Already, the first day of junior year has not been kind to Clarke. A stressful morning left the blonde feeling a strong urge to go home, burrow under her covers and give up on today. Despite setting her alarm clock at a punctual six-thirty, the blonde awoke only twenty minutes before she had to leave. After a quick shower, she bounced on one leg as she tried to pull on jeans with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth and one arm through the sleeve of her shirt. Stubbing her pinky toe twice and slipping on the rug in the hallway, the blonde sprinted out the door without breakfast. Then, apparently, Clarke's trusty steed, Old Bertha, chose not to turn on. After waving her arms wildly, cursing the heavens, and repeatedly kicking the tire of the car, she had the pleasure of walking to school.
Unbeknownst to the frustrated girl, there would a small storm passing quickly through the city. Halfway there, curiously, Clarke glanced up to see menacing, stormy gray clouds looming overhead. A split second ago, the warm yellow fireball in the sky was beaming down. And yet, a few moments later, a loud thunder clap rumbled causing the blonde to jump slightly. All of a sudden, those black pillows released its wrath of torrential downpour. Another roar emits from the sky as water droplets fall at a rapidly, pelting unsuspecting pedestrians. Across the street, wide eyed and mouth agape, a homeless man and innocent bystanders witnessed a random blonde, drenched from head to toe, pointing up at the sky, screaming expletives, and waving her arms in a frenzy.
Sprinting down the street, the mad women safely made it indoors. Still relatively early, Clarke headed straight to the bathroom. Inside, three stalls lined one side and a row of sinks on the other. Next to the full length mirror was two hand dryers. With a sigh, the blonde knew what she had to do. As girls filed in to primp and gossip, they witnessed a blonde, hair askew, hunched under the hand dryer in attempts to dry her wet clothes. Squatting like Gollum, Clarke scowls at each and every one of them. Unfortunately, she misses first period, causing the blonde to duck behind people, press against walls, and dive into empty classrooms in avoidance of the homeroom teacher. Thankfully, after texting Octavia, the brown haired warrior, a cold Clarke snuggles into the warmth of her Arkadia High sweatshirt. Conveniently, the blonde had left it in, Octavia's older brother, Bellamey's car. Taking this moment as the turning point of the day, the Clarke happily crossed the threshold into Art Appreciation. However, her great mood soured quickly four uneventful class periods later.
Finally, it is time for lunch. Loud chatter of several conversations, giggles, and slamming of lockers fill the air while teachers attempt to clear the way. Waiting patiently at her locker is Octavia Blake. After O punched Murphy in second grade when he yanked on Clarke's pigtails, they became inseparable. Now, several years later, the fearless girl has become one of her longest and closets friends. Casually, the black haired girl leans against the row of lockers while playing with her phone. She absentmindedly runs the zipper of her black leather jacket up and down, waiting patiently. Smiling to herself, the blonde watches as she elbows her way through the pods of students standing in the middle of the hall.
"Please tell me your day has been a hell of a lot better than mine," Clarke says approaching.
Hazel eyes glance up, "I would definitely say so since a picture of me hunched under an air dryer, scowling like a troll under a bridge, is not posted for everyone to see."
"Damn cell phones."
Octavia smiles watching the blonde open her locker, "Someone sent it as a snapchat, which turned into a screenshot that landed on the school's website."
Slamming her locker closed, Clarke shuts her eyes. Feeling a boiling of frustration, the blonde clenches her jaw. So, she counts, one, two, three inhale, and one, two, three exhale. With eyes still screwed shut, her head leans back slightly before the pale forehead connects with the cool metal. Clattering noisily against the force, she pulls away. Upon the pale skin is a small tinge of red.
"This day needs to end," she mutters.
A warm hand shoots out to stop her, "It's Monday, what can you expect?"
"Yeh, I guess. Come on, let's go to lunch."
