Chapter Text
She wakes to the sound of feet scrambling against the wooden floor. Her usual instinct told her that it was probably Jasper or Monty screwing around in the middle of the night—much like they always do. But her rather logical side told her that it was probably not night time from the way the light is glistening through the curtains and the floors in her two-bedroom apartment was definitely not wooden.
A moment of clarity engulfs her and she is suddenly enveloped in blurry visions of last night’s rendezvous. There was a party—one she was reluctant to attend. There was also an extraordinary amount of alcohol—which probably accounts for this raging headache she was experiencing. And then there was the dancing. The swarming of bodies inside the frat house bumping and grinding against one another. It was ridiculous, and beyond her, that she was involved in such juvenile events. She was an adult, for god’s sake. Twenty-one year old and she was still blacking out from frat parties like she was a still a freshman in college.
Slight snores interrupted her internal argument with herself and Clarke turns towards the naked body laying next to her.
And then she remembers the ending of last night’s little soiree; one which involved her running through the sprinklers with a certain long-haired charmer, which led to an intense half hour make-out session and somehow ending back here, where they probably performed rather obscene behaviors.
“Damn it.” She mentally kicks herself for succumbing to her hormones.
Clarke Griffin wasn’t a prude in any way, but after the debacle with Wells, she had sworn to at least try to be a little coy. But there goes that, she thought, leering over at the naked body of last night’s conquest.
But, he was quite a looker and she would be lying if she wasn’t slightly relief that it wasn’t somebody else.
“Mhmm… come back to bed.” He whispers, almost inaudibly. She smiles at the drowsiness in his voice and against her better judgement, planted a kiss upon his lips.
“I wish but 7 a.m classes are the death of me.” She smiles against his lips as his hands reach for the back of her neck to pull her into an embrace. She contemplates wrapping her own arms around him for a second, not knowing his full intent. But Clarke is a woman—a woman with needs and she sure as hell wasn’t going to leave him hanging.
As much as she would love to lay around and curl up into his chest, she really did not want to get the glare of death from professor Kane again. Really, what in the world was she thinking registering for the earliest class there is?
Clarke gathers scraps of her belonging and bid a final farewell to the guy before ducking out unabashedly. She takes a quick glance at her phone and sees that she had missed a total of nine missed calls from Jasper and Monty, a very stern voicemail from her mother, and an abundance of obnoxious texts from her roommates.
Saw you leaving with adonis himself over there just wanted to say: don’t come home, have fun, and be safe!! -Monty
just wanted to say, we’re proud of ya clarke!!!!!!!!! it’s been too long since ya knooow -Jasper
Go get that vitamin D girl ;) -Jasper again
She stifles a small laugh at the sight of those two idiots commending her on her one night stand. Honestly, her love life is such a joke that even her roommates make it an effort to help Clarke throw herself at anything that moves. She doesn’t mind it however; she supposes that they were the closest thing she’s ever going to get to actual girl friends.
It’s not that she was incapable of getting along with girls—Clarke just has always been a bit shy and timid around them. She may put up a hard exterior but in reality, she was just lonely and needed some actual friends.
She became so engrossed in her replies to Jasper and Monty that she didn’t realize she had no idea where the bathroom was. Seeing as though there was another door nearby, she reaches for the door knob and twist it open.
In all of Clarke’s young life, she has been in numerous embarrassing occasions, but never in her life had she felt so embarrassed to the point of sudden stupor. Honestly, she was this close to believing that this is all just a horrible nightmare (or a start of a fantastic porn movie starring herself) and Clarke had decided against her roommate’s urges to attend the stupid party and stayed home to cuddle with her kitten instead.
I mean, this has to be a dream right?
Because lord, there was a wildly good looking man wearing nothing but a dainty little towel wrapped around his waist. His entire body was glistening with droplets of water and his hair was so sensually wet (was that a thing? She decided she couldn’t care) that she could feel her ovaries bursting. Clarke couldn’t imagine what kind of face she was making but she sure as hell wasn’t hiding the fact that she was gawking at his exquisite physique.
There was a moment of silence shared between the two and she feels his eyes examining her own and suddenly she feels as if she’s not even remotely worthy enough to witness this fine piece of ass (she means art).
Embarrassed at her rather disconcerting stares, she clears her throat and smiles sheepishly.
“Umm.. bathroom. I’m looking for the bathroom?” She manages not to sound too astounded by his presence but the awkward pitch at the end of her sentence gave it away.
His eyes shifts towards the right and he says, “Down the hall, to the right.” in one deep, calming tone.
She apologizes to the man quickly and manages to duck out of there fast enough to hide the red that was already creeping onto her cheeks.
Damn her paleness.
———
After what feels like eternity in the shower and a quick impromtu brush to her teeth, Clarke is dressed in last night’s attire and ready to head to her Physiology lecture.
She pokes her head out of the bathroom door to observe the premises before tip-toeing towards the front door. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to avoid the stranger from before but she certainly wasn’t going to prompt herself into yet another embarrassing debacle twice in one day. She was doing a perfectly good job of walking out of there without another mishap until she caught glimpses of a male figure leaning over the balcony railing.
A cigarette hangs from his lips and she almost bit her lips at the sight. She had never been a fan of cigarettes—being a health student and all—but the sight of him holding it between those lips of his was very reminiscent of James Dean and God knows she has a secret shrine dedicated to the late actor himself. And as if God is testing her, she then sets sight on a wooden easel holding up what looks like a vibrant portrait of a sunrise.
The man looks like a God and he paints?!
She wanted to curse herself for staring (again) but she also wanted to curse him for being yet another perfectly unattainable human being that she was never going to get. I mean, how does one approach their one night stand’s roommate and say I want to get to know you? That’s just room for more humiliation and awkward stories and she knows she’s had too many of those.
Clarke has got to stop cursing to herself because when she finally tears her attention away from her inner turmoil, she realizes that his back is now against the railings and he's staring straight at her. She doesn’t linger on his face for too long (because she’s had enough of that earlier), but she could have sworn there was a slight curve on his lips and goddamn it he’s smirking at her. As if he knows what she’s debating, as if he knows just how much she wants to glide her hands all over the smoothness of his chest, and more importantly, as if he knows just how much she appreciates them meeting under these types of circumstances (you know, the one where he’s half naked).
She turns away from his direction in the most casual way that she could and quickly scurries off and out of the apartment with what little dignity she has left. Clarke glances at her watch and for the umpteenth time this morning, and curses at herself for wasting too much time staring at him, again. She had been so consumed with her little run-in with the hot roommate that she now only has ten minutes to rush from the apartment all the way to her lecture hall across campus.
A little chime rattles her attention and there’s an unread message from Jasper and Monty eagerly requesting details of her recent hookup.
She sighs and contemplates telling her roommates of her little dilemma—fearing they’d think she’s some type of tramp or something. But she remembers that it’s Jasper and Monty she’s talking about and if there’s anything she knew about these two after two years of living together, it’s probably the fact that they are probably far more passionate about ‘whatever the hell you want’ than she would like.
But there's little to no time left and all she could manage was a short reply and hope that they'll spare her a haggling until night falls.
Guys, I may have picked the wrong roommate. -Clarke