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The previous night, he’d murmured into the skin of her collarbone, amused, that their story would be a nice one to tell their grandkids. As it happened, she’d only laughed at the ridiculousness not granting it much thought because they were in the middle of foreplay, and she believed it to be quite unfair if he had made her mind wander some place else.
Now, however, laying next to him in her queen-sized bed, watching as sunlight beams through the white curtains to leave a golden kind of glow onto his chest, she retrieves the statement from her memory, and cracks a smile when she quickly realizes that she agrees with him: what a story.
The first chapter began at the very beginning of her sophomore year in high school, in chem lab class where she quickly felt a pair of eyes glued to the back of her neck when she tore her focus from the chemicals in the flask to glance at the instructions. The sudden sensation caused her to twist her head, meeting a pair of unapologetic, dark eyes, “can I help you?” Instead of getting embarrassed like most people probably would’ve, this stranger simply continued looking, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
“You’re new here. Your father took over for principal Morris.” It wasn’t a question, and the fact made Clarke raise an eyebrow.
“True - what’s-?”
“You know, I’ve never actually heard of someone who decided to head off the school that one of their parents was about to take charge of.” To most people, this would’ve appeared like a normal, civil conversation, yet Clark noticed an edge to this guy’s voice that convinced her that it wasn’t, in fact, a friendly chat.
She decided that she could still be wrong, choosing to give him one more chance to prove it, replying as cheerfully as she could muster: “Yeah, I know it’s a bit weird, but I really liked the classes here, and I live just-“
“-Or you simply figured that this was the easiest way to get straight A’s because you’ll know just how to manipulate the teachers into giving them to you.” Honestly, Clarke had to fight to keep her jaw from slacking. Even though she succeeded, plastering on an icy facial expression, her blood was boiling, burning in her veins, but along with all of that abrupt anger was a shock that she hadn’t felt before in her life. Never had she met a person, who dared to judge her as much as this guy -
“Blake, Griffin - what’s going on here?”
-Whatever-his-first-name-was Blake had done.
Instantly, flickering his gaze to their teacher - a middle-aged man with a pot belly and round glasses - This Blake boy put on an innocent smile, which carried a form of charm that only intensified Clarke’s desire to strangle him: “Oh, nothing. I was just telling her that she picked the wrong acid from the cabinet.”
Clarke resisted the urge to look back at her work by glaring at him. And as if this whole situation could get any worse, their teacher nodded slowly, saying: “You did. Fix that will you? Quickly, so… We don’t have much time left,”
Unlike most of the similar things that Clarke had been unfortunate to experience, this one didn’t take further argumentation: she despised whatever-his-first-name-was Blake.
Eventually, she found out that it was indeed Bellamy. But that was after learning the fact that he was the captain of the football team, and catching him in the hallways with his just-as-cocky teammates didn’t make her mental picture of him any prettier. If anything, it made it worse.
Then, there was the nickname: Princess that he liked to use as another form of mockery. The first time she heard him say it, she told him to go fuck himself. And Raven flicked him off to support her.
It got to point where even some of the teachers knew about their never-ending war, and decided to assign them seats at opposite ends of the classroom. And Clarke was glad for the most part, but the classes she shared with Bellamy were always the ones where she was the most unfocused, constantly glancing at him, that stupid grin on his face, which would leave her to flush furiously.
Sometimes, she would cross the field where the team did their daily exercise for a shortcut to the library, and she’d count the seconds until he noticed her; she never got further than 27. And he always seemed to have some incredulous thing to blame her for, or drag her into. His teammates knew all about them, too, and they facepalmed every time Bellamy rushed over to get his fix of banter.
Once, it happened in the locker room that she passed to go speak to her tennis coach. Bellamy was standing there, hair wet, a few dark curls sticking to his forehead, muscles slick from the water, a towel draped around his hips.
“Enjoying the view, Princess?”
“You wish, Blake.”
“If only you knew.”
“Fuck you.”
He smirked while she fought to keep the blood from reaching her cheeks. To her embarrassment, she apparently wasn’t able to do that without biting her lower lip, and he blinked in astonishment, his smile slowly fading. Honestly, it was incredibly satisfying that it took no more; that she was able to shake that arrogant demeanor off of him for a moment.
