Her eyes stung but she held back the tears. She would not cry in front of this man. She wouldn't dare let him know how she felt. Instead she pursed her lips and nodded along as he spoke.
"You see here Miss Griffin, there's just no chance that you'll be able to keep up in such advanced classes." The dean sat back in his big leather chair, looking far too smug for his own good. Clarke had the mind to ring him out, or at least mutter something about the god-awful décor in his office being a tool of compensation. Really who needed a chair that big unless they felt inadequate in some other aspect of their life?
She never would of course. That was not expected of a lady of her stature, and while she was nearly through her bachelor, top of most of her classes, a prime candidate for the University's medical program; of course all the Dean saw, all the boys in her classes, and her professors saw, was a skirt and a pair of boobs, and suddenly her intelligence no longer mattered. Dante Wallace's words may have stung in the back of her eyes, but they did little to deter her.
"Well thank you for your concern sir," Clarke stood, smoothing out her skirt and reaching for her book bag. "And I gratefully appreciate the time you took to seek me out, but I have no problem in any of my classes, and my application for the University's medical faculty is most certainly an attainable goal based on performance, wouldn't you say?"
Wallace stood, reaffirming the position of his specks quickly, as if it were a nervous reflex or a signal of his annoyance for the sudden end to his patronizing rant. "Miss Griffin I suggest you take this winter break as an opportunity to reevaluate you future plans. Yes, your grades are some of the best we've ever had, but the work load will only get more intense and we don't have the resources to invest our time into a dream that will very well come to an end as you" a pause, "mature."
Clarke's smile wavered as he continued, "The laws may have changed, but nature does not, you know that best. Now you've proven yourself quite the intellectual, young lady, but from a professional viewpoint, your bachelor would do you just adequately. And surely your status among the other wives will make you popular just enough as you are."
That caught her off guard, "I'm not married sir."
He laughed, "No, of course not. Not yet."
Clarke bit her tongue, nodded and turned toward the great mahogany doors. She stormed out the Dean's office, leaving his secretary shaking her head in her wake. This wasn't new, Clarke was used to such patronizing talks from men who felt their opinions on her best interest were of any consolation for denying her ambitions. A woman doctor, it's not that it hadn't been done, it just hadn't been expected of her. Her mother nearly fainted when she told her, and this wasn't the first man to tell her to step down before she gets too submerged in this man's world, but she had been up against worse odds before.
Clarke found her feet leading her down the empty university hallways, taking her with them of their own accord. Leading her to the only place she ever found comfort in this dominating world. She stopped short of the door. Her nose almost touching the light, cheap wood – the word custodian sloppily painted on in white. He was probably busy; she knew she shouldn't be here. Not after how they left things the day before, and for so many other reasons, but she couldn't deny the way her heart fluttered at the thought of him inside, probably bent over another repair project, humming to himself without realizing it.
The door sprang open and she took a step back instinctively. He looked like he had been in the middle of something, his brow furrowed, his eyes darting up from his calculation book. "Clarke?"
Without a second thought she reached for him, crossing the doorframe and pressing her lips against his. He was frozen only for a moment before he dropped his workbook, reaching for her face. Clarke shot her hand out, finding the door behind her and shutting it before he pushed her up against it, deepening their kiss.
Almost like routine, she dropped her book bag as he pushed her skirt up around her waist and lifted her against the door.
"Bellamy," Clarke sighed, his lips moving across her neck as he pressed into her. She was a modern woman - Clarke Griffin wasn't one to believe in fairy tales, but when Bellamy touched her he left a trail of flames licking her skin. The way he fit against the cradle of her hips made her, if not involuntarily, feel as though they fit together perfectly in every way possible.
As if out of cruelty he kissed her slowly, softly, leaving her moaning against his mouth as she rocked against his growing erection, starving for friction, needing to work out her frustration. Bellamy's hands palmed her ass, and when he shifted her weight against him Clarke moaned again as he dug his free hand in her hair. She made quick use of her free hands to pull at his hair, then to pull down the suspenders keeping his pants in place before she untucked his shirt and ran her hands across the flesh above the waist of his trousers.
Their kiss turned fervent, she needed him, she whispered it in his ear as he unbuckled his pants, and a wave of heat washed over her body. It shocked her in how many different ways she truly meant it, but she pushed the thought away. Suddenly without warning Bellamy pulled away, dropping her legs to the floor before pulling away altogether.
Clarke stood, wobbly on her feet, and pulling her skirt down as she watched him turn around, running his hands through his hair. She was out of breath, confused, blood pounding in her ears, "What's wrong?"
Bellamy pressed his hands against his workbench, she knew he had that furrow in his brow, even before he was turning back to look at her. "You can't just come here whenever you want. I have a job you know."
