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Clarke was drunk.
She was out celebrating her new position as a resident intern at her mother’s hospital; and she got the job without the influence of her powerful mom, which in of itself was cause to celebrate. Because of her new job, and more importantly her new paychecks, her best friends had decided to take her out and get her completely wasted. They went to the bar a couple blocks away from their house so they could walk back at the end of the night.
After drinking so much that her vision was getting blurry, Octavia had left her and Raven at their table in order to pursue a cool looking tattooed guy standing by the bar. Raven was amusing herself by drunkenly drawing designs for a new machine that she would probably bring to life when she was sober. Clarke had resigned her to people watching; it was fascinating: she already witnessed one breakup, a sloppy first kiss, and a girl who went to town on a plate of nachos. Clarke was about to call it a night and head home when something caught her eye. Actually, it was someone.
The women who just entered the bar were without a doubt the hottest girls Clarke had ever seen; they were wearing matching soccer uniforms with black paint around their eyes and running down their cheeks. The taller girl had wavy dirty blonde that was held back by two clips and the meanest scowl the blonde had ever seen. But, she was more distracted by her friend; the shorter brunette had her hair in two French braids that were coming undone. Underneath the black paint Clarke could see the greenest eyes she had ever seen. The girl held herself with so much confidence and swagger Clarke could feel her body reacting without saying a single word to her. It was incredible. Her droolfest was cut short when Raven elbowed her.
“If you stare any harder, you’ll set her on fire,” the brunette snickered. Clarke shook her head.
“I’m not staring!” She said, defensively.
Raven rolled her eyes, “Clarkie, come on. We’ve known each other since we were kids. I know your ‘oh man she’s so hot’ look.”
The blonde blushed slightly while playing with the straw in her drink, “Fine. She’s hot. But that doesn’t mean I have to talk to her.”
“Well, well, well. I never thought I would see the day the great Clarke Griffin would be too scared to talk to a girl.”
Clarke sat up straighter in her seat, “I’m not scared”. She wasn’t about to let her reputation be ruined.
“If you’re not that scared, I dare you to go over to her and her super-hot friend and say “Hey, girl. What that thang do?”
“What that thang do?” Clarke asked, her eyebrows raised to her hairline. Raven snickered.
“Yup. Do that and I promise I will never speak ill about your girl game again.”
Clarke considered the deal for a moment; it could end up embarrassing her beyond all reason. However, she was drunk and feeling good about herself; why shouldn’t she use this good mojo and try to get laid? “Deal!” She cried, draining the rest of her drink. With Raven cheering her on, Clarke made her way to where the two scary women were sitting.
They were sitting at a small, two-person table with a pitcher of beer between them. The pretty brunette was frowning while her friend was laughing at something; most likely, at her. Clarke couldn’t help but notice how pretty the girl was, even though she looked angry. She had some kind of vibe around her that made the blonde want to learn more about her. Before she realized it, Clarke was standing in front of the two girls, completely silent. The dirty blonde girl cut off mid-sentence and Clarke couldn’t help the blush that creeped up her cheeks when two sets of eyes stared at her.
“What?” The taller blonde spat, glaring at Clarke. She was about to turn around and abort the mission when the sexiest, lowest voice she ever heard reached her ears.
“Anya! Don’t be rude,” the brunette smiled softly at Clarke and the blonde could feel her heart beat wildly, “How can we help you?”
Clarke’s mouth felt incredibly dry but that didn’t stop the words from pouring out nor did she break eye contact with the brunette as she said, “Hey, girl. What that thang do?” The two girls stared at Clarke silently until the dirty blonde started laughing wildly. The brunette averted her eyes but, through the black face paint, Clarke could see her cheeks turning red.
“Wow, blondie, I have to give you credit for that. It’s definitely a line I’ve never heard before,” the brunette’s friend, Anya, continued to snicker. The brunette stayed quiet.
Even though she was drunk, Clarke could still feel how humiliating the moment was, “Okay. I’m gonna go now. Thanks.” She turned to run back to Raven when Anya grabbed her wrist.
“Oh no, blondie. You have to finish what you started,” Anya smirked at the twin blushes that they sported. She looked over Clarke’s shoulder to where Raven was sexily dancing in her chair, “I’ll keep your friend company,” without waiting for a response, Anya made her way over to
Raven. Clarke was left standing in front of the girl who still hadn’t said a word to her.
“I can go,” she slurred, slightly, “I was gonna head home, anyways.” Clarke didn’t think she would get a response from that but she was pleasantly surprised.
“But you came over here instead?” The brunette mumbled, shyly, “Why?”
The blonde shrugged, “You’re really cute. And I thought you should know that.”
“So you thought you would tell me that fact by asking what my “thang” did?” The brunette smirked at Clarke’s flustered face.
“Can’t blame a girl for being curious.”
The brunette chuckled and shook her head, “You’re right, I can’t blame you. But, I can offer you a place to sit since your seat is otherwise….occupied,” Clarke turned to look where Lexa’s gaze was only to see Anya and Raven making out like it was the end of the world. The blonde shook her head good naturedly.
“That girl could get her mack on while being covered in chicken pox and sneezing out jelly, I swear.”
The brunette wrinkled her nose, “What an interesting image.”
Clarke giggled, “I’m quite the wordsmith,” she took in the brunette’s face paint, “What’s up with the raccoon eyes?”
The brunette smiled, “Anya and I play for a soccer league. We’re called the Grounders; the paint helps us look tough. Plus, we look like a badass warrior unit.”
“You look like people just overtaken by the apocalypse.”
The brunette shrugged, “To each his own, I guess.”
Clarke played with the wet napkin under the pitcher of beer, “So, is your name as pretty as your face?”
The brunette laughed out loud, “Wow, you’re pretty smooth for someone who looks like she went a round with vodka shots and lost,” she smiled softly, “My name is Lexa.”
“Lexa,” the blonde said, breathlessly, “That is gorgeous.”
Lexa blushed harder, “You’re quite the charmer…..” she trailed off, waiting for Clarke to finish her sentence.
“Oh, Clarke!” She loudly cried, “My name. My name is Clarke.”
Lexa giggled, “Well, Clarke, not that I haven’t enjoyed talking to you but you did say that you were heading home before.”
The blonde grinned and leaned forward, causing her low cut top to inch down lower to reveal her ample cleavage. She couldn’t help the bolt of excitement that ran through her when Lexa’s eyes seemed glued to her chest. “Why, Lexa,” she drawled, “Are you trying to take me to bed? And before the first date? Shame on you!”
“So there’s gonna be a date, huh?” Lexa shot back, raising an eyebrow. Clarke cursed herself for losing their little word battle.
“Maybe. If you make it worth my while.”
Now it was Lexa’s turn to flash a sexy grin, “I promise you, if you go out with me, you’ll be too tired to remember your own name.” The blonde’s jaw dropped; this girl was going to be the death of her.
“Hmmmm,” she said, pretending to think, “How about you walk me home and we can discuss the issue of you wearing me out further?”
“I think that sounds like a plan,” Lexa threw back the rest of her beer, “Lead the way.”
As Clarke and Lexa made their way out of the bar, she couldn’t help but notice the thumbs up Raven threw her way. She may wake up with a hangover in the morning but at least she would wake up to a pretty sight.