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She inhales a deep breath, closing her eyes, the sweet scent of linden and lemon flowing in her lungs. It fills her mind with misty memories of summers spent at her grandparents’ house in Sicily. The mansion surrounded by luxuriant citrus trees, blooming despite the sweltering climate.
She recalls running through them with Anya and other kids, laughing and yelping throughout severe matches of hide and seek. The memory has the bittersweet flavor of the almond Granita they eagerly munched, sitting in the long shadows of Orange trees, crunching the tiny pieces of ice under their teeth. Her brain still hurts remembering the burning cold sensation in contrast with the boiling sweat running on her forehead.
With the pumping music in her earphones closing her off from the World, Lexa adjusts her back against the smooth wood of the tree, which she’s laying against. She extends her long legs and resumes reading the novel in her hands. Her eyes gliding through Italian words, which fills the coarse surface of the page.
She closes the book in an involuntary abrupt movement when she feels someone unplugging the headphone from one of her ears. Lexa looks at Clarke, who’s now crouching next to her, with wide eyes and parted lips.
“You scared me.” She informs her with a resentful voice, turning off the music on her phone and unplugging the earphones.
Clarke knowingly smirks, shrugging “What were you reading that you closed the book so quickly?” She playfully asks, she tilts her head toward Lexa’s shoulder, trying to read the title of the novel. The blonde narrows her cobalt blue eyes.
“Il sentero…” She tries with faltering voice, giving up when she hears Lexa’s strangled chuckle.
“Il sentiero dei nidi di ragno. And I closed it because you startled me” / The Path to the Nest of Spiders (by Italo Calvino)/
Clarke snorts, seeing the persistent hint of a smirk on Lexa’s lips. But her eyes tell a different story.
Lexa is looking at her with shining jade irises. Clarke’s artistic soul can appreciate every shade of green, every painfully gorgeous hue, thanks to the bright light that surrounds them. Lexa adverts her gaze, allowing it to run freely over Clarke’s familiar features. She already memorized everything, from the beauty marks above Clarke’s upper lip to the long sensual curve of her eyelashes. From the barely visible cleft on her chin to the indelible round scar just next to her eye; the emblem of her victory against a juvenile Varicella.
And she loves it. She loves that small imperfection on the smooth, soft skin. She loves to kiss it, remembering that this girl is human and she’s not dreaming.
“Sei bellissima” Lexa breathes, lifting one hand to brush the fingertip of her index on that small mark. The blonde smiles and she turns her head to kiss Lexa’s fingertips. She has heard so many times those words that she perfectly knows their meaning. /You’re gorgeous/
“Sap”
“You mean Italian?”
Clarke shakes her head once or twice “You need new lines, Lex”.
The brunette just hums before kissing her. She captures Clarke’s lower lip, sucking it gently, her hands getting lost in blonde locks. She smirks when she feels Clarke exhaling a shattered breath, before deepening the kiss. Clarke loses her balance, mostly because Lexa is purposefully pulling her, and ends up sitting across Lexa’s legs with a grunt.
They part, slowly reopening their eyes.
“Anyway” Clarke begins with hoarse voice. She stops and clears it feeling her cheekbones turning slightly warm “I wanted to ask you if you would have dinner with me”.
“Sure” Lexa frowns at the question. They eat together almost everyday.
“I mean that I am cooking this time”
“Oh” A flash of panic runs through emerald irises, but Lexa regains her demeanor at once “Of course, I’d like to test your cooking skills”
Clarke narrows her eyes “Lexa you looked at me as if I asked you to eat mud”. Lexa opens her mouth to replicate that she fears she’s actually going to eat something that tastes like mud, bud she stops when she notices Clarke’s killer glare.
“I-I’m just… curious.” She clumsily tries to find some way to escape. Clarke lifts one brow “Clarke, tesoro, I trust you, okay?” /sweetheart/
The blonde snaps her tongue “Hm. I’m going to impress you with some amazing American dishes”
“Of course you will” Lexa smiles and leans toward her to kiss her. The blonde stops her, putting her index on Lexa’s full lips.
“No kisses for you, you don’t deserve them. I’ll come to pick you up at 8 pm.” She stands, ignoring Lexa’s insufferable gaze. She brunette huffs.
“Alright. Dress code?” She mocks Clarke, retrieving her lopsided grin. She perfectly knows the kind of spell it casts over Clarke but the blonde doesn’t give her any satisfaction this time. She turns on the ball of her feet, leaving her with only a last comment.
“Idiot.”
Lexa glances the door when she hears two brief knocks reverberate on the wood. She stands from the edge of her bed and she fixes her grey shirt under the hem of her high waist pants, while she closes the distance from the door. When she opens it she finds Clarke scanning at her with no sign of discretion.