Tugging on her arm, Octavia pulls the blonde closer, maneuvering through the halls. Reluctantly, Clarke allows herself to be dragged as she pulls the hood overhead. She sighs softly when they entered the bustling cafeteria. Smalls groups of teens filled the space. Most sitting down at the long grey tables. Loudly, kids talked, laughed, and gossiped. Various pods of girls sat with their arms raised high to take a selfie. Most likely, others spent their free time scrolling through various platforms of social media. It was a madhouse. Each group of people remained with their own table. Jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, if you stayed in your zone, lunch went by smoothly. Glancing over, three different long lines leading to the food station. A slight groan comes from her best friend upon seeing this as well.
A waving hand catches her eye, "Raven is over there."
Making their way over, the mechanic smiles at her approaching friends. Tugging her baseball tee down, smoothing out her ponytail, Raven pushes Jasper out of the way. Meeting Raven Reyes was quite an experience considering the blone has never met anyone like the her. Snarky, sarcastic, slightly crude, and a genius, this gorgeous girl could hotwire a car and create a homemade explosive. Which, the outlandish and brash behavior of the brunette is how they all met. At the ripe age of twelve, Octavia and Clarke found themselves the target of a young boy named Murphy. And apparently, the two girls were not alone. Sticky fingers Murphy had a habit of stealing Raven's first tool set when she wasn't looking. One day, Clarke and Octavia, spotted a young Raven, dressed in overalls with one dangling, snickering behind a tree. Seemingly, a devious little Reyes had placed dog feces in a brown paper bag, lit it on fire, and knocked on Murphy's door. All three of them watched as Murphy opened the door, screamed, and stomped on the bag barefoot. And at that very moment, Clarke and Octavia became friends with the little pyromaniac. As they approach the two, the blonde feels herself relax.
"Hug?" Raven asks opening her arms.
The dejected blonde walks straight into her while Jasper whistles lowly. Leaning back, curious blue eyes follow his gaze to see Costia strutting towards them, posse in tow. Great. Decked out in her uniform, consisting of a dark blue short skirt and matching top with the words Arkadia High on display, Green dismissively waves her hand. Automatically, the crowd of students scurry out of the way for the school's royalty. Most afraid of committing social suicide and others fearful of her wrath. It was written in stone, Costia did not play fair. A manipulative, power hungry, selfish, callous, fake bitch, Clarke thinks. Unfortunately, almost immediately, their eyes meet. And while the blonde struggles to suppress an eye roll, Costia purposefully makes her way over. Stopping in front of the blonde, she lifts her hand to silence the group behind her. A smug smile plays at the red stained lips. Raven tenses as Octavia stands between the artist and the cheerleader.
"Keep it moving Green," O barked.
An exasperated sigh leaves the blonde's lips.
Costia smirks, "Why so hostile Blake? Is it because you know this year will be no different from the last and you will always be your brother's little shadow?"
A snicker from the cheerleaders fill the cafeteria as Octavia clenches her fists. And with that, Clarke pulls away from the warm, comforting embrace of the mechanic to handle the brewing situation. Touching O's balled fist, the blonde pushes herself between the two.
"What do you want Costia?"
The cheerleader flips her hair over her shoulder, "I just wanted to congratulate you. I mean, it's the first day of classes and you have managed to humiliate yourself already. Brava Clarke, you have out done yourself."
Letting out a harsh breath through her nostrils, Clarke contemplates whether the principal would go easy on her, since it is the first day, if she was to slug Costia in the face.
"Look, I am not in the mood to deal with your superiority complex today. So why don't you and the blood suckers keep moving?"
Costia stares at the blonde, still smirking. Oh what she would give to wipe that stupid smirk off her face. But, before another word can escape either girls' lips, a deep voice breaks the tension.
"Everything all right here girls?"
Marcus Kane, a history teacher, patiently stands there with a neutral expression. Meeting his eyes, Clarke gives a small nod in reassurance.
"Everything is good with me."
Kane glances over, "And you Ms. Green?"
Blue eyes flicker back to see Costia flip her hair over her shoulder with a wide grin, "Of course Mr. Kane. We were just getting lunch."
"Good then you can come stand on the end of the line right now."
Costia's smile falters as Clarke's smirks. The blonde relishes in the feeling of justice being served. With a quick nod to her friends, the cheerleader pushes her way towards the end of the line. A hidden thumbs up from Kane causes the blonde to smile in return.
