Chapter Text
“Clarke. CLARKE!”
She startled awake, swiping at her eyes to fight the grogginess.
“Yep!”
“Your break’s over. Were you sleeping?” Octavia asked her knowingly.
“Absolutely not.”
She ignored the eye-roll she received in return and stood from the picnic table. The sun glared down upon the two and Clarke took one last moment to enjoy the first warm day in weeks.
“Back to hell,” she mumbled, bumping Octavia’s shoulder with her own.
Octavia turned to her and shoved her toward the small building across the parking lot, smirking.
“It’s not even that bad. C’mon we got a bunch of bags of donations while you were napping it up out here.”
“I wasn’t napping,” Clarke began, “...I was hiding from you.”
She jumped back so that she was just out of reach of Octavia’s inevitable slap.
Pulling the door open, the mixed smell of must, mothballs, and flowery air freshener invaded Clarke’s senses. She blinked slowly to adjust to to the new, dimmer lighting.
Her eyes browsed over the rows of clothes to see if there were any customers.
There weren’t.
The thrift shop didn’t get much business.
She moved to the lone register to see who was behind the counter and grinned as Monty gave her a little wave.
“Having fun?”
His soft black hair fell over his eyes as he shook his head, lazily.
“Pretty bored. I could have left hours ago and boss would be none the wiser.”
Clarke moved behind the counter to ruffle his hair affectionately.
“You need a haircut.”
“And you need to go help O sort out the new clothes we got.”
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
She wandered slowly toward the back of the shop, not in any hurry to actually do work.
As soon as Octavia saw her, though, she pointed to a giant black trashbag full of clothes.
"That one is yours. Sort by size and then color. Then tag them."
"Mhmmm."
The chimes on the door jingled, alerting them of someone's entrance.
Clarke ignored the sound, knowing Monty would handle whatever or whoever it was.
She pulled out the first pile of clothes, folding them expertly before putting them into piles.
"Clarke," she looked up as Octavia hissed her name in a half-whisper.
"What?"
"She's here!"
"The boss?" Despite already having been doing work, she straightened up and tried to look extra professional.
"No, stupid. The girl. Flower child. Hipster queen."
Clarke's head shot up far too quickly for her to be able to continue to deny that she was interested, so she just peered across the room.
The girl's back was turned toward them as she inspected a shirt, but Clarke instantly recognized her.
Her wavy hair fell wildly, well below her shoulders. She was wearing high wasted shorts and a crop top.
Clarke stared, silently willing her to turn around.
"Go ask her if she needs help with anything."
"She comes here all the time. She doesn't need any hel---"
She had already been roughly shoved toward the girl, who, at the sound of Clarke stumbling into a coat rack, turned to look back at what the commotion was.
Clarke ran a hand through her messy hair, nervously, and walked closer.
"Did you need any help finding anything ...or anything?"
The girl's full lips quirked with the hint of a smile.
Realizing she was marveling at the girl's lips, Clarke's gaze shot back up to her eyes.
Those were lovely too. Of course.
"I'm good," the girl answered amusedly, "but thank you."
"Of course!" Clarked chirped, far louder than was necessary or appropriate.
She quickly retreated to the back of the store, ignoring Octavia's laughter.
The next time ‘the girl’ came into the shop was a week later and Clarke hid in the back with the old lady clothes that no one ever bought.
It was just her and Raven on shift. Had Octavia been there, she would have never heard the end of it.
After ten minutes, though, Raven called her over to the register.
She weaved through aisles, going out of her way to keep a comfortable distance between herself and the beautiful stranger, who was kneeling at the shoes section, inspecting a pair of flats.
“Cover me?” Raven asked her as soon as she was within earshot. She looked at Clarke expectantly, head tilted and eyes wide.
“Sure.”
She was instantly rewarded with a full blown Raven grin, who hopped around and hurried off to the back room to call her new boyfriend.
Clarke leaned beside the register and pulled up her phone to play online Scrabble.
She startled at the sound of a throat clearing expectantly.
Looking up, she inhaled sharply. She had never seen her up so close.
On that particular day, she was wearing an oversized tee shirt and skinny jeans.
Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and Clarke admired the sudden exposure of her strong jawline. What would it feel like to run her hands along those chiseled features and--
“Are you all set?” she managed, fighting a blush.
The girl nodded politely.
“You must have a lot of clothes by now,” Clarke commented, trying to kill the awkward silence as the old cash register slowly acknowledged the transaction.
The girl raised an eyebrow and she smiled fully, high cheekbones on display.
“I like it here,” the girl confessed, almost shyly. Her voice was soft.
“Why?” Clarke spit out incredulously
“Besides the cute clothes, there’s the music, the solitude, and just the overall atmosphere. It’s really homey.”
“It smells like basement. Wait, you like my music?”
The girl looked at her blankly.
“I make the playlists.”
At Clarke’s clarification, she leant forward excitedly, forgetting the shoes between them.
“You have really good taste…” upon peering down at her nametag she finished, “Clarke.”
Her pulse sped up, partially from knowing the girl shared her passion for good music and partially from hearing her name spoken by her.
And if she was being honest, another part would simply be that she was standing across from someone who was particularly stunning.
“Thanks….”
“Lexa.”
“Lexa.” She repeated it aloud and then again in her head.
She had nothing left to say, but she didn’t want the conversation to end
Before she could think of something to tell the other girl, Lexa was backing away, lifting her hand in a cute wave.
“I look forward to hear what you have playing next time, Clarke.”
“Yeah,” she answered dumbly, “next time.”
The chimes jingled and she was left feeling simultaneously as dumb and as hopeful as ever.
When Raven came back five minutes later, Clarke was still gazing dreamily at the door.