Chapter 29

Valentine's Day was far from Bellamy's favorite holiday. In fact, in some respects, he hated it. In his mind, it was little more than a commercially manufactured money trap to try to get couples to buy things for each other they could buy at any time of the year. Martin Luther King Day, Columbus Day, on the other hand . . . those were real holidays.

The one nice thing about Valentine's Day, he supposed, was that it was an obviously sexual holiday. Hell, he'd lost his virginity back on Valentine's Day of his freshman year of his high school. (The plan had been to wait for Roma to finally notice him so he could lose his virginity to her, but that had taken a couple more months, so he'd gotten a practice round in first.) A couple years ago, he and Gina had spent the entire day in bed. The entire day. And it'd been one of the greatest days of his life.

This Valentine's Day was different. Busier, for one, because Diana's bathroom remodel took up most of his day. But it was different because he had Clarke this year, too. Unlike last year, there was no need to go pick up some random chick at Dropship or TonDC. But Clarke wasn't his girlfriend, so that made getting her a gift difficult. He didn't want to just do chocolates or roses or something generic like that, but he couldn't do something overly-sentimental like a promise ring, either.

In the end, he ended up purchasing her about a half a dozen Harlequin Romance novels at the thrift store—not because they were cheap, but because she'd mentioned once that one of her guilty pleasures was reading sappy, poorly-written erotica. He'd even found a couple books at home in her desk drawer once, one called A Taste of Paradise and the other called Scoundrel's Captive. Of course, most of the books he found at the thrift store were older and outdated, so there weren't any progressive female/female ones in the bunch. That left him with no choice but to get online and purchase one called The Fling, which looked halfway decent. He read it, too, in his truck over his lunch breaks. The storyline was crap, but the sex scenes weren't half bad.

He didn't wrap presents unless he absolutely had to, so he came home from work with all the books in a plastic bag, hoping she wouldn't mind. "Clarke, I got you something," he announced as he pushed open the door to his bedroom. But Clarke wasn't there. The bathroom door was peeking open, though, light coming from inside, so he set his bag down on the bed and slipped in.

"Hey," he said, marveling at how beautiful his girl looked lounging in his bathtub.

She turned her head to the side and smiled at him. "Hey." When he came closer, she picked up some of the bubbles on the water's surface and blew them at him adorably.

"You look comfy," he said, not used to seeing her take a bath. Usually he left for work earlier than she left for class, so he didn't even get to shower with her all that much. But he knew she had a problem waking up when her alarm went off, so chances were, she never had time to lie in the tub for a good soak like this anyway.

"I needed to get clean," she said. "I've been so dirty lately."

He grinned, catching her double meaning. "Nah, just . . . dance floor sex, balcony sex. What's dirty about that?"

"Everything." She skimmed her hand across the surface of the water, spreading some of the soapy bubbles around. Her body was still concealed from his view, though. She was low enough in the water that it went all the way up to her shoulders.

"Smells good in here," he remarked. "Smells girly."

"Sweet pea bubble bath," she explained. "I hope you don't mind, but I didn't really get you a gift. Me in the bathtub is kind of supposed to be your gift."

"Fine by me." He toed off his shoes, ready to get undressed and get in with her. "Got room in there for me?"

"Of course," she said. "But I kinda wanna . . ." Trailing off, she glanced at his groin for a second, then lifted her eyes to his.

"You wanna what?" he prompted.

She blushed, and goddammit, if that wasn't the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. It was so hot knowing that Clarke had all sorts of dirty thoughts and ideas in her head, but it was so cute when she was embarrassed to verbalize them.

"Maybe I should get naked, too?" he suggested, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

"No," she said quickly. "Just . . . pull your pants down."

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, not really sure where she was going with this until she moved around, getting up onto her knees. She pushed the suds away, and he was able to watch the water trickle down her torso to her inner thighs. The sight of it dripping from her pussy made him salivate.

"Go on," she urged, gripping the side of the tub.

Stupefied, he shook himself out his daze and did as she requested, unfastening his jeans. He stood up and pushed them down to his knees, motioning to his boxer-briefs questioningly. "These, too?"

"Mmm-hmm."

She's gonna blow me, he thought, pushing his underwear down to his jeans. His cock sprang free, already semi-hard, and she reached for it immediately.

"Come here," she said.

