarke…please…” 

She held back her tears, gulping down a breath. 

“Bellamy… go home.” 

Defeat sank on his shoulders like the weight of the world.  Pain cut through Clarke’s chest, watching him back away slowly.    

“God, you were never second —“  Bellamy stuttered and exhaled for a moment, rubbing his face.  “Clarke, there’s no universe where you’re second best, alright?” 

Clarke nodded, tears brimming, and turned around, not even taking a second look at Finn.    

“I didn’t know Raven was home,” he offered, though Clarke barely heard him as she opened the door. 

“That doesn’t make it any better,” she said, mostly to herself.  

___________

Up in her room, Clarke purged all evidence of romance.  Her novels went into a bin in the closet, her sketchbooks pushed out of sight underneath the bed.  All of the notes Bellamy left in her locker went in her wastepaper basket.  

Their contract was lying on top of her desk.  Clarke huffed, balling it up in her hands as that too, was chucked in the trash.  She collapsed on her bed, reaching into her pocket for her phone to find some music fitting her current mood.  Hayley Williams would have her covered, no doubt.  After tonight, she could forget she had ever done anything with Bellamy Blake. 

But a notification from Instagram caught her attention first.  Then one notification became five as she opened the app.  

She tapped on the video she was tagged in, and figuratively, her stomach fell into her pelvis.  

At first glance, the 30-second video seemed to be amateur porn, but the background was familiar.  And she looked closer at the guy, recognizing the dark curls to be Bellamy’s.  

When did he go back, wait Clarke don’t be stupid— 

She squinted at the girl he was kissing … a blonde, well-endowed girl wearing a baby blue nightie.  Her .

Her romantic, French-Canadian fling…exposed on the Internet.  

Part of her wanted to scream, and at least it would have been theatrical if she screamed.  Instead Clarke let out an embarrassing squeak as she dropped her phone.  Breath racing too fast for her lungs to catch up, she picked up the phone, her mind telling her the name of the one person who could help her fix this shit-show.  

__________

In the guest room, Raven had her noise-canceling headphones on as her pencil bit furiously into the equation on her notebook.  Clarke winced as she walked in; mathematics were how Raven coped with emotions. 

Raven saw her approach and sighed, turning down her heavy metal music as she slid her headphones off.  Clarke tossed her a couple chocolates from the stash in the kitchen cabinet.  

She caught them, giving her a wary stare. 

“Since you brought me two… you get two minutes, I’m busy.” 

“I need your help,” Clarke said quietly.  Raven gave her a quiet huff. 

“Call one of those boys back, I’m sure they’ll help you.” 

Clarke shook her head, holding the phone.  Raven took it, her eyebrows shooting up as she watched the video. 

“Well….shit.” 

“What do I do?” Clarke whispered.  She had seen the hashtags on the post walking over to Raven’s room, and the juxtaposition of #sexy #slut #bisexual was burned into her brain.  

“Well, first we’re going to report this,” said Raven calmly, tapping on the screen.  “It’s the only post on this account, so it’s already pretty suspect, definitely a troll.  You’re wearing clothes —“ 

“Not many—“ admitted Clarke.  Raven glared at her. 

“TMI, but you’re mostly in profile, which is good, your back’s in focus.  And the lighting’s honestly kinda dim,” she commented.  “You’re not even tagged on the post itself, only in the comments.”  She peered at the username.  “Dax on the hockey team — I’d tell Bellamy to kick his ass if I were you.”  

Clarke sighed, letting herself flop on the mattress.  “I don’t even care about my reputation anymore, I just don’t want Bellamy to get in trouble.” 

Raven snorted.  “Since when do guys ever get in trouble when stuff like this happens?” 

Clarke curled back up.  “Since I’m 16 and Bellamy turns 19 next week?” 

Raven’s brows shot up.  “Oh yikes, I’ll send an email to Instagram’s support staff.  You’re underage, they take that shit seriously.”  

A breath of relief left Clarke’s lips.  “Thank you, this means a lot to me.”  She found the nearest pillow and pressed it against her face.  “How did all of this happen? I’m so stupid.” 

Raven sighed, tugging the pillow away from Clarke.  “You’re a lot of things, including a pain in my ass, but stupid is not one of them.”  She tapped send on the email.  “This will get fixed.” 

Clarke stared at her hands.  “I know you only care because I gave you a problem to solve.  You’re pissed that I kept you in the dark about all of this.”   

Raven shook her head.  “I do care, Clarke, it’s just … I’m not a feelings-person, and I found out in the worst possible way that you liked the one guy who I did have feelings for.”  She brought her gaze down to her math equation. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” 

“Because you’d hate me for it,” muttered Clarke.  Raven scowled. 

