On her way home that Sunday night, Lexa tried—and failed—to wrap her mind around the events of the day. After the confession she so eagerly shared with the blonde, she felt better; about what, she didn't know. She was simply happy to be alive. Alive, and strong; the opposite of what Lexa believed she would feel if she ever let anyone in.
I am afraid I would get pulled into my own imaginary world. Lexa hadn't discussed the thought that had been plaguing her most of her life with anyone; not even Indra—sure, she trusted her confidante, but the fictional friend was in no position to understand. How she could bring herself to say it out loud, to Clarke of all people, the most down-to-earth person she knew, was beyond her. She didn't regret it though. It was the best sentence she had ever spoken; it opened the floodgates of her long-held-prisoner inner world.
After that admission, Clarke had scooted imperceptibly closer to her, but Lexa perceived it because she could feel the blonde's body heat reverberating on her, in her. Her eyes were gentler than usual and Lexa felt her empathy cover her like a warm blanket. Then Clarke had jokingly asked her if she was "bananas", and Lexa had shaken her head and proceeded to tell her about her imaginary kingdom, its people, and her duties as queen. Clarke hadn't seemed put off by the explanation; yet she couldn't fathom why anyone would choose to interact with made-up beings instead of living ones. However, she found the whole concept entertaining, judging by the hearty laugh she let out at the end of Lexa's expose. It was the sound of thousands of gravels cascading down a flight of stairs, and it made the brunette's heart grow three sizes. In that instant, Lexa sensed they were "having a moment", like the ones she heard people shared with their soulmate. Was Clarke the mate her soul had long been awaiting?
The perplexed girl hadn't had time to process the revelation before Abby burst in with more food than their stomachs could handle, especially now that the girls were satiated with intimacy. Soon after, Clarke's father—Jake—had joined in and they were all having some type of gathering in the blonde's room. Clarke's parents were delightful; their easy banter, their appreciative glances, their inside jokes, their synchronicity made Lexa question the moment of intimacy she had just experienced with her sky princess. This is love, Lexa had thought. It is nothing like weakness.
Over lunch, conversation had flowed naturally, though Lexa didn't partake in it much; each of her interventions had elicited either a laugh or an eye roll from Clarke, and she couldn't figure out if the blonde was irritated or amused. They didn't have any direct exchange, Clarke's parents being used as buffers. Lexa didn't mind, especially since she feared her classmate would out her secret the first chance she got. However, no mention was made of her overactive imagination, not during dessert when Abby asked her if she owned any pets; not during their impromptu game of Pictionary when Jake joked that Lexa's sketching lacked creativity. Lunch had turned into dinner and the brunette was starting to believe her unpredictable hostess was going to keep her secret. She could trust her with her most private, unspeakable thoughts; that didn't feel like weakness either.
Lexa was questioning everything she ever believed. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. She was starting to feel overwhelmed. Once more, Clarke seemed to just know; they were in tune. So she gave her visitor the right excuse to leave, told her she was feeling tired and that she should be on her way. Lexa had left soon after that; but not before helping Abby clean up, and setting up a tutoring schedule with her. She was going to see Clarke six times a week. Abby had sugarcoated it, promising baked goods and the best lemonade in a tri-state area—she was really desperate for her daughter to pass the class. Lexa didn't need convincing; she was okay with that decision.
The encounter had ended like it began; at Clarke's door. Only with a much less infuriated blonde and a much more flustered brunette. "Today was nice," her pupil had said. Lexa had wanted to leave it at that, but she couldn't get her feet to walk away. They must have known there was still something to transpire, because a few seconds later Clarke had leaned over and put the ghost of a kiss on Lexa's right cheek. Then the blonde was gone and Lexa wasn't sure if she had fantasized the whole thing. It was the first time she regretted having an imaginary world that robbed her of the certainty of that kiss.
That didn't prevent said unconfirmed kiss from having quite the impact on her. Even an hour later, as Lexa was stepping into her house, she could still feel the flush where Clarke's lips had landed and the sparks they had elicited. She wished the owner of those lips were with her now, tilting them up or pursing them or making them disappear into the brightest grin. She wished she could talk to her; write to her, to tell her what was going through her mind and in her heart. Who says I can't? The light bulb going on over her head guided her all the way to her room, where she sat at her desk, took out a pen and paper, and started writing.