He inched closer, legs hitting the side of the tub, and watched her small hand stroke his length several times before she pressed a kiss to the tip of it. She kept stroking him for a minute or so after that, getting him fully erect and aroused, and he expected her to open her mouth at any minute, take him all in, or at least as much of him as she could. But she surprised the hell out of him when, instead of doing that, she told him, "Bend down a little bit."

He frowned, confused until he realized what part of her body was lower than her mouth. "Really?" he said, surprised.

"Yeah." With his cock now at the right level, she placed it in between her breasts and smothered them around it, pressing them tightly together with both hands as she smiled at him excitedly. "Is this okay?"

"Uh-huh." This was so far above and beyond okay. He knew titty-fucking was something girls pretty much just did for guys; it wasn't like they got the same thrill out of it or anything. But he didn't doubt that she at least enjoyed it, though, because she liked giving him pleasure much in the same way he liked giving pleasure to her.

"Okay, I wanna be the one to do it," she told him, readjusting her breasts around his cock. "Okay?"

"Okay." He loved watching her go to work on him, whether it was with her mouth or her hand, so he was sure he'd love watching her work her breasts all over him, too.

It was a bit of an unusual motion for her to get into, one she wasn't used to and had never tried before. The only and only other time he'd done this, he'd taken care of the thrusting. With him just standing there, it wasn't as natural and fluid for her as jerking him off or sucking him off was. She didn't get frustrated, though; she stuck with it until she had a nice rhythm going. She slid her breasts up and down on his cock, watching intently, making sure it always stayed nice and snug for him. If she ever lost hold of her breasts, she stopped, gathered them up again, and wrapped them around his stiff manhood tightly before she got into her rhythm once again. Eventually, when she felt comfortable enough with what she was doing, she started to look up at him, almost questioningly, like she wanted to know how she was doing.

"Good job, Princess," he praised, loving the feel of this. Her boobs were so big, so soft, so fleshy. Fucking her here felt a lot different than being inside her, but it still felt so damn good. Plus, the lower she moved her tits, the more the head of his cock poked up through the top of them, nearly hitting her chin, and that was a pretty arousing sight.

Damn, he'd always been fascinated by the female body, especially the parts of it that were so different than his own, but Clarke's body was on another level. Her curves . . . he practically had them memorized at this point, but they never got old. He loved seeing and feeling her breasts on him, and he loved catching a glimpse of that round, gorgeous ass of hers, covered in suds right now. He loved the way her damp hair clung to her back and shoulders, and he wanted to run his fingers through it. God, he wished he could touch every inch of her at once, because every inch of her deserved to feel adored.

The still water around her grew a little less still when she started moving more insistently, more determinedly. She frowned, as if she were disappointed he hadn't cum yet, and groaned, "Come on, Bellamy."

"What?"

"Just . . . do it."

"Do what?" he teased.

She growled frustratedly, really starting to titfuck him at a rapid pace now. "Cum."

Oh, it was hot as hell hearing her be all demanding like that, almost enough to make him shoot his load, but he held back, shaking his head. "No."

"No?" She didn't stop moving. "Why not?"

"Because, I wanna cum in you, not on you."

"Oh, I see." Slowing her movements, she let go of her breasts, letting them fall away from his cock, and sat back on her feet. "Ow," she said, "my knees hurt."

"Get comfortable," he told her, pushing his jeans and underwear down to the floor. He stepped out of them, then stripped out of his shirt, licking his lips excitedly as she lay back in the tub, spreading her legs. He couldn't be certain, but it looked like she was touching herself beneath all those suds.

"What?" she asked innocently. "You said to get comfortable."

Oh, she was a frisky little vixen tonight, wasn't she? He was digging it. He watched her for a moment, watched the tiny waves her hand was causing beneath the surface, and stroked his cock in response. She noticed what he was doing and moaned impatiently. "Bellamy, please," she whimpered.

"Please what?"

"Get in here with me." She started to squirm wantonly, and he wondered just how hard she was fucking her own little hand right now.

"Sit up," he instructed, and when she did, he stepped into the tub, sitting down behind her, legs on either side of her. She reclined against him, the crack of her ass and small of her back sliding against his dick. It felt so good, and again, he had to fight the urge to cum. All he could do to keep from spilling his seed was to think, Her first, her first, over and over again in his head.

"Do you touch yourself a lot when I'm not around?" he asked her, rubbing his hands on her arms and shoulders.

