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“Clarke? What the fuck are you doing?”
Clarke halted, arm mid-air, raw egg balanced in her hand. “What does it look like, you prick?” She yelled, heaving the egg. It splattered against the red bricks of the dorm building, pieces of the yolk flying into the open window.
“Clarke, come on! Be mature!” The boy yelled back, ducking as a second egg was launched in through the window. He turned to look at the crash, before looking back at the bitter blonde three stories down. “Hey! That egg is all over my XBox!”
“Good!” Clarke grunted, hurling another egg. This one splattered right across his face. The boy yelled out in disgust, hands flying to wipe the intrusive substance from his vision. “You’re a cheating dirtbag, Finn!”
“You didn’t even let me explain--” Finn began, before another egg splattered against his chest. “Ow! Son of a bitch, Clarke! Knock it off!”
“You were fucking our T.A. for two months of our relationship, Finn! There’s nothing to explain!” Clarke shouted. By now, quite a few other students had poked their heads out of their own dorm room windows, watching the scene unfold. A group of girls stood behind Clarke a few yards back, whispering and laughing to each other.
“Clarke,” Finn said, looking around. “You’re causing a scene.” He gave her a glare meant to silence her.
Instead, it only infuriated her more. She let out one last cry of anger, throwing the whole damn carton of eggs--cardboard box and all--crashing into the glass of Finn’s window, effectively shattering it. Clarke’s Spartan-like cry of “Go fuck yourself, you prick!” drowned out Finn’s squeak of surprise at the sudden shower of glass falling from his dorm.
Behind her, a tap on her shoulder caught her attention. Clarke turned, ready to yell at whatever invasive, goody-two-shoes freshman was about to reprimand her for yelling and making a scene past quiet hours, but the blood drained from her face as she met the eyes of a campus policewoman.
“Shit.”
It was going to be a long night.
“Seriously?” Clarke sighed, staring straight at the officer. “Come on, this is over the top! My dirtbag ex cheated on me, I was just getting a little revenge.”
The officer tutted, looking down at the clipboard in her arms as she scribbled away.
As annoyed as she was at the officer for bringing her in over a broken window, Clarke had to admit, the officer was pretty. She was a woman of average height, a few inches taller than Clarke. Her dark, chestnut curls were drawn neatly into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, resting just below the bottom of her cap. Her green eyes squinted in focus as she wrote, no doubt in cursive, the motions of her hand delicate and precise.
“Such a pretty girl like yourself has to sympathize, right?” Clarke tried her luck at flattery. “I mean, look at us. We’re both good looking. Boys cheat on their attractive girlfriends all the time, you know? They go find an even hotter piece of ass when we start gaining weight. Or when we break out because of our periods. Or when we don’t put out every fucking time they send us a booty call at three in the morning, knowing damn well we have an o-chem exam at eight in the morning--” Clarke stopped herself, blushing. She hadn’t meant to start ranting about her relationship to the pretty officer who’d taken her in. An amused grin settled on the officer’s lips as she kept scribbling out the paperwork. Clarke felt her heart beating rapidly against her chest. Was it because she was embarrassed that she’d started spilling her love life to a stranger? Or was it because said stranger finally looked up to meet Clarke’s eyes, sinfully plump lips smirking at Clarke’s embarrassment?
Clearing her throat, Clarke continued with her initial train of thought. “I know I took it a little far, but Finn broke my heart--hasn’t a boy ever done the same to you?”
The officer shook her head. “Haven’t ever dated a man,”
“Well, you look young, I’m sure you'll--oh,” realization dawned on Clarke.
“Yeah,” the officer nodded. Clarke glanced away. So the pretty officer was gay? That would mean taking a whole other sympathy, get-me-out-of-jail-free card. “But an ex-girlfriend did cheat on me once, too.” The assessed Clarke, shaking her head. “I know how angry you must be, Miss Griffin, but that doesn’t give you the right to vandalize university property.”
“I broke one window, on accident ! I’ll pay for it!” Clarke argued. She glanced at the officer’s name tag. “Look, Officer Woods,” she said, eyes meeting the green ones before her once more. “Can we please just let this go?”
Officer Woods set her clipboard down on the small table separating them. “You were yelling at two in the morning, well past campus quiet hours. You seemingly stole that carton of eggs from the cafe--we stamp all of our goods for inventory, you know. I saw the carton before you hurled it through the window. You broke campus property. That glass that fell from Mr. Collins’ window ended up falling onto the student in the room below him.”
