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For Clarke, the third Saturday of the month is sacred.
It started about six months into her and Lincoln launching their gallery, when she was at the end of her rope pretty much constantly and snapping at everyone, even Lincoln, who is really hard to get mad at, because he is always calm and reasonable and helpful. Which, at that point in Clarke's life, just made it worse.
Finally, he asks, "Have you considered taking a break?"
"Have you considered that I don't have time?"
"Make time," he said. "I'm worried about you. I know this is important to you. It's important to me too. But you're going to burn yourself out, and I need you."
The next day had been a Saturday, so Clarke took the day and did absolutely nothing work related. In the morning, she got some of her own painting done. When she got hungry, she took herself out to lunch, and since it was a nice day, she went to the park and sat on a bench in the sun for a while. She got takeout and watched Netflix, and the next day she told Lincoln she would never fight with him again.
"That is a complete and total lie," he said.
"It is. But I'll remember to take days off."
"That's much more realistic."
Now the gallery's been open for a year, and it's doing pretty well, so she's in an overall better headspace, but she's still busy, and she still doesn't take enough time for herself, so she's maintained the tradition. She doesn't so much as think about work on the third Saturday of the month, and she takes the time to do things for herself.
Today, she woke up late, took a long shower, caught up with Supergirl, and now she's going to the aquarium. She's an adult; if she wants to go look at fish by herself, she can. That's what being an adult means.
It all falls apart before she even makes it into the building.
She's texting Raven about Wells' birthday next week when she bumps into someone else getting in line, and she flashes them a smile and a "sorry" without really thinking about it.
And then she looks back up, and Bellamy Blake cocks his head at her.
Clarke sees Bellamy a couple times a month, because Lincoln is engaged to Bellamy's sister, and Bellamy's sister is very close to her brother. So he'll come out with them for drinks sometimes and spend the whole time winding Clarke up about anything and everything. He makes getting on her nerves into some kind of sport, and he is the world champion of it.
"Afternoon," he says, mild.
"Afternoon."
The line moves forward, and they both follow it in step.
"I was in front of you," he says.
Bellamy is five years older than she is, which, okay, he's thirty-one and she's twenty-six, they're both adults, but he's more of an adult. Or he's supposed to be.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. I got here first."
It does not matter. At all. This isn't even top ten on a list of things she should care about. She's not even sure he's wrong. She was looking at her phone. But if he's going to care about it, she's going to care about it too. And more.
"No, you didn't."
"You weren't even paying attention."
"So? I still know."
"Uh huh."
The line moves forward again, and she and Bellamy go together, shoulder-to-shoulder. She jostles him a little, because, yes, they're both adults, but they always bring out each others' inner five-year-old.
"What are you even doing here?" she grumbles.
"What do you mean?"
"Why are you at the aquarium?"
He's giving her a weird look, half skeptical and half amused. "What's wrong with being at the aquarium?"
"It's weird, right? Adults going to the aquarium alone."
"Unlike you, an adult, at the aquarium, alone. Why am I suspicious and you're not?"
She flashes him a grin. "Who said I wasn't suspicious?"
"Yeah, okay," he says, with a soft snort of laughter. "So, why are you here?"
"I asked first."
"Jesus, it's like you're twelve." He huffs. "They have a new octopus exhibit."
"And?"
"And I like octopodes."
"Octopodes?"
"They're really cool."
"Octopi," she says, and immediately regrets it when he smirks.
"Nope. Octopus is Greek, not Latin. So if you want to do the correct plural, it's octopodes, not octopi." He fans his hands in this dorky little ta-da gesture. "The more you know."
She can't help a little snort of laughter, and he looks so smug. It's the worst. "So, are you embarrassed about being a nerd, so you decided you might as well be the alpha nerd? Is that what's happening here?"
"It's the incorrect plural, Clarke. Why would I be a pedantic asshole if I wasn't going to be right about it?"
"Alpha nerd."
"Alpha and omega of nerds." He elbows her as they move forward again; it's either a friendly, teasing gesture or an attempt to get ahead of her in line, and she honestly cannot tell which. "So, what are you doing at the aquarium?"
"I like the aquarium."
"That's it?"
"What?"