Seconds later, she acknowledged that her teeth hadn’t left her lip, and she flicked her tongue out to soothe it, not thinking anything of it until she noticed Bellamy’s Adam’s apple dropping as he swallowed a groan.
Then, wary of his teammates next to him, he mouthed: yes, fuck me, carefullymaking sure that she caught all three words. When she froze shortly, he knew that she had.
Quickly, Clarke pulled a surprisingly straight face, her voice, nonetheless was high-pitched as she hurried: “Anyway, see you in class,”
After that, John Murphy, Bellamy’s right hand man started calling their fights ‘quickies’, which permanently stopped Clarke from approaching them. Soon enough, Bellamy stopped too, and that was the abrupt end of the crazy relationship they’d been holding onto, which really should’ve been seen as a relief, at least on Clarke’s part, but they completely avoided each other in the halls, not to mention on the field, no matter how intentional her presence there clearly was: “You have somewhere to be, Princess?” Murphy hissed, causing her to look up from her notes and shake her head.
The pale guy (who really looked way too thin to be a football player) glanced at Bellamy for assistance - something, he wasn’t going to get. No, instead:
“Come on, give me the ball, Murphy, we’ll have to get this right before the finals,”
“Bellamy- The Princess-“
“PASS ME THE DAMN BALL, JONATHAN!”
At that, she snorted to prevent herself from bursting into a fit of laughter. And all of the boys’ heads turned in her direction, which she would have found embarrassing if it wasn’t for the fact that she was almost doubling over in an attempt to conceal her glee.
“You done?” Murphy scowled, finally throwing the ball to Bellamy, who had his eyes on her. Clarke responded casually by getting up, to some degree hiding the amusement in her voice while saying: “Sure, see you in Biology, Jonathan,”
Before she stepped towards the library, though, she paused, glancing over her shoulder at Bellamy, who was still looking at her. Guess she wasn’t utterly insane for missing whatever the hell it was that they used to share: “Oh, and by the way, Captain, sorry for the interruption. It won’t happen again.”
“Yes, it will, Clarke. No sane person rounds the entire school to study,”
“Clarke?” Murphy nearly gasped, arching an eyebrow.
“I see,” Clarke started, ignoring her own surprise at his first use of her real name, “You’ve gotten your head out of your ass, at last. Decency suits you, Bellamy,”
Was she flirting with him? Deciding on a yes or no answer to that question was more than a few miles from where she’d been a year and a half ago, debating with herself on what way was the easiest to kill him. Had she even wanted to kill him in the first place? Could she blame this somewhat childish hatred towards him entirely on the sudden urge she had to press him up against a wall and kiss him so hard that he would be forced to swallow his pride?
Clarke would be lying if she said that she had ever felt so confused in her life; nevertheless, there was something else that came from an unknown place within her when he scratched the back of his neck, flustered. It grew and grew until it threatened to spill from her chest; triumph.
Their first kiss happened no more than a week upon the semi-public flirting - and to Clarke’s happiness, they didn’t go straight to publicly making out. He walked towards her in the hallway, not accompanied by his friends, which was odd in itself, because Bellamy Blake was almost never without his friends, and if he wasn’t with them, there was always a bigger swarm of hot girls around him. Maybe that was truly why he was with the boys most of the time, because honestly, although it seemed a little weird, he was clearly bothered by the attention, which meant that he rarely flirted back when they tried to woo him.
“Lost your squad?” The words were out before she’d as much as thought to prevent them. Bellamy ignored her, wrapping a hand around her wrist to guide her through the crowded hall where students were getting ready for their lunch break. Despite the fact that her stomach growled, he could’ve picked a worse time to talk.
“Okay - listen,” he said, closing the door to the empty classroom behind them, and then spinning around to see her standing there, arms crossed over her chest, a frown on her face.
But Clarke managed to assure him that she was sick of listening to the words that came out of his mouth, because they 99% of the time were the wrong ones. Within seconds, he’d picked up the hint: he should do something that he knew he was better at. Talking just wasn’t Bellamy’s talent.
Kissing, however, was.
His lips were demanding, slightly chapped, and hers were insistent. Which meant that they were soon in a frenzy; not the typical, sloppy one - it was deep, teeth clashing and noses bumping, still there was no rush to it. When Clarke broke away to get the air that her lungs were screaming for at that moment, Bellamy began peppering kisses along her jaw, and the trail continued down the hollow of her throat.
