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Clarke’s wardrobe was not doing the trick. There was nothing in her closet. Nothing she felt like wearing to her ex-boyfriend’s sister’s—also known as her best friend—birthday party. Octavia begged her to go every day for a month. Bellamy doesn’t mind that you’re going to be there. I can’t turn 25 without my best friend, Clarke. Come on. So, she relented. Octavia was there when Clarke stumbled into her 25th year. So was Bellamy. It was only fair that Clarke would be there for her. Not for him.
“Clarke,” Raven called out before she poked her head through the bedroom door to find Clarke standing in front of her closet in a tank top and her underwear, hands set defiantly on her hips. “Whoa, you’re not dressed yet? Jasper’s here. We need to go.”
“What do you wear to show your ex-boyfriend that you have, in fact, moved on? Unlike the last time he saw you when you were watching his favorite movie, crying his name over a bowl of popcorn alone in your apartment?” She asked and Raven laughed before stepping in and closing the door behind her.
She surveyed the closet, picking out a simple white, sleeveless top with pearlescent buttons down the front. She handed it to Clarke who looked it over and pulled it over her head, waiting for her next assigned article of clothing. Raven quickly picked out a gray bodycon skirt. When she turned around to hand it over, her brow furrowed and she shook her head.
“Take off the tank top, you’ve got major uni-boob,” she commanded and Clarke sighed but did as she was told before pulling on the skirt and tucking in her top. Raven stepped forward and did a little pulling and a little more tucking, and somehow Clarke was happy with the way she looked. “He won’t know what hit him. Now put on some cute sandals and let’s go.”
Clarke nodded, pulled on her sandals as she was told, and followed Raven out to the living room. Their apartment was full of their friends—Jasper, Maya, Wick, Monty, Harper, Lincoln, and Octavia. Bellamy was noticeably missing, but Clarke didn’t comment, she just let out a deep breath and smiled.
“Finally,” Octavia sighed before a smile lit up her face and she downed the last of her drink. “Bell, Miller, and Monroe are meeting us at the club. Let’s ride,” she announced and the group parted like the Red Sea so she could lead them outside.
Clarke watched as Raven shooed Wick away, toward the rest of the group, so she could fall behind with Clarke and loop her arm through hers. It was still a little damp outside from the summer shower that passed that afternoon, but it had always been one of Clarke’s favorite smells—wet grass, heat, summer. It smelled like her childhood.
“So, you want to talk about it?” Raven asked and Clarke shook her head without having to ask her to elaborate.
She did not want to talk about Bellamy—not their friendship, not their romantic relationship, and certainly not their breakup. When he broke up with her, he told her it was for the best, that they had too much history, that they knew too much about each other, that he would always see every single one of her ex-boyfriends when they fought, that she would question every single girl who flirted with him regardless of whether or not he flirted back.
The club wasn’t far from the apartment, just a few blocks, and the group of them moved surprisingly quickly when there was alcohol at the finish line. Especially the birthday girl. Clarke could hear Octavia’s laugh echoing through the busy street, even from way back where she was dawdling with Raven. The bouncer there knew them—well, he knew Lincoln—so they were waved in without having to wait in line.
It was loud, like always. It was dark, like always. The music was pulsing through the crowd, like always. And Bellamy was leaning against the bar waiting for his sister, like always. Instead of his usual annoyed headshake, he smiled and pulled her into a hug. Clarke could see his lips as he wished her a happy birthday and the smile in his eyes when she hugged him tighter and said thank you.
The group of them who had just arrived made said rushed hellos to the group that had been waiting for them. They ordered drinks and Clarke finally stepped away from Raven and told her that she was fine and she didn’t need a babysitter. She hesitated, but after Clarke narrowed her eyes and swung them toward the bar, Raven backed away with her hands held in defense. They laughed and then Clarke sighed.
By the time she made it to the bar, most of her friends already had drinks in their hands and were dancing around on the dance floor, Octavia taking center stage with her tiara and birthday sash. She watched them, smiling, before turning toward the bar to finally order for herself. Before she got the chance, though, her go to drink was slid in front of her from the side and she turned to see Bellamy—his hand still on her glass.