"I don't know, you make me justify being here, and you just like the aquarium. Are you meeting someone here? Blind date? Drug deal? What are we looking at?"
"I'm with the CIA and this is where I meet my handler."
"That was my third guess."
"Lincoln thinks I work too hard, so every third Saturday, I take a day to relax," she admits. It feels like giving something up to tell Bellamy this, given how many arguments they've had about how if her business fails, it won't matter, because her mother is still rich and would never let her daughter starve, even if they disagree about Clarke's life choices.
But he just nods. "So, once a month you come to the aquarium?"
"Not always the aquarium. Just--somewhere fun. Sometimes I go to the park, or another museum, or I just stay at home and do nothing. I just don't look at my work email and Lincoln only texts me for friend reasons."
"So, what I'm getting here is that you're actually so bad at relaxing you have to schedule it in. And you only schedule it once a month. That's the amount of relaxation you think is necessary."
"It's not the only time I relax," she protests. "I have fun. I go out."
"Yeah, I've seen you at bars. Fun is not the first word that comes to mind. Terrifying, maybe. Overly invested in trivia game on the TV." He pauses. "Champion alcoholic works too."
"Thanks."
"I'm just saying, I'm not surprised you're scheduling your fun. And that what you do is come to the aquarium."
"You're also at the aquarium, so--"
"For the octopodes," he says, very serious, and she has to laugh.
The cashier calls, "Next!" and they go up together before Clarke has quite realized it. The girl behind the counter is maybe seventeen, and she gives them a quick once over and asks, "Two adults?"
He rarely uses it, but Bellamy has probably the single most dazzling smile in the entire world, all perfect teeth and bright eyes, and he turns its full force on the girl. She actually looks a little dazed. Clarke might be a little dazed, and she's not even seeing it head on. "Yeah, thanks."
"Bellamy--"
"Did you want to do the IMAX or anything?" he asks.
"No. What are you--"
"Yeah, just two adults, thanks."
The cashier gives him the total, which is way too expensive, and Bellamy hands over his card without comment.
"I'm going to murder you."
"You have very weird ways of showing gratitude. Thank you," he adds, giving the girl another smile as he accepts the tickets.
"Thank you," Clarke echoes to her.
Bellamy hands her one of the tickets. "No thanks for me?"
"You didn't have to do that. I'll pay you back."
"I was first in line," he says. "I wasn't letting you take my spot. And since you wouldn't stop following me--"
"I wasn't following you! I was in front of you."
"But I was the one who got to the counter first, so--" He grins. "Thank you, Bellamy."
"Thank you, Bellamy," she says. "I'll cover your drinks next time we're out."
"Sure."
He holds the aquarium door open, and she keeps sort of planning to leave him, but they keep going the same way. The octopus exhibit is off to the left, in one of the new buildings, so Clarke is expecting him to veer off, but he's still walking in step with her.
"What are you doing?" she asks
"Going to the aquarium. Didn't we have this conversation already? Am I having a stroke? Are you?"
"I thought you were going to see the octopodes."
"I am. But I always do the main building first." He pauses, and then says, "Octavia and I used to come here a lot, after school. My friend Miller worked here, he got us in free. And it beat being home alone. So I've got a system, okay? Is that a problem for you?"
"I used to come here with my dad," she admits. "We always went to the turtles first. They were his favorite."
He rubs his face. "Jesus. Really?"
"Don't tell me--"
"O was really into the turtles in Finding Nemo."
"Great," says Clarke.
Now would be the time to go somewhere else. She could go to the octopi--octopodes--first, or go up to the third floor and work her way down. There are a thousand routes through this aquarium, and she could take any of them. But she has her route, and she shouldn't have to give up on it just because it starts the same way as Bellamy's does. This is her day, and she had a plan.
So, of course, it's not just the turtles. It starts with the turtles, and, honestly, that's kind of fun. Bellamy tends to be one of those superior, above-it-all guys who likes to pretend he is too cool to care about things, but apparently he likes the aquarium. Like, he is genuinely into it. He spent a lot of time here and, apparently, got some insider intel from his friend Miller, and he can't help being enthusiastic and educational in her general direction, which is new. And Clarke finds it's the same for her. They're walking around together, she can't just not talk to him. He's right here, and she has opinions about penguins.
