He never thought he had a type till he met Clarke Griffin.

Bellamy was normally the sort to just like a girl because they were pretty. There wasn't any other reason than that. To be fair, all of those other girls he never really liked…he just liked having them around. He couldn't actually stand the thought of being with them longer than a week.

But Clarke was different. He was at Citibank, waiting in line and ready to cash in his week's paycheck, when a short blonde with out of control curls huffed in frustration. She whipped around suddenly to face him, hand on hip. "I need a pen," she said demandingly, rather than asking.

Bellamy nods, shock still registered on his face. Girls didn't talk to him without hiding some sort of ulterior motive, but this short little princess doesn't even know him. But she is quite blatant, demanding, and not hiding behind any sort of façade. He pulled a pen out of his bookbag and silently handed it to her. She nodded in gratitude, and turned back around, wrote something with a flourish, and pressed his pen to his chest as she brushed by him with an almost smile.

Even though their first interaction was extremely limited and left Bellamy speechless, he couldn't help but be smitten. He couldn't stop his feet from following the rash blonde out the door, either. With each step he grew increasingly nervous. Bellamy couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way about a girl, a perfect stranger, no less. But the erratic beat of his heart proved the point that he was already long gone.

His long strides finally caught up to her short, brisk pace. He adjusted the shoulder strap of his bag nervously, and cleared his throat. "I don't believe we've met—I'm Bellamy."

The girl hardly spares him a glance and situates herself so she's walking a little less closely to him. "I'm…uh…Karen," she smiles falsely, and glides more to the right. "I've really got to catch my bus now, have a good day." The girl hurried on and barely sailed through the doors of the bus before they closed. Bellamy was left to stand and marvel at the hurricane that was this girl.

As Bellamy later figured out (as he has suspected), Karen wasn't her real name. He figured it out the night that she so luckily decided to humble herself and drop by his bar.

Bellamy was a stellar bartender, he raked in the most tips and never got a drink order wrong. The girls loved him for the service, and the guys loved him for the alcohol. He worked good hours, and it paid pretty well, especially with tips. He was generally in a good mood whenever he worked, and tonight, his mood increased tenfold.

Lo and behold, he spotted a frizzy halo of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. When he turned toward her, he found her with none other than his little sister, Octavia. As the two girls made their way to the bar, pushing their way through the throng of people, Bellamy sends Octavia an accusing look. "You know her?" he squints.

Octavia points at her friend. "Clarke? Yeah. She's rooming with Raven and I now."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Clarke?"

She waved sheepishly, unable to stop the red from rising to her cheeks. He thought it was adorable, but the girl lied to him. About something as simple as her name.

Octavia looked warily between the two. "Is there something I'm missing, guys?"

"We met at Citibank the other day," Clarke explained, hand motions and all. "I forgot a pen-"

Bellamy cut her off. "So I let her borrow mine. And I asked her for her name, and she told me it was Karen—"

"You could've been a serial killer!" Clarke said hurriedly. He just shook his head.

"Really, you two? Bellamy, this is why I don't introduce you to my friends. This is why we can't have nice things." Octavia grabbed Clarke by the wrist and pulls her into the crowd. Clarke gave Bellamy an apologetic look, but Octavia just glared at him.

Believe it or not, Bellamy was in a good mood. He just learned mystery girl's name.

Bellamy makes a lot of stops at Octavia's apartment the next couple of weeks, and is unashamed at the brash reasoning why. Ironically, the person he is always there to see is never there.

"Clarke's at work."

"She's at the studio."

"Clarke's at her mom's."

"I don't know where she is, I don't care, NOW GET OUT OF OUR APARTMENT."

These were the usual responses he got, the most verbally abusive always coming from the eternal sunshine, Raven.

