I do not own anything but the plot.

Hey guys, so just a new idea I'm playing with here. Kinda set in a country type of mood with good old banjos and singing, fried chicken, crazy friends, and good football. Obviously Clarke and Bellamy will be the focus here, but there will definitely be supporting rolls that intertwine in the plot.

On a separate note, this first chapter is more of an introduction; I hope to have the next posted by tomorrow. I plan for this to be a decent length story, and the Bellarke will definitely have some angst and sweet moments in there.

Anyways, read it, and let me know what you think.

"Clarke!" I flew off the stool, splattering paint all over the hardwood, my earphones yanked from my ears in the process. "Jesus, Clarke, I've been calling you for ten minutes! I should've known you would be holed up in here," Raven exclaimed, rather agitated. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, "Don't be so dramatic, Ray."

She sighed then, shoulders sagging, "Why won't you talk to me, or anyone for that matter? Ever since we got back from tour you've shut us out…" she trailed off, eyes pleading.

I swallowed the knot in my throat, I felt guilty for avoiding them, but I needed time alone, time to think for myself.

"I'm sorry, Ray, I didn't mean to hurt you."

She nods, she knows I never meant to be hurtful, she understands better than anyone.

"Oh, sweetie, I know it's been a hard year,' she sympathizes, pulling me into a hug, 'but we are here for you."

I hug her back, despite my usual aversion to close contact; Raven is one of the few people I feel okay hugging.

"It just got to be too much, Ray. I just needed space to thin without people bickering in my ear or asking me constantly if I'm okay," my voice hitched at the end and I flinched, hoping the tears wouldn't follow.

"She's gonna be okay, you know that right? That old woman is the strongest, most stubborn woman I've met. I mean she managed to raise you, that's gotta mean something," Raven said, small smile on her face. I choked on my laugh, silent tears rolling down my cheeks.

We had been in San Diego, it was right after the final curtain that I got the call…"Miss Griffin," the strange voice on the other end questioned. "This is she," I remember my hesitance. "My name is Mealanie, I'm an attending physician at Fort Worth Memorial Hospital. I'm calling because we have your grandmother, Mrs. Amelia Griffin, here-" I felt my heart stop, cutting her off with questions before she could finish, "Is she okay? Did she fall? Can I speak to her?" There was no disguising my panic at this point. "She is okay now, Miss Griffin. She had a stroke earlier this evening, collapsed on the front walk said her neighbor who brought her in. She is stabilized now, and we have run some tests; while we could not find a distinct cause for the stroke, I regret to inform you we did find a rather large lump in her right breast. It appears to have been growing for awhile now." I don't have words. "Miss Griffin," she beckons me back. "Yes, yes, I'm here. Is there anyway I can speak with her," I prayed that I could, I was already collapsed in a heap on the ground, head resting in my free hand. "I'm sorry, she is asleep at the moment, it's best for her to not wake her up." "Yes, I understand, thank you. Uhm, is there, I can be there in the morning, I will be there in the morning," I corrected myself. "Okay, well you were listed as her only contact on her record here, if there is anyone else who ought to know you may have to call as I have no numbers." "Yeah, uhm, alright, thank you," I didn't even wait for the goodbye before I hit end.

"Clarke," Raven gently cooed, "c'mon, let's go get you some food, and maybe a shower too. You look like a Picasso orginal," she claims, I snort at the comment.

An hour later we're digging into a reheated lasagna, two glasses of wine, and a big salad between us.

"You excited for the game this Saturday," Raven asks.

"Mm, more or less, yeah," I reply, more focused on the food. I hadn't eaten since eleven this morning. This Saturday I was expected to sing the National Anthem for the Cowboy's opening game. It was a huge honor, and I've always been a huge football fan, but I can't find it in me to care or get excited.

"Oh, c'mon you dork, you can probably tell me every statistic about the Cowboys this second. Don't pretend you're not ecstatic to be at the game," she nudges my arm.

I remember all the fun we used to have, at Texas A&M, the tailgating, the parties, the games, it was the life. Everything was fun back then.

Suddenly, I remembered, "Am I going to have to deal with Blake while I'm there," I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Raven threw her head back, laughing at my sudden and sour expression. "I don't know, I just know that you're going to be standing in the center of the field singing your heart out, like you always dreamed of. Then we get led to our private box, get smashed, and eat free food," she grinned, shoveling more food into her mouth.

I groaned, suddenly annoyed at the prospect of dealing with Bellamy Blake, notorious play boy, dickwad extraordinaire, who not only happened to love pissing me off, but was also the Cowboys staring quarterback.

Seeing my expression, she chuckled, "Oh c'mon, Griffen, he's an ass, don't let him get to you! Besides, as soon as you're away from him, we'll go up to the box and drink and party, and you won't have to worry about him."

I nodded, gulping down some wine. While it wasn't my favorite plan, she had a point, I wouldn't have to deal with him for long then I could leave and go have fun with Raven and the band.

"Blake," coach yelled from across the field, immediately after calling the practice. Jogging over, I asked, "Yes, sir?"

Nodding at my shoulder, "You holding up okay? I know that yesterday you were a bit sore from the drills."

