"Your assignment is simple-it's a basic comparison of the foundation, history, and beliefs of the political parties alive today." Professor Bushy Brows continued to mumble about the first American Government project of the semester. His actual name was Professor Gant, but Clarke preferred the nickname. It suited him more, she thought. She sat at the very back of the class, slumped down in her desk, her long, naturally tousled blond locks falling gracefully down the back of her seat. From here, she had the perfect vantage point of the class; she could see the uninterested, muscly guy who had practically chewed the plastic off of his pen. She focused for a while on a cute, petite red-head with bright green eyes and freckles sprinkled down the back of her arms. Clarke made a mental note to introduce herself later. Then, she saw him.
He was rapidly scribbling notes into a spiral notebook. His wavy, dark brown hair was just long enough to cover his eyes, but not long enough to cover his chiseled jawline and broad shoulders. She watched his mechanical pencil- "mental note, this guy's a nerd", Clarke thought - rip through line after line of his college-ruled paper. He kept looking up at the professor, then down at his notes, then back up again, but his pencil never stopped moving. Seriously, what could this guy be writing that was so important?
Clarke didn't feel the need to take notes. She knew what she had to do, and as far as information goes, isn't that what textbooks are for? Sighing, almost pitiful of this guy, she directed her attention back to Mr. Bushy Brows.
"You can pick your own partners. This project is due in two weeks." And just like that, class was dismissed early. Surprised that Bushy didn't extend his lecture as usual, Clarke gathered her things, the extent of which was an oversized tote that held only one textbook and one pen, and a giant, annoying bottle of Smart Water. Yeah, she was that person.
Though her original plan was to go for the red-head, her route had suddenly taken a detour past the girl's desk, and straight to the front where the nerdy, mechanical-pencil guy sat shuffling his notebook and textbook into a backpack. He was so geeky, it was kind of endearing.
"Howdy, partner." Clarke leaned on the edge of his desk and spoke her first words to the guy as she saw his face for the first time. The first thing she noticed was his eyes, which had been hidden from her for the past few minutes by his ridiculously shiny hair. They were brown, almost like his hair, and there was nothing specifically special about them, but she liked that.
The nerd stopped zipping up his bag halfway through. "And what makes you think I want to be your partner?" He furrowed his brows, which were, in fact, not bushy, and peered at her as he folded his arms across his chest.
Clarke chuckled, exuding confidence as she continued. "Because we're the only two people in this classroom that know what the hell we're doing." She straightened her posture. "Besides, who else were you going to work with?"
Unnamed Nerd cleared his throat. "I have friends." He tried to mock her self-assurance.
"Professor Bushy Brows doesn't quite count, I'm afraid." Two minutes into knowing this guy and she was already screwing with him.
"Bushy Brows?" He let out a laugh as he exhaled, his own brows raising.
"Suits him better, don't you think?" She took a swig of water. "So, are we study buddies or what?"
The nerd pondered for a second, weighing his options. "Fine. We'll need to meet at least three times. I'll give you my number." He finally gave in, retrieving a notecard and pen from his backpack.
"Woah, woah, woah, already handing out the digits? Desperate much?" She poked fun at him once more.
Unnamed Nerd shoved the card into her hands, his phone number scrawled onto it in green pen. He stood up and slung his bag onto one shoulder. "I've gotta dash."
Clarke internally giggled at his outdated slang. "We're gonna kick this project's ass." She stuck up a hand for a high five as he passed her on the way to the door.
Reluctantly, he returned the gesture. His man-hand was so much bigger than hers it was comical.
"Wait!" Clarke exclaimed right as he passed the threshold of the classroom.
"Yes?" He called back, slightly sarcastic and completely irritated.
"I didn't catch your name."
One side of his mouth turned upward, forming a crooked smile. "Bellamy." He nodded and turned away again.
"I'm Clarke!" She called back as he disappeared out of sight.
******************
Their first meeting...wasn't terrible. They decided to meet at the campus library, which was right next to Clarke's dorms, but on the opposite side of the campus as Bellamy's. But Clarke didn't have a car, and had "sprained her ankle" the night before, so Bellamy let her have this one.
"Hey, study buddy." Clarke slammed her textbooks down on the table Bellamy had already strewn other books on, along with countless pages of notes.
"Hey, loud mouth." Bellamy could play the nickname game too. "We're in a library. In case you've never been in one, it's kind of a quiet place."