According to his sister, Clarke was the hardest worker out of anyone she knew. She slept the least and put the most time and effort in. She never did anything halfway, and she was rarely home before 2, and usually gone by 5 in the morning. As a bartender, Bellamy knew how to run on little sleep, but this girl was a wonder. And she didn't even have bags under her eyes. (Bellamy would know, his eyes rarely left her face whenever he encountered her.)

Once he finally started to piece together her schedule, he decided to get coffee for the two of them in the early morning before her shift at the hospital. He made sure to find out how she took her coffee from Octavia, and where she liked to get it from. He had to have this just right.

Bellamy showed up at four in the freaking morning that Friday, armed with coffee in hand, and let himself into the apartment with the key his sister had given him for 'emergencies.' Normally he wouldn't have risked it, but he knew Octavia had spent the night with Lincoln (gross) and Raven was gone for who knows what reason. All he cared about was the fact that he was here. With Clarke.

And he hoped that this didn't freak her out because it seemed a whole lot less creepy in his head.

When Clarke emerged from her room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she was clad in-surprisingly-one of his shirts. He gave her a questioning look and pointed to her shirt, and she shrugged. "I asked Octavia if she had any big shirts that I could paint in," she said. "But I really liked this one, so I kept it to sleep in. I didn't know it was yours. Problem?" Clarke challenged as she raised an eyebrow.

"No! No, it's fine. I certainly don't mind." He gave her a smirk as an answer to her challenge, but he couldn't stop the warmth that was flooding through him at the realization that she was wearing his shirt, and she looked great in it.

He would have to talk to Octavia about giving away his shirts, though.

Bellamy suddenly remembered why he was there, and quickly passed off the Styrofoam cup to Clarke. She acquiesced and held it up to her nose to sniff it. Her eyes flit up to meet his momentarily before she takes the top off. "How did you know I liked my coffee black?"

"Octavia, how else?"

"True," Clarke said, and leaned her forearms against the counter. "That still doesn't explain why you're here at…" she squints at the clock on the microwave. "4:15. How did you even get in?"

"I brought you coffee!" he said simply, as if that would explain it all. To him, it really did. He didn't mind early mornings, and it's not like he went to sleep last night….but his shift at the bookstore didn't start till 3 in the afternoon, so he could still catch some shut eye. "And O gave me a key."

She began to tap her fingers on the counter in a semi-threatening manner. Bellamy didn't know how you could be intimidating and be that short, but Clarke sure seemed to manage it.

"It's a good thing you're her brother," she mumbled grumpily as she brought the coffee to her lips. "Or you'd still have absolutely no chance."

Bellamy's smirk widened. "What's that, princess, are you saying I have a chance?"

Clarke's eyes widened at her sleepy mistake and vehemently shook her head. "Nope. Nope. I'm tired, don't listen to me."

"Whatever you say, princess."

She turned to head back to her room, but stopped in transit. "Hey Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the coffee." Clarke gave him a small smile and returned to her room.

Bellamy was rooted to the ground with a dorky expression on his face, but when he heard the shower turn on, he realized he should make his getaway. He couldn't help but smile as he let himself out the door. He shot O a quick text letting her know that he had been there in the morning, and Clarke didn't kill the plants this time (long story) and that everything went well.

Octavia was quite the matchmaker. She actually had been trying to get Bellamy to meet Clarke, but he refused. All of Octavia's friends were either definitely not his type or too close to Octavia, or Bellamy didn't want to hurt Octavia by causing a strain between her and her friend.

But now Bellamy was faced with his own problem. Clarke was O's roommate, and even though at the moment she seemed to be indifferent, he could only hope for the best in the end. So he decided to keep a tally of all the things he likes about a girl, and whether Clarke matches these criteria or not.

When he actually stopped to think about this, though, it was hard for him to single out criteria. Some Clarke had already passed, such as being a hard worker and never quitting. He really noticed was that everything Clarke seemed to reveal about herself, he truly liked. Maybe she was the perfect list, and Bellamy was more than willing to wait and see.