"What a bitch," Raven mutters quietly.
Uneventfully, the rest of lunch flew by. Sitting with her friends at lunch lifted the blonde's spirits quite a bit. As the last class of the day approaches, she walks into the silent room. Spotting Raven towards the back, Clarke automatically goes to take the empty seat next to her. Upon hearing movement, the mad scientist glances up with a playful grin.
"Long time no see."
Clarke plops down, drops her head against the desk and grunts in response. Rae chuckles softly while reaching out to rub the blonde's back.
"Rough day?"
A snort, "That's an understatement. And brilliantly me decides to agree to help Jasper out after class instead of going straight home."
The blonde lifts her head to look at Raven, "Do you think you can do me a favor Rae Rae, the smartest, prettiest, and coolest person I know?"
"Flattery will get you everywhere with me," the mechanic replies laughing. "What's up?"
Clarke clicks her tongue, "Well, you see, Old Berth-"
"Oh god no, Clarke," the girl interrupts groaning. "Please tell me you took it to the garage last week like I told you since the starter needed to be replaced."
"Yeh, about tha-"
"For fuck sakes," Raven sighs, "I'll order the part tonight and fix it over the weekend."
"Thank you, thank you. You just made my day."
Clarke flung her arms around her best friend while peppering the side of her face with kisses. Raven fakes a pleasurable moan.
"Jesus! If fixing your car gets you this excited, why don't you let me come over and unclog your pipes?"
And there it was. Clarke elbows her friend slightly as the brunette lets out a hearty laugh. At that moment, the loud screech of the bell rings once again. Unlike most classrooms, the lime green walls are bare. No posters, no signs, nothing, just two windows, five perfectly straight rows of six single desks, a mahogany desk with a calendar and a basket sits in front and a white board hangs against the wall behind it. Towards the back of the room, a stack of thick, heavy textbooks waits to be handed out. Silently, with a grumpy expression, Pike watches students trickle in. A shake of the head or click of the tongue displays his displeasure for teaching, especially teens. Slackers, he thinks. All of them are slackers. Relishing in the frowns upon some faces when the realization hits of being placed in his biology course. After elbowing Raven, Clarke places it on the smooth surface and leans her cheek against her hand. Immediately, Pike stands up with a menacing glare.
"Welcome. I will be passing out the syllabus. Don't lose this packet. Enclosed are the expectations of this course, reading material, assignments, and grading system. I will repeat, do not lose this packet. I will not be giving them out again. So don't bother coming to me whining or begging for another. You all are almost adults act like it. Now, you have a few moments to read it over as I take attendance. After, you can ask me any questions you may have."
Grabbing the packet from the girl in front, a noise grabs her attention. Inquisitive blue eyes flicker over to the slight creak of the door opening. And suddenly, her mouth dries. Oh. With shoulders back, head held high, a young woman steps in and closes the door quietly. A sleek, fitted black leather jacket covers a slim torso and black skinny jeans hug long legs. Clarke's eyes flicker over to the brown hair that twists into an elaborate braid and lays against a broad shoulder. Wow. Swiftly, tugging her black satchel over her head, the brunette weaves through to an empty seat. A dissatisfied noise of aggravation comes from the front of the room as Pike glares.
"Well since you decided to be late to my class. How about you introduce yourself?"
Quietly, everyone turns their attention to the new girl who stands up unfazed. Clarke licks her lips, staring intensely. Lifting her head high, posture rigid, emerald green eyes dance around the room observing. Before their gaze can meet, Clarke finds herself ducking head down. Shit. Curious emerald eyes linger upon the golden tresses while a neutral expression graces her features. Almost as if, she is preparing a speech to address the nation. Cautiously, once again, the blonde lifts her gaze to catch a strong jaw clench slightly.
"I'm Lexa Woods. I would like to apologize for my tardiness Professor. If you would kindly excuse my rude behavior. You see, it is my first day at Arkadia High and I'm having a little trouble navigating through the halls. I'm sorry."