"Yes," she admitted without hesitation, still fingering herself underneath the water. "It's never as good, though."

"Well, I'm here now," he said, reached around her stomach to lift her arm out of the way. "I got you." He snaked his hand between her legs and wasted no time inserting his middle finger into her. He pumped it in and out steadily, purposefully rubbing the base of his hand against her clit as he did so.

"Oh, yes," she moaned, tossing her head back onto his shoulder as she writhed against him. "Bellamy . . ."

He loved the sound of his name on her lips, especially when it sounded like such a whispered, pleasured prayer. "You want another one?" he asked, not even waiting for a response as he plunged his index finger inside her, too. Oh, she wanted another one. He already knew.

"Oh god," she gasped, breathing heavily now. "I'm so close."

He couldn't decide if he wanted to make her cum on his hand and then try to make her cum again when he was inside her or just cut to the chase here and get her groin up onto his lap. He loved giving Clarke multiple orgasms, but that titty-fuck she'd given him still had his cock straining, and if she came, chances were, that'd be enough to make him cum, too.

Making a quick decision, he withdrew his hand, eliciting a groan of protest from Clarke. "Get on up here," he said, grabbing her hips. He lifted her up into his lap, angling his hips so that his cock was pressing against her entrance.

"Mmm," she purred, sinking down onto him without hesitation. She ground her hips against his, riding him with desperate need. She had to hold onto the sides of the tub to get the leverage she needed, and god, she looked hot, just using his body to her satisfaction.

"Yeah, fuck it," he encouraged, leaning his head back against the tile wall, closing his eyes as he just reveled in the sensation of it. Having his cock sandwiched between Clarke's breasts felt great, but nothing compared to having it here. Being inside her was intoxicating, and he was so addicted to how good it felt.

"Bellamy, I can't—I can't-" she panted raggedly, circling her hips deliberately to get the friction she needed. "Uh!" she cried out, her entire body stilling as she came. Her pussy clamped down on his cock like a vice, and it felt insanely good. So close to his own climax, he grabbed her hips and held her steady, thrusting up into her a few times before he shot off inside of her. Fuck, that felt good, especially since he'd been holding it in for a while now.

"Oh my god," she moaned, going a bit boneless. She slid off his cock and sat back down in the tub again, between his legs, leaning forward.

"So good," he said, rubbing her back. He smoothed some water over her skin, threaded his hands through her hair, and then bent forward to press a soft kiss to her shoulder blade. "You're so good to me."

She laughed lightly. "I try my best." Completely spent, she leaned back against him, nearly lying down in that bathtub, using him as a recliner and a pillow. He rested with her, rubbing her stomach and her breasts, breathing in the scent of her floral shampoo mixed with the scent of them.

When they were both sufficiently shriveled, they got out of the bath, dried each other off, made out for a little bit against the sink, and then meandered back out to the bedroom. She unwrapped her towel, dropped it onto the floor at the foot of the bed, and flopped down on the mattress naked, lying on her stomach. "Mmm," she murmured, "I feel refreshed."

"Yeah?" He dropped his towel to the floor as well and grabbed the sack with her gifts in it. "Happy Valentine's Day," he said, lying down next to her. "Sorry I'm too lazy to wrap."

"Ooh, a present?" she squealed, rolling over onto her side. She pulled out the first of six books, and her face lit up. "Oh my god, I love these!" she exclaimed. "They're so awful!"

"I know, I read one."

"You read one?"

"Well . . . only the lesbian one."

"You found a lesbian one?" She hurriedly looked through the covers and laughed delightedly when she saw The Fling. "Oh my god, I can't wait to read these!" She opened one of them to a random page and said, "Oh, okay, listen. Listen to this." She cleared her throat and used an overtly sophisticated, stuffy tone to read one of what had to be many ridiculous lines. "'With each breath, her chest heaved like a bulimic after Thanksgiving dinner.'"

"Ugh." He made a face, shaking his head. "Who the fuck writes that?" In no way did a reference to an eating disorder turn him on. He picked up one of the books, flipped it open to the middle, skimmed the scene, and found a ridiculous line of his own. "'Her embrace made his manhood swell like . . . week-old roadkill on hot asphalt?'"

Clarke wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That's sick! Why would anyone compare a penis to roadkill? That's not sexy."

"That's just the tip of the iceberg. I already see another line comparing it to the vice president."