Clarke rolled her eyes and fell into a chair directly across from him. "Relax, super nerd. You chose the most secluded damn corner of this place anyway, nobody can hear us."
Bellamy humphed and tapped her textbook. "Just start gathering information, loud mouth." He shot her a smug look, which she'd never seen before.
"Hey, you're wearing glasses!" Clarke made the observation as if she was yelling over music at a night club.
Bellamy sighed and dropped his head. "Yes, I'm wearing glasses. I'm also wearing a shirt, and pants, captain obvious."
She quipped back at him while flipping pages. "Wow, never heard that one before."
"I'm surprised you can hear anything over the sound of you own voice." He was proud of that one.
She was taken aback by his quick comebacks. "Wow, nerd's got game." She started writing notes while she talked.
"Wow, loud mouth can talk and write at the same time."
"They call me Clarke: Master Multi-tasker." She dropped her pen and rolled her wrist as if it were sore.
"Tired from writing two words, Master Multi-tasker?" Bellamy was surprising himself, normally it'd take him at least a couple minutes to come up with good comebacks.
"No, this is just boring. When do we get to glue stuff on a board or make a PowerPoint?" Clarke whined.
Bellamy grabbed another book from his pile and placed it in front of her. "As soon as you find some things worth glueing down."
Clarke pouted and opened the book in defeat. For a while, they were silent, but it wasn't necessarily awkward. It was...weird. Bellamy would toss a paper to the side every few minutes, and every once in a while, they'd look up from their own pages to check on the work the other had accomplished. Occasionally, Clarke would catch glimpse of Bellamy's burly chest or his not-so-special brown eyes, and Bellamy would notice her actually-very-special blueish, gray ones. At one point, they both looked up at the same time, locked eyes, and cleared their throats awkwardly, completely in sync. Clarke fumbled in her bag for her phone. When she found it, she was startled by the time it read.
"Oh my god, it's almost eleven." Clarke realized they'd been mindlessly copying information and stealing glances at each other for two hours.
Bellamy's dark eyes widened and he became a little frantic. "Shit, I have a class at seven in the morning." He began gathering loose papers and books from the table and carelessly shoved them into his backpack, causing an even bigger mess, and the loudest noise they'd heard since Clarke stopped talking.
"Hey, calm down, you'll get plenty of sleep." Clarke almost reached for his arm, but decided against it.
"No, I won't. Look at this mess. Why do I just toss things around?" The question was rhetorical, but Clarke found herself biting her tongue to hold back a clever joke.
"Yes, you will. Let me clean this up and bring it to you next time we meet." She usually wasn't this kind to practical strangers.
Bellamy paused, sliding his wide-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Really?"
"Yeah. You really need your beauty sleep." There she was, the sarcastic Clarke he knew. Well, the only Clarke he knew.
He exhaled softly. "Thanks, Loud Mouth." He somehow contorted his mouth into a smug smirk and a crooked smile hybrid.
Clarke circled around to his side of the table to start on the mess. "Don't mention it, study buddy." She nudged his arm playfully with her elbow, giggling to herself.
Bellamy rolled his eyes and made his way to the exit, weakly waving before he exited her sight.
**********************
Their second meeting was 4 days later.
He told her to be there at his dorm at 12:30 pm, but obviously Clarke had no perception of time, because she was there at noon sharp, pounding on his door with her iron fists. Much to her surprise, a tall, skinny, definitely-not-Bellamy, answered the door.
"Hi." Clarke took a step back, startled by the half naked stranger.
The guy rubbed his face while stretching his other arm behind his back. "Who are you?" He was obviously either a very heavy sleeper, or a very heavy drinker. Clarke guessed both.
"Her name's Clarke, she's here for me." Bellamy appeared behind the stranger , pushing him out of the way. "Go get some breakfast, Jasper."
"Oh, so this is the blondie with the body you're "studying" with." He put air quotes around studying, sending Bellamy's face into his hands. Jasper vanished down the hallway, mumbling something about bacon.
Clarke welcomed herself into the room, setting a large brown paper bag on a desk near the door. "You've mentioned me? And my body?" She teased him, studying the movie posters on his wall.
Bellamy scoffed and removed his hands from his face. "He asked who you were, I mentioned you were blonde. That's it. Don't get a big head. You don't need one to match your mouth." He waltzed across the room to where she stood spinning a globe.
"I wouldn't have blamed you for mentioning my body. It is fantastic." She narrowed her eyes and flipped her hair behind her shoulder, being obviously sarcastic on purpose. She started walking to the other end of the room.
