Chapter 10

The trio lounged out on the front lawn under the shade of a large billowy tree. Connor had practically attached himself to Clarke's hip while simultaneously refusing to even look in Bellamy's direction.

It was quiet. Not the awkward, tense kind, but the peaceful and comfortable one.

Bellamy looked at the two of them, observing them from a small distance. The kid had brought three different books with him, and Clarke shared his enthusiasm. She was the perfect candidate to bring the boy out of his shell.

"You're reading, right?" Connor looked up at the blonde woman suspiciously.

"Yeah, of course," she laughed, "I'm just waiting for you to turn the page,"

Connor, content with her answer, nodded in acknowledgement and obediently turned the page and returned his eyes to the printed words in his hands.

Clarke looked up and smiled at Bellamy, who nodded at her too.

"Hey, Connor," she leaned over, "My eyes are getting kind of tired. Would you be okay giving your dad a shot at sharing your book?"

The dark-haired boy stared at her, and then bobbed his head from her to Bellamy. He lifted his shoulders in compliance, not saying a word. His eyes were filled with disappointment as she propped herself up and switched places with Bellamy.

The older man shot Clarke a thankful expression, to which she nodded. The circumstances they were placed under were different, so it made sense that it would take some extra effort to make everything work.

Connor looked up, timidly placing the book half-way between his and Bellamy's lap. Bellamy mimicked his son's actions, concentrating on what was written in the bound papers. From what he could make out, the story followed the journey of a girl in search of her sister. Pretty complex stuff for an eight-year old; it was definitely nothing like what Bellamy would have read as a child.

The light buzzing sound vibrated through the air.

Clarke quickly retrieved her phone from the blanket they had laid out on the grass. She took one look at the screen and glanced over at them. "Sorry," she apologized, "I'll be right back, I have to take this."

He watched as she stood up and made her way up the front porch and into the house. The suspicion must have been obvious on his face, because by the time he tried to refocus on the book, Connor was staring straight at him.

This whole bonding over a book really wasn't working.

Oh, to hell with it.

Bellamy closed the cover.

"Hey kid, you like cars?"

-p-

"Hello?" Clarke accepted the call, "Finn?"

"Hey," he sounded breathless, "Where are you?"

"Finn," she sighed, stepping into the empty hallway of the house, "You need to stop calling. I can't talk right now—"

"You're never available to talk," he interrupted her solemnly, "Clarke, please, I'm just asking for one evening. No interruptions, no one else, just the two of us. Please," he entreated.

She closed her eyes, thinking of what to say. "I'm not trying to avoid you. I really am busy," she tried honestly.

There was a moment of silence on the other end, but then he spoke up. "We need to talk. Jasper told me about this Bellamy guy. This isn't you, Clarke. I don't understand what you're doing anymore."

She didn't answer him, so he exhaled loudly and made another attempt to convince her.

"We've been together for two years, We can't throw that away. One meal, just dinner I swear."

Her eyelids were still tightly shut, and the tips of her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. Of course Finn had found out about the whole dating façade she'd created with Bellamy. His reaction was just part of the plan.

So why did it all feel so wrong?

"Hello?" he asked, wondering if she was still listening, "Clarke, you there?"

"Yeah," she affirmed, "I'm still here."

The truth was that a part of her still desperately wanted things to work out with Finn. She could almost dream of a scenario where this was all some supreme misunderstanding, that Finn was still him, and she was still Clarke. But things had changed, whether she liked it or not.

"Okay," she agreed at last, "One dinner."

She could imagine the smile of relief on his face.

"Finn," she began again, "This doesn't change anything, though."

"I know," he paused, "I'm just glad that we can sit down and talk. I miss you."

The blood was pounding against inside of her skull, and she was starting to feel dizzy. "I need to go."

"Alright," Finn conceded, "I'll see you on Monday."

She clicked her phone, hanging up quickly before any more words could be exchanged between them. Her chest felt heavy, like there was something sitting on it.

It was always a battle, thinking about Finn. She hoped that it would get easier at some point.

Clarke caught her breath and collected herself. She rummaged through one of the boxes in the kitchen and managed to find a few glass cups. After filling them with water, she headed back out to the front yard.

But when she stepped outside, neither Bellamy nor Connor was in sight. She didn't a double take, scanning the premises one more time. They weren't where she left them, so she tried looking elsewhere. That's when she noticed that the garage door was wide open now.

She followed the sound of two individual voices; she walked quietly as not to intrude.

"And that's the engine," Bellamy pointed, hoisting the boy up to the side of the motorcycle so he could see, "Looks different than the one in the car, right?"

Connor nodded, and Clarke couldn't help but smile as she noticed Connor's wide eyes focusing on everything Bellamy was showing him.

It seemed that father and son weren't complete opposites—there was some common ground between them.

"I still need to replace it but haven't had the time. You want to help me out later and get it running smooth?" the man asked the boy. Connor couldn't mask his enthusiasm this time, as he turned his head to get a better look at the bike. "If you want, I'll bring you along for the first test ride."

That was her queue to step in.

She cleared her throat, "What's this?" she gestured to the way they were crowded around the motorcycle. She made eye contact with the kid, "Sorry Connor, but it seems your dad's mistaken. I don't think that you're quite ready to ride out on that bike just yet."

