All day long, Lexa walked around feeling like the character from Clarke's painting: she was smiling, she was walking on clouds, she felt as light as the feathers on the wings she had for hands—she was happy. Classes went by in a blur. Lunch break was spent walking around, daydreaming. At one point, Lexa saw Clarke and her friend Raven arguing heatedly. She thought it might be over Bellamy but refused to indulge in jealousy; Clarke had just given her her heart in the form of a painting, and nothing—no one—would make her question that.

The tutoring session that afternoon went smoothly; though Clarke did seem a bit perturbed, she didn't bring it up and neither did Lexa, who was still high on her friend's gift. Even the news that she was cordially invited to Clarke's party the next day, taking place at Octavia and Bellamy's basement, wasn't enough to bring her down. Clarke even offered to butter up her grandmother so she would let the grounded girl go out.

It was only when the clock struck 8 p. m. that Saturday evening that it finally dawned on Lexa what she was about to do: she was going to her first outing. Suddenly, she had a hard time breathing. Thankfully, Clarke was picking her up, so she wouldn't have to make an entrance by herself. She was glad her friend knew how hard this was on her. As Lexa was trying not to suffocate, the door rang and her grandmother let in a vision of beauty like Lexa had never seen before.

Clarke was wearing a form-hugging, teal blue dress, that made the blue of her eyes even shinier, while her silky smooth hair formed a sparkly aura around her face. This was the closest Lexa had ever come to witnessing a miracle. This is why people believe in God. Ashamed of her blasphemous thought, Lexa averted her eyes from the sin-inducing girl, suddenly finding the kitchen tiles fascinating.

For her part, Clarke was lost in her own admiration of a lovelier than usual brunette whose hair was pulled back, revealing an elegant neck and cheekbones, and whose shirt showed more cleavage than the blonde was used to—which was none at all.

"You look." Silence. Lexa wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. "Appropriate."

"Aw! Lex! You always know the perfect thing to say."

Lexa didn't understand why, but her nonsensical attempt at a compliment had broken the ice. Clarke offered her an arm, then when Lexa didn't take it, did the job for her, hooking their arms together and dragging the outright scared brunette out of the house, to the sound of her grandmother's laughter.

The party wasn't very festive, at least in Lexa's opinion. People were barely speaking, too busy stuffing their faces with food then washing it down with alcoholic beverages. How did they even acquire a liquor license at their age? What was this world coming to? A few of the already inebriated ones were grinding lasciviously against each other on the dance floor, to a music that sounded more like noise to Lexa's ears. All in all, she was having a rather terrible time. At times like these, she was thankful for her poker face that hid the extent of her discomfort. She had been silently observing and judging her peers for about fifteen minutes when she decided that she had had enough, and went looking for Clarke. Once more, the blonde was engaged in a loud discussion with Raven.

"Clarke, I don't even know who you are anymore. This is our senior year, remember? We made plans, we're supposed to be all wild and party till we drop. Instead, you're acting all lovesick and childish, hiding in tree houses and gushing over some autistic girl who will never return your feelings. She has a whole imaginary world, for God's sake! She's one psychosis away from chopping you up to pieces!"

Clarke could have told her best friend off; could have spit back an acerbic retort putting her back in her place, shaming her for the name calling, offensive to both Lexa and people with autism. But she had just gotten Raven back, and would be losing her all over again soon enough. So she chose to rise above it, and simply walked away.

Lexa was nonplussed. Were Raven's words true? Was she holding Clarke back? She thought her extroverted friend was pushing her out of her shell, but maybe it was the other way around? And why did Raven think that she would never return the blonde's feelings? Had she not made her fondness of Clarke clear enough? All of Lexa's certainties were crumbling around her. She had to figure things out before they became too much to handle, and she needed Raven's help to do so.

"Raven. I am Lexa. I am Clarke's friend, much like you. That makes us friends by association. Which is why I am allowing myself to ask you for a favor, if you do not mind. I need some clarifications regarding Clarke."