“Why would I hate you?”  

Clarke shrugged.  “It’s what you do when something’s out of your control.”

Raven bit her lip, exhaling a long breath.  

“You’re right,” she admitted, looking over to Clarke.  “Do you still like Finn?”  

Clarke shook her head.  “It was a while ago.”  

Raven let out a sigh.  “I don’t hate you right now, I’m just sad that you didn't feel like you could tell me about it.”  

“I didn’t tell you what was going on because I was lying to everyone in my life,” said Clarke, finally looking up at her.  “And I can’t lie to you.”  

Raven’s grimace turned into a weak smile.  “I just thought you didn’t need me anymore.”  Clarke let out a small laugh. 

“I’m always going to need you.  Look what happened when you left.  I’m now a virgin with a sex tape.”  

Raven started laughing, letting herself lean into Clarke’s side. 

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.”

As warmth settled in both their hearts, they heard a small tap at the door.  Madi was standing there, already changed into her unicorn pajamas.  In her hands, she was holding the satin hatbox.  

“Madi?”  Clarke’s eyes shot open.  “Where did you find that?” 

Shame reddened her sister’s cheeks.  “I had it hidden in my room, after I put your letters in the mailbox.”  

Clarke felt the blood start to pound in her ears.  She counted to five, ten, then fifteen before taking a deep breath. 

“You … sent … my letters?” she asked, enunciating every word with quiet rage.   

“Yes.” 

“You snuck into my closet and found that box on the top shelf?”  

Madi shrugged.  “I was bored one day.”  

“And your first thought was to send them ?”  Clarke grabbed the pillow, intent on using it as a weapon, but Raven held her back.  

“Clarke — Clarke, I don’t hate you, let’s not hate her till she tells us everything.” 

Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Talk, Madi.” 

Madi put on her best puppy dog eyes.  “You were so lonely after Raven left, and Mom was getting on your nerves, I wanted you to have someone special, and I knew they were all love letters,” she simpered.   

Clarke let out an exasperated sigh.  “But all five of them?”   

Madi tossed her hands.  “Better probability?” 

“They weren’t YOURS to touch!” 

“But they were gathering dust!” 

Clarke lunged for the pillow again, but Raven interceded. 

“She did something wrong, but she did it with a pure heart, can we make a compromise here?”  

“If she wanted me to get humiliated—“

“She didn’t,” Raven’s tone finally found its edge.  “Clarke Griffin, if you didn’t want those letters sent out, why were they in envelopes with addresses and stamps?” 

For once, Clarke was actually speechless.  Raven rolled her eyes. 

“Deep down, I think you wanted those letters to be sent out.  Must you hide all these romantic dreams of yours in your closet?”  

“Did you just ask a queer girl why she hides her romantic dreams in the closet?”  

Raven let out a tired laugh.  “You know what I mean. My point being —” she looked between the two of them.  “I’ll let you off the hook for writing my ex-boyfriend a love letter while I was with him , if you’ll forgive Madi for mailing it, along with the others.”   

Clarke sighed, turning a cold eye to her little sister.  “You will clean the kitchen until you go to college.”  

Madi nearly collapsed with relief.  “Thank goodness, I thought I was going to have to fake my own kidnapping.”

“And I am never, letting you live this down, little lady.”  

The following day was Sunday, so the Peach Street girls went to Luna’s diner for brunch.  Raven had insisted, so Clarke tried to forget about all the times she had visited here with Bellamy after school and on the weekends.   

He hadn’t texted her all weekend except for an “are you okay?” message at midnight.  She had replied with “I’m fine” the following morning, and they had left it at that.   

When Raven finished her waffle, Madi told her that someone had beaten her high score on the old pinball machine against the back wall.  Incensed, Raven shot up from her seat and went immediately to the old arcade souvenir, Madi tagging behind her.  

Clarke laughed, and the woman sitting on the other side of the booth chuckled as well. 

“That little one’s an upstart, huh?”  

Clarke twisted around.  The woman had her hair tied back and was wearing aviators, but her county sheriff’s jacket was a dead giveaway.  

“Ma’am, you’re in Arkadia again?” 

“None of that ma’am crap, I told you to call me Diyoza,” she pushed her aviators down and handed Clarke a quarter.  “Go to the jukebox and play that Kurt Cobain song they have in there.”  

Clarke did as she asked, sliding in the coin and pressing play.  Raven and Madi were still locked in on the game, so she sat in her seat facing the sheriff. 