"You don't like penguins?" he asks, sounding more amused than anything.
"I didn't say that." She leans on the railing, watching them. "They're cute. I get it. But I feel like they're kind of overrated. Like, oh, you love penguins, great. Everyone loves penguins."
He actually laughs. No trace of an edge, no sarcasm. A bright, genuine laugh. "Oh my god, you're an aquarium hipster. You think penguins are too mainstream. I should have known."
"That is not what I said," she lies.
"Sure it's not. So, what's your favorite? Is it really obscure? Or really normal? You really like the rainbow trout, but ironically."
"Shut up."
"I'm going to the first floor," he says. "Do you start at the top and go down?"
"Nope. First floor, clockwise."
"Great. And you couldn't rethink this."
"That's how I always go! I'm not changing just because--"
"You better tell me which is your favorite when we get to it," Bellamy huffs. "Done with penguins?"
"Too popular," she says, and he laughs again.
"Yeah, fuck those guys."
Clarke's favorite animal in the aquarium is the sea dragons, which are on the second floor. They have a big cylindrical tank that you can walk all the way around, and she can watch them for hours, just drifting through the seaweed.
"I know everyone likes the leafy ones, and I do too, but I think the weedy sea dragons don't get enough credit," she says, face practically pressed against the glass.
"This isn't convincing me you're not an aquarium hipster," Bellamy remarks.
"Not like that."
"Sure."
She looks back at him, catches an unfamiliar smile on his face. He's looking at her, not the sea dragons. "Really," she says. "They're all cool. But I feel like--the leafy sea dragons are fantasy, and the weedy sea dragons are sci-fi."
He laughs. "That's a new one. I have to say, I've never really thought about it."
"Well, come look." He comes over without any of the expected grumbling or teasing, leans in close, shoulder brushing against hers. "Okay, you know the difference?"
"Honestly, not really. O was always in a hurry to get to that giant catfish so we kind of skipped these."
"I can't believe Lincoln is marrying someone who doesn't like sea dragons."
"Yeah, that's one of those major red flags in a relationship. Holy shit, that's one of them," he says, with genuine surprise, when a leafy sea dragon starts to move. "I thought it was seaweed." He leans closer. "Okay, that's really cool. That's the leafy? The fantasy one?"
"Yeah," she says, oddly pleased he could tell. "See the one in the back. The kind of black and gold one with the stripes?"
"Oh, wow. With the little--petals?"
"Yeah. That's a weedy. It's not like--I like them all. They're really cool. But the leafy ones are a little more--ornate. I like the sleek, simple look."
"No, I get it," he says. "Fantasy and sci-fi, like you said." He grins at her, and he's closer than she really realized. "I don't think you're just an aquarium hipster."
"Thanks. I was really worried." She looks back at the tank, deliberate. "You can go to the catfish. I know this isn't one of your usual stops."
"No, it's fine. These are really cool. I'm definitely adding them to my rotation. I'm not actually much of a giant catfish person."
They do periodically get out of pace with each other. Clarke actually does kind of like the trout, just because she likes the tanks that look like something she might actually see, and Bellamy rolls his eyes. He wants to look at the piranhas, and Clarke used to have nightmares about the. She gets held up at the poison dart frogs, and he meets her there, because of course he likes poison dart frogs.
"How are these less scary than piranhas?"
"Are there horror movies about poison dart frogs, Bellamy? No."
"If I were in Hollywood, I would make horror movies about poison dart frogs. That would be awesome."
"And when you do, I'll be scared of them too."
"Thanks," he says. "Glad you believe in my ability to make a scary frog movie." He bounces a little. "Last room."
"Something you like in here?" she asks. It's just jellyfish and lobsters, as she recalls. Not that there's anything wrong with jellyfish and lobsters, but they don't seem like Bellamy's thing.
"Not particularly. But after that, octopodes." He pauses. "Are you going to check them out, or are you done?"
"I'm not missing out on octopodes. I like octopodes."
He looks away, Clarke's pretty sure to hide his smile. "They are pretty awesome."
