Chapter 3

The weekend following the game was an uneventful one. Like most post-game weekends, I spent most of my time at the Blake household, attempting to distract and cheer Bellamy up, and thus minimise the time that we all had to unwillingly spend encircled by his dark cloud of angst and frustration. Jasper and Monty often joked that Octavia and I were true heroes for our generation but, in truth, it mostly just involved a lot of sex from my end and a lot of hard-truths from Octavia's end: and as a hormonal sixteen-year-old, I certainly wasn't complaining about my role.

However, that's not to say that it was a total walk in the park; sometimes it would take days and days and Bellamy had still not gotten out of his slump. Sometimes he was just so unbearable that I simply couldn't take it anymore and abandoned Octavia; something I would always feel bad about, but not bad enough to return. But I've already detailed the very strong and negative affects of Bellamy's mood on those surrounding him, so I'll refrain from any repetitiveness. And besides, I have to concede that, with every defeat, it took less and less time for him to return to his normal and loveable self. So, for the most part, these weekends were generally spent laughing, playing video games and eating a hell of a lot of junk food. Not to mention that Bellamy and Octavia's mom, being a single parent, worked nights and weekends. Fun, friends, food and no parent-supervision: what more could anyone want? Hence, by the end of most of these weekends, Bellamy would be back to the boy that I loved and everyone praised Octavia and I for our heroism; praise that we gladly accepted. For we, and everyone else, knew that we were the only two people in the world who could drag Bellamy back to earth so quickly. There was a sense of pride in that for me. Yet, occasionally – very occasionally – there was a sense of entrapment in it for me too.

Bellamy and Octavia picked me up that Monday morning as they did every school morning: parked outside of my house in their blue Ford Fiesta, bickering over the radio station, and being entirely too loud for almost seven thirty in the morning. Despite my frequent, and often pleading, requests that they try not to act like five-year-olds so early in the morning – or, better yet, don't talk at all so early in the morning – this was how they always greeted me. I'd become fond of it in a way. In another way, it drove me up the fucking wall.

"Can you two please stop?" I growled from the backseat, after enduring ten minutes of this bickering accompanied by a tour of all of the radio stations in Massachusetts.

"Oooooh. Someone's cranky this morning," Octavia lilted.

"And that's what you think is a safe thing to say to a cranky person in the morning? Really?" I asked, incredulously.

"Oh no! It looks like cranky-pants in the backseat didn't get her full ten hours last night! Poor cranky-pants," Bellamy mocked, in a babying voice.

"Ugh. You two are the worst," I grumbled, pulling my beanie all the way over my head to block out the sounds of their laughter, "you're not even original."

They continued on in this vain for the rest of the drive to school, laughing at their own ridiculous sense of humour. Meanwhile I continued to roll my eyes and huff, feigning irritation, whilst the radio station stayed unchanged for the remainder of the journey.

As with the journey to it, that morning of school went much the same as all my other sophomore mornings. Bellamy walked Octavia and I to our lockers, joked and smiled with me as I got my books for my first two periods, and kissed me goodbye before Octavia and I went to our homeroom and he, as a Junior, went to his.

Only, this morning was slightly different to the rest. This morning, I had English second period on Monday. And the knowledge that I had English second period on Monday was something that I had been thinking about intermittently all weekend; and it definitely wasn't because we were starting Dante that week. For, you see, this knowledge that I had English second period on Monday was something that I had been thinking about intermittently over the weekend because of an image that had burned itself into my brain. More specifically, a look that had burned itself into my brain: a terrifyingly thrilling look: a terrifyingly thrilling look from a terrifyingly thrilling girl. Throughout the weekend, this look had presented itself in my mind whilst we were watching a movie; sometimes when I was having a shower; sometimes, even, as I was falling asleep with Bellamy curled up behind me, lightly snoring, with his arm across my middle. It was a look that I was deeply struggling with. Struggling to get out of my mind, struggling to understand, struggling to deal with. So, each time, I would force it out; I would avoid it. As the expert that I was at doing this, this was largely successful; this look was banished to the outskirts of my mind – to the darkest depths, with all the other unwanted thoughts and looks and emotions. But still it lurked, menacingly, dangerously.

