The sun was shining, no clouds for miles. The perfect weather for a wedding.

Her heartbeat was as loud as a drum in her ear as her eyes darted across the nearly empty parking lot. Her hands were fumbling on the white silk of her wedding dress, and she took a short look back on the church gates that were just about to shut behind her.

She needed to get away. Now.

Was this a bad decision? No. No, she was sure she didn't want this. Running felt right, maybe not to her brain, but in her guts.

Clarke spotted an empty car, a skateboard leaning against the church wall, and – on the other side of the street- a bus, just about to take off.

"Hey!" She sprinted towards the bus, but she tripped in her high heels and cursed as it disappeared before she was even down the church's steps. She let out a moan of frustration and was just about to seriously consider taking the skateboard to escape, when a motorcycle speeded into the driveway and stopped just a few meters from her.

It must have been a gift from god.

There was a guy sitting on it. She couldn't see anything but a huge helmet and a leather jacket, but she lurched forward and basically screamed at the man.

"Please! Help me! I need to get away, please, my mom will come looking after me any second now, and just please, take me away from here!"

The guy raised his visor, looking taken aback. She saw dark brown eyes, and the artist in her would die to draw that deep, thoughtful look in it and the shadows his long lashes threw. For a second, they captured her.

"Woah, calm down, what are you talking about?"

Clarke was getting more and more tense, expecting her mother to storm out the door any second, angry and trying to convince her to go back inside. Which she really didn't want to. She didn't want to marry the guy standing in front of the altar in his perfectly fitted suit.

"I'm sorry, but I need to get away! Please, can you give me a ride?"

She said, trying to sound calm but really convincing.

The guy smiled apologetically. He seemed honestly sorry about it.

"Sorry, I can't just leave. I'm the photographer at a wedding that's about to start any minute inside there" He pointed to the church "And I'm already late, and believe me, I know how furious brides can be…"

Clarke let out a hysterical giggle.

"Believe me, the only way you're going to make the bride furious is to not take her on that stupid motorcycle NOW."

The man's eyes widened in surprise, then he eyed her outfit when it suddenly seemed to dawn him that she wasn't wearing a white gown and a veil just for fun.

"Well, are you…?" He started saying something, when the church's gates suddenly flung open and Abby Griffin stormed out, eyes scanning the square for her daughter. She looked furious.

"Come on!" Clarke shouted, and without waiting for a response, she jumped on the motorcycle's backseat and wrapped her arms around him.

It took him a few seconds before he turned on the engine since he was really startled, but as the vehicle finally drove off, she let out a laugh of relief. She took a look behind her, and could see her mom's shocked look as she watched her daughter rebelling for the first time in her life.

Flying. They were flying across the streets, and it was the freest Clarke had ever felt.

She had no clue where they were going, but it didn't matter.

All that mattered was that she felt like a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders, like she could finally breathe after a lifetime under the water.

The wind ran through her hair, completely messing up her up-do, and she knew she was being irresponsible for not wearing a helmet, but hell, she had just escaped her own wedding, and what more irresponsible could she be?

She carefully lifted one arm to remove the remaining bobby pins and letting the veil fly before looping her arms around the photographer's waist again.

He smelled like leather and like smoke, not like cigarettes but the kind of wooden smoky smell that you could smell at campfires and that immediately reminded you of long summer nights, of dancing and hooking up with hot strangers. To her, this scent was incredible.

She snuggled up against him, breathing in his scent, closed her eyes and dreamed about flying.


He had brought her to a cafe he sometimes went to with Octavia.

When Bellamy parked his motorcycle, the girl let out a disappointed sigh before getting off.

He eyed her through his visor. Her hair was a tousled mess, but her eyes were bright and blue and filled with joy and he couldn't help but think they were the most breathtaking eyes he'd ever seen.

When she slightly tilted her head and asked "Why are you staring at me like that?" it pulled him back to reality. He took of his helmet and got off the vehicle.

He had no idea what he was doing. Helping a bride escape her high-class wedding had not exactly been on his to-do list for today. But that pleading, helpless look in her eyes had somehow moved him, and he was pretty sure that this woman didn't have cold feet. She had seemed almost terrified as her mother had come out.

It had been a look that said that she clearly couldn't imagine anything worse than stepping back into the church and get married.


Clarke had to admit he was incredibly handsome. As he took off his helmet, he revealed thick brown curls that kind of made her want to bury her hands inside them. He held open the door of a café he had parked next to and seated himself across her after she chose a table.

It was a cozy café with a nice, welcoming atmosphere, vintage furniture and the smell of cake and chocolate in the air.

"I'm Clarke." She finally said after a short awkward silence.

"Bellamy Blake", he responded, still staring at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable.

"So… thanks for the ride, I guess." She said, trying to start a conversation.

"You're welcome."

Well, he was apparently not making the effort.

The waitress approached their table, and Bellamy ordered pancakes and a mint tea. There were another few minutes of awkward silence.

"I didn't love him." She suddenly blurted out and felt her face redden. "Oh, well, I liked him, really, but not in a romantic way, you know?"

He responded with nothing but a raise of his eyebrows, but Clarke needed to talk this off her chest.

Though she did hope he would say something, comfort her; tell her she did the right thing.