"What even?" She flipped a few more pages through the book in her hand and said, "Oh, here's another classic. Brace yourself." She cleared her throat again and read, "'Her sun-glazed back formed a golden arch as he moved his face toward her happy meal.'" She clasped one hand over her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stifle her giggles. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh, great, now we're comparing vaginas to fast food, huh?" He shook his head in outrage. "That's sacrilegious. That's a gourmet meal right there."

"Oh, these are fun," she said, closing the book, putting it back in the sack. "Thank you. That'll give me something to read when I'm not paying attention in my capstone class."

"Good." He lay flat on his back, one arm behind his head, enjoying the relaxation of this. It was still early evening. He and Clarke could do whatever the hell they wanted for the rest of the night. They could go downstairs and watch TV, fix something to eat, or just lay up here and cuddle and maybe fuck again. It was nice to come home to this kind of companionship, for sure.

"This is a good Valentine's Day," he said, yawning. "And I hate Valentine's Day."

"I'm usually kind of indifferent about it," she said, pillowing her head on her arms again, "but this has been good. And next week's gonna be even better."

"My birthday?" He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it, especially since his birthday fell on a Friday this year. But he wasn't expecting some huge party or anything. "You know you don't have to get me a gift, right?" he told her. "Just . . . hang out with me, have sex with me. That'll do."

"Oh, I'm getting you something," she said. "It's already in the works."

"Clarke-" He didn't want her spending money on him.

"But I'm still gonna sex with you, of course. In fact . . ." She smiled at him cutely, asking, "Is there any certain type of sex you want for your birthday?"

"Hmm." That was hard to narrow down, but he was a guy, so one idea came to mind before the others. "Lots of doggy style, preferably."

"No, not just a position, a . . . type of sex," she reiterated. "You know, like . . ." She pressed her face against the pillow for a moment, mumbling, "The regular kind or oral or . . ." She trailed off, just barely peeking at him as though she were embarrassed.

The only other sex that came to mind for Bellamy was . . . "Oh." He was pretty sure he understood where she was going with that, because . . . where else was there to go? "Oh."

"Oh my god." She hid her face against the pillow again.

"Wait, let me get this straight: You're asking if I want . . ." He, too, trailed off, not because he was embarrassed to say it, but because he didn't want to be the one to bring it up, just in case she was thinking of something else.

She lifted her head and finished his sentence for him. "Do you wanna have anal sex?" she asked quietly, her face and entire body blushing red.

"Uh . . . yeah," he answered honestly. Most guys were down for it, and he'd done it before and enjoyed it. Once with Roma. Multiple times with Gina. "Yeah, I want to," he admitted. "Someday."

"Your birthday," she suggested.

Oh, it was tempting, especially since he'd been dreaming about having anal sex with Clarke for a long time now. But his birthday was only seven days away, and what he had in mind for Clarke would take longer than seven days.

He grazed his fingers over the curve of her ass, loving the way it looked as she lay there, two perfect round hills waiting for him to . . . god, now he was the one sounding like a cheesy romance novel. He wondered how good it felt. He did. And here she was, giving him the perfect opportunity to find out, all in the name of him turning twenty-four. Maybe some other guys would think he was crazy to turn it down, but that was what he had to do. For now, at least.

"Not on my birthday," he told her.

She frowned, clearly not expecting that answer. "What? Why not?"

"Because it's . . . it's anal sex, Clarke. It's a really big deal."

"Yeah."

"And . . . it's not that easy to just go for it. You really have to be sure."

"I am sure," she said, scooting closer. "Bellamy, I've thought about it. I'm willing to do it with you."

"But you've never done it before," he pointed out.

"Please," she scoffed, "half the things we've done have been completely new to me. And haven't I enjoyed them all?"

He thought back and replied, "Yeah, pretty much."

"Very much," she emphasized. "Bellamy . . ."

"I don't wanna hurt you," he cut in.

"You won't hurt me. I—I trust you," she stuttered. "I trust you more than anyone in my life."

More than anyone? he thought. That was . . . a big deal. Just as big as the idea of anal sex was. He gave her a soft kiss on the lips, appreciating that.

"I know you, Bellamy," she said, "and I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"It does hurt, though," he informed her, "the first time." Roma had cried, hence the reason they'd never tried it again. And Gina . . . well, the first time with Gina had been more of an accidental penetration than anything else, and it'd caused her to walk funny for the rest of the week.