Strange tickles of butterfly wings erupt deep in the blonde's belly upon hearing that soft, firm, and husky voice. So elegant. So strong. Unlike most new students, Lexa stands tall, almost regal, confidently making her presence known. Almost demanding the attention with her dominance as she glowers at her peers. A shiver runs down the blonde's spine as the girl commands the room. Feeling a sharp elbow to her side, Clarke quickly glances over at the mechanic. Blue eyes watch as Raven mouths the word, hot. That does not even begin to describe the leather wearing goddess.Swallowing thickly, Clarke looks over at Pike who stands there completely caught off guard, blinking rapidly.
"I see, yes, well, next time, I won't be so lenient. Where have you moved from?"
A curt nod, "Thank you and Polis, sir."
Pike clears his throat, "Very good. Yes, well, welcome to Arkadia. Now sit down and go over the syllabus."
Lexa disappears from Clarke's sight. Damn. A small bubble of disappointment forms in the bit of her stomach. On the other side of the room, Lexa, slinks back into the seat and unzips her leather jacket. Glancing to her right, a smirking Anya, her cousin, mockingly shakes her head disapprovingly. Throwing a glare, the brunette turns her attention towards the front.
With a clipboard, Pike grumbles, "Alright slackers, when I call your name please stand up and give one fact about yourself."
As the teacher drones on, back on the other side of the room, Clarke fidgets slightly. She feels a small pull in the pit of her stomach, urging her for another glimpse of the girl. Subtly arching her back to stretch, she leans back against the chair. Turning her head to the left, the blonde makes every attempt to catch a glimpse of the brunette. Except someone with dirty blonde hair is blocking her view. She scowls slightly, damn it. A soft snicker catches her attention. Raven, watching closely, throws a playful smirk.Busted. Sitting up quickly, the blonde eyes her friend ripping a piece of paper and proceeds to scribble.
A few seconds later, a note drops onto Clarke's desk.
Totally subtle Griff. Thirsty much?
Clarke narrows her eyes and hastily writes back.
I have no idea what you are talking about, Mrs. Hudson.
Pike calls out, "Griffin."
Moving to stand up, the blonde pushes her hands into the pouch of her sweatshirt. A warm heat travels throughout her body as all eyes turn to stare. Swallowing thickly, Clarke catches herself thinking about the possibility of those emerald eyes watching her.
"Hey I'm Clarke and an artist."
Sinking back down her seat, she opens the note.
First of all, if you ever call me that again, I will cut the brake line on Old Bertha. Second, I wouldn't be talking, Mrs. Woods. You got a thing for the Commander over there.
"Green," Pike calls out again.
Groaning inwardly as she scribbles a question down.
Commander?
"Well, you all should know me. But, for all of those who don't," she winks towards Lexa's direction. "I'm Costia, head cheerleader. Let's go Arkadia High!"
Loud claps from excited football players fill the room as others whistles in delight. A slight chant of Arkadia begins lowly. Aggravated, Pike rubs his forehead as the noise grows. Slamming his fist against his desk, a yell of enough echoes. Immediately, the rowdy class quiets down as a frightened Costia quickly takes her seat. Clarke finds herself wickedly smirking at the sight.
"Thank you, now, Hudson."
A floppy, brown haired boy in a football jersey stands up, "I'm Finn, and that pretty lady in the red jacket over there is my girlfriend Raven."
Pike rolls his eyes as the class whistles and hoots. The blonde shakes her head with a small smile as Raven sticks her tongue out. Raven and Finn, the school's most notorious on and off again couple, have had a tumultuous relationship from the start. After a strange encounter in the principal's office, romantic feelings began to blossom. However, only a few months in, the mechanic found him in bed with a one of the cheerleaders. Despite him being a womanizer, a Don Juan, a modern day hot-headed Lothario, Raven always takes him back. Leaving Clarke to wonder if she will ever learn. And yet hoping one day the mechanic will realize that she deserves better.
"Thank you Mr. Hudson for that riveting detail. Now sit."
Finn throws the brunette a wink before taking a seat.
Pike calls out, "Reyes."