Bellamy grabbed the strap of the bag on her back, stopping her in motion and spinning her around to face him.
"What the hell?" She was surprised, but didn't move away.
"I think this," Bellamy tapped the strap of the backpack, "belongs to me." This was the closest they'd ever been to each. If he leaned forward just a little, he'd be kissing her. Which would totally be gross, he thought, and shamed himself for even letting the thought cross his mind.
Clarke let out a small puff of air, meant to be a laugh. "Oh, right." She waited a few seconds before moving to just smile at him. She was pretty sure they'd never actually smiled at the same time. Then again, they'd only ever been around each other twice; not much room for genuine smiles. She took off the bag and sat it down neatly in the desk chair.
Bellamy nodded, then took an awkward step back. He wiped his palms on his sweatpants, unaware of how sweaty they were until now. "What's in the paper bag?" He asked, pointing toward the desk.
"Oh, I brought Chinese food. Figured you hadn't eaten lunch yet." Clarke shrugged. "And, now that I'm looking at you, I know I'm right." She was referring to his oversized gray sweatshirt and sweatpants combo, paired with terribly messy bed-head. She chuckled and started unpacking the contents of the bag.
"Wow, Loud Mouth is thoughtful. Who knew?" Bellamy started setting out their books and supplies on the floor while Clarke set out an array of takeout boxes on his desk.
Clarke stopped. "You know what would be super fun and in no way ironically romantic at all? A picnic on your dorm floor." She clapped her hands together as if she had just found the cure to cancer.
Bellamy groaned. "I swear you find pleasure in other people's pain."
"I thought you would've figured that out by now, study buddy." Clarke had moved all of the food from the desk to the floor in the speed of light.
"Yeah, you know, our two whole conversations have really taught me a lot about you." Bellamy's sarcastic tone was like nails on a chalkboard.
Clarke huffed. "Sit down." She grabbed Bellamy's forearm and yanked him onto the floor with her. He managed to land in a criss cross position instead of her lap, which he was grateful for.
She forced a pair of chopsticks and a container of lo mein into his hands. "Eat up. We've got a lot of work to do." She pulled a blanket off of the edge of his bed and draped it across their laps. Ironically, of course.
"You don't by chance have any candles, do you?" Clarke was loving watching him squirm.
"You exhaust me, Clarke." Bellamy had his head against the end of his bed, struggling to loop a noodle onto his sticks.
Clarke paused mid-bit into her egg roll. "Wow, no Loud Mouth." She observed.
"No, just Full Mouth." He jabbed.
Clarke elbowed him in the side. "Just shut up and eat."
***********************
Their last and final meeting was two days before the project was due, and wasn't actually necessary. The afternoon in Bellamy's bedroom had been used productively, and they finished the project completely. This was more of a "last hoorah." Or at least that's how Clarke justified dragging Bellamy to a campus Frat party.
"This is insane." He thought. Why was he letting a girl he barely knew dictate what he did with a Friday night? Sure, if he wasn't here, he'd be in his dorm or at the coffee shop, but still. He barely knew her.
He was immediately uncomfortable. There were so many students at the party, they wouldn't all fit in the house. There were people dancing on the lawn, and drinking on the balcony. Bellamy was so ready to leave, but he already texted Clarke that he was here. No turning back.
Clarke came barreling out of the house filled with energy. Bellamy could tell she wasn't completely drunk, but she had definitely had a drink or two.
"Study buddy!" Her voice was squeakier than new sneakers on a polished floor. Okay, so it wasn't that bad, but for Clarke, any squeak was a lot. She swung her arms around his neck like they were long lost friends reuniting. Bellamy resistantly hugged back, rocking on his feet.
"Hey, Loud Mouth." He still has his hands on her shoulders, not sure what to do with them.
Clarke swayed out of his grasp and wrapped a single arm around his shoulders. "I'm gonna need you to let go of the little nerd inside of you tonight." She poked his stomach and guided him inside. "And let loose. Reward yourself for all that hard work on the project." She poked him a couple more times, making him jump.
"What if the little nerd gets hungry?" Bellamy asked, becoming comfortable with the new touchy-feely Clarke.
"Tell him to shut the hell up." She broke away from him when they reached the kitchen to pour them drinks. "And don't leave my side tonight. Frat parties are scary." She pouted and pushed the cup of beer toward him.