"My first time having regular sex hurt," she pointed out. "I got past it."

"Yeah, but I . . ." He struggled to find the words to explain his reluctance. "I don't wanna hurt you, though. If we—when we do it like that someday, I want it to feel good for you, just like it feels good for me."

"It will," she insisted naïvely.

"No, it won't. Not if we rush into it."

"Seven days is rushing?"

"For what I've got in mind, yes." He'd thought about this, about how he would lead up to it with Clarke. Anal sex was his ultimate fantasy, and even though he had some experience, he wouldn't exactly call himself an expert. He had to read up on some things himself, make sure he did everything he could to make her feel comfortable and at ease.

"We have to take our time," he said, "build up to it."

"Okay, let's start building then."

He chuckled, getting a kick out of how eager she was. "We will," he said. "Slowly. And then when it happens . . . hopefully, you'll enjoy it just like I do."

"We could enjoy it on your birthday," she said, bending down to nibble on his ear.

"I don't want there to be any pressure or any deadline," he said. "You said you trust me, right?"

"Right," she echoed.

"So trust me on this. Okay?"

She sighed in resignation. "Okay." Then she snuggled up against his side and draped one leg over his waist. He pulled the covers up over the two of them, content to cuddle and maybe fall asleep for a while. The aftermath of having sex with Clarke Griffin was just as good as the sex itself. And now that she'd brought all of this sex stuff up . . . well, he knew what he'd be dreaming about tonight.

...

Bellamy decided it was best to go pick up some—ahem—supplies from Ice Nation by himself. Clarke hadn't brought up the anal sex thing for a few days, but the idea of it was still at the forefront of his mind. He didn't want to bring her along, though, just in case she saw all the stuff they needed to get and freaked out.

The first and most important thing he needed to stock up on was lube. Lots of lube. He had some but not enough, because quite frankly, Clarke's natural arousal was usually all the lubrication they needed. He picked up several tubes of both KY and Astroglide, because he'd read they were both good for anal, but he didn't know which one was best. Then he headed over to the anal sex corner—which was more than a corner; it took up about half the store—and tried to inconspicuously browse the butt plug kits. Because . . . he had some girth to his package, and if Clarke intended to take it up her ass—her tight, untouched, unpenetrated ass (god, he got worked up just thinking about it)—then she needed to take some smaller things first.

He felt like a first-timer himself, overwhelmed by all the options. Was it better to use a beaded plug or just more of the straight up dildos? And did color matter? Probably not, right? She wouldn't be able to see it. But maybe she'd like the neon ones better than the plain black ones. And why the hell did some of them have raccoon tails and fox tails hanging off the end? What the fuck kind of weird fetish was that?

"Hey, stranger."

He startled when Raven sidled up beside him. "Oh, hey." He of course looked away from the butt plugs, like a kid being caught with a nude magazine, and pretended to be into some other toys instead. He didn't even know what they were or what they were meant to be used for. Possibly gay stuff, because it was the anal sex area of the store, after all.

"Just you today?" Raven asked. "No Clarke?"

"No, Clarke's got class." He looked around for Raven's boyfriend, surprised not to see him there. "Just you? No Roan?"

"Nope. Roan's at a small business workshop today," she informed him, "so I volunteered to run the store for him."

"Huh. Sell anything interesting yet?"

She shrugged. "Strapons and handcuffs. Pretty standard."

"Oh." Handcuffs were standard now? He didn't even own a pair.

"What're you here to buy?" she asked.

He tried to conceal the lube in his hands and shrugged. "Just lookin'."

"For what?'

"Whatever catches my attention."

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, then looked over to the kits he had been eyeing. "No way!" she exclaimed. "You and Clarke are gonna have anal sex?"

"Well, yeah, eventually."

"Clarke. Clarke Griffin?" She laughed incredulously. "Wow, what have you done to her?"

"It was her idea."

"The sexual revolution of Clarke Griffin, I swear. You have really gotten her to broaden her horizons."

"Well, she's bisexual," he pointed out. "I'd say her horizons are pretty broad."

"Yeah, but I never thought I'd see the day . . ." Raven trailed off, shaking her head. "Here," she said, handing him a kit with four black dildos, each one shaped slightly differently than the others and varying in size. "Use this."

He wasn't about to ask, but he took her suggestion to mean that she'd tried out that same kit before. "Thanks," he said.