Clarke scoffed, "Are you still mad about the other night?"
Bellamy looked away; repositioning his suspenders before reaching down to grab his workbook, it didn't make him look any less defiled and Clarke soaked in his dark messy curls, his red lips.
When he didn't respond she crossed her arms, and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That's what got them in this mess in the first place, "We had a fight. That's what…. That's what we do."
Bellamy was still looking down at his calculations. "Why are you really here Clarke?"
She grabbed her book bag and placed it on the coat rack, taking off her blazer as well. She wanted him to know she wasn't storming out on him, not this time at least. "Dean Wallace has prematurely determined I'm a bit too woman to be admitted to the medical program."
That got him to look up, brows furrowed again like when he had first opened the door. Bellamy dropped his book on his worktable, folding his arms across his chest, "Clarke that's ridiculous. You can't let that man limit you. You're too smart, you've come to far to let him scare you."
Clarke smirked, feeling foolish as her stomach coiled at his words. Her eyes fell to the floor but only for a moment, "I know."
He smiled as she looked into his eyes, repositioning her chin so she looked as confident as her words had been.
She made her way over to him, "There's no way in hell I'm letting that nasty man tell me what I can and can't do. "
Bellamy laced his arms around her waist as she lazily pressed her chest against his. "That's some strong language for a fine young woman like yourself. Wouldn't have expected that from you Ms. Griffin."
"I think you'll come to find, I don't often conform to others expectations." She leaned into his smile, and kissed him until it slipped from his face.
"You're home late Miss." Yolanda peaked around the doorframe into the foyer. Clarke was shaking the snow from her jacket as the old woman smiled at her.
"Had some work I wanted to finish." Clarke didn't like lying particularly; especially not to a woman she'd known her whole life but it wasn't as if she had another choice. If anyone were to understand her Yolanda would but it's not her maid's reaction that Clarke would have to worry about.
"If you want I can heat up some supper for you Miss?" Yolanda put down the duster she had in hand and made a move toward the kitchen. Clarke reached out in protest as she placed her wet shoes on the drying rack.
"No need Yolanda." Clarke made her way to plant a kiss on her cheek before stepping up the stairs.
The old maid stopped her, "Did you already eat Miss? You can't miss dinner, a hard working young lady such as yourself! You need fuel in that furnace."
Clarke smiled. Half of Bellamy's baloney sandwich he had insisted on sharing probably wouldn't have lived up to Yolanda's standards. It certainly wasn't the typical Friday night roast, with carrots and potatoes but it had been enough to keep her stomach from growling as Bellamy drove her to the corner of her street, and her mind had been racing so much between then she hadn't noticed her hunger.
"I grabbed something in the University canteen." Clarke lied. "Is my father in his study?"
Yolanda nodded, Clarke's answer had sufficed, "Yes Miss. And you're mothers off to bed, so you needn't worry. Goodnight."
As she watched the maid go back to her work, Clarke whispered her goodbyes and wondered when exactly Yolanda had started warning her where her mother was in her own house. She was grateful nonetheless, but Clarke was still sure to here it from her mother tomorrow morning.
Her father was less strict about curfew; especially tonight after Clarke had explained she was at school finishing calculations before grabbing a taxi home. She was pouring a brandy from her fathers bar cart while she watched him sitting back in his leather chair by the fire, lighting up a cigar he had gotten from their vacation in Cuba. It simultaneously felt like home, and struck a nerve, reminding her of all the privilege they had as she remembered afternoons in Bellamy's small, worn apartment. If only he could see her now. See her father for that matter. It struck her how much she wanted the two men to like each other, and how much she knew they never would.
"You seem dazed Clarke?" Her father noticed as she handed him the glass and took a seat on the sofa across from him. "I think I might have just the news to bring you out of it."
Clarke smiled, though she was tired. She had in fact gotten back much later than usual, and struggled to hold back a yawn. Nightly chats with her father in his den were always pleasant, but Clarke was sure nothing could interest her more in this moment than the cool silk of her pillow.
"Dean Wallace contacted me today." That got Clarke's attention. She tired not to seem worried but thoughts rushed through her. Had he convinced her father to take her off the medical track? Would he stop funding her education?
"Oh don't look so startled my dear," Jake smiled as he took a drag, "He informed me that his son is in your very same year at the University? That you have numerous classes together?"
Clarke's brows furrowed, "Cage? Yes."
Cage Wallace was an insufferable asshole that had enough air in his head to float him through the atmosphere; it was hard not to notice him. He was also tied with Clarke as the top of their classes together, which drove her mad to no end.
"Well you've seem to done a number on him. Wallace has asked for his family to join us for dinner tomorrow night." Her father looked almost giddy and it made Clarke want to throw up as her stomach twisted in knots. "Now don't tell your mother I told you. She wanted to do that herself."