Diyoza tilted her head back, bobbing to the music.  “I’m glad Luna hasn’t changed this place up too much.  Been coming here since before you were born, and the eggs are still the best in town.” 

Clarke smiled.  “Here’s got a lot of good memories for me.” 

Diyoza looked at her, steel eyes softening. 

“Wow, you really are looking like your dad as you grow up.”  

Clarke sighed.  “Yeah, it’s hard looking at photos of him.” 

Diyoza shook her head sadly.  “He was a great man.”  Her eyes flitted to the side for a moment, then she gestured at an open space towards the middle of the diner.  “I remember I’d be in here waiting for my shift to start, and he’d play the same damn song as he teased your mother into dancing with him.”    

 Clarke smiled.  “They came here when they were dating? I didn’t know that.” 

“All the time.  And he always had a quarter so they could dance.” 

Her smile grew bigger.  “My dad was the romantic, huh?”   

“Oh yeah.  He adored her, everyone saw it in his eyes.” 

The grin dimmed as Clarke recalled someone else saying a similar thing about Bellamy.  She slumped against the wall of the booth.  

“I really miss him.  And my mom’s in a rough place without him,” she admitted.  Diyoza nodded. 

“Loss of love is a painful thing, and it strikes when you least expect it.” 

“Speaking from experience?” asked Clarke.  Diyoza nodded gravely.  

“My fiancé did a lot of undercover work down in Sanctum City.  When his cover was blown… it was awful for me.  And I never found the bastard who snitched on him.” 

Clarke felt the weight of the story hit her chest.  “I’m sorry.”  Diyoza shrugged.  

“It’s in the past.  I sit behind a desk most days now, and I know that somewhere, he loves that I’m keeping myself safe.”  She looked over and gave her a knowing look.  “If you’ve got some love in your life right now, hold on to it.  Chase it, if you have to.”  

Clarke laughed.  “Shouldn’t I focus on school?” 

Diyoza scoffed, tossing her hand.  “You’ll always have time for school, but you’re only young once.  You should enjoy it.” 

Clarke stared at her hands.  “I don’t think the guy I’m in love with wants to be with me.” 

“Honey, if he doesn’t want you, he’s a damn idiot.”  Diyoza slid her aviators back on, leaving the diner and leaving Clarke to her thoughts.   

“Everything will be normal, the video got taken down,” she told herself, walking into school with Jasper and Wells on Monday.  Instagram had confirmed the video had been removed within three hours of its posting, surely it would be old news, right?  

Her relationship with Bellamy couldn’t be that titillating.   

Her stomach filled with dread when she saw the huddle around her locker.  The crowd parted for her to approach; lo and behold, someone had taped a screenshot of the video below the lock.  It had already garnered some lewd messages scrawled beneath it. 

“So much for c’est qui’arrive en Québec reste en Québec.” 

Clarke tempered her anger, releasing it in the snap of her wrist as she tore the paper off her locker and ripped it in half.  Some of the jocks in the crowd started whistling and jeering.   

“She’s even cuter when she’s mad.” 

Clarke stormed away from the mockers.  She shouldered past Dax, who had a rather large bruise on his left cheek.  Wells and Jasper stayed beside her, but their words of comfort were a buzz in her ears.  She put her head down, eyes shut against the hallway laughter, trusting her feet to take her to the bathroom.  

With her eyes shut, she collided into someone broad.  A familiar broadness, with an even more familiar scent. 

“Whoah, hey-hey-hey,” Bellamy put his hands on her shoulders.  “You okay?”  

Clarke nodded with a sniff, not even realizing that tears had slipped down her face.

“You’re not okay.” 

“Of course I’m not okay,” she snapped, pushing the balled-up paper into his hands.  “But I guess slut-shaming’s just a normal Monday for me now.”  

She pushed past him despite his protests.  Before she reached the end of the hallway, she heard his voice again. 

“Everyone listen up.”  

All the students around them fell silent.  Bellamy’s deep pitch had that effect, even Clarke was turning around.  

“What you saw in that video is none of your business,” he said firmly, then added in a fiercer tone, “and if any of you give her more grief about it or keep talking about it, you and I are going to have problems.  That clear?”  

The crowd around her locker disseminated.  She stood there like her feet were frozen, transfixed by his short but serious speech.  Bellamy walked back to her, hand rubbing her shoulder.  She almost shrugged it away.  

“I am really sorry that someone did that to you, to us,” he said softly,  “and when I find out who did it—” 

“I know who did it,” Clarke said coldly, pulling away from him and heading to the bathroom.  “There’s only one person who would do something like this.” 

_______

In all honesty, she just wanted to go to the bathroom to wash her hands.  It was an uncanny coincidence that her nemesis was at the sink with the same idea. 

