Chapter Text
“…And then, Shelly took my clothes and threw them out of the window, but I wasn't going to take that lying down, so guess what I did? You’ll never guess. Okay, I’ll tell you. I took her favourite purse and…”
Clarke shuffled a little in her seat, smiling politely at the man sitting opposite her as he continued to talk. She nodded as if she was listening and then glanced quickly at her watch.
9:23.
She’d been on a date with this man for over three hours now and all he’d done was talk about his ex-wife. She refrained from rolling her eyes when he launched into yet another story explaining why he should’ve been the one who kept the dog, instead looking around for their waiter. Her date noticed her wandering gaze and leaned forwards a little, his beady eyes fixed on her through strands of his matted hair.
“Do you want another drink? Maybe something else to eat? I can order us something to share, but I must warn you, I have a lot of allergies…”
Clarke quickly declined, taking a deep breath before forcing a smile onto her face. And so the man just continued to talk, hands gesturing wildly as he spoke through mouthfuls of spaghetti. One flail of his fork was particularly forceful and Clarke suddenly found her white blouse spattered with oily red sauce. The man’s face flushed.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” The man leaned over the table, knocking over her glass of wine in the process. “Please, let me help–”
“No, thanks,” Clarke brushed his hand away and stood up.
“Please, allow me–”
“Seriously, I’ve got it.” An edge had crept into her voice.
The man lowered himself back down into his seat, cheeks tinged pink.
“I’m going to the bathroom to get cleaned up.” Clarke turned on her heel, walking away without another word. Breathing a sigh of relief (she was finally away from that gross excuse for a man), she entered the bright bathroom and made her way to the sinks. Her shirt – her brand new white shirt – was now garishly decorated with splashes of clumpy tomato paste.
“Fuck.”
She grabbed some tissues from the box by the sink and ran them under the tap before ducking into a stall. Dabbing at the stains proved pointless, though, and she found that the shirt looked even worse than it did before.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Um, is everything okay in there?”
Clarke froze. She hadn’t heard the bathroom door open. Glancing through the gap between the stall door and the cubicle wall, she caught a glimpse of a black leather jacket.
“Hello?”
Clarke cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. Yep, everything’s fine.”
The stranger paused. “Are you sure? It sounded like you were in distress.”
Clarke thought she was going to pass out from embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Okay.”
She heard the sound of taps running followed by the hand dryer, and then the bathroom door banging shut. Clarke leaned her forehead on the cubicle wall, eyes screwed shut.
“Shit.”
Straightening up, she glanced at her shirt once more before deciding that it was a lost cause. The door to the stall creaked open as she peeked out, making sure the stranger really had left before walking back out into the bathroom. Screwing up the soggy tissue in her hand, she tossed it into the bin before checking her hair in the mirror. She took a moment before leaving, hand grasping the door handle, eyes up as if she was praying.
“Please just let this be over soon.”
Then she swung the door open, almost colliding with a small family about to enter the bathroom, and re-joined her date, who looked up from his phone and shot her a smile that was far too enthusiastic and was bordering on creepy.
“Everything okay?”
Even his voice made her skin crawl.
“Yeah, everything’s fi–”
“...But I told you I can’t do those hours because I’m needed at the horse sanctuary, so why…”
Clarke’s words died on her lips as she heard a voice floating across the room. She swivelled in her chair, trying to locate it. There. Sitting a few tables away, face half-hidden behind a curtain of curly hair, was possibly the cutest girl Clarke had ever seen. She listened again, ears focused on the stranger while her date rambled on, completely oblivious to the fact that she wasn’t listening to a word he was saying.
“…Anyway I cleared it with Vince and he said it was fine so I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it…”
It was her. The stranger from the bathroom. Clarke was sure of it. She didn’t know why this was so important, or why she even cared, but something was compelling her to talk to this girl. Only problem was, she was currently stuck at another table with a guy who was apparently the most boring guy on the planet, and she couldn’t think of a way to get rid of him.
“So what do you think of it?”
Clarke blinked at her date. “What?”
“My idea, for the new app I’ve invented. What do you think?” He was staring at her, hands clasped on the table.