"You know, my mother kinda set us up. His dad is like, an influential man, and she always tried to convince me into going out with him. I mean, it was no problem at first, because I do like Wells, and I guess my mother can be pretty persuasive. You know, I've always had to live up to my mom's expectations. She gave me so little freedom, but I've never really questioned it until I met people who didn't have to live the life their mother had already perfectly planned out for them. It's just, I never wanted to upset her and I've gotten so used to living like she wanted me to."

Clarke could feel a lump in her throat, but she tried to push down the tears.

She was not going to cry in front of that handsome, gruff man.

"But you also dragged the boy into it. He's probably heartbroken." He said, though he didn't look like he was judging her. He just listed facts.

Her face was covered in guilt at the thought of Wells, looking at her with puppy eyes, so madly in love with her that he was blind to see that the feelings were not returned.

"I – I know", she muttered "It's all so unfair to him, but when he proposed… at first I said no. We hadn't been dating for long, just half a year or so, and I felt like it was way too early, despite the fact that I…" She trailed off and let out a sigh. "When I told my mother, she was furious. She told me I'd never catch such a great boy again, and that he would give me everything I wanted and how he was the best I'd ever get… And after yelling at me for two hours straight, I started believing she was right. He really did care about me, loved me even, and he was the governor's son and…"

"Woah, wait what? Governor as in the governor of California, as in Governor Thelonious Jaha?"

"Yeah, he's Wells Jaha." Clarke sighed and buried her face in her hands. The free, relieved feeling had faded, leaving guilt, sadness and fear.

"Oh my god. What am I supposed to do now? I can't go back and face them!"

She started to do her breathing exercises to calm the hysteria rising in her.

"It's okay. Hey, look at me." He said, looking a bit helplessly. "Just, uh, please don't cry. I'm not good with crying women." His eyes were soft and pleading.

She eyed him, tears about to spill. She let out a short little sob.

"No, it's alright. Really. No need to worry. Shh."

Then he reached over and touched her hand, patted it slowly, which strangely gave her tingles in her stomach. Clarke blinked away the tears, staring in the stranger's eyes, almost pleading.

"I don't want the life she wanted for me." She whispered as she could feel a tear finally spilling and silently running down her face.

Bellamy Blake slowly raised his hand and wiped away the tear from her cheek, his eyes following his movement and then left his hand softly stroking her a few times before he put it down.

Clarke could still feel where he had touched her skin.

"And you don't need to live it. It's your life, after all. You have to make your own decisions, your own mistakes, and let them make you who you are. You can't be yourself in a life that is not truly your own." He said, and she could read from the serious expression on his face that he meant what he said.

She tilted her head. "So you don't think I should go back? At least explain myself to Wells?"

He shook his head. "Oh, you should explain him. But make sure you're ready. Because facing him would mean to face your mother, too, and to face your decision and its impact on your life. And if you're sure, if you really don't want it anymore, then you have to take your time and distance to make sure you're doing it right and make it impossible for your mother to change your mind again. From what you've said, I get that she must be a very convincing woman if she got you to live a life you don't even like."

Clarke nearly started to cry again, but this time because of the thankfulness she felt for this guy who told her exactly what she wanted to hear.

Bur since she knew he didn't like crying, she pushed the tears back and just smiled. "Thank you."

He was about to say something but the waitress approached and put his order on the table. The pancakes smelled heavenly and she couldn't help but stare at them longingly.

"Um, you want some?" Bellamy asked after noticing her stare, and though Clarke really wanted to be polite and all just the look in her eyes gave her away when she mumbled "No, I'm fine…"

Before she could blink, Bellamy shoved the plate over to her and handed her the fork.

"Come on, have it. It's okay." She looked unsure, but after a few seconds of the scent filling her nose she couldn't help but dig in. She hadn't eaten anything all day since she had been way too nervous and she was starving.

Bellamy watched her, sipping his tea. "Why didn't you order something, if you're so hungry?" He finally asked.

"I don't have anything with me. No phone, no money, no keys so I could sneak back into my apartment… I'm really sorry; I'm not able to pay for this." She responded, pointing on the pancakes.

"Oh, it's okay. After all, your mother paid me in advance and I'm not taking any photos so we're nearly even."

She raised an eyebrow. "Since I know my mother and she's only happy with the best, I somehow doubt that your service costs as much as three pancakes."

He chuckled, and she noticed it was the first time she saw him smiling. And it was gorgeous. She could feel herself slightly blushing for no reason at all.

"So, are you a good photographer? I mean, can you make a living from it?" She asked.

He scratched his nose "Yes, I can."

Okay, he was definitely not oversharing.

"And why did you become a photographer?" She wanted to get to know more of him.

He sighed. "I had to drop out of college, because of family problems, didn't know what else to do."

Wow. How fascinating. She was starting to get annoyed by his shortness.

"I've always liked art, too. I used to draw a lot, but since I started college I hadn't had time." A look of sadness crossed her face. She missed drawing. When she was little, she always wanted to become a famous artist, but for her mother, there was no other option but to become a doctor.

"So, where are you staying tonight?" He asked, abruptly changing the subject. Private information was obviously not something he enjoyed sharing. He wasn't even comfortable with her telling him personal stuff.

"I actually have no clue." She frowned, realizing only now that she had no idea were to sleep. It frightened the hell out of her.

Bellamy was quiet for a few seconds, before he said

"I have a guestroom."