"Iced last night, and did some therapy this morning, good as ever," I appeased his worries.

"Sounds good, now go shower, and maybe do an ice bath,' he instructed walking away, 'we got a big game Saturday," he exclaimed, this time turning around to walk away.

Wiping some sweat out of my eyes, I headed for the locker rooms, debating about the ice bath idea. As I gathered my clothes and headed for the tubs, Murphy called from across the room, "Yo, Blake, we hear your favorite princess is going to be our guest of honor at the game Saturday."

I let out a chuckle, shaking my head at the notion, "I doubt it, she may be country, but there is now way that princess, Clarke Griffin, is going to be at a football game." The thought alone was humorous.

"Murphy isn't lying, Bellamy. She is gonna sing the anthem at the opening game," Miller interjected, smirking at my surprised expression.

"Well, then at least we know Saturday will be interesting,' I tried to recover from my temporary shock. The princess at a game? Did she even watch football?

Pushing the thoughts aside, I added ice to the tub and clambered in. Sliding my phone off the table to the right I started scrolling through my feed, absently thinking about the princess.

I don't know what it is about her, but she gets under my skin, like no one else. She always knows just what to say to piss me off. I think back to the first time we met, I had decided to join Octavia at a concert she had gotten tickets for. It was a country one, unusual for her taste; when I questioned her, all she could say was that this girl was a powerhouse, her songs hit home, and you couldn't help but get lost in the music. All I could do was question how a couple of hillbillies strumming banjos was gonna manage to make me get lost in the music. While we were waiting in our front row seats, I decided to do some digging, typing 'Clarke Griffin' into the google searchbar, a bunch of hits came up: 'Nation's newest sweetheart', 'Upcoming country sensation', the list went on and on. Though I had never been one for sleazy articles, I decided to look at the images. Once the page loaded, my first thought was one word, 'Damn'. She had wild curly golden hairs, bright baby blues, lush pink lips, a small beauty mark above the left corner of her lip. Then I got lost in her body, in the picture she was wearing a short ivory lace dress, it pushed up her tits in the most extraordinary way. The rest of the dress clung to her abundant curves in a marvelous way, before falling at the top of her shapely thighs. My attention was drawn up from my phone when a sweet voice came over the mic, asking how everyone was doing. Before I knew it the concert was over, and Octavia was dragging me backstage, waving her exclusive Rolling Stones passes, towards anyone that questioned her. I guess working for the biggest music magazine had its perks. Following her, we eventually approached a muted red door with a little whiteboard hanging on it stating that unless we had food, we were not to enter. Chuckling Octavia pushed the door open, "Clarke," she called. "Octavia?" A surprised voice called from somewhere in the back of the room. Suddenly the blonde appeared, wrapping my sister into a hug, "It's so good to see you again!" My sister laughed, "It's been too long," she returned. Then the blonde beauty giggled, and the light sound made me realize how much I truly wanted this girl. Before I could think about it, I interjected, "Hi, I'm Bellamy Blake,' I said stepping between them, 'I'm the Cowboys' quarterback," I stated, smirking at her. Suddenly she turned her crystal blue eyes on me, though they seemed to have taken on a curious gleam. "I'm aware, you know I'm pretty sure you hold a record for the most scandals to ever grace the front of gossip magazines,' she says almost bitterly. Unexpectedly I have nothing left to say, no girl has ever called me on my…'disgraces'…before. "I uhm,' I stutter before throwing out the only thing I could think of, 'better to be known for fun than as an innocent little princess who just smiles to get what she wants." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I've made a mistake; Octavia stiffens beside me, pinching me hard on the thigh. Though Clarke's reaction is one hundred percent scarier. Her eyes turn stormy and her rosy lips press into a firm line, her shoulders roll back while her back straightens, "I think maybe it's time for you to leave, Mr. Blake," she grits out. I know there's no going back now, I never seem to know when to bite my tongue, so instead, I decide to stick with my guns, "Or what, Princess? You going to snap your fingers and have your guards man-handle me outta here," I ask, despite knowing I'm royally screwing myself over, I smirk, and the effect is immediate. I can tell I have officially pissed her off. Before any other words leave my mouth, Octavia grabs my bicep, nails digging in painfully, "I'm sorry Clarke, I forgot to make him take his asshole meds tonight," she apologizes, giving me a hard glare. Returning her gaze to my sister, I see her soften, "It's fine Octavia, I gotta pack up here anyways. Maybe we can hang out another time…sans asshole brother?" I know I must look appalled at her dig, because both girls grin at me. "Wha-?" I start to exclaim, though Octavia interrupts me, "Sounds perfect, good luck tomorrow," my sister calls as she drags me out of the room. I remember that Octavia didn't talk to me for days after that, and even when she finally did break her vow of silence she would only address me as Dick or Asshole.

I'm brought out of my flashback by a knock on the door as Atom asks, "You ready to go, man? We're supposed to meet the rest of the guys at a bar in twenty minutes." I nod to signal I'm good, and start to climb out of the tub. It's funny how usually ice baths are painful, but this time, I didn't even realize the pain and pinpricks of cold.

Shrugging, I yank of my jeans and throw on my favorite black tee before grabbing my keys and following Atom towards the parking lot.

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