The truth is, Clarke had not been particularly enthusiastic about the octopodes. Not that she has anything against them, she just finds tentacles a little creepy. Wells went through an anime phase in high school and told her horror stories about some weird porn that she can't forget about.
But--Bellamy's really enthusiastic about it. And he's not so bad, honestly. He's still Bellamy, but at a base level, she kind of likes Bellamy. He's a dick, and he loves picking fights, but he's not actually malevolent. He's stubborn and kind of an asshole, but he'd never actually--
If she called him in the middle of the night, he'd pick up the phone, and he'd come get her. Which is a weird standard to have for people, but that's all she can think as she walks with him to the octopodes. Before today, if she'd really dug into it, she would have said she didn't like him, but she trusted him. And the version of him she's been hanging out with today is--well, she does like this Bellamy. Who still feels like the same Bellamy, which is somehow even better. They could bicker and be friends too, and apparently she wants that.
Besides, she's kind of curious to find out why he likes octopodes so much. And he does not disappoint.
"Oh, awesome, I think that one's eating," he says, grabbing her arm absently and pulling her over to one of the tanks.
"I honestly have no idea where its mouth is," she says.
"At the center of the tentacles, basically. The actual eating part isn't that exciting. Octopodes are really smart, though. So they get bored. It's a challenge when you're keeping them in captivity. Like--they'll escape because the tanks don't have enough going on and want to do more."
"Really?"
"Yeah, it's awesome. See that box? There's food in there. It's got to solve the puzzle before it gets the food. So that keeps it busy."
"That seems kind of mean," Clarke admits. "If they're too smart to stay in the cages, it sucks to keep them."
"Yeah, that's the dilemma," he agrees. "But still, it's really cool."
And it's all like that. Bellamy really knows a lot about octopodes, and he's happy to tell Clarke everything. They're all actually moving around, which is exciting, and they're pretty cool in motion, the rippling of the membranes between the tentacles, the way they pull themselves across the sand.
And Bellamy keeps tugging her after him, which is also--yeah. It's really fun, how excited he is. She's never seen him like this before, and she wants to see it a lot more.
By the time she thinks to look, it's way later than she planned to be out, but--honestly, she feels less stressed than she has in months.
"Shit, I didn't know it was this late," he says. His phone buzzed with a text while he was in the middle of an animated story about some octopus that used to eat other aquarium animals in the night, and apparently it's the first time he's checked the time since they got here too. "Sorry."
"Sorry?"
"Just--we've been here a while."
"I would have left if I wanted to," she says, and he grins. "But, yeah, I'm probably done."
"Me too. I was going to hit the gift shop."
"Really?"
"You continue to be weirdly judgey about how I experience the aquarium."
"I just can't actually imagine you buying aquarium souvenirs. Are you going to get a lobster hat? Do you like lobster hats?"
"Only one way to find out," he says, with a smile she can't read.
So of course she follows him to the gift shop, and he finds a lobster hat right away, puts it on her head, and when she just pulls it on more firmly, he takes a picture. And then he puts one on himself and it's--
God, it's actually cute. She gets like four pictures, and then one of both of them, and she's about to post it to Instagram when she realizes that it's a picture of her and Bellamy Blake in lobster hats at the aquarium, faces close together, looking like--not even like friends, honestly. It's a date picture. And she doesn't know how to process that.
She posts the picture anyway, while he's poking through a pile of terrifying pink stuffed animals with huge eyes. If any real animal looked like that, evolution would make sure it died before reaching maturity, for the good of the entire species. They're not even cute, they're monstrosities.
"I wanna get O something," he says.
"You still buy souvenirs for your twenty-five-year-old sister when you go to the aquarium?" she asks, charmed in spite of herself. "Creepy, creepy souvenirs?"
"The first time I came here, I was on a field trip," he says. "I was in sixth grade, she was in kindergarten. She was so jealous I got to come and she didn't, so I figured I'd get her something. But I was eleven, so I didn't have any money. I bought her this fucking shitty, ugly dolphin key chain, and she actually cried it was so scary. So now whenever I come here, I'll buy her some weird shit to make up for it."