"Yo, Raven here. I like to fix shit and blow things up. Holla at me sometime."
Plopping back down in her seat, laughter fills the air. Even the blonde chuckles softly at her best friend's brazen antics. However, Pike glances up from the clipboard to give her a pointed look.
"Language Reyes,"
She salutes, "aye, aye Cap, won't happen again."
Tapping her pencil against the desk, a note drops down once again.
Yeah, Lexa, she is known as the Commander in Polis. Before moving here, she went Grounder High, our rival school. Don't you remember? Last year, when O played for the school's softball team, she kept bitching about the Grounders kicking their ass in the championship game. Apparently, the Commander is a star athlete. O should be happy this year.
Eyes widen in realization; Clarke bites her lip. Octavia spent a whole week, relentlessly, complaining about Lexa the Commander. Repetitively saying, how she wished the brunette was on their softball team. Hastily, she scribbles back a response.
What a small world.
Raven throws her a sly grin before writing something else.
I'll just assume you will be attending all of O's softball games this year. Huh? Need some of the Commanderade to quench that thirst.
Scoffing at the remark, Clarke draws a very elaborate middle finger, which causes the mechanic to snicker.
"Woods."
Anxious blue orbs look to the opposite side of them room where the brunette is standing tall once again. Clarke lets out a shaky breath when her gaze lands on plump lips. So kissable. Feeling a warm tug deep in her belly, she rubs her sweaty palms against her jeans. Look away, Clarke. Look away, she wills herself, trying to avoid inappropriate from entering her mind. With a stoned expression, Lexa's eyes flicker over to the blonde in the corner. If one was to look close enough, they would see the small lifting of the corners of her mouth. A tiny, almost minuscule, smile graces the serious features.
"Yeh, I'm Lexa," She pauses, "I like art."
Curious emerald eyes remain fixated on the young girl as their gaze locks. Throwing the blonde a wink, almost comically, blue orbs widen like saucers. Oh my god. A small gasp spills from her lips. The wild beating of her heart causes pale cheeks to flush. Did she? Clearly caught off guard, a fit of coughs erupts as Raven chokes on her drink. Quickly, ducking her head, the blonde finds the top of the tan desk very interesting. Did she?
A note breaks her thoughts.
Looks like the Commander has her eyes set on a Princess. Are you sure you don't need some of that Commanderade? You seem a bit parched. I got your favorite flavor, Lemon Lexi.
Throwing a death glare at Raven who is grinning like a banshee, pale fingers slither through the blonde locks nervously. Her hand tugs slightly at the tangles while the artist's mind drifts elsewhere. As if unsure of what she witnessed, Clarke replays the scene from a few minutes ago again. Did she? No, she couldn't possibly, a slight pause, maybe? She has her reservations, her doubts. However, as the blonde deciphers reality from fantasy, she fails to notice the fiery gaze blazing from the front. Scowling, Costia Green frowns deeply at the flustered artist. Before that little stunt, the cheerleader had been shooting the brunette flirty smiles, which caused Lexa to raise an eyebrow questionably. Now, silently plotting, Costia's eyes menacingly remain on her newest target and oldest foe.
A loud shrill of the final bell blares noisily, breaking the silence and stillness of the halls. Doors fling open wide while students herd out of their classrooms. Loud chatter, the clatter of metal doors slamming closed, and the scuffling of feet, leaves the blonde haired artist elbowing through the crowd. Going against the herd, Clarke hates that she decided to agree to assist one of the various clubs to hang banners and flyers. She mentally curses herself for allowing Jasper's puppy dog eyes to sway her decision. A woman on a mission, she heads towards the auditorium while carrying a box of flyers and banners displaying bold, red letters screaming Battle of the Bands.
"Jasper!"
Leaning against the wall is a black haired, tall, lanky boy with goggles perched upon his head. Red over the ear headphones wrap around his neck, hiding the protruding Adam's apple jutting out of the slim neck. Glancing up, he happily skips over, "Here let me grab that."
Clarke let out a soft sigh of relief as she hands over the box.
"Did you get the ladder from the janitor?"