Bellamy took a sip and winced. Shit was nasty. But he could deal with it for a night. "You got it, Loud Mouth."
***
Two hours in. Two hours in and Clarke was past the point of no return. After about the third cup of beer, Bellamy stopped completely, and Clarke would've argued, if she had even noticed. She had lost count of the shots she'd taken. Bellamy was now in possession of her heels, earrings, and soon her dress if he didn't do something.
"Take it off!" Meatheads screamed as Clarke stumbled around on the coffee table. The front of her red body-con dress was drenched in vodka, and her black mascara had transferred from her lashes to her cheeks. It might have been the beer, but she somehow still looked incredibly attractive. It was ridiculous really.
Bellamy quickly scolded himself and pushed aside the thoughts before hopping up off the bean bag chair he'd settled in. "Clarke, get down."
"Why should I?" She stomped her foot and looked genuinely offended.
"Because you're going to hurt yourself."
"I'm a big girl, I can handle myself."
"Well right now you're acting like a child. Come on." He stepped up onto the table, turning even more attention onto himself.
"No." She argued, while using him as a support.
"You heard the lady, she doesn't want to go." A random guy piped up.
"How about you back off?" Bellamy yelled, surprising himself. You barely know this girl, chill Bell.
"Let's go, Clarke." She no longer protested, but rather let him gently escort her off of the coffee table and out of the fraternity.
Clarke was half-walking, half being dragged by Bellamy across the lawn. He knew there was no way to get her all the way back to her dorm like this.
"Damn it, Loud Mouth." In one swift motion, he slung her over his shoulders, keeping a firm grip on her thigh.
"I'm not ready for second base yet, study buddy." Even when she was drunk Clarke was wittier than him.
"You're strong." She mumbled into the cloth of his t-shirt.
Bellamy kept trekking toward her building. "You owe me big time, Clarke."
********
It took twenty minutes to get her into her room. He carried that girl's dead weight for twenty minutes. And the fun still wasn't over.
"Drink this!" He demanded, thrusting the glass of water in her face.
She was propped up in her bed. Her head was limp and her eyes were shut, but she was awake, unfortunately.
"Idunwanto." He almost needed a translator.
"You have to. We're gonna fail American Government if you don't." Bellamy hoped she was drunk enough to buy elaborate lies.
Clarke opened her eyes just enough to scowl at him. "Fine." She yanked the glass out of his hand, spilling half of the water from the trip from his hand to her mouth.
Bellamy let her take a few gulps, then set it on her nightstand. "Okay, now get some rest and I-" He was interrupted by an excruciatingly loud snore.
*****
The next morning, Clarke woke up before Bellamy, and immediately regretted every decision she'd made in the past 24 hours. Her head felt like it was splitting in half. She sat up and surveyed the room, only to find Bellamy passed out on the floor beside her bed. She could his pain in he own back.
"Hey, study buddy. Wake up, nerd." She nudged him with her foot, too exhausted to move her upper body.
Bellamy jolted awake, sitting up straight and almost knocking himself out on her nightstand. "What time is it?"
Clarke squinted at her wall clock. "9:30. I'm guessing you had a class?"
Bellamy stood up and threw the blanket back over her legs. "Actually, I have one in thirty minutes." He felt the relief hit his chest, while the pain hit his back.
"Hey. Thanks." Clarke grabbed his hand before he took off. "I don't know where I'd be right now if you hadn't have saved me." Her memory was fuzzy. "You did save me, didn't you?"
Bellamy perched on the edge of her bed. "Yeah. You are pretty entertaining under the influence. And a good dancer."
"Ugh, I danced?" Clarke groaned and rubbed her temples.
"Yup. And you cried just a tad over spilling half of your alcohol on your dress." He didn't know why he did it, but Bellamy stroked the mascara stains on her face; and he didn't pull his hand away.
Clarke grabbed his wrist, almost as a reflex, pulled him closer, and kissed him. Not ironically.
It took him almost a full 10 seconds to register what was happening, but he eventually kissed back. His hand enveloped her entire cheek and he stroked the soft area of skin under her eye before sending his finger through her tangled hair.
Clarke stroked his arm and kissed him harder. How had they ended up like this? They had known each other for less than two weeks, and hated each other for more than half of that time. They'd only hung out three times, and one of those times consisted of her ditching him at a party he didn't want to be at. But here they were, making out, un-ironically.
Bellamy pulled away just enough to speak. "I think I can miss one class."