He tells it like one of those heartwarming family stories, a classic, but--all Clarke can think is how much it feels like the moment you solve a magic eye puzzle, the way everything suddenly slots into place. Bellamy Blake at eleven years old, spending all the money he had to buy his sister a present, something to make her happy because she didn't get to come to the aquarium with him, and instead he made her cry. And twenty years later, he's still buying her things she won't like, because he doesn't know how to admit that it hurt that she didn't like the key chain in the first place.
"And you're not just going with the lobster hat?" she asks, forcing her voice to be light.
"Are you kidding? That thing's way too nice."
They end up getting a clownfish with giant blue eyes that take up about 75% of its body, and Clarke gets him the lobster hat because the thinking about him at eleven is still making her ache.
"It looked so good on you," she says. "I bet Instagram thinks so too."
"You posted a picture of me to Instagram?"
"No, the one with both of us."
"Huh." He looks at the hat, fingers fluttering on one of the claws. "Well, thanks. I'm definitely going to wear this all the time."
"I know. Appropriate for every occasion."
"Absolutely. It can be my thing. I'll be the lobster hat guy."
"And yet, you're not wearing it."
"I have always wanted to be the guy on the train in the lobster hat."
Clarke doesn't know Bellamy's actual address, but she knows it's only a few blocks from her. When they take the train home from the bar, they get off at the same stop, even if they go different directions. So she says, "I drove, if you want a ride home."
"Yeah?"
"You're not far from me, right?"
"No, I'm not."
"Then, yeah. Assuming you trust me with your address, I'll give you a ride." And then she grins. "If you wear the hat."
"Deal," he says, with no hesitation, and pulls the hat on immediately.
Clarke bats one of the claws, smiling. "Perfect. Come on, I'm parked down the street."
It's a little awkward at first, because they're still--well, they're still mostly acquaintances who yell at each other over beers a few nights a month, and without marine life, they don't have anything in particular to talk about. But Bellamy's a teacher, which means he always has weird stories about his students or some annoying thing the high school administration is doing, so when Clarke asks how long it is until AP exams, that's all it takes, and they're talking all the way back to his place.
"Thanks for the ride," he says. "And the lobster hat. And, uh--I had fun."
"Yeah," she agrees. "Me too."
"If you're going to a museum or something for your next day off and want company, let me know," he says. He worries his lip like he might say something else, but he finally just shakes his head. "Anyway. See you next week, probably. Goodnight."
"Night, Bellamy."
When she gets home, she checks Instagram and finds the expected comments: a few "New boyfriend???" from her college friends, "Wait, is that Bellamy?" from Raven, and "Clarke your mother said you were gay now please call me," from her aunt Linda. It's still a really cute picture, though. They look like they're having fun.
She pokes half-heartedly through her fridge, but she's having trouble getting excited about food. Or about anything else. She had a really good time, and now the rest of her night feels like kind of a letdown. Which is the exact opposite of what she would have expected from running into Bellamy Blake at the aquarium on the day where she's supposed to not be dealing with anything stressful.
And she didn't. She had a nice time with Bellamy. A really nice time.
Finally, she grabs her bag and goes down the street to the pub, on the grounds that it is her stress-free day, and she doesn't want to cook. And she wants a drink. Sometimes eating alone depresses her, but she thinks it'll probably be fine tonight. Being around people sounds better than being alone on her couch, eating takeout and watching Netflix and wondering if it would be weird to text Bellamy. Which it would. Especially because all she can really think to say is that she thinks they should be friends, and she thinks it was sort of implied.
It's prime time on Saturday, so there's a wait list for a table, and Clarke puts herself on it and goes to wait outside on the steps, since it's warm out and crowded by the door.
She's about to win her Hearthstone game when someone sits down next to her. "Fancy meeting you here," says Bellamy.
Clarke startles. "Hi?"
"Hi."
"Are you stalking me?"
"I got to the aquarium first, so--"
She has to laugh. "Seriously, what are you doing here?"
"Seriously? I'm out of food and don't want to go to the store. What about you? Hot date?"
"No, basically same. But there's a half hour wait for tables. Or there was when I put my name in."
"Shit. When was that?"
"Like fifteen minutes ago. And it's busier now."
"So I'll just starve to death on the street. That's cool too."
Clarke has to smile. "As long as you've got a plan." And then, because, well, "I don't think they have any one-person tables, so I bet I could just add you on mine. I'll just have an empty seat anyway."