“Uh, yeah, I think the part about, uh,” Clarke made a vague gesture with her hands, eyes sliding over to look at the stranger once again, “y’know, the importance of it, and stuff, that was really good…”
“I knew you’d say that!” Her date beamed, smacking his palm loudly on the table. Clarke winced, eyes focusing on anything but him. They came to rest, once again, on the woman sitting a few tables away.
Clarke watched as she delicately lifted her spoon to her mouth and found herself transfixed as the woman’s plump lips sipped up a bit of soup like it was a learned art. Placing her spoon back in the bowl, she dabbed at her mouth with her napkin while her eyes stayed focused on the person sitting opposite her. But then her head turned abruptly and her eyes were locked with Clarke’s, who blanched and wrenched her gaze away, forcing herself to look back at her date who had just shovelled a spoonful of salad into his mouth. Lettuce stuck to his teeth as he continued to speak. “And you think that’s good? Just wait until you hear about the book I want to write…”
Crap. Clarke needed to escape. Not just so she could be freed from what was, without a doubt, the worst date she’d ever been on, but so she could find a way to talk to the beautiful stranger that she couldn’t stop glancing at every few seconds. Then an idea struck.
“Could you excuse me for a moment?” she interrupted.
Her date nodded, picking up his wine glass and slurping some of the liquid into his mouth.
“Gross,” Clarke muttered. Standing up, she dropped her napkin onto her chair and sauntered over to the hostess, who smiled at Clarke from behind her podium-like table.
“Good evening. May I help you with something?”
“Actually, yes,” Clarke leaned closer, voice low. “This is going to sound a little weird, but I need you to come over to my table and tell the guy I’m with that his ex-wife called and said that if he doesn’t go home immediately then she’s going to kill his dog.”
The hostess stared at Clarke, eyes wide. “…I’m sorry?”
“I need you to tell Mr Collins, the man I’m with–”
“No, no, I heard you.”
Clarke stepped back a little, hands on her hips. “So can you do it?”
“I just– I’m not sure if– we don’t–”
The hostess stopped rambling when Clarke pressed a crisp twenty dollar bill into her hand. She stared down at the money for a moment before looking at Clarke with a determined gleam in her eyes.
“Dead dog, was it?”
Clarke smirked, winking at the hostess before returning to the table. Her date had just launched into a very detailed account of his divorce proceedings when the hostess came striding over, a piece of paper clutched in her hand.
“Excuse me, sir? Are you Mr Collins?”
Clarke’s date sat up a little straighter. “I am, yes.”
“We have a message for you. From your ex-wife.”
She handed him the paper. He read the message scrawled on it, eyes widening with panic.
“She’s gonna kill my fucking dog! Shit!” He shot out of his chair, running towards the exit without even a goodbye to Clarke, who tilted her head back as a grateful sigh whooshed past her lips.
“Thank you.” She smiled at the hostess, who shot her a quick smile back before resuming her post at the front of the restaurant.
Leaning back in her chair, Clarke turned her head a little so she could see the stranger out of the corner of her eye. She also took notice of the person she was with – a woman who looked a little younger than the stranger and who had a scar trailing down her left cheek. Clarke watched them talk, saw the way they spoke closely in hushed whispers. She felt a surprising jealously flare up in her chest. She hadn’t stopped to consider that the other woman may have also been on a date.
She sighed dejectedly and stood up, grabbing her bag before heading towards the bathrooms again. The mirror gleamed in the harsh bathroom light as she studied herself, groaning once more at the stains on her shirt that would probably never come out. Pulling her lipstick out of her bag, she applied a fresh coat, planning on texting Raven and seeing if she could stay at hers instead of having to go home. She didn’t feel like being alone tonight.
But her musing was interrupted by the slow creak of the bathroom door as it swung open. When she saw who was standing in the doorway, she jumped and her hand jerked to the side, lipstick smudging across her cheek.
“Fuck.”
“So it was you.”
Clarke turned to see the stranger leaning against the doorframe, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Clarke found herself staring at her mouth, and had to drag her eyes up where they met stark green eyes that were watching her intently. Crap. Clearing her throat, Clarke grinned sheepishly and gathered up her things, not taking her eyes off the woman in the doorway.
“I recognise your voice.”
Clarke’s eyebrows shot up.
“I heard you, before,” the stranger continued, hands tucked into the pockets of her rolled-up jeans, “when you were, um, speaking to the hostess.”