“Hey, that’s Atom’s fault for being a prick who just had to lean out his window and stick his nose where it doesn’t belong!” Clarke argued. “And the eggs were not stolen! I just happened to buy them from the carry-out when I didn’t have my ID on me. I’ll pay for those tomorrow, too,” she said, giving a hopeful smile. When Officer Woods quirked an eyebrow, Clarke groaned. “I know, I fucked up.”
“Listen, Miss Griffin, you have no criminal history or university infractions on your record. I’m tired. I’ve worked the graveyard shift for the past three months. I haven’t seen daytime sunlight since August, because I sleep through the whole day,” the officer said, tucking a stray piece of her brown hair behind her ear.
“I really am sorry,” Clarke sighed, propping her elbows up onto the table. Balancing her chin in her hands, she gave the officer an apologetic look. "I know being a campus officer must be a pretty shitty gig, I never meant to make your shift worse."
The brunette couldn’t help but grin at Clarke’s pleading eyes, letting out a small chuckle of her own. “I should really be reprimanding you more,” she said, “but really, I’m just curious.”
“About?” Clarke asked, tilting her head.
“How do you have such a good arm?” Officer Woods asked, the smile on her face spreading. “You just...heaved those eggs three stories up like no big deal,”
“I play softball,” Clarke laughed, feeling her face heat up. “I’m a pitcher.”
“Softball?” Officer Woods said, interest piqued. "Here?"
“Yeah,” Clarke bit her lip. "We have a game on Wednesday, we're playing Azgeda--you should come, it is the championship game, and I look pretty damn good in those softball pants," she teased, watching a pink haze settle across the officer's tan cheeks. A sudden thought passed through Clarke's mind--she might not be able to pitch in the game, not with this on her record. "Well--assuming I'm not suspended for this little stunt of mine," she winced. "Oh, god, Indra's totally going to kill me. She'll have me running suicides in the off-season," Clarke groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I really just pulled a dumb blonde move on my ex, didn't I?" She asked, looking up between her fingers. "How much trouble am I in?"
The officer gave Clarke an apologetic look. "Well, if I wrote you up for this, you could possibly lose any scholarship you're on due to vandalizing school property," she said, looking down at the clipboard full of paperwork on the table. "And any trouble you'd be in for your sports teams would be up to your coaches. Worst case scenario, you get kicked off the team and lose a scholarship. You wouldn't be expelled for something as small as a window, but..." Clarke watched as she had an internal debate, green eyes flickering from the stack of paper to Clarke's face. The officer swallowed tightly. “Well, I don't want you to miss your championship game. I won’t write you up--this time. If you do any more stupid shit, I won't let you off easy, okay?" Clarke perked up at that, eyebrows jumping up. "Just write out a check to the university for the damages. I’ll get an estimate for you and send an email to your university address. You’re lucky Mr. Strong wasn’t injured, or you could be in much bigger trouble.”
At that, Clarke sat upright, forearms dropping back onto the table. “Really?”
“Really, really,” Officer Woods said, standing. “Get out of here. My shift ends in an hour, and I have even more paperwork to fill out now for releasing you.”
“Thank you,” Clarke said, sincerely. She grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder, standing and making her way to the exit. She halted at the door, turning to look at the officer once more.
As turned to leave the room, she couldn’t help but notice the small smile lingering on Officer Woods’ lips and the faint pink twinge on her cheeks.
The next day, Clarke wrote out the check for the--unsurprisingly, very expensive--estimate Officer Woods had sent her. After her last class, she went to the cafe and ordered a tray of cookies to go. Once the evening rolled around, Clarke strolled to the public safety building, eyes peeled in search of the officer.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
Clarke swiveled, coming face to face with a tall officer--but not the one she had in mind. His hair was buzzed, nearly bald, and dark black tattoos stood out against his arms. She glanced at his name tag. “Yes, Officer...Woods?”
The man nodded. “Call me Lincoln.”
“Lincoln Woods?” Clarke questioned. Well. She knew she was angry last night, and that anger could sometimes distort memories, but Clarke was positive that Officer Woods was definitely a woman. A gay woman. An attractive gay woman, whom Clarke may or may not have been attracted to, and who Clarke may or may not have been thinking about for an hour or so before finally falling asleep.
“Yes? What can I do for you, ma’am?” He repeated, crossing his arms, pulling Clarke from her distraction.
“I’m looking for Officer Woods. The...other...one, I guess,” she said, holding up the paper bag from the cafe. “I have a thank-you gift for her.”
“Lexa?” He asked.
Clarke shrugged. “I didn’t catch her first name.”
“About 5’7”, brown hair, green eyes?” He asked, gesturing to her height with his hand.
“Yes!” Clarke said, smiling. “That’s the one.”
