AN: Here's chapter 2, hope you'll enjoy
Bellamy was just leaving the office when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Octavia: We're on our way! Just left SJSU
Bellamy checked the time and figured that with rush hour, it would take the girls two and a half to three hours to get to Sacramento from San Jose.
Bellamy: Alright, see you soon
He walked through the lobby to the entrance, pushed the door open, and was immediately engulfed in the dry, smoldering heat of the afternoon. Reaching up to unbutton his collar, he sighed in relief and rolled his neck. He walked quickly through the parking lot, the pavement simmering with reflected light from the sun.
He stepped up into his old, bent-up Jeep and turned the ignition – immediately blasting the AC in an effort to disperse the heat. He ran a hand through his hair, which he had gelled back this morning but by the afternoon his bangs had fallen on either side of his face.
He pulled out his phone to text Lincoln
Bellamy: Hey girls are en route
meet me at the field
we've got an hour to kill
Bellamy heard a whoosh and then a slap as he caught the ball in his glove. He turned his body ninety degrees to line up the throw and took the ball in his hand, gripping it lightly with his fingers over the seams, and pulled his arm back, bending his elbow and cocking his wrist, flinging it back to Lincoln who was standing about fifty yards away.
Lincoln shuffled his feet with his eyes on the ball and easily caught it in his glove, then threw it to Bellamy's left where Miller was standing.
"So remind me where we're going exactly?" Miller called across the field as he threw the ball to Bellamy, "Arcadia?"
Clarke had invited a number of her friends to come spend the summer with her in Arcadia, but between school and work they were all arriving at different times. She, Octavia, Lincoln, and he were leaving this afternoon; the rest of the arrivals were scattered through the following week.
"Yeah," Bellamy answered, reaching out to catch the ball, "It's a little town along the coast, about a hundred miles west of Redding."
"She's got family there?"
Bellamy threw the ball to Lincoln and speculated based on what he'd heard from Octavia and what Clarke had told him, "Not exactly, but it's where she spent a majority of her summers as a kid. Her parents have a house down there, apparently when it's not a vacation home her mom uses it to sweet-talk with the big wig hospital donors."
"Hmm must be pretty nice then."
"Pretty big too," Lincoln pitched in, "Since it's got room to sleep nine people."
Bellamy faltered and almost missed catching the ball hurdling towards him. He didn't really think about how many people she'd asked and where they were all going to sleep. He figured they'd stay in a hotel… or sleep on the floor… or sleep on the beach for that matter.
"I'd be surprised if it did," Bellamy said doubtfully, "they're all staying in a hotel or something."
"Airbnb?" Miller suggested.
"I think you guys are underestimating the size of these things," Lincoln explained, "have you never seen a beach house?"
"I live in an apartment in uptown Sacramento," Bellamy deadpanned.
"I'm from Denver," Miller added.
"Now I don't know about California," Lincoln warned, "But I'm from Louisiana, and y'all need to know a few things about the South - anything can be fried, sweet tea is the only tea, the food groups are biscuits, BBQ, fried chicken, and crawfish, and we build massive houses because there's so much land at our disposal."
He continued, "In coastal areas of the South, the most common building type is the tidewater house. They're raised on pilings about ten feet from the ground to protect it from harsh storms and flooding. These things have two or more stories with massive wrap around porches on both levels. And they are expensive – more than half a million dollars, so a lot of people rent them out to guests and tourists. They put bunk beds in all the kids' rooms, and two twins or a queen in the others because the more people they can accommodate, the more money they can charge. I bet this house can sleep fifteen people, easy."
Lincoln raised his brow as he looked back and forth between Bellamy and Miller's expressions of bewilderment. "What?" he challenged, "I had to take a class on local architecture; it was either that or the study of modern art."
"There's no way that house fits fifteen people," Bellamy objected, "Not unless someone's sleeping on the couch."
"Well gentlemen," Miller sassed, "care to put a bit of money on this wager?"
Lincoln shrugged, "I'm feelin' pretty lucky. How much money we talkin'?"
"40 bucks?" Bellamy suggested tentatively. Miller and Lincoln nodded their heads in agreement.
"So Lincoln you're on for fifteen?" Miller asked.
"Yup," he answered.
"Okay, I'm game for twelve," he ventured, "Bellamy?"
"Seven," he answered confidently.
They met on the middle of the field and shook hands in agreement, then walked around the dugout to the entrance. They reached the parking lot and paused before parting to their cars.