Thus, it was with this image – this look – dancing at the edges of my mind, that I climbed out of the Blake's blue Ford Fiesta that Monday into the crisp morning air. And it was with this image – this look – dancing at the edges of my mind, that as soon as my feet connected with the school grounds, a quiet hum began to buzz through me; as though a small electric current was running through the earth, to my feet, up through my body, through my chest and around again, circulating within me. It was a nearly undetectable current. But it was very much present, nonetheless.

What was not present, however – and, indeed, what was rarely ever present in my case – was acknowledgement. Like the look, like the unwanted thoughts and emotions, I dismissed this muted hum of electricity coursing through me, explaining it a way as I always did. I was just in a good mood that was all. I was feeling buzzed from my fun weekend with Bellamy and Octavia. I was feeling relieved and happy that Bellamy wasn't feeling miserable anymore. I was simply feeling optimistic about Dante's 'Inferno' because, hey, maybe it wouldn't be as long as they say it is.

The only problem with that, however, is that seven years later, and that current still seems to get stronger every day. Whereas it was only a few hours later before I realised that Dante's 'Inferno' is, in fact, as long as they say it is.

As it got closer and closer to second period English, it was getting harder and harder to ignore why I was feeling somewhat anxious about it so that, eventually, I conceded that it was because of Lexa. I was just intrigued by her, which was totally normal, and I was feeling anxious about befriending her, which was also totally normal. She seemed cool on Friday and she'd piqued my interest ever since she arrived a few weeks ago, so why not befriend her? I'd always been one for mysteries, and she certainly seemed like one.

So I was just worried, that was all. Worried that maybe she didn't share these interests. That maybe she wouldn't even remember me at all… oh god, what if she didn't remember? This concern had just popped into my head as I sat in my English room, waiting for the rest of the class to arrive whilst I chewed on my bottom lip; a bad habit that I still have yet to kick.

Jasper and I were always early for English because we always had Math immediately before it, and Mr. Hardy always let us go ten minutes early. I never knew if he was just being nice, or if he genuinely thought that that was when first period ended, but I suspected it was the latter and nobody ever corrected him. It meant that we could stand by our lockers for a few minutes before arriving to our English class early to get the seats at the back of the room, where Miss. Melville was less likely to notice us talking or, as was common in my case – and especially on a Monday morning – sleeping.

Though I definitely wouldn't be sleeping on that Monday morning. For, as we know, I was feeling uncharacteristically awake that Monday morning as I awaited the arrival of 'Lexa Woods: cheerleader, new girl and daring-look-giver'. But we were steadfastly ignoring that last part. Yet, to look at me, it would have been nearly impossible to detect a sense of unease. After all, I was 'Clarke Griffin: master of cool exteriors, nonchalance and blasé attitudes'. My only tell – and, indeed, my only tell that morning as well – was my penchant for gnawing on my bottom lip. Like I said: it was a bad habit.

Thus, while I was feeling anxious about her arrival, I also had a calming sense of confidence within me. It was the type of quiet confidence that you can only get from hiding behind the comforting invulnerability of a mask, and it was a confidence that I enjoyed often.

After five minutes of pretending to listen to Jasper talk about his weekend; and five minutes of gnawing on my bottom lip; and five minutes of busying myself with my books before class started… she finally walked through the door and into the room. Unsurprisingly, she looked as amazing as usual – better than usual, even. She was wearing an oversized red and blue plaid shirt with a grey t-shirt underneath, along with black skinny jeans and black converse, while her long brown hair was down with a Dodgers baseball cap on top. I remember thinking then that she was the coolest and most beautiful person I had ever met, and suddenly I felt stupid about putting more time into my outfit and appearance that day when she was so effortless. Even now I feel cheated by her; she never went through the awkward adolescent stage, but instead went straight to being cool and assured at the age of sixteen. That has to be against some sort of rule, right?