With a grimace, Jasper sways slightly unsure, "Yeh, uh, about that."
Giving the boy a pointed look, he bites his bottom lip and toys with the staple gun.
"The Janitor said he will not be allowing the students to use the ladder after the incident last year with the football team."
Right, of course, how could she have forgotten last year. Apparently, the football team tricked the Janitor into allowing them to use the ladder to hang decorations in the quad to celebrate their championship win. However, they failed to mention the small detail that decorations meant dildos and celebration meant senior prank. Thus, you can probably imagine the look on everyone's faces upon arrival the next day. Dangling from the tall, hunched trees that littered the quad were dildos in various sizes and colors. Then, the football team proceeded to run around, weaving through the trees, in their jockstraps. It was safe to say that half of the team did not attend senior prom.
"Great so how the hell are we going to hang this?" Clarke asks rubbing her temples to relieve the building stress.
Jasper's eyes lit up proudly as he points to the corner, "I got a chair."
Leaning against the wall is your average metal folding chair, which causes Clarke to narrow her eyes at the boy. Overall, he is a sweet boy, except stupid. Very, very stupid.
"Do you see how high the entrance to the door is? You really expect us to be able to reach up there?"
Once again, he shuffles nervously, "Uh."
"What is it now?"
"You know, I am, uh," he leans forward as brown eyes dart around, "I'm afraid of heights."
"Seriously Jasper?!"
Jumping back slightly due to the blonde's outburst, the lanky boy gives a tiny shrug and a apologetic look. Letting out a harsh breath through her nose, Clarke snatches the semi-rolled banner.
"Hold the chair and I swear to God if I fall off-"
He interrupts her, "Your ass seems to have some nice cushion."
Glancing back down, the shaggy haired boy eying her backside like a four course meal. Yanking off the light blue Arkadia High sweatshirt, leaving her in a low cut, light blue short sleeved shirt and tight jeans.
She responds sharply, "I am going to pretend I did not hear that."
Throwing the banner over her shoulder and grasping the staple gun, the blonde kicks the open chair towards the wall.
"So did ya hear what happened to Murphy?"
Placing her right foot on the chair, she lets out a grunt in response while hoisting herself up. Leaning back slightly, Clarke studies the wall to try to decipher how to complete this task without a damn ladder. Let's see. Flipping the golden locks back, curious eyes scans over the surface of the door.
"I heard Pike gave Murphy two weeks of detention because he was late to class this morning."
She retorts, "in all fairness, Murphy is never on time. He also seems to be allergic to school."
A light chuckle fills her ears before Jasper begins to ramble about his band. Quickly tuning him out, Clarke hoists the banner over her shoulder. Of course the club had to choose the longest banner she has ever seen for display. Pushing the staple gun between her legs, pale fingers tug at right side of the banner as two pale arms reached upwards towards the corner of the door. You got this, she thought, easy peasy lemon squeezey. Grasping the gun without dropping the banner, she pushes forward onto her tippy toes. Under the weight, the metal emits a soft whine. Willing for her arms to extend higher, she huffs in frustration. Just a little bit higher. Poking her tongue out in concentration, almost there, just a little bit more. With one hand gripping the staple gun, juggling the banner on her shoulder, and stretching one arm upward upon her tippy toes on a folding chair, seems is a recipe for disaster. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Clarke, her "oh so helpful" friend Jasper catches a glimpse of the cheerleading squad entering the building. Particularly, one girl with wavy brown locks catches the eye of the black haired boy. Salivating like a diseased animal upon seeing such a short skirt, almost magically, he floats across the room.
Clarke continues her battle with the banner, which she is clearly losing. Biting down on the fabric to prevent it from sliding off her shoulder, once again, she rolls on the balls of her feet to balance on her toes and stretches upwards. Internally, she curses herself for have average length arms. Seriously contemplating jumping up and hope for the best, one more time, Clarke rolls back onto her heels and thrusts forward onto her toes. Stretching even more, finally, the banner falls in the desired spot. Right there, she mutters sweating slightly. Seizing the moment, a pale arm swings staple gun with all her might towards the corner of the door. Squeezing the handle tightly, a loud click of the spring rattles nosily. Finally. Grinning to herself, proud blue eyes gaze upon the small area of the banner that hangs by a thread, or in this case a staple. Her torso moves forward to staple again, but immediately halts. In complete silence, a harden gaze watches the top staple pop right out and the banner hit the floor. A few moments pass of her staring at the pile of fabric with a blank expression.