“I’m not letting this escalate ‘til you’ve apologized, you know that right?”
He nodded against her skin, pulling away to allow their eyes to meet; his were not like she’d expected them to be, since there was no trace of disappointment or annoyance within them. There was only something that looked remarkably like regret.
“I don’t think you’re privileged anymore, Clarke - I haven’t for a while now, but I think I got too caught up in being an ass to you, and I didn’t know how to stop.”
Although she believed him, she craved no actual relationship with him. She liked to view herself as a sensible person, yet her mind was unbelievably curious about Bellamy Blake. For weeks, she tried to ignore him and pretend that their kiss had never happened, which proved not to work when her mind won and they continued to mess around, yet they never took it to the bedroom. Clarke wanted her first time to be with someone she had feelings for, which well, left Bellamy off the list of possibilities.
She liked kissing him, though. In fact, she never tried to hide that, pulling him with her behind bookcases in the library - they took advantage of empty classrooms, and once she even met up in the locker room right before a game, making sure that he was alone so that she could give him a pep talk and kiss the hell out of him to get his blood running.
It continued all throughout senior year, which was why it wasn’t completely crazy of Clarke to think that he was going to ask her to prom. In the weeks leading up to it, she almost went mad. But in the end, he didn’t, and she did a pretty great job at hiding her disappointment all evening. At least he hadn’t brought another girl. Why was that? He had hundreds to choose from…
As it turns out, time did move fast, and the next few months were spent buried underneath scrambled notes, used highlighters and colorful post-it notes while drinking cups of cheap espresso marked with her lipstick stain: rose gold. Actually, Clarke hadn’t worn it in a while, which unfortunately was way too much Bellamy’s fault. It had been his favorite.
One afternoon, during the fifth hour at Starbucks going over her history notes, she met Octavia; a pale, slender girl, who looked about like she was Clarke’s age. She too, appeared to be a slightly overwhelmed student, judging by the paper and thick textbooks that covered her table, leaving just enough room for a coffee cup.
Normally, Raven would’ve studied with her, but she’d gone to her mother’s for the week in attempt to sort things out between them. Her absence meant that she missed company, and therefore quickly found herself joining the other girl, hoping that she wasn’t disturbing.
Almost immediately, she looked up from her notes and put her pink highlighter away, only to grab the green.
“Hey-“ A smile grew on the girl’s face, but within seconds it spread to a grin, “I know you, or sort of, I guess, you’re Clarke, right?”
Clarke nodded, a little awestruck, because she was certain that she’d never seen this girl before, let alone talked to her. She studied Clarke’s face for a moment then introduced herself as Octavia.
“Have you seen me somewhere since you know who I am?” It was that legitimate question that set Octavia into a fit of giggles, however as soon as she remarked Clarke’s continued confusion, she stopped and started to look equally puzzled: “Well, of course! Your picture has been the background on my brother’s phone for MONTHS.”
Eyes widening, Clarke cleared her throat: it could simply be some creepy secret admirer that she didn’t really know, yet she couldn’t hold herself back from asking, noticing how eager her voice seemed: “Can I ask what your brother’s name is?”
“Bellamy, Bellamy Blake, which means that I’m Octavia Blake, or except he calls me O-“ what had cut the other girl off was how Clarke’s jaw dropped to the floor, and her heart skipped more than a few beats while her mind dwelled on the thought of Bellamy: Bellamy, who hadn’t forgotten about her - Bellamy, who’d chosen her picture as the background on his phone.
What a dork.
In spite of the interrogation that Octavia clearly wanted to put her under, Clarke decided to pretend that it was nothing, and she listened to the girl talk for about ten minutes, but it was interesting: she told her about her classes, about Bellamy and his love for mythology, about his wonderful cooking, about how they lived on their own because their mother died a few years ago.
Unlike her brother, O Blake was easy to befriend and they begun meeting up - sometimes at Starbucks, sometimes at Clarke’s house - to study for the exams, and when Raven returned, she became Octavia’s friend, too.