Almost as soon as I had taken in her appearance and began to feel self-conscious about my own, her eyes found mine and she smiled brightly at me, lifting her head slightly in greeting. For fuck's sake, I thought, even her greeting is cool. And so with her outfit and her smooth greeting and her goddamn Dodgers cap, I found my cool confidence slipping somewhat as I panicked and waved at her entirely too enthusiastically, mouthing 'hey' as she walked towards me.

"You know, I was like three feet away from you and the classroom really isn't that loud so you probably could have just said 'hey' instead of mouthing it," she smirked, standing in front of my table.

"Right, but that might have misled you into thinking that I wasn't actually a total dork," I returned, cheeks pinking slightly. She laughed and was about to say something back when Miss. Melville walked in and told everyone to take his or her seats.

"Speak to you later, Clarke," she smiled, before walking away and taking her usual seat a few rows ahead.

"Since when are you friends with Lexa Woods?" Jasper asked across from me.

"Since Friday," I replied, smiling at his use of the term 'friends'. "We met after the football game when O and I were waiting for Bellamy; she's friends with Octavia."

"Well then, seen as how you're best buds now, do you think you could help a guy out with a bit of wing-manning? Because she is insanely hot and-"

"Mr. Jordan," Miss. Melville called, thankfully cutting Jasper off. "Would you kindly keep your conversations with Miss. Griffin to outside of the classroom and, perhaps, you might then actually pay attention in this class for once."

"Yes, miss. Sorry," Jasper smiled. "I promise to pay attention for once."

The class laughed and Ms. Melville groaned and continued with the lesson, used to it by now.

Jasper didn't keep his promise. He instead spent the majority of the period trying to convince me to set him up with Lexa, which I eventually agreed to, if only to shut him up.

The following day went much the same, apart from the fact that I was feeling distinctly less nervous and slightly excited about my final period English class. As always, Lexa arrived after me. And, as always, she looked incredible. However unlike always, she walked towards me again before class, and I found myself hoping that that too would become an 'as always'.

"Hey," I greeted, with a smile.

"She speaks today!" Lexa teased.

"Thank you for noticing!" I exclaimed exaggeratedly. "I've been practising."

"How not to be a dork?"

"Sadly I learnt a long time ago that that's something you just can't learn."

"True," she said, nodding solemnly. "Being this cool is a curse I've carried around with me since birth."

"I'm not so sure about that," I lied, laughing.

Suddenly there was a very loud cough to my left, and we both turned to see who had so rudely interrupted us.

"Yes, Jasper?" I said, unimpressed.

"Hm? Oh no, nothing. Just got a bit of a bad cold," he coughed again for good measure as I rolled my eyes. "Don't mind me; go ahead and continue your conversation with…?"

"Lexa," she supplied, directing a half-confused, half-amused look my way as I scoffed.

"Very nice to meet you Lexa," he said, sticking out his hand.

"What are you, a fifty-year-old man trying to close a business deal?" I asked incredulously, swatting his hand away before Lexa had time to react. "Put your hand away, you idiot."

"I was just trying to make Lexa here feel welcome," he said unfazed.

"Well I feel most welcome, thank you Jasper," Lexa bantered.

"You're very welcome," he joked, prompting a laugh from Lexa and a groan from me. Jasper's face broke out into a smug grin at having made her laugh and, as I looked between the two, I started to feel a slight panic at the idea that his "charm" might actually work. It had been known to happen before, after all – albeit rarely. So what if it happened again?

But wait… why did I care? I'd already acknowledged that Lexa was "insanely hot" as Jasper had put it, so I should be rooting for Jasper. And she seemed nice and funny and intelligent and cool and athletic and interesting and-

Not that I had thought about it that much or anything.

