A/N: I'm not completely sure where this is going yet, but I'm hoping you'll let me know in the reviews if this piques your interest. This is my second fanfic, so I'd love feedback!
It was a perfect late Spring evening. The paved path that wound around Grant Park was still dark with rain water from the afternoon's showers, and the light breeze that had blown away the clouds now shook the branches of tall Live Oak trees, sprinkling Clarke with welcome cold droplets. She jogged past the public tennis courts, then the entrance to the Atlanta Zoo. It was twilight, and the park was mostly deserted now. She passed the empty dog run and the abandoned playgrounds, but still she kept moving.
She kept a steady pace, enjoying the feeling of power in her legs as she ran up the wide steps that led to through a historic stone archway and up to the sidewalk of Cherokee Street, which formed the eastern border of the park. Turning north, Clarke made her way quickly through the village area, past a bike shop, a couple of bars, a pizza place. People were sitting outside, dining and drinking al fresco, dogs on leashes reclining at their owners' feet. Another lovely day in the neighborhood, her neighborhood. She crossed over a bridge that spanned I-20, turned left and made her way home.
By the time she made it to her quaint little duplex, Clarke was spent. She loved running, but she had to work at it. She was athletic enough, possessed "a strong constitution" as her mother would say, but long-distance running didn't come as effortlessly to her as it did to some. In fact, she hadn't really gotten into running until after college, when her best friend Raven had suggested it as a way to take Clarke's mind off of a particularly hurtful breakup. So that's how the habit had started: with Clarke wheezing alongside Raven through the same park she'd just come from. Eventually she had gotten strong, surprising herself with just how much she enjoyed the exercise. Two years later, Clarke still made the time for evening jogs. They had a way of clearing her mind and keeping her sane.
Clarke walked through the white picket fence that surrounded her small yard and thumped up the steps and onto the darkened porch, pulling out her earbuds and wrapping them around her phone. Setting her device aside, she grabbed the railing and pushed outwards, stretching her calves. The air was still humid from the earlier rains, and her thin hoodie clung to her uncomfortably, so she straightened and quickly unzipped it, throwing it on a nearby wicker chair. The cool air rushed around her sweaty arms and torso, and she fanned herself for a few seconds before bending at the waist and stretching her hamstrings. When she finally stood again, she took a moment to look out from her porch onto her small sleepy street. It was fully dark now, and there was little visible activity.
"Evening, neighbor."
Clarke jumped and gave a very undignified squeak. Spinning around, she could just make out Bellamy, the man who had recently rented out the other side of the big old house, reclining on the porch swing. He had his feet propped up on Clarke's small, decorative table and was giving her the most irritating smirk. He was also shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose fitting pajama pants. His left hand held a cold longneck beaded with condensation.
"Didn't see you there, Bellamy," Clarke said a bit stiffly. She reached for her hoodie and yanked it on. Something about Bellamy's smile was faintly appraising, and she didn't want to stand there in front of him in just her sports bra and shorts, no matter how humid it was.
He just nodded, his smirk turning into a grin. Clarke blushed, then cursed her fair skin. Well, let him attribute her redness to the exercise. Rolling her eyes, she turned to go inside.
"Hey, Clarke?" Bellamy spoke just as her hand reached her doorknob. She turned. "Yeah?"
The grin was gone, replaced by a serious expression. "It's a little late to be jogging through the park, you know. Especially if you're going to have your headphones on. It's not the safest place this time of night."
Was he...Jesus Christ, was he scolding her? She'd barely spoken three words to him since he'd moved in! The nerve of him.
Annoyed, Clarke nodded, mock seriously. "You're right, Bellamy. I wouldn't want to risk any strange men surprising me in the dark."
Bellamy's eyebrows shot up in surprise, then he recovered. His expression was serene but his tone was harshly dismissive when he replied, "Calm down, Princess. It was just some advice."
With colossal effort, Clarke ignored this last comment and turned to unlock her deadbolt and retreat inside. But just as she was stepping through the door, a thought occurred to her. Turning around abruptly, she asked, "How did you know I was in the park?"
This time, Clarke thought she could make out Bellamy's slight blush in the light from the streetlamp. He looked away towards the street. "Just a guess." he muttered. His response made Clarke feel vaguely triumphant as she closed her door behind her.