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The first time Clarke kisses Bellamy, he's sixteen and she's fifteen, and she's worried about going on her first date ever.
"What if she wants to kiss me?" she asks, with one arm over her eyes.
"I'd be more worried if she didn't want to kiss you," Bellamy says, because he's an unhelpful dick. "But she asked you out, so I wouldn't worry about it."
"That's not what I meant."
"I just don't see why her wanting to kiss you is a problem. You want to kiss her, right?"
"Yeah, but what if I'm bad at it?"
"Oh right, it's your first kiss."
"You don't have to sound so superior about it," she says, poking him in the side. Bellamy got his first kiss at age fourteen, and lost his virginity a few months ago. It should maybe be weird that she knows all the details, but he's her best friend. Of course she knows.
"You'll be fine. It's pretty self-explanatory. Just, you know, minimal teeth and try not to drool. She asked you out, so she'll probably take the lead." When she doesn't respond, he huffs and closes his Gameboy. "Okay, fine, Jesus. Sit up." She does, and he considers her, serious. "I assume you're going to wait for her to make the first move."
"Unless she takes too long."
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "You are kind of impatient. Okay, so, she's going to lean in," he says, and it's not a surprise when he does it himself. Bellamy's helpful. "And then she'll pause and kind of--try to see if you're going to give her a signal." He considers. "Or she might just ask if she can kiss you, but, you know, if she's smooth--"
"Like you." She rolls her eyes. "Asking is better."
"Yeah, but if she asks, you don't have to worry. Lean in. If you want me to kiss you."
She does, and he presses his mouth against hers. His mouth is warm and dry, and the smell of him is suddenly overwhelming. She can't help freezing for a second, but then she relaxes, moves her mouth back against his, unsure. He slides one hand into her hair, tilting her head back, and gives her short, sweet kisses until she's chasing his mouth after every one, and then he really kisses her, licking into her mouth, letting her follow his movements, get a feel for it.
She doesn't even realize he's pushed her flat on his bed until he pulls back, pupils blown, breath a little ragged.
"Feel better?" he asks. His voice is even deeper than normal, and for one long minute, Clarke wants to pull him back in.
But she just nods. "I think I'll be fine."
"Yeah, you're good," he says, getting off her carefully. "Let me know how it goes."
*
Clarke always goes to visit her grandparents for Christmas and New Year's, which is fine, she likes seeing them, but it means she misses out on a bunch of parties, and gets a bunch of texts that just remind her how unexciting Scrabble with her grandfather is. It's even worse Bellamy's freshman year of college--he couldn't afford to come home for Thanksgiving, so she hasn't seen him in months, and she's supposed to be at her grandparents' the whole time he's home. It's so unfair. She loves her family, but she misses Bellamy like crazy, and he won't be home again until spring break, which isn't even the same days as her spring break.
Finally, her parents relent. She's seventeen, on the honor roll, and, as far as they know, very responsible. She has to be in Illinois for Christmas, but she can go home for New Year's.
Her plane lands at five, giving her just enough time to get the train home and get changed before she goes over to Monty's. Bellamy and Octavia always show up a little late--they celebrate New Year's in Paris, at six, with their mom, because Ms. Blake works nights and can't be around for midnight in their timezone--but Clarke can't help looking at the door every five minutes anyway. She didn't tell him she was coming, and she's caught between being nervous and excited, her stomach all in knots. She's missed him so much.
He shows up at eight, wearing a black pea cost, shaking snowflakes out of his messy curls, and Clarke's mouth goes dry with the sudden realization that she loves him.
It would be enough to scare her away, honestly, to make her go hide in the bathroom, but he spots her and lights up like the sun, and she couldn't possible leave.
He wraps her up in a giant hug, and she clings back, squeezing her eyes shut. How did she not know?
"You didn't tell me you were in town," he says. He still hasn't let her go.
"Just got back today. Apparently my parents got sick of me complaining."
"Whined them into submission, huh?"
"Basically."
"Good job." He pulls back, still beaming. "Fuck, I miss you."
"I miss you too," she says, even if it feels inadequate. "No one else knows as much boring history trivia as you do."