But anyone in his or her right mind would be able to see that Jasper would be lucky to date someone like Lexa. Un-fucking-believably lucky.

So why couldn't I bring myself to root for him on this?

"So, Lexa-" Jasper began, but at that moment Miss. Melville walked in and mercifully cut him, and my mounting irritation, short.

"I'll see you guys later," Lexa said, smirking at me before she turned and walked to her seat. For a split second I worried that she may have detected my irritation, but I was confident that my mask hadn't slipped and took comfort in the knowledge that she seemed to smirk at me often; something I sort of loved.

"Oh, I'm so in there," Jasper said arrogantly, watching her walk away. I glared at him as I felt my annoyance rising again. It continued to rise for the rest of the period as I unsuccessfully tried to ignore Jasper and his evaluation of Lexa's hotness. An evaluation that eventually concluded with Lexa being in the top 5 hottest girls in school, which I instantly bristled at. There was zero doubt in my mind that she clinched the top spot without any viable challengers.

As the bell rang signalling the end of the day, I turned to see that Jasper had already packed up his things and was out of his chair in seconds, making a beeline for Lexa. I gritted my teeth and hurriedly packed up my own things, joining him mid-sentence.

"…and Clarke tells me you're a cheerleader," he said.

"No I didn't-" I protested, but he quickly cut me off.

"You know, I was thinking of joining the cheerleading squad," he said thoughtfully.

"Oh really?" Lexa asked, still packing up her things. "I didn't peg you for the cheerleading type."

"I could say the same thing about you," he replied, smirking.

"And what makes you think I'm not the cheerleading type?"

"I don't know, you seem… different."

"Different to what?" She asked, as she stood up from her table.

"You know, like, the stereotypical cheerleader. Just… a bit… blonde."

I smirked as she narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly not impressed by his answer. There was a pause as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and we started to walk out of the class. Eventually, Jasper caught on to the fact that he had put his foot in it slightly:

"No! I didn't mean it like that," he said hurriedly. "That's not how I think of cheerleaders. I'm just saying that's the stereotypical representation of them. But to be clear: I don't think of cheerleaders that way at all. I love cheerleaders. They're, like, my favourite things in the world actually."

"Ignore him," I laughed. "He has a tendency to speak without thinking. But he means well."

"It's fine; I don't actually care. And I get it all the time anyway," she said, smiling reassuringly at a worried Jasper. "Besides, I'm flattered that you don't think I'm 'blonde'."

"Well I'm not flattered that you apparently use 'blonde' as a synonym for brainless, to be honest," I accused him, gesturing to my hair.

"Oh, sorry! How inconsiderate of me," he gasped exaggeratedly, clutching at his chest in mock-horror. "I'll make sure to use your actual name in future."

"Oh fuck off," I scowled, hitting him on the back of the head as Lexa laughed. "And don't laugh!" I said, flicking her arm. "You're reinforcing bad behaviour."

"I think the damage has been done in terms of that," she chuckled as we reached the sophomore lockers.

"Yep. The only cure now for my bad behaviour is punishment," Jasper said in a low voice, smirking at Lexa.

"Oh my god," I groaned.

"Wow," Lexa said simultaneously, grimacing.

"I cannot believe you just said that. Did he really just say that?" I asked Lexa incredulously.

"He really just said that."

"You really just said that," I said to Jasper.

"Oh come on, I was joking," he said, his cheeks reddening.

"No. That was the worst thing I have ever heard you say."

"Stop overreacting," he muttered.

"Nope. Not overreacting. You are, quite possibly, the most embarrassing human being I have ever met," I said dazedly. Lexa was laughing quietly behind a fist that she had brought up to her mouth, a grimace still on her face.

"Right. Well let's just forget I ever said anything," Jasper said, trying to play it cool.

"I don't think I'll ever forget that," I said, Lexa and I both openly laughing now.

"Whatever. It isn't that funny," he grumbled as Lexa and I continued to laugh harder at his palpable embarrassment.