"Alright man," Bellamy turned to Miller to give him a one-armed hug, "we'll see you Thursday."
Lincoln and Miller said goodbye with a bro-hug and the three left the complex to go home.
Bellamy and Lincoln met up at the house they rented and went to pack while they waited for the girls to arrive.
Bellamy paced around his room, collecting the things he needed for their vacation, throwing everything into a duffel bag. His phone pinged and the screen lit up with a text notification.
Octavia: Just passed the promenade
The girls had reached the shopping mall a couple miles from their house.
"Lincoln," Bellamy called down the stairs, "twenty minutes!"
They left their bags at the front door and did a check to make sure they didn't forget anything critical.
"Phone?" Bellamy asked.
"Yup, charger?" Lincoln replied.
He nodded, "ID?"
"Got it… credit card?" Lincoln returned.
Bellamy felt for his wallet in his back pocket, "yep… underwear?"
"Underwear?"
"What?" Bellamy put his hands out in defense, "It's important."
Lincoln rolled his eyes, leaning over to grab his duffel bag, "let's load up the trunk."
"We're back bitches!" Octavia screeched with her arms in the air as she and Clarke came zooming down the street in their sleek white convertible, wearing sunglasses and matching smiles, their hair blowing behind them. Turning onto the driveway, they pulled up and parked behind his old, beat-up Jeep, the black paint smeared with dirt and dust.
"Here we go," Bellamy mumbled wearily to Lincoln before he walked down the drive to meet his sister.
"Hi, big brother!" Octavia called as she ran up to meet him, slamming into his hard chest and throwing her arms around him in a tight bear hug. She pulled back and smiled widely at him, eyes bright and happy; and he looked at her and saw someone who was similar to the little sister he had said goodbye to before the fall semester, but now even more beautiful and refined, maturing into an adult at a rate faster than Bellamy was okay with. She was once a good two feet shorter than him, but they'd been practically the same height for years now. It seemed to him that only a few years ago he was walking down the street with her beside him, taking her to middle school before he continued walking to the high school. And now, at the end of the spring semester, she had just finished her sophomore year of college.
"Lincoln!" she called excitedly when she spotted him over Bellamy's shoulder. She pulled out of his embrace and ran up the driveway to greet the man who was standing by the garage, giving the siblings some space for their reunion.
Once Octavia moved from his line of sight, his eyes focused on the other person standing a few feet away in front of him. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her, his eyes glazing over her appearance, taking everything in, then going back to study her features in more detail. Her bright eyes and rosy lips complemented her soft, light skin. Her long blonde hair was tousled by the wind, falling all around her and pooling into curly waves on her shoulders. His gaze moved up to her face again and he noticed her eyes narrow at him in suspicion. He paused, knowing he had been caught, and shook his head, trying to think of something to say.
"Clarke," he greeted stiffly. He cleared his throat as they stood there awkwardly, not knowing what kind of greeting was appropriate for their 'relationship status'. What did Octavia always say? He racked his brain… it was an acronym… "DTR, always always DTR! It's crucial that you define the relationship." So what were they? Was there a word for your sister's best friend, but who's also kind-of your friend; who you're attracted to and you think maybe they're attracted to you too; who you like to argue with and get under their skin, but who you also get so aggravated by? Are you 'close friends'? Is it a 'casual' relationship? A 'romantic friendship'?
The air between them had been strained ever since their little 'coition', so to speak. Even though it happened months ago, they'd never said anything about it to each other and it was real easy to avoid that conversation or any awkward encounters when he was in Sacramento and she was a hundred miles away at college in San Jose. But now here they were, face to face, with months and months of bottled up tension waiting to erupt.
His eyebrows pressed together and he wondered if they would ever get past this uncomfortable stage and resume the easy friendship they had before. He was beside himself, muscles tight and body rigid with restless energy. His fingers twitched as nerves zinged down his arms and hands, wanting so badly to move. To do something – anything – that would move him forward, get him past this particular moment of time that seemed to drag on and on. He looked at her closely, trying to read her expression, to give him some clue as to where they stood, but she wore a mask of neutrality that gave nothing away.
"Bellamy," she answered, breathing a long sigh before walking to stand before him. They both leaned in to the left for a hug, and then both moved to the right to correct it. He huffed and moved his arm behind her in a wide embrace, patting her on the back. She pulled away and looked up at him, smiling hesitantly, trying to ease the tension. Oh thank you, he sighed internally, relieved that she gave him something to work with. He returned her grin with a tiny quirk of the corner of his mouth.