"That's so considerate of you to think of her and think about how to make sure she's ready," Raven said, sighing wistfully. "Wick didn't. But I digress."

"Alright, I think I got everything I need for now," he said. "Can you check me out?"

"Oh, Bellagio . . ." She swayed towards the counter, teasing, "I was checking you out the moment I saw your picture on Clarke's phone."

He chuckled and followed her up to the front of the store.

Raven rang up all his items and asked, "So when are you guys doing this? Your birthday? I hear that's coming up."

"We're not on a timeline," he said. "You have any idea what Clarke's gettin' me for my birthday, by the way?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Yeah? She's not spending too much money, is she?"

Raven shrugged. "Not really."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, let her spend money if she wants to spend money."

"Is she taking me somewhere?" he guessed. The other night when he'd gotten home, she'd been on the phone with . . . someone. Kind of sounded like a hotel company. She'd been reading her debit card number over the phone like she was reserving a room.

"She's . . . my lips are sealed," Raven said. "But let it be known, I suggested Ocean City for the weekend."

He tensed at the mere mention of that place.

Noticing his reaction, she asked, "What, you don't like it there? Have you ever even been there?"

"Couple of times," he muttered.

"It's fun."

It wasn't fun last time, he thought, trying not to picture that gas station, walking in there and seeing . . .

Trying not to picture that.

"Well, she's not taking you there," Raven assured him. "Maybe she's not taking you anywhere. Who knows? I don't know."

"You said you do know."

"Of course I know." She hit the total button and said, "$65.98. But Roan authorized me to use the good friend discount where I see fit. You got fifty?"

Even fifty bucks was a hell of a lot of money to fork over for some sex toys and some lube, but . . . well, it'd be worth it. He took two twenties and a ten out of his wallet, which basically left him with only a five and a couple ones, but he could always hit the ATM if he needed to. It never hurt to have a little cash on hand.

When he got in his truck, he took out his phone and texted Clarke. Nothing lengthy, but in a way, it was major. You can tell Raven about Gina, he typed out. He had no issue with her knowing, or even Niylah, for that matter. Clarke's friends were his friends, too, at this point. And if they knew, then they could avoid any awkward mentions like this Ocean City one. He didn't want to be the one to tell that whole story again, though; telling it to Clarke had been hard enough. But she could tell them. He trusted her with that.

...

When Bellamy had first given her permission to tell her friends about Gina, Clarke wasn't sure what to think. She didn't want him to feel like he was obligated to let them in on that part of his past, so she talked to him about it and made sure it was what he wanted. He said he didn't see the point in keeping it a secret from them, but he did remind her not to say anything about Gina's pregnancy. Not that she needed a reminder about that. But she assured him that she wouldn't mention a word about it. Never. Never ever.

It was a good thing, she supposed, that he wasn't so determined to carry his past around like a deep, dark secret anymore. And she completely understood why he didn't want to rehash the entire thing again. Talking about it was an emotional experience for him, and just because he was okay with them knowing, that didn't mean he was okay with them watching him break down about it.

She got them together for a girls night and, prior to the start of one of the worst movies of all time, Crossroads, she told them there was something Bellamy wanted them to know about but couldn't tell them himself. And then she proceeded to tell them about Gina. She kept it as succinct as possible, letting them know that Bellamy had dated and loved another girl after Roma, that they'd been together for almost two years before she passed away in Ocean City. She let them know that Gina had been shot in a robbery, that Bellamy had run across the street and seen her lying there in her own blood. But she didn't let them know that he felt guilty about it, that he blamed himself for letting her go over there alone, or that something as simple as the sound of a firework explosion could trigger the memory of that gunshot and set him off.

Raven and Niylah were both devastated for him, of course, and Raven immediately face-palmed and regretted mentioning Ocean City to him at Ice Nation the other day. She asked Clarke if she should apologize, and Clarke told her it wasn't necessary. Bellamy wasn't mad at her or anything. She hadn't known, so it wasn't like she'd done something wrong.

They never did get around to the movie after that, because they just wanted to talk about Bellamy. At one point, Niylah said, "No wonder he won't make you his official girlfriend. He's already lost two."

And a baby, Clarke thought. Bellamy had endured more tragic loss than anyone should have had to endure in a lifetime, and it still amazed her that he'd been able to pick himself up and move on from it.