“Echo,” she said quietly, dropping her bag. 

“Clarke,” came the reply, as Echo washed her hands even more vigorously.  “Saw that video of you in the hot tub.  Yikes.” 

“I know,” Clarke remained poised.  

“To do that in a public place?  My sympathy only stretches so thin.”  

“Everything about you is thin,” she said, rinsing her hands.  “But that was a happy moment for us, and someone took that away.”  

“I’m not sure you’ll ever find out who it was.”  

Clarke turned the water off.

“You know… I’ve always had an eye for small details,” she said quietly.  “And the angle that video was shot… someone would have had to be standing at the door of the sauna to film it.” 

“Good detective work.”  Echo’s voice was light, but when Clarke turned to look at her, she saw just the slightest flicker of fear in the taller girl’s eyes. 

“It must have been sweltering, hiding in there for so long while I talked to him,” she whispered, her eyes narrowed to a snarl.  “Watching us.” 

Echo’s lip curled.  “You have no proof.” 

“Then look me in the eyes and deny it.”  

Their stare-down lasted a tense ten seconds.  Then Echo sputtered in a disgusted tone. 

“If I had just gone through the main door instead of sneaking through the changing room, I would’ve gotten to him before you did.” 

“Well, you didn’t,” Clarke smirked.  “You’ll never take that moment from me, not even with a leaked video.”

Echo rolled her eyes.  “And God forbid anyone take anything away from you.  Clarke Griffin, the Princess, who gets everything, a nice house, loving parents—" 

“My dad is dead, you inconsiderate bitch—” 

“Bellamy was all I had and you took him,” she hissed.  

“You cheated on him!”  Clarke fired back. 

“It was a misunderstanding!” 

“And did you try to understand it from his point of view?  Did you ever care about how he felt?  How he was dealing with other stuff?”  She felt emotion welling up in her eyes.  “Or was he just something for you to have so you could feel better about your own shitty life?”  

Echo’s scowl grew more pronounced.  

“Both of you can go to hell.” 

Clarke held her head up high.  “I’ll save you a good seat.” 

She skipped the final class that day, but it was her study period anyway.  Raven was back on a plane to Germany, so the house felt empty.  She didn’t expect friends from school to visit that afternoon, but it was a nice surprise.  

“You should talk to him,” said Wells, sitting down beside her on the couch.  Emori and Harper took the other end, having already taken Clarke’s side in the drama.  

“Especially because you already settled things with Finn,” Harper pointed out.  Clarke snorted; that had been an awkward conversation over the phone, but at least it had been cleared up. 

“And Bellamy really stood up for you today,” said Emori. 

“C’mon Clarke,” Monty leaned on the edge of the couch.  “Take one more swing.”  

“You can’t kill his spirits when we’re so close to winning the championship this year,” added Jasper. 

Clarke shook her head, grateful to be surrounded with so many friends, but the camaraderie didn’t shift the lingering melancholy in her heart. 

Madi came forward from the stairs with the blue hatbox.  

“This doesn’t fix what I did wrong,” she held it out for Clarke to take.  “But I figured you shouldn’t throw away everything good, like the love letters you got in return.” 

Clarke opened it, her fingertips falling on the two dozen or so notes that Bellamy had slipped her during their 3 months of fake dating.  

You made me laugh today and I really needed it, thanks

Let’s go to the theater tonight and see that movie you were excited about 

You had the best presentation in English, hands down. 

You are so beautiful, I can’t stop smiling when I look at you.  

Clarity was crystal.  

There was only one course of action she could take to make things right.  

“Does anyone know where he is right now?”

“If you’ve got some love in your life right now, hold on to it. Chase it, if you have to.”  

“This is the silliest idea you’ve ever had,” Clarke said to herself as she hid below the wall of the rink, strapping on skates she hadn’t worn in years.  “And this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” 

Clutching her letter tightly in her hand, she pulled herself up, opening the door to step out onto the ice.  Bellamy was loping easy circles around one of the goals, occasionally hitting a puck into the net.  

Her first steps were wobbly as she remembered how to use the thin blades strapped to her feet.  Once she felt relatively stable, she took her eyes off the ice.  Shit, five seconds and her ankles were already pricking with pain.  

Bellamy turned a corner, and even from several yards away, she saw the surprise on his face.  

“Clarke?” 

“Hi—“ she tried to push off on a skate for a boost of speed, but her balance betrayed her, and she fell with a dismal thump on the cold, solid frost.  Bellamy was over in a second, stopping in front of her with a clear schick from his skates. 

“You okay?”  He reached down and pulled her easily to her feet.  