Raven was too taken aback to answer. Why was this strange creature speaking in Shakespearian English?

"Do you think my friendship is harming Clarke? Because this is not my intention at all. She is the most amazing person I have ever come across, and I want nothing but happiness for her. If I am standing in the way of that, I will step aside and leave her be. Just say the word."

"Look weirdo, I'm guessing you overheard Clarke and me just now. I have nothing to say to you, except that if you think of Clarke as some prize you can take back to your Lalaland, think again. Clarke is no one's trophy wife and I'm sure as hell not gonna let you drag her into your messed up world."

Lexa didn't even need to think things over before firmly stating:

"I see. So it is my kingdom that bothers you. That can be taken care of. Clarke is far more important to me than the world I spent years building. I am willing to make that sacrifice for her. However, if I am going to do this, I want your word that you will not hassle her over our friendship anymore. Do we have a deal?"

Raven was impressed. The straightforwardness and uncensored honesty of the girl before her made her think she had finally met her match.

"Girl, you are one strange cookie, that's for sure. So let me be real with you for a second: contrary to what you might've heard so far tonight, I actually think you might be the best thing that happened to Clarke. True, you turned her into a boring childlike nerd—or rather turned her back into one, because that's how she used to be before she hit puberty—but it's for her own good. And she's much happier that way. So if you're ready to snap out of your waking delusions for her, then I've got nothing left to complain about. You've got yourself a deal! Now if you'll excuse me."

She had spent enough time on Clexa—she had mockingly used the portmanteau the previous day to get Clarke to wake up and smell the codependence; in vain. There were hot boys waiting for her on the dance floor.

Soon after the altercation, Clarke stumbled upon a dazed Lexa. They had been at the party for a little over an hour; a record for the brunette's first foray into what she considered to be teenage debauchery. So Clarke decided to cut her a break; truth be told, she wasn't having that much fun either. She had realized during the evening that, as she had been suspecting for the past few weeks, she was over this scene. She would much rather be curled up in bed with Lexa instead. Using her irrefutable charm, she convinced her classmate and occasional friend Monty and his boyfriend Jasper to drive them home.

They had been in the car for about ten minutes, holding themselves up by leaning on each other's shoulders, when Clarke decided it was time to assess the extent of the damage:

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It was… eye opening." Lexa gave her a satisfied smile. She was proud of her evasive answer.

"Oh…kay. I'll take your word for it. Hopefully it won't be our last social event then!"

Clarke was giving Lexa that powerful gaze full of hidden meanings, which she was too tired to decipher, so the brunette looked ahead, and spotted Monty and his friend holding hands. That was odd; she didn't know two male friends did such a thing. Clarke followed Lexa's eyes and when she saw what she was staring at, she jumped at the opportunity to teach the naïve girl a thing or two about sexuality.

"You know they're together, right?"

Lexa blinked in confusion. It didn't help that Clarke had just whispered the question in her ear, eliciting a delicious sensation.

"They're together, Lex. Dating. Lovers. Boyfriend and boyfriend."

"Oh."

Lexa didn't utter another word until she was dropped off. Though the more she thought about it, the more appealing she found the concept of two guys in love. It was so wonderfully cute that she wanted to pinch their cheeks and tousle their hair. She had no idea why their courtship provoked such a reaction from her; she was just glad she wasn't a homophobe. Up until that point, she had never met real life gay people, and she always worried that after years of church teachings and her grandmother's homophobic rants, she would be bothered by the presence of homosexuals. She would have hated to discover that she was an intolerant person. Which is why she was relieved to find herself so overjoyed by the presence of these two proud gay men and their edifying relationship. Nevertheless, something was gnawing at her. She had felt like replicating the guys' gesture, and holding Clarke's hand; but something held her back, and not just her usual repulsion of handholding. She sensed that it would be wrong to do so; she had no idea where that feeling came from or why, but it troubled her immensely.