They manage to keep it quiet for a total of, like, three weeks, which is impressive to say the least, considering that the night they met they rounded third base at the local townie bar while half the football team did jaeger shots six feet away.
Octavia helps a little, but not much since she's pretty disgusted by the whole thing, and so it's mostly up to Clarke to explain why nobody ever sees her outside of class anymore, why she wore those jeans three days in a row, why Rachael Newman saw her walking home yesterday at 4 AM when she was out for an early morning jog.
"I mean," Raven says, "it's not like you're all that subtle, it's pretty obvious. New boyfriend, right?"
Clarke shrugs. That's not the part of the thing she wants to keep secret. "Yeah."
Monty and Jas both look instantly bored and turn back to their 3DS game, but Finn frowns. "Who is it?"
"None of your beeswax," Clarke says, and watches in satisfaction as Raven reaches over and slaps Finn's forehead. "Come on, Finn, seriously."
"I was just asking," Finn grumbles, and turns back to his macaroni and cheese. Raven makes eye contact with her over his shoulder and rolls her eyes pointedly.
"So, it's a secret, right?" she asks later, jogging to catch up with Clarke outside the caf. She wiggles her eyebrows. "Hot."
"Yeah, we're trying to keep the magic alive," Clarke jokes, and only feels a little bit bad about lying. But whatever, it's not a real lie. Octavia's the only person who really needs to know, anyway.
Things have been a little strained between them lately though, and Clarke's chalked it up to the ultimate awkward of how she and Bellamy met, but this assumption is disproved fairly effectively when Octavia marches over and rips Clarke's ear buds out and says, "okay, we need to talk," and Clarke's face must be a sight, because then she sighs and goes, "don't worry, I'm not mad at you or anything, you know I have trouble with tone," and tugs Clarke up out of her desk chair.
Octavia drives them to Starbucks in her shitty, rusty Lumina, and they sit parked in the lot with iced lattes while Octavia chain smokes her way through a pack of Camels and tells Clarke about her mother's death, staring fixedly at the windshield, not once making eye contact. Clarke clutches her latte and tries not to breathe audibly until she's finished.
"They never caught the guy," Octavia says, "can you believe that? Just runs somebody over, drives off, no consequences. Christ." She's full of nervous movement, flicking her ash out the window, fiddling with the A/C knobs, picking at her nail polish. It freaks Clarke out because she's usually so serene—energetic, yes, but in a smooth sort of way, like a fast-moving river, in contrast against Bellamy's deep, thoughtful lake. "And I mean, I'm not telling you all this so you'll feel sorry for us, just—so you'll understand, you know, because you're my friend and he's my brother and I don't want to lose either one of you. Like, it's sort of in all our best interests that this work out, is what I'm saying."
Clarke clears her throat, because it's only been three weeks and that sounded like it was headed to a real serious place, "I wouldn't—even if it didn't work out for whatever reason, you know we'd keep it away from you, O."
Octavia just shrugs and takes another drag. "That's sweet, but not exactly what I meant," she says, and looks over at her pointedly, until Clarke gets it.
"Oh," she says, feeling profoundly dumb, "oh."
"He used his inheritance to hire a lawyer to keep me out of foster care," Octavia says evenly, "he worked three jobs through undergrad to cover our bills. The whole world thought we were fucked, but he made something of himself anyway, and now he's a professor and he's dating the dean's daughter and I swear to God Clarke, if this fucks up his career, I will end you." Clarke swallows thickly. "I mean, I love you and all. But still."
Clarke takes a deep breath and looks her friend in the eye and says, "I'm not going to let that happen," and Octavia stares at her for a very long, frightening minute before nodding, seemingly satisfied.
"And seriously, don't ever tell me about your sex life." She shudders, tossing her still-lit cigarette out the window. "I know way too much already."
"Deal," Clarke replies.
There are three sexts from Bellamy waiting for her on her phone when she gets back to campus and then a fourth one that says, shit wrong number sorry :/, and she laughs out loud and sends back, you asshole, to which he responds, this is rebecca, right? and Clarke replies, just for that ur buying dinner tonight, as if he doesn't buy every night already. So she's distracted by that, and by the fancy underwear she wore today on a whim (well—"fancy" is kind of subjective, it's basically a push up bra and boyshorts with DNA strands on them; either way she thinks Bellamy will appreciate it) and by thinking about the look on Octavia's face as she'd talked about Aurora, which is why she's not really paying attention as she walks over to Bellamy's place, and anyway, that's how they get caught.
She doesn't put the pieces together right away; at first she assumes people are looking at her funny because of the love bite on her neck, and so most of the morning is spent in a self-conscious tizzy, constantly fussing with her scarf and cursing Bellamy in her head. Then Raven hurries up to her in the library as she's coming out of her lit class and grabs her arm and says, "okay come with me," and practically drags her away, to an empty study room on the first floor.
"What, oh my God," Clarke exclaims, and Raven goes, "are you sleeping with the new history professor?!" and Clarke gasps. "Oh my God, you are! Clarke—"
"How—oh fuck, how do you know that," Clarke says frantically, and Raven's face morphs from scandalized excitement to something more sympathetic.
"Finn saw you," Raven explains, "or that's what he said anyway, I didn't really believe him believe him, I thought he was just exaggerating—last night, in town? He saw you kissing him on the sidewalk?"
"Oh God," Clarke says faintly, and grips Raven's arm, feeling sick. Raven tugs them both down onto a bench and instantly pulls her into a sideways hug, and Clarke leans her head against Raven's shoulder and tries not to panic. "It's pretty new, he's my roommate's older brother, and—"
"Oh, honey," Raven says, "you don't have to explain."