So that's what Wallace had been proposing in his office. An ultimatum of sorts. She shivered at the memory of it as she had insisted she wasn't married - his response Not yet.
Clarke fought to hold back her fear, "And what business would he have coming here father?"
Jake laughed into his crystal glass, "Oh child don't be so naïve. The boy has taken an interest in you. This is a very good match indeed. My research needs a University to facilitate our growing progress, and Wallace has offered to take me on as a professor in exchange for a partnership. They are a great family Clarke, we would do well to impress them."
With that she watched her father take a final swig and stand up to put out the fire. She sat frozen on the sofa, but smiled as he left for the night, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and squeezing her shoulder. It was meant to be assuring but it felt like a noose tightening around her neck.
She lay in bed that night assessing all of her options. Clarke had always assumed her family would let her choose her own husband; the times were changing after all. And her father had always read her those stories, the one of the princess and the prince, and as much as the fantasy of true love made her sick, the idea of spending the rest of her life, legally bound to Cage Wallace made her run to the bathroom and vomit.
Somehow Clarke managed to fall asleep early in the morning, and she woke up later than expected. She had been hoping to sneak out early before her mother was up, and escape to Bellamy's. He would probably have no clue what to say but Clarke felt like even just his presence will calm her nerves, help her think clearly.
"So you're father has ruined the surprise." Abby called from the parlor while Clarke snuck down the stairs. Her mother had an ear like a hawk, and Clarke let out a sigh of defeat before making her way into the room. Her mother motioned for her to join her, a platter of tea and scones on the table, and a book in her hand.
Clarke smoothed out her dress as she took a seat, uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa, so as to spring up at the first chance she could escape.
"Tea Miss Clarke?" Yolanda offered her from her position beside her mother. They must have been going over the preparations for the dinner that night. Clarke shook her head, she didn't plan on staying long, but her mother motioned for Yolanda to serve Clarke breakfast, so it seemed Abby had other plans.
"You're father promised me I'd be the one to tell you, but you know him. He's never been one to keep his mouth shut."
Clarke smiled nervously. Where her father was gentle and romantic, her mother was sharp and practical. The match between Cage and Clarke would have tremendous advantages for Jake's research, her mother's social life and Clarke's future security. Her fantasy of becoming a surgeon, living out her own dreams seemed to be slipping away before her eyes, everything she had worked for gone as her mother glanced at her over her tea cup.
"Mother," Clarke looked down at her sweaty palms.
Abby raised her hand, "Now I know what you're going to say. But Clarke this isn't just about you anymore. You've gone off, lived out you're little game, played doctor – but it's time to be realistic."
Clarke stood, the words falling out of her mouth without so much as a pause, "I have worked harder in my time at that University than you could ever understand. I have handed over my blood, sweat, and tears. Medicine is not just a fantasy Mother it is my passion. I will be a doctor. Now I know you could never understand that, "
"Clarke sit down," Abby's voice was small but firm, it had the ability to make Clarke feel so out of place in her own home. She sat back down despite her heart begging her to run out the door and never come back.
"You're right, I will never understand you're need to be a doctor. Spending hours poking bodies and discussing formulas, I do not see the appeal. But you've done much to convince me that you belong there alongside those men and I respect that." Clarke found a small sense of solace in her Mother's acknowledgement, but braced herself as Abby continued, "What I also respect is your ability to think logically. Now logically you want to stay enrolled at the University, you want to proceed to medical school – and to do that you need our money. The money, which is drying up as your father's research goes nowhere."
Clarke looked at her mother as Abby leaned in, her perfect posture breaking for a moment to capture Clarke's attention, as if, despite being alone in this big empty house, she was letting her in on a secret. "You're marriage to Cage is the only key to the future you want my dear. The only question is how badly do you want it? Without this we will be nothing, and I know you are a smart girl, my love."
Clarke's head was spinning. Her mother was already so sure about marriage, and the Wallace's hadn't even been to dinner yet. What was happening behind closed doors that she wasn't privy to? All she did know was that she needed to get out of that house.
Yolanda came back carrying a tray of oatmeal for Clarke, and she felt bad standing up to excuse herself without warning.
"Miss?" Yolanda asked as Clarke bounded past her.
She turned back for a moment to see her Mother's attention had already gone back to her book. "I'm heading to the University to pick up some calculations I forgot. I won't be back for lunch."
As she rushed to put on her shoes and hat her mother called after her, right as she swung the front door open. "Dear, be sure to be back soon. We want you looking spiffy for dinner tonight."
Clarke's stomach lurched at the thought before running out into the snow and slamming the door as she left.