“Suspenders?” The blonde asks batting her eyes while she moves her gaze to meet Lexa’s.
“Don’t you like them?”
Clarke sucks in her lower lip, humming, while she raises her chin to kiss softly Lexa on her shamefully full lips “After dinner I’ll tell you my opinion about them” She smirks, parting and looking at the brunette who grins mischievously. They kiss again before heading toward the kitchen.
The stinging smell that welcomes Lexa’s nostrils is a promise of a painful evening. She bites her inner cheek to avoid say anything that could make the situation worse. Facing an angry Clarke would be way worse than eating something badly cooked.
She sits at one corner of the table, where Clarke has settled the wooden surface for them.
“So, what did you make?” Lexa asks, resting her elbows on the table and hiding her mouth behind her clasped hands. Azure pools look slightly alarmed at her for a blink of an eye while the blonde bring to the table a big plate covered by a steel lid.
Lexa tries not to look suspicious for as long as she manages but when Clarke lifts the lid she can’t help but grunt in disbelief.
“Clarke.”
“Yes, love?”
“This is not ‘American food’… And you didn’t cook this”
The blonde turns her head, with a theatrical swing of her hair, to glare at Lexa with plain disdain.
“Of course I cooked it”
Lexa clenches her jaw, chewing on her own teeth. She closes her eyes for a second before staring again at Clarke with a skeptical expression.
“Are you telling me you cooked spring rolls, noodles with chicken or whatever and the Black Mushroom meat?” She looks at her with a knowingly glare, the hint of an amused smile tries to lift the corner of her lips. She tames it to remain emotionless.
Clarke drops the lid on the table with an excessively wide swing of her wrist, the gesture an excuse to unlock her eyes from Lexa’s hold. She smacks her lips murmuring a “Fussy” under her breath.
Lexa bites her lips to restrain herself from laughing, she’s enjoying a bit too much mocking Clarke. Now she recognizes the smell lingering in the room.
“You burned the dinner, didn’t you?”
Clarke huffs, rolling her eyes before eventually facing Lexa again. Her expression turns almost pathetic in its sweetness after a second. She looks so sorry and depressed that the brunette shakes her head.
“Yes”
Lexa releases her laugh, cackling soundly in the empty kitchen. She tries to hug Clarke who shoos her hands away, under the influence of her offended pride.
“Cazzo” Lexa can’t help but let out the swearing in Italian “I knew you would have done a mess”. She can’t stop laughing. And when she tries again to wrap Clarke’s shoulders with her arm and the blonde moves off for the second time, tears begin to glisten in her eyes. /Fuck/
Clarke is looking at her half mortified and half annoyed.
“Are you quite done?” She asks, when Lexa’s laugh starts to fade, the brunette nods while she taps away the drops in her eyes, trying not to ruin her make up. Clarke snorts again.
“I’m sorry Clarke, it’s just… Jesus you’re just so totally unable to cook, and you’re so clumsy and... I love you so fucking much for this”
Clarke glares at her and she rolls again her eyes “You can’t always save yourself with smooth talks.” She can’t avoid the sweet tone which her voice reaches. Damn she should be angry and offended not totally charmed by just a sentence.
Lexa leans toward her and presses a tender kiss on her cheek, her lips still stretched in a smile “Sei fantastica” she mutters, her warm breath crashing against Clarke’s skin, which blushes in an annoying flow. /You’re amazing/
Clarke gives in and turns her head to kiss Lexa. She hates the brunette when she talks to her in Italian just to reach her target. She hates her with so much rapture and ardor that she almost forgets the dinner, sighing against Lexa’s plump lips, while the kiss becomes searing and deep.
When they part Lexa’s cheekbones are slightly reddened and the girl glares at the plate in front of them. She takes one of the spring rolls and she bites it. Clarke doesn’t need to ask to know that Lexa wants to end the dinner as soon as possible, just like her.
“How is it?”
“Not so bad. We eat Chinese food in Italy too, you know?”
“I know… don’t be such a pain in the ass”
Lexa glares at Clarke, her lips part and Clarke already knows what is going to happen. She raises her index finger pointing it in front of Lexa’s face.
“You say that joke, Lexa Woods, and I swear to God that this will be your last meal” She demands with the harshest face Lexa has ever seen on Clarke’s lineaments. She gulps not without effort the bite in her mouth and nods once. If she laughs now, she’s dead.
And, per l’amor di Dio, her last meal can’t be a spring roll. /For God's sake/
If she has to, she wants to die with the flavor of Gelato on her tongue.