“Yeah,” she blew out a shaky breath.  “I drove here, you know, and I parked within the lines.” 

“Good, that’s uh… that’s good.”  Bellamy noticed the envelope in her hand.  “What’s that?”  

Clarke glanced at her letter and back to him, biting her lip.  “Words are … easier with a pen for me.  So I wrote you this.” 

He raised an eyebrow.  

“Princess… I’m not reading my rejection notice, it’s okay.”  He started to skate away, but Clarke grabbed his jacket, nearly losing her balance again.   

“That’s not what it—“ she stammered.  “Can you just close your eyes, please?  It’ll make it easier for me.” 

Bellamy let out a snort, but did as she asked.  With her fingers trembling only slightly, Clarke took her letter out of the envelope and unfolded it. 

“Dear Bellamy...” 

“Already off to a great start,” he mumbled.   

“I didn’t like you at first.  That’s no secret.”

Bellamy let out a huff and a nod, lips quirking up.  Emboldened, Clarke continued.  

“I agreed to be your fake girlfriend, because I thought it would be easy.  A scientific experiment where I could experience dating while controlling all the variables.  No danger of either of us getting hurt.” 

Her eyes snuck away from the paper; Bellamy’s lids were still closed, but there was a tick in his jaw.  She gulped. 

“But there were two variables that I didn’t account for, two variables utterly beyond my control.” 

She paused. 

“How much you cared about me, and how much I wanted all of your affection to be real.”  

She took another breath, looking into his open eyes.  

“I really, really like you, Bellamy Blake.  If I haven’t screwed us up, will you go on a real date with me?” 

Bellamy exhaled, grin spreading across his face.  He reached for her hands to pull her closer to him, keeping her steady on the ice.  Then he cupped her face in his hands. 

“The reason I went to my ex’s room was to tell her that I was never going back to any kind of relationship with her,” he dropped his voice into a hoarse, heartfelt whisper, “because I’m in love with you, Clarke Griffin.” 

She couldn’t breathe, endorphins filling her chest with an airy fuzziness.  

“Wow," her eyelashes fluttered, and she pressed her cheek into his palm.  “I would’ve written that last line better if I knew you were going to say that.”  

Bellamy chuckled with a deep grin that brought out his laughter lines.  Clarke couldn’t stand up on her toes in skates, so she pulled him down for a kiss.  He responded eagerly, wrapping her up in his arms and warding off the chill of the rink.   

After a few moments of utter contented bliss, her subconscious dragged a question into her head. 

“Wait,” she broke off their kiss, “there’s something I need to know, before we go further.” 

Bellamy pressed his forehead to hers.  “What is it?” 

Clarke bit her lip.  “You were waiting for me at the hot tub, right?” 

Bellamy nodded, then let out a sigh.  “I texted Wells to tell you where I was going, before I went to my room to change.  Left my phone downstairs by accident, I’m guessing someone spied on my messages.”  

Clarke tilted her head.  “Guess you better change your passcode.” 

Bellamy laughed.  “I’ll make it your birthday.” 

As Clarke giggled, he kissed her again, one of his hands tangled in her hair.  

“I’m not letting her off the hook for what she did,” whispered Bellamy.  “If she ever tries anything like that again, I’m telling Jasper the entire story of how she cheated on me, and he’ll let the whole school hear it.”  

She chuckled.  “You should tell Jasper anyways, she deserves it.” 

Bellamy shook his head.  “I don’t want to be the center of attention any longer than I have to be this year.”  He pressed his forehead to hers again and added softly, “I just want you, Clarke Griffin.” 

She nuzzled his cheek.  “I want you too, Bellamy Blake.” 

He grinned, kissing her once more before taking her hands in his.  With a graceful bend in the knees, he skated backward, tugging Clarke along with him.  She yelped as they picked up speed. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Skating with you!” 

“I’m terrible at it!” 

“Let me teach you, Princess.  All those times you did your homework at the rink, I'd see you and want to do this.” 

"Oh, was I distracting?" 

"A bit, Coach thought I was off my game until he realized who you were." 

And until the rink closed, they glided in long, slow loops.  Following his suggestions for her posture, her ankles stopped hurting, and she was able to push off without falling.  They kept each other warm with kisses.  

Clarke vowed to herself to immortalize this memory in a sketch; Bellamy with his hand locked in hers, his laughter ringing over the scrape of the blades on the ice.   

And when she finished the sketch, she added a caption in cursive.   

The uncertainty of love can create vulnerability, which is often perceived as weakness.  But love itself isn’t weakness; it’s one of the strongest healing forces in the universe.