It was nice to have that whole conversation out of the way by the time Friday night rolled around. Bellamy's birthday. She asked for the afternoon off work for a "doctor's appointment," but really, the only appointment she had was with Octavia and Murphy at Bellamy's house. They'd all agreed to set up for his party together and make a whole big deal out of it. Octavia and Clarke put up a vast array of cheesy decorations while Murphy worked on the cake. Around 5:00, Octavia hissed, "Hurry up, dammit! He's gonna be home from work in an hour!"

Perturbed, Murphy set the tube of blue frosting down and glared at her. "You can't rush art."

Art may have been an overstatement, but Clarke had to admit, Murphy's cake was turning out pretty well. It was just a single layer, but he had a lot of fancy, swirly designs going around the sides, and he was even attempting some frosting flowers. It looked like a girl's cake of course, but it also looked good. Apparently cake-making, much like Christmas tree-decorating, was one of John Murphy's secret talents.

At 5:30, everyone else already started to show up, each one of them with a present in hand, even Lincoln. "I got him a Greek mythology poster," he told Clarke quietly. "I didn't know what else to get him."

"Oh, no, he'll love that." He'd never admit that he loved that, since it was from Lincoln and everything, but deep down, he'd think it was cool.

They'd just gotten all the gifts stacked on the kitchen table next to the leg lamp when Miller yelled, "Shit, he's home early!" and they all scrambled to find a hiding spot as quickly as they could. Murphy took one more last loving look at his cake before he flipped off the lights, and they waited in the darkened living room and kitchen for the front door to open. When Bellamy walked in, they all jumped up and yelled, "Surprise!" and he had to act surprised. Clearly he'd seen all the cars parked out front, though, and had to know something was up.

"Whoa," he said. "What is this? I had no idea."

Bellamy got so embarrassed when he was the center of attention, but Clarke could tell part of him liked it, too. His focus was always on everyone else, so to have this day where it was just all about him must have been nice. He'd worked all day, and now he got to party all night. She was excited for him.

He balked at Jasper's desperation to get him to wear a pointy party hat, but eventually he put it on anyway. He took one look at all those presents and said, without even knowing what they were, that everyone had spent way too much money on him. He surveyed Murphy's cake when it came out of the oven and remarked, "You spelled my name wrong."

"What?" Murphy shrieked. "No."

"Yes."

Clarke peeked over Bellamy's shoulder and saw that Murphy had indeed put two e's in it. "Happy Birthday, Beelamy," she teased. "Nice, Murphy."

"I'm dyslexic, okay? I tried my best."

"No, it looks good," Bellamy told him. "Thanks, man."

Murphy wouldn't let anyone else help arrange the twenty-four candles on top of the cake—he had a vision in his mind and didn't want anyone else screwing it up. Once they were all lit, they sang a horrible rendition of the birthday song for him—seriously, it was so off-key—and told him to make a wish. Clarke had no idea what he was wishing for but assumed it was related to Octavia and her pregnancy in some way. He blew out all those candles in one big breath and said, "Alright, let's dig in."

The cake was good, but Clarke couldn't help but notice Murphy cut himself the biggest piece.

Bellamy didn't get much of a chance to eat with presents constantly being set down in his lap. There was a lot of history stuff he'd like, plus a lot of practical stuff for work he could use. There were plenty of weird, unusual gifts, too, like the slingshot flying screaming monkey from Murphy, which the guys had fun throwing around the living room for a good ten minutes, and the Star Trek Spock oven mitt from Monty. By far, though, the funniest gift was actually from Niylah. She got Bellamy a book, one that made him laugh really hard when he read the title.

"What?" Clarke asked.

He was barely able to get a word out, let alone read it. "This is awesome," he said. "How to Live with a Huge Penis: Advice, Meditations, and Wisdom for Men Who Have Too Much."

Everyone erupted in laughter, and Niylah stood up and took a bow. "Don't even ask me where I find this stuff. I'm just a genius like that," she boasted.

"That's appropriate," Clarke told her. Quietly, just to Bellamy, she said, "I don't think you have too much, though. I think it's perfect."

He smiled and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

Once the presents were opened and the cake was devoured, Clarke told Bellamy to come upstairs with her. There were plenty of "Oh, here we go, time to 'mail Christmas cards,'" jokes from their friends—ever since that charades game, mailing Christmas cards seemed to be the euphemism they liked to use for sex—but when Octavia followed them, they realized they were wrong and said, "Maybe not."