“You really didn’t need to do that,” she told him and he shrugged, leaning next to her. His eyes remained on the dance floor, no doubt watching his sister in all her glory, loving every second of it, but he didn’t say a word. She got the feeling, though, that he wanted to and even though she knew better, she waited to hear what it was.
Together, they stood away from their pack, watching on with mild amusement and affection. “You always said we’d be okay if we broke up,” he finally said and she had to lean closer to hear him as he spoke. “That it wouldn’t be awkward.”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “But you knew better. You always said that we were perfect because of how awkward we made everything. We were awkward before we dated because we were so blind to each other’s feelings. We were awkward when we were together because we didn’t know how to be more than just friends. And we’re awkward now because I’m heartbroken and you’re fine.”
He didn’t look at her, he didn’t say anything, he just nodded and took a sip of his beer. She fell back against the bar, no longer leaning into him so they could talk. She didn’t want to talk any more. She didn’t want to stand there with him and watch him be fine while she felt like the room was closing in on them and he was about to disappear and leave her alone—again.
So, instead, she thanked him for the drink and left him at the bar so she could dance with her friends. Octavia hooped and hollered when she saw her and pulled her to dance with her. They jumped, they swayed, they laughed, they sweat, they had a blast. Clarke didn’t even mind when Bellamy finally joined the rest of them and danced off to the side with Harper. She just focused on Octavia and Raven when she joined them. She let the music take over. She had fun.
But when she finished her drink and needed to breathe, she filtered through their group and at least four other groups of people to rest her empty glass on a high top table and snaked through another few groups until she found solace in the bathroom.
She locked the door behind her and leaned against it, breathing in and out. She shook out her hair, wet a paper towel, and dabbed it under her eyes to clean up the makeup that had started to fall victim to the sweat on her face. She pulled down her skirt from how it had ridden higher up her thighs while she danced, she fixed her top so her bra was no longer peeking out of the top, and she considered her red face in the mirror. For the first time since her breakup, it was red from dancing and fun instead of wallowing and crying. That alone was reason enough to smile.
Then, though, she left the bathroom in a daze and was pulled out the back door by all too familiar hands. “Are you happy?” Bellamy asked when they were alone in the alleyway.
“Yes,” she answered, not even lying. Was she ecstatic with her life and how it was going? No. But, at the moment she was happy. “Aren’t you?”
“No,” he admitted. “We aren’t perfect because we make things awkward. We’re perfect because we make things amazing. Or, at least, we did.”
“Things were amazing, Bellamy,” she agreed and he nodded enthusiastically. “But you were right. We have so much history. We know too much.”
“I wasn’t right,” he insisted. “And I’ve known that for awhile, ever since Wick and I showed up at your apartment a couple of weeks ago to pick up Raven and I saw you crying. I was wrong, Clarke. We’ve known each other our whole lives, but that’s in our advantage.”
“That’s what I told you,” she laughed and he swallowed before nodding sadly. She missed him; of course she missed him. But he couldn’t push her away and pull her back, because she would always go back—crashing back. “You can’t do this, Bell. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t have me and then throw me away just to pick me back up again. I’m not tough enough for that.”
“I don’t want to do that, Clarke,” he promised as his hands fell on her shoulders.”I just want to be amazing again. With you.”
She deflated under his touch and his pleading glare. Her fingers twitched to touch him back, to grip the flannel at his waist, but she refrained. “Bellamy, you made this decision. You broke up with me.”
“You’ve been telling me my whole life how much of an idiot I am,” he said, a small smirk playing at his lips. “I was an idiot. I miss you. I am not fine.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and his hands slid down her bare arms, leaving fire in their wake as they latched onto her hands. Without opening her eyes, without saying anything, she stepped closer to him and she felt his breath on her lips.
“I’m not fine, either,” she whispered, eyes opening slowly, and he nodded a silent, pleading apology. “I want to be amazing again. And that’s only possible with you.”
His forehead rested against hers and his arms circled her waist and she finally touched him—first his face, then his neck before her arms closed around his shoulders and her face buried in his neck. And for the first time in quite some time, she was not only happy, but she felt amazing—in Bellamy’s arms, where she belonged.