"I'm gonna have to tell Octavia that you said that," I said as we eventually stopped laughing.

"What! Why? I'm embarrassed enough, for fuck's sake," he panicked.

"Well how else can we give you your proper… punishment," I teased with a smoulder, to which Lexa and I descended into giggles again.

"Hilarious," Jasper deadpanned. "I think I'll be off now."

"Wait, no! I'm sorry," I said through a laugh, grabbing him by the arm as he began to walk away. "I'm done. I swear." He gave me a sceptical look before I continued; "Honestly. I'll be good," I said innocently. "Unlike you, you bad, bad boy."

"Ok! I'm going home," he said, walking away from our laughter and my weak apologies, muttering about us being childish.

"Were we a bit harsh?" Lexa asked, still grinning.

"Nah, he doesn't actually care. He knows he would've been ten times worse if I'd have said that."

"Ohh, so Jasper's stolen one of your usual lines, then?"

"No way. I'm far smoother than that," I said, quirking an eyebrow. "Jasper could learn a thing or two from me."

"Smooth? I dunno about that; I don't think 'smooth' and 'dork' can ever go hand-in-hand."

"Well clearly I'm living proof that they can," I quipped.

"Hmm… I think the jury's still out on that one."

"No, I'm pretty sure the jury's in."

"The jury is in? You're sure the jury's in?"

"The verdict," I corrected, as she laughed. "I obviously meant the verdict."

"Right," she smirked. There was a pause as we simply stood grinning at each other, and the current running through me spiked as we were surrounded by an energy that I had never felt before with any other person. The way we were able to spar with each other so effortlessly felt as though we weren't only on the same page at every point, but on the same line. This charged look was exciting and it was new and different but, as was common with Lexa, it was overwhelming. And I would have broken the eye contact after a few seconds were it not for her doing it first, as something behind me caught her attention and her grin dulled slightly.

"Boo!" Bellamy exclaimed, grabbing me by the tops of my arms. I jumped a mile in the air as I turned and jabbed him in the stomach out of instinct.

"Jesus, Bell!" I scolded as he clutched at his middle. "You scared the shit out of me, you idiot."

"Sorry," he grunted, still in some pain. "That's definitely not how I expected that to go."

"Yeah… Remind me not to get on your bad side," Lexa chuckled from behind me. I turned to see a mildly surprised look on her face, with some of the brightness returned to her grin.

"Well this idiot should have already known that that wouldn't end well for him," I said, rolling my eyes as I squeezed his arm affectionately. "Sorry for punching you, though."

"It's fine," he laughed. "At least I don't have to worry about you protecting yourself."

"That should never have been a worry in the first place," I said smugly.

"Of course. My bad," he said ruffling my hair and putting his arm over my shoulders. I hated it when he did that. It always made me feel like he was claiming me, as "his", and I had never been good at accepting that I was anyone's.

"You remember Lexa, right? From Friday?" I asked Bellamy, as I turned to open my locker as a way of getting out from under his arm. For some reason I was feeling particularly uncomfortable with it in that moment and welcomed the opportunity for a surreptitious escape.

"Oh right, yeah," he smiled, nodding. "Sorry if I was an asshole. You've probably heard that I'm not the greatest guy to be around after a loss."

"What?! You? No!" I gasped sarcastically. "You're a ray of sunshine; a blooming flower; a-"

"Ok, ok, we get it," he cut in, rolling his eyes and turning to Lexa again. "So, yeah… sorry if I was a dick."

"You were fine," she smiled politely. "Don't worry about it."

"And where's my apology for you being a dick?" I asked incredulously.

"So how do you two know each other again?" Bellamy asked Lexa, ignoring me with an amused smile.

"Through Octavia. We sit next to each other in a couple classes."

"French," I said immediately, without thinking. I felt my face heat up slightly as Lexa looked at me with a somewhat confused look, and I quickly turned back to my locker.

"Right," she said, after a pause and sounding amused. "French being one of them."