Thankfully, they were saved from their awkward greeting when Octavia came bounding back down the driveway, Lincoln following behind her. Clarke and his friend greeted each other with warm smiles and a quick embrace, having only met once before, last summer when they were living in Arlington and she and Octavia came to visit.
"Ah, Bell!" O exclaimed, reaching into the passenger seat to grab her purse and phone, "Dead week was crazy, Clarke found this concentrated coffee mix and we drank it straight, we were up for days, I finally finished my chem revision, thank God because if I didn't I probably would have failed the exam and then…"
"Mmm-hmm," Bellamy hummed, trying to pay attention to his sister as he joined Clarke to help unload the trunk.
"Ooh!" she spoke up excitedly, "Clarke made the dean's list, again!"
"Really?" Bellamy said playfully turning to smirk at her.
She just shrugged her shoulders and shut the trunk.
"And did you make any lists?" he asked his sister.
"Nope," she answered quickly.
Clarke snorted, knowing that Octavia had, in fact, made a list – their dorm's annual 'Hot List'. Octavia turned her head to stare daggers at her and Bellamy looked between the two of them sternly.
"The 'Hot List'," Clarke mumbled, and Octavia narrowed her eyes and at her friend's betrayal.
"Clarke," she whined as Bellamy glared at her and sucked in a deep breath about to put her through the ringer.
"It's not as bad as it sounds!" Octavia cut in innocently, raising her palms in defense before Bellamy could start, "It was a charity! For global warming!" She turned to Clarke to back her up.
Clarke sighed and explained, "Whoever got the most students to calculate their carbon footprint and make a donation got their name on the list, and next to the year 2016 it says 'Octavia Blake'."
"Hot list," he grumbled, walking up the driveway to his car.
Clarke backed her Camaro off the driveway to let Bellamy out, then pulled back up. Raven and Wick were flying in to SIA, which was only ten miles from Bellamy's house, and Clarke had mailed them her spare key so they could drive her convertible to Arcadia instead of spending loads of money on a rental car.
So the four of them were going to pile into Bellamy's Jeep for the three-hundred-mile journey to Arcadia. They weren't thrilled at the thought of being crammed in a car together for the next five hours, but as Octavia reminded them, they could take comfort knowing they were helping the earth by carpooling and decreasing their carbon footprint.
"Alright," Bellamy said, turning the ignition and yanking the door closed, "who's ready to get the hell out of here?"
"Me," they all said at once, but Octavia's voice was the loudest and most ecstatic, so it covered up Clarke and Lincoln's neutral agreement.
Bellamy put the car in drive and snaked through the neighborhood. They made it a few blocks before Octavia reached over to turn the radio on. The other three flinched as the music blared loudly through the speakers, but Octavia shouted in excitement and put her hands in the air, immediately singing along.
…
Talk to me, baby
I'm going after this sweet craving, whoa-oh
Let's lose our minds and go crazy crazy
I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hoping we'll eat cake by the ocean
…
"NO!" the others shouted in unison. Bellamy immediately reached forward and slapped his palm on the power button.
"What?" Octavia exclaimed.
"That song," Clarke grumbled.
"What's wrong with it?" Octavia asked, "it's good, it's perfect for summer."
"There's nothing wrong with it," Bellamy sighed, "it's just so overplayed."
"We're tired of it," Lincoln explained as Clarke said, "I've heard it so many times."
Bellamy reached over to pop the glove box open and rooted around, pulling out a CD that had Summer '15 scrawled across it in black sharpie. He slid it into the radio and turned the volume knob. They were silent in anticipation, waiting to hear what song would play. Listening carefully, they cheered as they heard the familiar chunky 6-string into.
…
I got my first real six-string
Bought it at the five-and-dime
Played it till my fingers bled
Was the summer of '69
…
Listening to Bryan Adams' "Summer of '69", which peaked at number five on the Billboard Top 100, Clarke grinned and looked up to see Bellamy watching her in the rearview mirror. When he caught her eye he winked suggestively. She breathed sharply and felt her cheeks flush at what he was alluding to.
Clarke's heart beat a tiny bit faster and she felt a little bit of weight lift from her shoulders; she wanted to keep her expectations low so she wouldn't be disappointed, but she was starting to think that this would be the best summer yet.
AN: Hope that you don't mind that this chapter ended the same way the first one did, I don't usually include music but for this story it's important in my "author's opinion." So please review and let me know what you think.
If you have any song suggestions I'd love to hear them, please PM me.