“Oh my god.” Clarke wanted the ground to swallow her right there. “You heard that?”
“Yeah.” The stranger looked like she wanted to laugh. “The date was that bad, huh?”
Clarke rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.”
“Sucks. But we’ve all been there. At least you got rid of him.”
Clarke nodded once, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“I’m Lexa, by the way.”
Clarke liked the way her tongue clicked when she spoke her name. “Nice to meet you, Lexa. I’m Clarke.”
Lexa smiled. “Well, Clarke, it’s been lovely chatting with you but I’ve got to get back.”
Clarke’s shoulders slumped ever-so-slightly. “Back to your date?”
Lexa let out a snort. “Date? No way.”
Clarke felt her hopes rise a little once more. “Then who…?”
“That’s Ontari. She’s my cousin.” Lexa’s mouth twisted into a grimace.
“You don’t like her.”
“That’s an understatement.” Lexa ran her fingers through her hair; Clarke marvelled at how it sprung back into place, brushing against Lexa’s slender neck.
“Can I ask why? Why you don’t like her, I mean.” Clarke was babbling, something she only did when she was nervous.
“Because she’s an entitled brat who thinks she can boss everyone around and do whatever she wants without thinking about the consequences.” Lexa’s words were coated with sharp irritation.
Before Clarke had a chance to respond, Lexa was striding into the bathroom, fingers rubbing at her temples as she paced back and forth in front of the stalls. “Besides, I don’t know where she gets off thinking she can tell me what to do. I’ve been helping dad with the business for much longer than she has, he trusts me way more than he trusts her, and who even said she could just swoop in and start working there because I’m pretty sure my mum doesn’t even like her that much so she probably just said yes to make her sister happy which is just crap because my aunt hasn’t even been that good of a sister to my mum so I really don’t understand why she had to come and work with us I mean I really don–”
Stepping into Lexa’s path, Clarke grabbed Lexa’s wrists and forced her to a stop. Lexa stared down at Clarke, shaking her head a little as if she’d just woken up from a dream.
“Oh, god.” Lexa mumbled. “Sorry about that.”
Clarke shook her head. “It’s okay. Everyone’s family drives them a little mad sometimes. I just didn’t expect you to get so… animated.”
Lexa’s chin dipped as she stared at the floor, her arms wrapped around herself.
“Lexa?”
“Yeah?”
Clarke took a tiny step towards her. “Do you… d’you wanna get out of here? Maybe go to that jazz bar down the street and get a drink?”
Lexa’s lips twitched as she raised her head. “With you?”
“Yes, with me,” Clarke chuckled.
“Yeah. Yes, okay,” Lexa nodded, eyes a little brighter.
Clarke turned to open the door, but stopped and spun back around to face Lexa. “Wait, what about your cousin?”
“Pfft, she’ll be fine,” Lexa scoffed. “Knowing her she’ll be too busy flirting with the waiter to even notice that I’m gone.”
“Well, okay then,” Clarke giggled, stepping towards the door once more.
“Hold on!” Lexa beckoned Clarke over to where she was leaning against the sinks. “I think there’s something we need to do first.” She stepped closer until they were almost touching, her lips so close to Clarke’s that she could feel their breath mingling in the air. Clarke’s heart sped up in her chest – was Lexa going to kiss her? The room was silent apart from the soft whirring of the extractor fan above their heads. Lexa’s hand reached up to cup Clarke’s face. Clarke’s eyes slid shut and her lips pursed while her heart hammered a beat against her ribcage and she prepared herself for Lexa’s kiss...
But her eyes shot open seconds later when she felt a coarse material rubbing across her lips. She saw Lexa standing in front of her, saw the scrunched up tissue in Lexa’s hand, which was now streaked with red lipstick, and realised her mistake.
“Oh my god. You… you were going to wipe my lipstick off, weren’t you?”
Lexa smiled softly, replying with a quiet “Mhmm.”
Clarke bent her head. “Wow. I’m such an idiot.”
Lexa stepped even closer and lifted Clarke's chin with her finger. “You’re not an idiot.”
“I am,” Clarke mumbled. “God, I must look like a fucking clown right now. Jesus.”