"Fuck me."
At this moment, she is ready to abandon all hopes. Actually, Clarke is ready to grab some damn duct tape and plaster this insubordinate banner against the wall. Maybe, just maybe, if she stuffs it in Old Bertha's trunk and claim it was stolen, the club would believe her. No one will ever know, she thinks almost laughing manically. A soft chuckle from behind breaks her irrational thoughts.
"At least let me take you to dinner first."
Running a hand through her hair, she turns around about to unleash a wrath of frustration upon this person. Her muscles seize before uttering a single word. Lexa, Lexa Woods, the very attractive new girl stands in front of her. Biting her plump bottom lip, hands stuffed in pockets of her black ripped jeans and a sheepish, almost nervous, expression, she moves closer. Oh my word. The blonde swallows thickly. Blue eyes travel from the intricate twine of a braid to the tan collarbone peeking out from underneath a white cotton shirt before snapping back up to meet the most striking green eyes she has ever seen. Those remarkable orbs filled with uncertainty and a hint of amusement gaze back at the shocked ones. Noticing the effect her presence is having on the blonde, those luscious lips quirk up into a sly smirk.
"Uh,"
Clarke tries to remember how to speak. Yet, her body, mind and soul seem to be short circuiting. Speak damn it. Looking for words to formulate a comprehendible sentence, she never expects what escapes her lips.
Embarrassingly, the blonde blurts, "you're really pretty."
A small smirk breaks into a full grin, flashing those bright white teeth. And at that very moment, Clarke knew she was a goner. Silently, she prays for a sinkhole to appear under the unstable chair and swallow her whole.
A soft husky tone, "Thank you, I was just thinking the same thing about you."
Immediately, Clarke bites down on her bottom lip as she feels her knees tremble under the intense gaze. Oh fuck me. A heat spreads across her cheeks. She wills her mind to utter something intelligent, or at least less embarrassing. Use your words Clarke, use your words. Staring back into those endless green eyes, Lexa, tentatively, takes another step forward. Clarke's brain screams, abort, abort the mission. Yet, like a block of ice, every muscle, every bone is frozen.
"I was heading home when I saw you struggling. I figured you could use some help since you are smaller than me. Wait, I am not saying you are short or anything since we are similar in height. But, I may have a few inches on you and really long arms. Well, I mean, not like freakishly long or anything like Mr. Elastic, but longer than yours. Fuck, not that you have- I don't know midget arms or anything, like uh, because when I was kid I saw that movie Merlin. And, he told the branch to grow to save his love an- well now I know he had magical powers, but he made it grow. So I used to say that to my arms whenever I wanted to reach the cookie jar sitting on the top shelf. Eventually, I was able to reach it. I mean- because of puberty of course not because I am a Wizard, Harry," Lexa froze with a horrified expression. "I cannot believe I just said that. Uh, ah, help, right, can I help you?"
Clarke, blankly, stares at the girl who is rubbing palms against the sides of her jeans. A few seconds later, the bumbling girl watches the blonde burst into a fit of laughter. Howling like a hyena, Clarke leans forward on her knees. She's a dork. The blonde body shakes uncontrollably as Lexa crosses her arms over her chest with a huff of fake annoyance.
"You're laughing at me."
Quickly standing up red faced, Clarke shakes her head side to side with a tight lipped grin. She wanted to burst into laughter again, it was taking every ounce of strength not to do so. But, the cute pout of those plump lips and wide eyes has her body staying quiet. A pout forms into a small smile before Lexa shakes her head in disbelief at the events unfolding.
"Please, let me help you."