"Yeah?"
"I do owe you for the aquarium ticket. I could buy you dinner."
"You could?" he asks, grinning. "I figured that was what the lobster hat was for."
"Nope. I'm just a giver." She stands and offers him her hand. "Come on, we can go ask the hostess."
He takes her hand and lets her pull him up, and once he's on his feet, she's very aware of--everything. He's not that tall, but he still has a good four inches on her at least, and he's very broad and very warm, and his hand is rough and huge. He's closer than she expected, and she realizes all at once that the fluttery feeling that started growing her chest somewhere in the octopus exhibit is attraction, and the nervous, restless desire to talk to him more is a crush.
"Hostess?" he prompts.
"Yeah, let's see what we can do."
The hostess agrees to add Bellamy to her table, and they go to the bar to wait instead. He gets a beer and she gets a cider, and the awkward silence returns for a minute.
And then Bellamy says, "Octavia thinks we got married."
Clarke chokes on her cider. "When?"
He grins. "Yeah, the timeline was what got me too," he teases. "Lincoln showed her your Instagram post, I guess. I don't know what it says about me that my sister thinks the way I'd announce my elopement is with a picture of me and my new wife wearing ugly lobster hats."
"You mean awesome lobster hats."
"Oh, yeah, sorry. Awesome lobster hats. When you put it that way, it's a great plan."
"I thought so. What did you tell her?"
"We're engaged, obviously."
"Obviously."
"I told her the truth," he says, taking a sip of his beer. "We ran into each other, kept trying to lose each other, but we were always going the same place, so we eventually gave up and figured we should hang out."
"And she said?"
"It's hard to really capture her tone. What the fuck, Bell, but a lot more disappointed."
"It's always hard to find out your brother didn't get shotgun married at the aquarium, I guess." She worries her lip, feels very obvious when she says, "You haven't dated anyone in a while, right? Since you and Gina broke up?"
"Yeah."
"She was probably just happy for you. Getting back in the game."
"Yeah, she's been kind of worried about me since she got engaged." Clarke cocks her head at him, and he shrugs. "I think she thinks, you know--I'm six years older than her and single, so she thinks it's depressing for me. A sign I'm wasting my life or something."
"And is it?"
"Not--I don't really want to be married right now. Honestly, it's terrifying that my sister feels like she's ready to settle down and spend the rest of her life with someone, but not in a depressing way. I just still think she's twelve and telling me about her first period half the time." Clarke chokes again, and he grins. "Sorry. Weird thing to say?"
"Deeply."
"Assume I have a lot of memories like that. So, yeah. It's weird she's old enough she wants to get married. But it doesn't make me feel like I've wasted my life or anything." He pauses, doesn't look at her when he adds, "I'm not doing that great with the dating thing right now, but, again, separate issue. And I'm working on it."
"How?"
There's a pause. "Trying to be less stupid."
"Wow. Dream big, Bellamy."
He ducks his head on a laugh. "Right? I should have set some more realistic goals."
Their table opens up before she can ask anything else about Bellamy's current dating goals, which is probably just as well. She's not convinced she really wants to know.
She hates crushes.
"What about you?" Bellamy asks. "Still single? Since, uh--Niylah?"
"Yeah."
"Cool." He makes a face. "Uh, not--that was a placeholder word. I don't think it's great that you're single. Unless you do. In which case it's--cool."
"Wow. I wasn't going to overthink that, but you made it really hard not to."
"Yeah, that started badly for me and got worse." He gives her a rueful smile. "I keep expecting this to turn into a fight, honestly."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. But--be honest. You're trying to piss me off most of the time."
"You noticed, huh?"
"It's fun," she admits. "I like arguing with you."
"Yeah, me too. But, honestly, this not arguing thing is working for me too."
"Yeah." She considers, but she's curious and they're being friendly, so she asks, "How old were you when your mom died?" Which is definitely one of those normal, friendly questions.
"Twenty-two."
"So you had just graduated from college and took Octavia for two years."
"Yeah. But, I mean, she was sixteen. She was pretty self-sufficient at that point."
"Still."
"I'd been her primary caretaker for a while."
