Chapter Text
Clarke did not like Lexa Woods. Clarke did not blush when she saw Lexa Woods laugh. Hearing someone say Lexa Woods’ name most certainly did not make Clarke Griffin turn and smile. Clarke did not wonder what it would be like to kiss Lexa Woods. Clarke absolutely did not wonder where Lexa Woods put her hands when she kissed someone. Why, you ask? Because Clarke did not like Lexa Woods.
Lexa didn’t like Clarke Griffin, either. Lexa didn’t think about Clarke Griffin’s eyes exclusively. Lexa did not think about Clarke Griffin’s hair in the middle of the day in calculus. Lexa did not think about how soft Clarke Griffin’s lips would be. Lexa didn’t even think about Clarke Griffin! Not once in her whole life did Lexa think about Clarke Griffin. Why? Because Lexa did not like Clarke Griffin.
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Lexa Woods stormed down the hall with what seemed to be anger, and, embarrassment? No. Lexa Woods did not get embarrassed. Lexa got angry. She was supposed to be student council president, not Miss. Pretty Eyes Griffin. Wait, no. Horrible eyes. Because Lexa Woods did not think about Clarke Griffin.
Anyways, Clarke Griffin was running for president, and that was not something Lexa could have. Because everyone likes Clarke Griffin. Except Lexa. No one liked Lexa as much as they liked Clarke, all blue eyes and blonde hair. Lexa was captain of the soccer team, she had a hard face and emerald eyes. She was referred to as ‘Commander’ on the soccer team. Clarke wasn’t like Lexa. She had deep blue and understanding eyes. Her hair was made of gold, and her face was soft and steady. She liked art and took advanced anatomy, but was only pulling a C to make her mom mad.
Lexa did not like Clarke Griffin. So, the second she saw her down the hallway, shoving books into her locker, she was seething all over again.
“Clarke!” she called, causing quite a few people to look up at her. Including, of course, Clarke.
Clarke seemed to glow briefly before settling her face back into its normal resting position.
“Yes, Lexa?”
“Don’t ‘yes, Lexa?’ me, Clarke. I know what you did,” Lexa said, scowling at the other girl.
“Honestly, Lex, you’d think I stole your spot as team captain, and I’m not even on the team! Stop being so dramatic. No one else would’ve run against you,” Clarke said, leaning against the row of lockers effortlessly.
“Dramatic?” Lexa gaped. The nerve of this girl. “You’re calling me dramatic? Clarke Griffin, know it all, queen bee, full of it, just called me—“
“Dramatic. Yep. Maybe ‘dramatic’ will be our always.”
“What the fuck, Clarke,” Lexa said. She didn’t say it like a question, more a simple statement of facts. Clarke seemed to agree.
Clarke smiled at Lexa for a moment, before shutting her locker and walking in the other direction, towards the art classroom. Before she got in, she pulled something from her backpack and tacked it to the bulletin board.
Lexa jogged over to read it. It said: ‘CLARKE GRIFFIN STUDENT BODY PRESIDENT 2016. NOT LEXA WOODS. I DON’T CARE HOW PRETTY HER EYES ARE.’ in all caps.
What the fuck, Clarke?