“Cutest clown I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Clarke met Lexa’s gaze then, seeing the sincerity in the other woman’s eyes. She felt the blush spreading across her skin and fought back a smile when Lexa reached up and began wiping away the lipstick remains. Clarke enjoyed the feeling of Lexa’s gentle fingers on her skin (a bit too much, she thought) and held still until Lexa stepped back with a satisfied smile on her face.
“There. All done.”
“Thanks,” Clarke murmured, bashful all of a sudden.
They smiled at each other for a second too long and then Lexa looked away, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand.
“So, uh, how about that drink?”
“Sure,” Clarke nodded, holding the door open for Lexa.
They headed out through the restaurant, ducking behind a large potted plant when Ontari looked their way, before sneaking out through the entrance, Clarke shooting the hostess a smile before they walked out into the brisk night air. They walked shoulder-to-shoulder, hands brushing until Clarke reached out and intertwined Lexa’s fingers with her own.
She heard Lexa’s breath hitch in her throat and fought to contain the smile that pulled at her lips.
The walk to the bar was a short one, and Clarke was disappointed when they got there and Lexa let go of her hand. But her disappointment dissolved quickly when they found a booth tucked away in the corner and Lexa opted to sit next to her instead of opposite. She could feel the warmth radiating off of Lexa’s body and shuffled closer without thinking.
She felt Lexa tense beside her. Clarke opened her mouth, an apology ready on her tongue, but then she felt Lexa’s arm snake around her waist and she was pulled even closer, until there was barely any room left between them at all.
“So…” Clarke whispered.
“So.” Lexa whispered back.
They spent the rest of the night like that, wrapped up in each other in their own little bubble away from the rest of the world. They stayed until closing time, the barman smiling apologetically as he told them that they had to leave. And they did, Clarke holding the door for Lexa once more as they headed out into the night.
“So, uh, I live about five minutes from here so I can walk home,” Clarke began after they’d walked a few paces, “but I can call you a taxi if you need one?”
“That’d be great, yeah.”
Clarke nodded and found the number for the taxi company in her phone, finding it impossible to hold Lexa’s gaze as she held her phone up to her ear. Those eyes, they were like kryptonite – if she looked at them for too long, Clarke was sure she wouldn’t survive. The taxi arrived ten minutes later as the two of them were huddled under the restaurant canopy, Lexa’s arm linked with Clarke’s.
“I guess this is me,” said Lexa, untangling herself from Clarke who was sure she could hear something like regret in Lexa’s voice. Clarke watched as she went over to the taxi, leaning down to speak to the driver through the open window. Moments later and she was moving to open the door, but Clarke tapped her on the elbow before she could climb in. Lexa turned expectantly.
“Um, so, I was wondering if, maybe, you’d like to do this again sometime, maybe tomorrow? Like, get drinks, hang out. Only if you want to, of course. I mean, you might have other plans or other friends to hang out with and if that’s the case then that’s totally okay–”
“I’d love to.” The words left Lexa’s mouth in a rush and Clarke found herself beaming.
“Okay, great. Um, could I have your number? Then I can text you or call you or whatever and we can arrange a time and place to meet and it’ll just be much easier that way I think…”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Lexa chortled, as Clarke’s rambling faded out.
They exchanged numbers, Clarke’s fingers lingering on Lexa’s for a moment longer when handing her back her phone. Then Lexa climbed into the taxi and Clarke leaned her arms through the open window, smiling.
“Well, tonight was fun. It was wonderful to meet you, Lexa.”
Lexa smiled a smile that made Clarke go weak at the knees, before replying: “It was wonderful to meet you too, Clarke. See you tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
Their eyes locked only to be interrupted seconds later by the humming of the taxi’s engine being switched on.
“Until then,” Clarke said, quickly taking Lexa’s hand in her own and planting a soft kiss on her knuckles.
Lexa smiled shyly, pulling her hand back to wave at Clarke as the car drove away from the curb. Clarke watched the car until the headlights faded away into the darkness, and then started walking home, grinning from ear to ear. Pulling out her phone, she typed out a quick message to Raven asking if she was still awake and if she wanted to hear about Clarke’s incredible night. Raven replied with a “Hell yeah!!!” that had Clarke laughing as she dialled her best friend’s number, unable to keep the huge smile off her face the entire way home.