The statement was so soft, so gentle in her request. Acting with her heart, Clarke begins to step down as long, slim fingers wrap around her forearm in assistance. Oh. Several valiant attempts were made to ignore the heat spreading from the protective touch throughout her body. With her heart racing, the blonde stands in front of Lexa. The tan hand continues to grip her arm. A soft scent of ocean perfume fills her nostrils as the athlete moves closer.
"Uh sorry."
Quickly removing her hand, Clarke moves over slightly to give the taller girl access to the chair.
"If you could just hand me the banner," a nimble finger gestures to the floor.
Breaking Clarke out of her stupor, "Right, sorry."
Rushing over, pale hands hastily grab the edge of the banner and hoist it up. Almost mesmerized, the shorter girl watches tan arms easily reach up to secure the banner against the wall. A stunned gaze saunters down those nimble fingers to toned biceps, noting the strong curve of her shoulders, down the length of her torso and stopping at the tan skin peeking out from underneath white shirt. Oh my, my. zeroing in on those sharp, jutting hipbones, a tongue slithers out to lick her lips as her mouth dries. Eying the toned skin, she silently hopes the shirt slithers slightly higher to display tight abs.
"Clarke."
Busted. Lifting her head quickly, she sees a smirking Lexa with an amused and smug expression once again. So smug. Red hot heat burns her cheeks as the blonde girl blushes in embarrassment.
"I need to get down so I can move the chair to the other side. So you need, to uh-move."
Clarke nods quickly, "Uh, right sorry."
Shuffling out of the way, the silent artist watches as the other girl effortlessly moves about. Hooking her arm around the back of the chair, the blonde's stares at Lexa. Wandering blue eyes travel down the back of the athlete to admire the perky asset of her backside. She is a creeper. She is fully aware how much of a perv she is being at this very moment. But, it's been awhile. And second, she has no control of her body right now.
"Clarke."
Breaking her gaze, "Yea?"
"I need the banner."
"Right, uh sorry."
She walks over to the tall girl who is already standing on the chair, with that stupid knowing smirk, waiting patiently. So fucking smug. Lifting the rest of the banner up, nimble fingers brush slightly against pale ones. Clarke feels a shiver run down her spine when their eyes lock once more. Wow. The artists could feel her walls and irritation with this damn banner melt away. A hint of amusement dances before those green eyes as embarrassed blues shy away, a cat and mouse game.
"Ahem."
Yanking her hand back as if she was burned, Clarke glances over to see Jasper standing there, eyebrow raised playfully. The blonde clenches her fist knowing full well the useless boy will gossip to their friends about this moment. A shit-eating grin sits upon his face while brown eyes dart back and forth, already formulating his own conclusion about what he just witnessed. Recovering quickly, Clarke slugs him in the shoulder.
"Where the hell did you go asshole? I was struggling for ages. Thank god someone had the common decency to help me."
Jasper smirks, "Yeh, thank god for a beautiful brunette coming to save the blonde damsel in distress. How will you ever repay her, Clarke?"
Shooting a warning glance at the annoying boy, angry blue eyes silently tell him to shut the gaping hole on his face. Jasper's grin widens as stares back saying, I'm going to Raven and Octavia. Unbeknownst to the two, the green-eyed girl finishes and hops down.
"No worries, it was all in a day's work. You know, gotta keep the streets safe for beautiful girls like this little lady." Lexa mocks as she puffs out her chest. Standing up tall with her balled fists sitting on her hips, "I must be going. Duty calls!"
Clarke watches in awe as the athlete, swiftly, slings the black satchel over her head. The black strap of the bag rests against the nape of her neck and runs diagonally down her torso towards her hip. The blonde licks her lips as her eyes follow the trail. A nudge from Jasper causes blue eyes to snap back up to meet green. Backing up slowly, with a cheeky grin, Lexa throws her a wink.
"I'll see you around Lois Lane."
Before the artists could respond, the new girl is out the door and sprinting down the steps. Still staring at the same spot, Clarke blinks repeatedly. The shaggy haired boy moves closer.
"Oh she is good. She is real good."
And Clarke finds herself nodding in agreement. Oh she is so screwed.