"I like him a lot," Clarke says, and then, fiercely, "he's a good guy, it's not—he's a good guy," and pulls out of Raven's embrace. "Oh my God, I gotta go. I gotta—"
"Go, hurry, you can catch her before lunch," Raven says, and waves her off. Clarke's gone before she's even finished talking.
Her mother's office is in the oldest and most intimidating building on campus, and Clarke's appearances are rare enough that the receptionist doesn't even recognize her. It takes him like five minutes to track Abby down and he stares suspiciously at her the whole time, as if she's trying to infiltrate the place or something, and by the time Abby finally pops her head out of the back, Clarke's about ready to explode.
"Clarke," she says, with a pleased smile, "honey, this is a surprise, did you—"
"Do you have a minute?" Clarke interrupts, and watches as Abby's face falls back into its normal, serious mask.
"For you, of course," she says, and ushers Clarke inside.
She clearly doesn't know yet, and for a second Clarke seriously considers chickening out, but—no. It's just a rumor now, but if she lets it go it'll be more than that, and—no. Time to be a big girl, Clarke thinks, and as soon as Abby's closed the door, she says, "I need to tell you something and I need you not to freak out."
"Well, that's not a very reassuring sentence," Abby says, waving Clarke towards one of the chairs. Clarke shakes her head, and she sighs, moving to lean against her desk. "I'll do my best. What's up?"
"Bellamy Blake and I have been seeing each other for the past three weeks," Clarke says, blurting it all out at once. Abby sucks in a sharp, surprised breath, her face turning into the very picture of alarm. "Don't! No freaking out. Just wait and listen first."
"Clarke," Abby says severely, and Clarke barrels through, before she can get the chance.
"No. Here's the deal. This isn't going to be an issue. We're not doing anything wrong, or illegal, or breaking any rules. I'm of age, I'm a senior, I graduate in six months, and he's never been my teacher. We'll sign whatever paperwork you need us to, and we'll be discreet as possible, but Mom, this is not going to become a problem for him. Do you understand me?"
"Are you—seriously?" Abby asks incredulously, dangerously. "You've just told me that you're dating a professor, you do not have the ground to stand on here, Clarke!"
"I think I do," Clarke says evenly, "because if you go after him then I am never going to speak to you again," and Abby goes pale. "I'm dead serious about that, Mom. You know I am."
"Clarke," Abby says, voice breaking, but Clarke just cuts her off again.
"No," she says, "no, Mom. I'm serious about this, and just—no."
She waits, her arms crossed, letting Abby see every ounce of fire that's licking up her spine, oddly calm despite everything that's hanging on this one, vital conversation. She may not be in love with Bellamy, but the potential is there, she knows, and anyway none of that even matters because damn it, he's a good man, and Octavia is her friend, and Clarke will tear the remnants of her family apart before she ever lets herself become the thing that ruins them.
"Fine," Abby says, defeated, just as her phone starts ringing. Clarke lets out a long, slow breath, almost lightheaded from a sudden onslaught of relief. "Shit. Clarke—we're not done talking about this—Clarke!"
"Yeah, dinner this weekend, I got it," Clarke says, and hightails it the fuck out of there before anyone can see how hard her hands are shaking.
Octavia's been blowing up her phone for the past hour, but Clarke sends her a text that says, took care of it and focuses on calling Bellamy, who obviously doesn't pick up, because why would he, when she so urgently needs to talk to him? He's so contrary, even when he's not even trying to be, it's absurd.
She finally gets ahold of him after a half hour or so of calling, and as soon as he picks up she knows he's heard because he sounds so flat. "Clarke, I'm in the middle of something, can you—"
"I talked to my mom, you're in the clear with her," Clarke says, and hears him exhaling loudly, "we need to fill out that form, or whatever, the relationship form. Can you get a meeting with Armijo?"
"I'm in his office right now," Bellamy says slowly, and Clarke blinks, readjusts, and changes direction in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Okay, I'm on my way," Clarke says.
They fill out paperwork in weird silence with Armijo, who looks like he'd rather be doing literally anything else in the world, but thankfully the form is just a basic "I am not being coerced" type thing so it's relatively painless. He also gives them an awkward "good luck" as they leave, so there's that, and Clarke watches Bellamy's shoulders relax a little bit more with every foot they put between them and his office.
"So," Clarke begins, once they're clear, well into the staff parking lot and away from the eyes of campus. "Yeah, um, Finn—"
"Put it on facebook," Bellamy says, grimacing. "I know."
Clarke sighs in frustration. "It was dumb. Careless. I should have—"
"Takes two to kiss, Princess," Bellamy says, and squeezes her shoulder. Clarke leans into it, grateful. "You—your mom wasn't—"
"Happy? No. But she's not—she won't make trouble for you," Clarke says, then takes a deep breath and continues, "if it's—I'd understand if you didn't want to risk it, it's not like I'm—"
He cuts her off with a kiss, squeezing her cheeks between his palms and crowding her up against the side of a blue pickup. Clarke's breathless when he pulls away, squinting up at him, trying to see his face through the glare of the late afternoon sun, shining in her eyes and turning him into shadow.
"I would've gone to bat for you," Bellamy says, in that low voice he uses sometimes when they're talking late at night on the phone, or when they're in bed and he's telling her how beautiful she is. "If it'd gone the other way."
Me too, Clarke thinks fiercely, a million times over, me too, and says, "good thing it went the right way then," and kisses him again, not caring who might be watching, not caring at all.