One:

"I don't even know why I'm fucking here." His long, slender fingers jerked the light blue tie loose as he restlessly fidgeted under the harsh fluorescent light. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't mind being in the presence of so many sorority girls but tonight, the standing-room-only presentation was more of a bother than an "all you can eat" buffet. He groaned in annoyance as everyone started clapping, their eyes fixed on the blonde taking the podium. "Bellamy this is going to be fun. I swear, this is going to be fun." He mocked his little sister—one of the girls clapping at their Stepford leader. She wasn't even paying attention to him. He started to shove a finger into her tan shoulder repeatedly until she casted a frustrated eye on him.

Bellamy chuckled in satisfaction before another round of applause covered his ironic giddiness. It only took a moment of apparent eye contact for his laughter to be completely silenced. He shook his head because there was no way Clarke Griffin just looked at him with anything other than disgust and hatred. It made him feel weird. You know, in a completely disturbed way because he hated her and by her usual glares, the feeling was mutual.

Octavia snorted as he balled up his fist so tightly that his rugged nails dug into his skin, "Just because you blew your chance sophomore year doesn't mean that you can gawk at her like that…she's still the president of this sorority until she graduates. Give her some respect."

"I'm extremely aware of her title." Bellamy spat angrily because he disliked how much the chattering vixen affected his state of mind—hate or not. "And I didn't blow my chance with her. I wasn't interested in Clarke because she's a snobby bitch. Did you know she tried to get our charter revoked last year? Instead of President, she should be called Princess. Bitch acts like royalty with her modest dresses and daddy's debit card." Octavia's face twisted for a moment but she didn't say anything—it wasn't her place.

"…as many of you know, this is my last semester. Traditionally, the Vice President would be appointed and so on but this year, we've decided to hold a contest. Our own Olympic Games, as it may be. This will be a fair competition amongst the sophomores and juniors, sorry freshmen pledges. Also, exclusions will most likely occur due to grades and discipline records. This is not based on personal preferences, race, sexual orientation or dye jobs. This will be a fair competition or people will be disqualified." Clarke delivered her speech with ease, as usual. She never struggled to find the right words to deliver let's say, a rejection—Bellamy was acquainted with her passive aggressive rejections.

Bellamy lacked some specific information—important information concerning Clarke and Octavia. They were good friends. No, they were best friends. It was a secret friendship due to the pint up resentment between Bellamy and Clarke. Luckily, Clarke didn't extend her resentment through bloodlines. Bellamy begged her not to pledge Delta Kappa Phi but she ignored his overly dramatic speech about "living in the hell cat's lair." Clarke fought hard for Octavia's position in the sorority, especially against Bellamy.

She glanced over at her brother, watching his fingers twitch as he contained himself from pulling out his cell phone. 'Tons of desperate, desperate girls willing to do anything to be the next President…' The ploys were building and building in his head and he had to inform his brothers immediately. Frat brothers, of course. He was the President of the campus "fuck up" fraternity, but they just called him King Bellamy. "Yeah, because that's the story everyone believes." Octavia snorted again, her brown hair on her head in an elegant bun. She'd lured him to this event with the promise of free alcohol. He expected the party was after the meeting.

"O, just drop it already. That was three years ago, no one cares." Bellamy brushed it off with an uncomfortable shrug. His words were supposed to sound detached due to his distaste for the way Clarke was smiling at her cult. He clenched his jaw as he felt his sister's penetrating gaze burning into his face.

She giggled, "Are you sure?"

"Why did you even invite me to this?" He snapped, "You could have invited—"

"I didn't have a date, okay?" Octavia shifted her weight to her other foot, squirming because she was the uncomfortable one now.

Bellamy started to chuckle, "Wait, you broke up with Atom?" Atom used to be a pledge at the fraternity until Bellamy kicked him out due to his "inappropriate" relationship with Octavia. He didn't know if he could legally do that but he did and no one complained. Octavia, on the other hand, never fully got over it. She'd been punishing Bellamy for six months due to the event. This happened to be one of the first times they'd hung out in a long time. Suddenly, it made sense. This was Octavia's way of telling Bellamy that he'd been right all along. Atom was a douche.

She gritted her teeth, "Something like that."

He stopped chuckling, an eerie calm washing over his features. "He broke up with you?" Octavia simply nodded in response, "Idiot. I'm sorry, Octavia."

"I know, right." She smiled, "A real idiot."

Bellamy wanted to keep the mood light, "Goddamn it's a celebration, where the hell is the liquor in this bitch?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to listen." Octavia begged him before turning her attention back to Clarke. She was still smiling, still talking about the competition. Bellamy wondered if they were going to attempt conversation tonight. Would it be their usual banter? Snarky comments? Or would they exchange blows?

"…and I hope the next president of Delta Kappa Phi will honor this sorority the way our previous leaders have. Still, I want to see your not-so-prestigious moments of Instagram because they happen to be the highlight of my life. Just don't forget to leave location and hashtags concerning the Greek life out of them. That's all, thank you for attending." Clarke stepped down only to be bombarded by multitudes of desperate girls. Bellamy snapped a few photos as proof and as a reference guide for later.

Bellamy was ended his fifth year of college—one could say that he had a little bit too much fun. He met Clarke when she was a doe-eyed freshman with remarkable maturity and ambition. He thought it was a phase but turns out the Princess was quite serious about the pre-med program and her studies. She was the perfect applicant for any job worth having. Greek-life, check. All A's, check. Stellar charity work, check. Intelligent, check. Fucking beautiful, check. A goddamn pain in his ass, check, check. Unfortunately, he couldn't escape her, either. They had to attend meetings together, host events together, plan the Greek ball together. Constantly, they were shoved in a room together in a cruel endless cycle.

He was ecstatic that he was going to get away from her for good. Once they graduated, he could go back to his hometown and become a teacher and she could return to her not-so-distant tea and cookies type of lifestyle. Her parents were large donors to the school and only lived 45 minutes away. He'd never met them but when he and Clarke considered themselves friends, he heard a lot of stories about her dad. Friends.

That was a fucking lie because he and Clarke were never just friends. They looked at each other too long, before things went to hell in a hand basket, to be just friends. If she hadn't of chosen the "sensible" man over him, they wouldn't even have this outstanding rivalry. Wells Jaha, the son of a politician and the President of Alpha Sigma Phi—the rich kid sorority where discrimination was a thing based off of income and status. As far as he knew, the Princess and the Prince were very much in love. It may or may not be the reason he hated her guts.

Or maybe he hated that she made his ego sore with every wordy punch.

A green-eyed girl caught his eye and he smirked, deciding he wasn't going to think about Clarke Griffin for the rest of the night. Clarke, who? He asked himself before a grin broke out across his face. Wait, where the fuck did Clarke go?