"Ah, the language of love," Bellamy joked, wistfully. "I can't imagine O's any good at that," he chuckled.

"You're one to talk," I scoffed.

"Well maybe I should get Octavia to teach me a couple things," he said flirtatiously, grabbing me by the waist and turning me around from my locker. I looked at Lexa quickly to find that she had adverted her gaze in embarrassment, her cheeks faintly pink and a slight grimace on her face.

"Bell," I warned, pushing him away in embarrassment. "Cut out the PDA, you know I hate it. Sorry, Lexa."

"No, it's fine, really. Young love, right?" She shrugged with a smile, but averted her gaze again.

"Right," I nodded awkwardly. Bellamy took my hand, intertwining our fingers, as he remained oblivious to the uncomfortable shift in atmosphere while Lexa's gaze quickly shot to the action, to my face and away again. It was a fleeting few seconds that served only to add to my awkwardness and I was incredibly confused as to why. Bellamy and I hadn't done anything unusual. This is just what couples do. This is what we do.

"Well I'd better be off. Cheerleading practice," she explained.

"Well be careful," I said seriously. "I hear that stereotypes are contagious these days."

"So I've heard. I already know of a few blondes who have become totally brainless," she joked.

"A tragedy," I said sombrely. "It's a good thing I'm immune."

"Well, yeah; that really would be a tragedy."

We smiled at each other again as Bellamy looked between us, his brow furrowed slightly. Lexa coughed, and looked away.

"I'll see you guys later," she said, putting her hand up in a wave before turning around to walk away.

"Lexa, wait!" Bellamy called and Lexa turned back to us. "I'm hosting a party this Friday after the game. You're obviously invited, being on the cheerleading squad and all. And being a friend of Clarke's."

"Oh right," she said, seeming unsure. She looked to me, perhaps to gauge my reaction, perhaps in a silent question.

"Yeah, definitely!" I exclaimed excitedly. I caught myself quickly however, and settled on a smile as I continued in a more restrained manner. "You should definitely come. At the very least it'll give you a chance to get to know more people."

"True," she agreed and, after a pause; "Sure. I'd love to come. Thank you."

"Great!" Bellamy smiled good-naturedly, like the big puppy he often was.

"Anyway, I'd really better be off," Lexa said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the gym.

"Yeah. Right. Sorry for keeping you," I smiled. She smiled back playfully. It was one of her bright ones. The ones that made her eyes dance with unspoken wisdom yet mischief, and I longed to know what she was thinking. Or what she was plotting.

She turned and walked away and I watched her until she turned the corner as Bellamy continued speaking to me and I grunted out a few replies. I was utterly captivated by her. And the bubble of excitement within me at the thought of being able to talk to her more at Bellamy's party was slowly growing. It was an excitement at the thought of learning more about her; of gaining an insight into her mind; of understanding this girl who seemed almost as unreadable as I was, with my carefully constructed and impenetrable surface. It was an excitement at solving the mystery.

As such, it was such a desperate excitement to solve the mystery that I had scarcely felt so determined about anything in my life, until that point. With hindsight I now know why. For you see, if I learnt more about her, if I gained an insight into her mind, if I solved the mystery… that would be it. My interest in her would wane; the electric current would diffuse. Lexa Woods would no longer be an unsettling diversion in my steady, safe life. She would no longer make me question things about myself that I had been so sure of up until that look in the parking lot. She would no longer add fuel to the fire that so unwelcomingly illuminated the darkest depths of my mind, where the unwanted thoughts and emotions prowled.

Lexa Woods would be just another girl.

And so would I be.

Author's note: Sorry this took so long to update! I've been super busy with Uni, and essays and just the general stress of life, tbh. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out quicker!

Also... I've published this story on Archive of Our Own as well, under the username 'clexafitch'. So if you're enjoying this and you maybe wanted to go over and give it a kudos or a comment or something, that would be awesome :)

Thanks!