“That’s my cousin. She’s patrolling campus right now, but she’ll be back around ten tonight. You’re free to stay in our lounge if you’d like to wait.” Lincoln said, gesturing to the open waiting room.
Clarke glanced at her phone. It was only eight...she sighed. “Sure, thank you.” She walked past the officer, settling in on the hard couch and pulling out her phone.
After two mind-numbing hours of scrolling Twitter, beating seven levels of Candy Crush, and her battery falling to three percent, Officer Woods finally entered the public safety building. Clarke stood, about to announce her presence, only to freeze at the sight of Officer Woods pulling the cap off of her head. The officer grabbed at her ponytail holder, pulling at it and letting her long, curly mane flow free from the tight restraints of her bun. Lexa settled her hat onto one of the hooks along the wall, before shrugging the jacket off of her arms and hanging it alongside the cap. Clarke’s eyes were drawn to the midnight blue ink that swirled around the officer’s tanned bicep. She had tattoos? How many? Clarke was suddenly interested in how those biceps would feel wrapped around her curves, how that tattoo would move and flex when her fingers thrusted--
The next thing Clarke knew, Officer Woods was only a foot in front of her, her hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “Miss Griffin, are you okay?”
Shaken out of her stupor, Clarke smiled. “Me? A gay?--I mean, okay? Yes. To both. Well, bi. Sexual. Bisexual. I don’t know why I told you that. Here--” she shoved the paper bag into Officer Woods’ arms. “Thank you. For getting me off easy--I mean, letting me off easy, last night,” she stammered, cheeks flushing red.
Lexa laughed, that same sinful smirk from the night before on her lips. She glanced down at the bag, seeing the blue Ark Cafe emblem stand out against the brown bag. “Did you steal these, too?” She teased.
Clarke flushed even more. “Okay, the events of last night were...not my shining moments. But I’m normally not like that. I just let jealousy turn me into a bitter ex, and, well, you know--”
“ Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned,” Lexa interrupted, laughing at the pink hue of Clarke’s cheeks.
“Is that the real quote?” Clarke chuckled amidst her embarrassment.
Lexa nodded. “I majored in literature here before joining the Academy,” she explained.
“You look so young, how did you…” Clarke trailed off.
Lexa smiled. “I withdrew after my sophomore year. The Academy was just a better fit, budget wise and personality wise. I still enjoy reading, though.” She glanced down at the bag of cookies. “Thank you for these, Miss Griffin.”
“You can just call me Clarke,” Clarke smiled, feeling the warmness of her cheeks spreading down the back of her neck.
Lexa smiled. “Then you can call me Lexa, Clarke.”
Clar- k e.
Clarke liked the way her name rolled off of Lexa’s tongue.
She wondered what else she could find enjoyable about said tongue.
After a moment of debating, Clarke decided, fuck it. She had nothing to lose. Lexa was hot, seemingly single, and Clarke was not about to spend months feeling sorry for herself for having a dirtbag of an ex-boyfriend.
“Listen--I know that I just got out of a messy break-up--I mean, you saw the break-up happening --but would you, maybe, want to grab a coffee? Maybe tomorrow evening? Before your next night shift? It could help you stay awake--but I get it if you don’t--”
“You ramble a lot when you’re nervous,” Lexa grinned, interrupting Clarke’s monologue.
“I’m usually much smoother when wooing the ladies, I promise,” Clarke said, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I guess being with a straight guy for six months has put me out of my game. I usually only date girls. I swear, I used to be good at the whole flirting thing.”
“Want to try again?” Lexa asked, eyes sparkling.
At that, Clarke narrowed her eyes. “Is that a yes?”
“Not quite. It’s not exactly ethical for me to date a student here--I could easily let them off the hook for breaking university rules,” Lexa grinned.
“Well, it looks like we’re already a step ahead of the game, then,” Clarke said. She took a breath, before nodding. “I’d like to take that chance to ask you out again.”
Lexa smiled. “Alright,” she nodded. “Woo me, Clarke.”
Clar- k e.
At the goofy smile on Lexa’s lips, nothing serious could come to mind.
“I guess when I’m around you, I just can’t think straight.”
“Was that a pun?”
“Not just a pun, a gay pun,” Clarke winked.
Lexa sighed. “I’m rethinking this date.”
“Ah! But you are thinking about it?”
Lexa rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “I guess so.”
“Alright,” Clarke nodded, a wide smile spreading across her face, mimicking Lexa’s. “Six o’clock, Nook’s Cafe across the street? On me?” She waited for Lexa’s answer, rocking on the balls of her feet.
Finally, Lexa nodded. “It’s a date.”