"And no one I know is as much of an annoying pain-in-the-ass as you are. Did Monty make some terrifying hooch?"
"This is Monty we're talking about."
"Awesome. Where is it?"
They grab drinks and play video games and flip cup, and it's so nice and familiar she almost forgets she's in love with him, until it's midnight and he leans in to press his lips against hers, quick and chaste.
"Happy New Year," he says, and Clarke wets her lips, imagines she can taste him there, even though it was barely a kiss at all.
"Happy New Year," she echoes.
*
Bellamy's school isn't good enough for her.
Or, really, it's not good enough for her mother. Clarke is rich and at the top of her class, and her mother thinks she can go anywhere she wants. She's probably right.
Bellamy is poor, which she didn't realize for the first few years they were friends. He was just the quiet boy who was always in the library when she was; it wasn't until later she found out it was because his mother's then-boyfriend was a drug dealer, and he took Octavia to the library so they didn't have to be at home with the guy.
"It's a miracle I got to go to any college," Bellamy tells her. He picked her up from the airport in a car he borrowed from his roommate. "Don't come here."
"You like it," she says, petulant, but--she could do better. They all know it. Bellamy could have done better, if he'd had a better life.
He snorts. "I bet I'd like Harvard too."
"Nah, you want somewhere a little more laid back. Harvard's probably really pretentious. Maybe Dartmouth."
"Anyway, you could go somewhere better. Not that I'm not glad you're here," he adds quickly. "I'm glad you're doing the campus visit. But--don't come here for school just to hang out with me. We'll hang out wherever you are."
"Like we hang out now?" she can't help saying, even knowing it sounds childish. Of course they don't hang out, not regularly. He's in college, states away.
"Clarke--" he starts.
"No, I know," she says. It just sucks, knowing he's right, feeling like every year he's going to get farther and farther away. "I just miss you."
"Yeah, I know," he sighs. "I miss you too. But--I'd feel so fucking bad if you came here. You could go anywhere."
Clarke cracks a small smile. "You know, this wasn't how I pictured this visit starting."
Bellamy barks out a laugh and grins at her. "Yeah, me neither. I did at least hug you first."
"You did at least do that." She sighs. "My mom says this can be my safety school, but I'm pretty sure if it's the only place I get into, she'll throw money at Princeton until they admit me. She's an alumna, they have to take me."
"I'll still see you," he says again. "And it's just four years."
He introduces her to his friends and they go to a party, and it's fun, easy. Spending time with Bellamy is always the most natural thing in the world, and she wouldn't be unhappy if this was the only place that accepted her.
She gets drunk and pretends to be drunker than she is, and when he brings her back to his room, she kisses him, because she's a fucking coward.
He lets her do it for a minute, but he doesn't respond, and when he pulls back, his expression is gentle. "You're pretty drunk, huh?" he says, sounding fond enough to break her heart.
"Pretty."
He kisses her forehead. "Good thing my roommate's out of town. You can take his bed."
When she wakes up, he acts like nothing happened, and she does too. They hang out and play video games, get shitty food at the dining hall, and it's like before in a way that makes her ache.
"Seriously, don't come here," Bellamy says, when he drops her off at the airport. "But if there's somewhere close--"
She laughs, but she feels a little like crying too. "We'll be fine," she says.
"We'll be fine."
*
Clarke goes to Bellamy's graduation, sits with Octavia and cheers for him. They're close in a different way now; they don't see each other often, but they talk all the time, on Skype, on Snapchat, on Facebook, and they text and call each other. She misses having him around, misses seeing him all the time like she did in high school, but they're still friends, and that's what really matters.
He sweeps Octavia up in a hug first, and then her.
"This gown is the ugliest thing I've ever seen," she says.
"Fuck you." He can't stop grinning. "I didn't think you guys were gonna make it."
"My parents are rich," she says, shrugging. "We can afford to buy plane tickets for me and Octavia."
"I know, but--thanks."
She's had girlfriends and boyfriends in college. She gets laid. She's not pining. But, god, she does still love him.
"No problem," she says. "And, just so you know, I'm also buying dinner."