Bellamy stood up a bit straighter, "We'll talk about it," he assured Connor with raised eyebrows.

Clarke was going to retort, but Bellamy went up to her and stopped her. He said it low, so Connor couldn't hear. "Is everything okay?" He eyed her phone.

"Yeah," she shook her head, forcing a smile, "Everything's fine."

He could tell that she wasn't telling the truth. But since Connor was here with them, he decided to let it slide for now.

Bellamy turned around and kneeled so that he was at the same eye-level at his son.

"So, kid," he started, "What's it going to be?"

Connor cocked his head to the side, not quite understanding.

"You want to read with Clarke, or you want to build a bike with me?"

-p-

Bellamy gave him an easy choice, and he chose just like he expected.

They spend the rest of the afternoon in the garage working on the carburetor. Bellamy didn't think of himself as an expert on many things in this world, but he sure knew how to talk cars. This was at least something he could share with Connor.

Clarke tagged along, sitting next to Connor and listening to Bellamy's informative lecture on metal parts together.

Everything in the house still needed to be unpacked and staged. Her own mother would have demanded that everything be put in place immediately, but Clarke let herself get lost in the moment instead.

By the time they finished up in the garage, the sun was starting to set. They practically had to rip Connor away from the garage and promise that they could do this all again soon. Connor went straight upstairs to wash off all the car grease he managed to get everywhere, leaving the two adults downstairs.

She noticed the huge, blank, inky stain on the front of her shirt and went to the kitchen sink to rinse it out. She tried scrubbing it, but to no avail.

"Forget it, Clarke. That stain's not coming out."

She glared up at him, ignoring his words and continuing to scrub. He leaned his back against the granite counter, watching her fruitless efforts.

He chuckled lightly, only earning a more intense glare.

"Just go change into another shirt," he suggested before realizing why she hadn't done so earlier. His smile widened as she continued to shoot daggers in his direction. He was enjoying this too much.

"Here," he grabbed a spare shirt from his bag and threw it at her, "Take it."

She should have packed more of her things, but she wasn't going to let him know that. Clarke had been in such a hazy panic this morning at the prospect of living with a stranger that she had forgotten to pack an extra shirt for the weekend.

She looked at the his balled up T-shirt in her hands and threw it back into his chest, "I'll live without it."

He stepped closer to her, maybe too close. "It's up to you," he feigned a shrug, "But as soon as Connor sees you didn't have to change, he won't either."

At that, she rolled her eyes and shoved past him, grabbing the shirt back from him and heading to the first floor bathroom to change. She quickly pulled the fabric over head and tugged the hem over her jeans. She tried to stare at her reflection for too long before leaving.

When she came out, Connor was already back.

"That's a good look on you," Bellamy tried to rub it in, admiring her new attire.

Connor noticed that Clarke's shirt was not her own, and deduced that it really belonged to his father. But he didn't seem to mind.

Emily was always confident that she could lead her life without a man—she always told Connor that the only guy she needed was him. Clarke seemed to be just as strong as his mother. Yet there was something different but nice about seeing Bellamy and Clarke together.

"I don't want to hear it," Clarke stopped him short before bending down and sitting next to the boy. "I don't know about you boys, but I'm starving."

Bellamy got out his phone and typed in a number he'd memorized as a kid. "I'll take care of it," he put the device up to his ear, ordering enough take-out to feed the three of them.

The food arrived around a half hour later. Bellamy handed out the individual foil-wrapped burgers, giving one to Connor first.

As they were all eating, Clarke became rather amused by their synchronized movements.

The ways they tackled their food, unwrapped their burgers, and picked out the onions was exactly the same. Neither of them was aware of just how similar they were.

They spent the rest of the night lying on the ground with a few scattered throw pillows beside them in the empty living room. Bellamy scavenged for a lamp and plugged it into one of the far walls. The lighting was dim for now, but it was enough for Connor to get out at his book.

This time they had the boy read aloud to all of them.

Connor was so enthralled by his literature that he didn't realize the look on his dad's face. A combination of admiration and respect, he was gazing at Clarke as she listened to his son's narration.

He couldn't have done this without her.

Soon enough, Connor fell asleep to the sound of his own voice, collapsing in the between the two adults on the ground. They were all lying on their backs now, staring up at the ceiling.

"Hold on, Clarke," Bellamy whispered in hushed tone, his eyes narrowed, "Are you telling me that Octavia and Atom are still hooking up?"

She winced at the realization that she had unknowingly spilled her friend's secret. "You did not just hear that," she denied, "Do not repeat that ever again," she shushed.

He groaned, running his hand over his face, "That idiot has been pining over her since high school."

"Trust me, Octavia has a handle on the situation," she assured him light heartedly with a smile.

He let out a laugh too.

"Hey, Bellamy?"

"Yeah,"

"Thank you," she stopped, "Thanks for running that background check on me."

The truth was that she honestly enjoyed today. She didn't want to admit it, but she was thankful that Bellamy Blake had chosen her. If he hadn't, she would have never gotten the chance to spend time with Connor or experience all things she had that day.

It took him a while to comprehend what she was saying. By the time he could form a coherent thought, she beat him to it.

"Goodnight, Bellamy."

He sighed, turning on his back again, traces of a smile still present across his features.

"Goodnight, Clarke."

End Chapter 10

A/N: Hope you all like this new installment! Please review if you would like me to continue.