"Yeah, I got that impression."
"Yeah. Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering. You know, friend stuff."
He snorts. "Obviously. When did your dad die?"
"When I was seventeen."
"When did your mom disown you?"
"She never did. Not officially. She just said that she'd pay for me to finish college and med school, but if I didn't go to med school, I was on my own. I think it was supposed to be--" She sighs. It's easier to be fair to her mother, a few years out. They still talk, they're both just stubborn about things. "I don't think she ever meant to cut me off. But when she gave me the ultimatum, that was it for me. I wasn't ever going to take a penny from her ever again. Which is stupid, you don't have to tell me."
"It's the good kind of stupid," he says, and she gives him a look. "No, I know I gave you a hard time--"
"Oh, is that what we're calling it?"
"I think it's cool you didn't let her dictate your life just to get money. I probably would have been tempted."
She knows it's because she always had money, and he never did, but--it's getting a little heavy already, so she says, "Really? Do you know how long med school is?"
He laughs. "Okay, yeah. But other than that."
The waiter comes by to take their orders, and once he's gone, Bellamy gives her a contemplative look. She doesn't blush.
Probably.
"So, friend stuff. Favorite book?"
"His Dark Materials."
"Obviously."
"Obviously?"
"Angry blonde girl lies and bullshits her way across the multiverse," he says, and she laughs. "Has a complicated relationship with her mother."
"That's one summary, yeah. You?"
"The Iliad."
"In the original Greek, I assume. How many octopodes does it have?"
He kicks her lightly under the table. "Favorite TV show?"
Pop culture gets them through dinner, and she's basically forgotten that she would have said she hated Bellamy if anyone had asked her this time yesterday.
"Did you two want to see a dessert menu?" the waiter asks, in a pointed way, and Clarke realizes it's kind of late and they've been so engrossed in their conversation they probably missed him trying to make this offer a couple times.
Bellamy cocks his head at her, and Clarke shrugs one shoulder. "I could look at a menu."
"Of course," he says, and hands her one and Bellamy another. "The apple pie is our most popular to share," he adds, and she feels heat rush up her neck.
"Thanks," she says, and fails to really take in the menu for a couple seconds.
"The apple pie does look good," Bellamy says, after a slight pause.
"A la mode?"
"Of course."
"It is my day off. It's not a day off without dessert."
"Yeah, so I hear." He clears his throat. "Split it?"
The nervousness in his tone makes her heart stutter. "Yeah, okay."
She picks up the bill, even though the meal was more than the aquarium, and tells him he can buy her a beer next time they're out.
"We're never going to be even, are we?" he asks, amused.
"Nope. You started it."
"I got there first," he says, and she laughs. They're lingering outside the door, waiting to go their separate ways. It feels like the end of a very good first date, and if it was, she'd ask him to come home with her. But it would be weird, as it is.
"So, uh--I had a nice time," Bellamy says, awkward. "Again. We should hang out more, since we're basically neighbors."
"We should." Impulsively, she leans up and pecks him on the cheek. "Best day off I've had in a while. Thanks."
She can see him swallow, but all he says is, "No problem. See you next week."
"Yeah. See you."
She debates for about an hour the next morning, but finally just decides, well, fuck it.
She texts Bellamy, I'm going to the art museum. Want to come?
He replies, I thought yesterday was your day off.
It was. This is a new thing I'm trying. Date day. You inspired me.
There's a pause, just long enough for her to worry he's trying to let her down easy. But then he says, What time?
He kisses her as soon as he's in the car, not long or deep, but very firm.
"Should have done that last night," he says. His grin is his blinding one, but--it's happy, not charming. She's thinking he maybe didn't only just realize he was attracted to her yesterday, and it's doing a lot of things to her stomach. "I was kicking myself all the way home."
"Honestly, I'm just sad you're not wearing your lobster hat," she teases.
"On a first date? Come on. I really like this girl."
She kisses him too, in case he's nervous. And because the first time really was way too quick.
"She really likes lobster hats," she says, very serious, against his mouth, and he laughs.
"Next time," he promises, and really does wear it for their second date.
"Like I said, I really like this girl."
Clarke slides her hand into his and squeezes. "Yeah. She really likes you too."