She and Octavia have a hotel room, but they follow him back to his apartment anyway, because it feels stupid to be away from him, when it's such a short visit. They watch Netflix and Octavia falls asleep early; she and Bellamy keep shifting closer together until they're curled together on the couch, and she's sure he can feel her heart pounding. But if he can, he doesn't mention it.
"I'm really glad you came," he says, stroking his thumb against her side, making her shiver a little.
"You're glad I brought Octavia."
"That too, but--" He huffs, and then his hand is under her chin, and he's kissing her, a real kiss, like the first time. Clarke slides against him, kissing back, and he groans like he's in actual pain. "Fuck, Clarke," he says, nosing her neck, nipping, running his hands up her back. "I hate not seeing you."
Clarke can barely breathe, because she knew she felt like this, but he sounds wrecked, and for the first time she realizes he might miss her like she misses him.
She kisses him again. "Me too. Just one more year, though."
He looks surprised at that, and then delighted. His hand slides up, under her shirt, but he just rests it against her waist, doesn't go any farther than that. "Going to track me down, huh?"
"Yeah."
He brushes his nose against hers. "Good."
Clarke leans back in, but Octavia makes a soft noise, shifting in her sleep, and startles them away from each other.
"You, um," she says, biting her lip. "You have a bedroom."
"Bad idea." At her crestfallen expression, he smiles, rueful, and presses another quick kiss to her lips. "It sucks enough sending you home tomorrow already."
"That does suck," she agrees. More words stick in her throat, because--he knows, right? He has to know. So she just winds her arms around his neck and holds on, and he holds her just as tightly back.
He doesn't kiss her goodbye, but he texts miss you already when she's waiting in the line at security, and it makes her feel all lit up inside.
*
"I can't come to your graduation," he tells her, sounding like he's bracing for a punch, like he thinks she's going to break up with him. Not that they're dating. But she hasn't dated anyone this year, and neither has he, and she's pretty sure they're both half holding their breath, waiting to be in the same place, because once they're together, they're not going to know how to be apart. They already sucked at it.
"That's cool."
There's a long pause on his end of the phone. "Really?"
"It's just graduation."
"I know. But I wanted to be there. I was really happy you came to mine."
"You can make it up to me. Help me unpack at my new apartment."
He sucks in a breath, and Clarke grins. Not that anyone can see. "New apartment?"
"I got a place in Alexandria. That's close to you, right?"
"Same metro line. Fuck."
"What, you didn't want me to?" she teases.
"I may not be emotionally prepared to live near you again," he says, but she can hear the grin in his voice too. "When are you coming down?"
"Next week. Job starts in two, so I've got a little while to just bum around before I start being an adult."
"Jesus, you got a job too?"
"I can't just make out with you all the time," she says, and instantly regrets it, because--they haven't talked about it. She thought they were on the same page, but what if they're not?
But all he says is, "You're still going to make out with me a lot, though, right?"
"Yeah," she says, relaxing. "The vast majority of the time."
He's waiting at her new apartment, doing something on his phone, when she arrives, and the first thing he does, before she can say hi, before she can unpack anything, is trap her up against the car and kiss her, long and deep.
"We should really unpack my bed," she says, between frantic kisses.
"I love you," he says, which is cheating.
"Fine, we'll have sex against the door. But the inside door," she adds. "Not the car door. I've got standards."
He laughs. "Sure you do."
Later, they've unpacked everything and ordered pizza and Clarke is curled up against his side with a beer, feeling happier than she has in years. "I love you too," she says.
"Seven hours later," he teases.
"Shut up."
"I should have just said that when you asked me to teach you how to kiss," he says. "Saved myself a few years."
"I didn't ask you!" Clarke protests. "You volunteered." She grins. "You totally had a thing for me."
"I didn't until we started kissing," he says, laughing. "And then it was like, fuck, she's got breasts and she's gorgeous and awesome, fuck. It totally ruined me for other women."
"You were my first kiss! You ruined me for everyone."
"Not everyone, right?" he asks, with no contrition. "Not for me."
She can't help smiling. "No. Not for you."