Upon graduation, Clarke tried to call Bellamy a few times, although just the thought of contacting him made her nervous. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted from him, but people were getting ready to go to college, and the fact that she still knew very close to nothing about his plans started to bother her; this was the guy that she’d made out with for a good portion of their last year, the guy who hadn’t invited her to prom, but instead had chosen to put a permanent memory of her on his phone.
She decided that she wanted answers, immediately. Why hadn’t he talked to her since prom? Had he met some other woman? And if that was indeed the case, how come that it was her picture and not that of his actual girlfriend?
When she didn’t reach him, she thought about asking Octavia to talk to him for her, but to carry out that plan, she would have to tell her that she knew Bellamy as more than a fellow student in her chem lab and English class.
That would be too awkward.
And it wasn’t because he mattered all that much to her, anyway.
So she started preparing for college: for BU, which was also where Octavia and Raven were going. They fantasized all summer about having their own, shared apartment close to campus because dorms sucked! Quickly, they realized that they wanted to make something of that dream (especially after seeing the small spaces that they were supposed to live in for God knows how long) - Clarke picked up a few extra shifts at the hospital, Raven worked longer hours at the local auto shop and Octavia spent almost every weekend at the Starbucks where she’d managed to get a job as a barista for the purpose.
Her busy schedule was a nice distraction from Bellamy, and while moving she came to a point where she truly believed that she was completely over him.
Oh God, she was such an idiot.
Because two weeks into their first year at college she lay eyes on him, standing near the vending machine, waiting for it to toss his snack at him. His hair was a little longer, almost falling into his eyes; he wore dark jeans that were just slightly torn and a t-shirt, which she cursed for fitting him so well.
To her despair, that single image of him was enough to haunt her mind all throughout the day, making her scowl at Octavia. Why hadn’t she mentioned that he went here, too? Or had she brought it up casually once while she simply hadn’t been paying attention?
Not counting the occasional, quick glances (half of which she pretended that she wasn’t stealing), the next time she saw him was four months later, on the 10th of December. She was sitting on the staircase, staring blankly ahead at the snow falling outside of the window, in an old, ugly Christmas sweater that had been her father’s.
Out of nowhere, he suddenly sat beside her at the step, handing her a cup of hot chocolate: “It’s cold here,” he reasoned, and she felt his gaze on her, studying again. Really, she wanted nothing more than to meet it, but wasn’t brave enough. Instead, she gave a small nod, turning her attention to the sweet chocolate drink that was currently spreading its warmth to her frozen fingers. When she took a small sip, it burned her tongue, but this pain was nothing in comparison to that which her heart was barely able to sustain.
“They said that the driver was drunk,” Clarke suddenly spoke, her voice fragile, hoping that it would make it a bit more bearable. As expected, Bellamy didn’t say anything, just wrapped an arm around her shoulders as her lower lip wobbled. In order to conceal the tears in her eyes, she took a huge gulp of the hot drink, nearly choking on it. But the sob was suppressed, and that was all that really mattered. She was sick of crying. Because crying wasn’t going to bring her dad back.
Nothing was.
“Clarke-“ Eyeing her, Bellamy took the cup from her hands, placed it beside him so that he could hold them in his, “holding the pain back is just going to make it worse. Trust me, I would know, and the last thing I want is for you to end up the way I did - unable to stop the hurt from creeping into my mind because I didn’t give myself time to grieve,”
Her whole body shook as she finally allowed the first sob to emerge from her throat, a strangled, ripping sound, which would’ve scared most people away. But it didn’t scare Bellamy. He wrapped her tightly in his arms, tugged her into his chest and rubbed her back, which made the sobs come faster - the tears flow from her eyes to be absorbed by the soft material of his t-shirt.
And he held her like that for what seemed like an hour - until she unlocked herself from his embrace.
They started talking again after that, and she found that everything was a little easier, a little less painful with him by her side. Surprisingly, he was also the first person to make her laugh in the way that everyone - including herself - thought she’d lost the ability to.
In February and March, she spent as much time at his apartment as her own, telling Octavia and Raven that she spent the time with her friend Wells (who really lived in Virginia, but the girls didn’t need to know that), but eventually they found the story to be quite flawed and decided to follow her. She admitted to their secret friendship. Yet assured them that it wasn’t more than that.
And it really wasn’t until May where Bellamy finally got the guts to ask her out.
“Are we telling Octavia?”
“Are you crazy? She’ll think that I went behind her back to date her brother, and that’s a Girl Code no-no.”
“Well, you kinda did-“
“Shut up!”
It was clear that Bellamy found this conversation way too amusing; there was a nice smile on his face, a spark lighting up his eyes.
“What about Raven?”
“She thinks you’re an ass, and has been at my heels for weeks about our friendship,”
“Okay, so we’re going to do this Romeo and Juliet style. At least for now-”
Well, it was good that they agreed. Dating each other in secret until they knew how serious this was, was probably the best idea. Especially because Clarke had no intention of screwing up her friendship with Octavia if Bellamy and her decided that they weren’t going to work.
But things got serious without them telling, which was their own mess in the making honestly…
Which brings us to now: Bellamy and Clarke, almost seven months into their relationship, on her bed, in their underwear the morning after.
Clarke knows that Raven would freak if she ever told her about the fact that Ark City high school’s biggest asshole, an infamous heartbreaker, is the biggest cuddler on planet Earth; a man, who adores casual touches more than anything, who loves to rest his head in her lab while they watch TV, who tickles her ruthlessly, and doesn't stop if he hasn’t left her breathless.
Seeing his toned chest illuminated by the light suddenly makes her fingertips itch to touch the skin, and she wiggles closer, drawing invisible lines on his abdomen. Using the arm that is locked protectively around her shoulder, Bellamy tugs her in fully against his side, so that her nose collides with the side of his neck.
She places a lingering kiss there, and he responds by caressing her cheek with his thumb. Her heart swells blissfully until…
“SAY WHAT I WANT WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT, SO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT, I WANN-A, I WANN-A…”
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: lovely ringtone,” all right, Bellamy Blake’s sometimes capable of being grumpier than her in the morning, which is saying something.
“It’s Raven,” Clarke states, but Bellamy only groans, flipping over to rest on his stomach as she answers.
“GOOD MORNING GIIRL!” How did people like Raven Reyes exist in the 21st century? A person, who’s ready to go to the gym at 6.30 each morning, goes to parties all weekend and manages never to be hungover? Seriously, it’s quite a mystery…
“Good morning, R. How was Florida?” Trying to sound as enthusiastic as her friend doesn’t really work, but both her roommates know that Clarke’s far from a delight at this time, because her brain hardly functions properly before she’s downed two cups of bitter, black coffee.
“Fan-fucking-tastic. We promise to tell you everything in five minutes, okay? We would be there faster, but the elevator’s packed.”
“Elevator? Raven, hold on a second, what are you talking about?”
There’s chatter in the background as her friend pauses for a moment, then says: “we decided to come home a day early because of the hurricane. You know, the one they’ve been talking about on the news the last couple of days,” for the rest of the call, Clarke has Raven on speaker so that Bellamy can hear, and when Clarke manages to end it, he’s trying to get to the fire escape. In only his boxers, well aware that it’s raining quite a lot outside.
“What the hell are you doing?” She shouts.
“What does it look like I’m doing, Clarke?”
“It looks you’re about to get yourself a cold. Listen, I know that it was my idea to keep this a secret, but it has gone a little too far, don’t you think? I mean, if you’re willing to give old Mrs. James, who lives across from us, a good look of you in your underwear… Get inside!”
Bellamy rolls his eyes, yet still quickly casts a glance over his shoulder at the window in the distance to see that there’s nobody behind it watching him… Yet, “is this really the way that you want my sister and your friend to find out about us?”
Obviously, there are better, less awkward ways to reveal it - as it turns out however, they don’t get further chance to discuss their plan, because at that second the two girls burst through the front door, chatting animatedly. And mere seconds passes before they figure that Clarke has to still be in bed, so they open the door to reveal her in the bed with hers and Bellamy’s clothes scattered on the floor around her.
Bellamy gives up quickly after, appearing from outside, his hair damp and with his hands raised innocently as if he’s about to be arrested. Despite the flush creeping into his face, he isn’t quite able to hide the grin that’s making its way to her lips.
Octavia’s eyes widen, moving between the two of them; lets out a frustrated cuss that is confusing for about two seconds. Then, Raven holds out a palm, choking on a laugh while she demands: “Now, Pocahontas, give me those twenty bucks.”