"What's this all about?" Bellamy asked as they went into his bedroom.

"Sit down," Clarke said. "One more present."

"From both of us," Octavia added.

Bellamy sat down on the foot of the bed, looking a little confused and intrigued. "Okay . . ."

Clarke pulled a wrapped-up box out from underneath the bed and set it down in Bellamy's lap. "Here you go," she said, glad he hadn't looked under there and found it these past couple days. Every morning before leaving for school, she'd peeked underneath to make sure it was still undisturbed.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Open it and find out, old man," Octavia urged.

Bellamy tore off the wrapping paper, tossed it aside, and opened the cardboard box where his gift was housed. He had to remove multiple layers of tissue paper to pull out . . . something he definitely didn't know how to react to. "A teddy bear?" he said, trying to smile.

"From the Build-a-Bear workshop," Octavia said. "It's a high-quality teddy bear."

He was speechless as he nodded, glancing back and forth from the two of them to the stuffed animal in his hands.

Clarke and Octavia shared a giggle, both loving how clueless he was in that moment, and Clarke told him, "Squeeze its stomach."

He did, and that was when sound filled the room. Not just any sound, though. Laughter. Female laughter. He must have recognized it right away, because that confused smile fell from his face, replaced by a more serious expression at once.

Here we go, Clarke thought, butterflies in her stomach as she watched him squeeze the bear again. This time, instead of laughter was singing. Clarke didn't recognize the song, but Bellamy did right away. It was Gina's favorite song, if what Octavia had told her was true. And Gina was the one singing it.

"How'd you guys do this?" he asked, looking mesmerized as he listened to his ex-girlfriend's voice playing through a speaker in that bear.

"It was Clarke's idea," Octavia said. "I just sent her some videos and stuff. Of Gina."

"And then I sent the sound files to the company when they took my order," Clarke explained. "I didn't even really do anything much."

He seemed to think otherwise, though, as he squeezed the bear again. Gina's voice came through once again, this time saying, "I'm not really funny. I'm just mean and people think I'm joking."

Bellamy laughed sadly, starting to cry. "That's her," he said.

Octavia dabbed at the corners of her eyes and bent down to give her brother a hug.

"Squeeze it again," Clarke told him. She knew what soundbite came next.

Sniffing back tears, he gave that bear's stomach another good squeeze, and this time, the response was Gina saying, "I love you, Bellamy," and his whole torso shook with a sob. It wasn't the sad kind, though. This . . . it made him happy. It made him happy to hear her voice again; it touched him.

"Thanks, you guys," he said, holding the bear to his chest. He lifted his head toward the ceiling, trying to keep the tears inside, but it was no use. They were flowing freely down his cheeks now. "Wow."

"Do you need a minute?" Clarke asked him. Having lost someone herself, she knew sometimes . . . you just needed to be alone in order to feel like you were alone with them. And right now, this bear was the closest thing Bellamy had to Gina.

He nodded tearfully, telling them once again, "Thank you."

"Love you," Octavia said, kissing his cheek before she got up and left.

"We'll be downstairs," Clarke said, putting her hand on his shoulder. He lifted it in his own, brought it up to his lips, and gave the back of it a kiss. "Thanks, Clarke."

"You're welcome." Her Kennedy documentary Christmas gift had pretty much been an epic fail, so she'd been determined to give him something he would really love for his birthday. And she could tell that he really did love this.

When she and Octavia came back downstairs without Bellamy, a few of their friends noticed and gave them questioning looks. "He'll be back down soon," Octavia said vaguely. No other explanation needed. She motioned for Clarke to follow her outside onto the front porch where they could talk in private. "Damn," she said once they were out there. "That almost got me goin'."

"Yeah, me, too," Clarke said. One of the things she loved about Bellamy was that he wasn't afraid to cry. He didn't do it very often, and only a select few people ever got to see it. But he wasn't afraid of it the way some men were.

"That was a great gift, Clarke," Octavia complimented her. "How'd you come up with that?"

"I saw some videos on Twitter," Clarke admitted. "Not very original of me."

"No, it's awesome, though," Octavia insisted. "And I'm glad I could help."

"Yeah, we made a good team."

"We did," Octavia agreed. She shivered, wrapping her arms tighter around herself as the wind whipped past. "You really care about him, don't you?" she said.

Clarke smiled and nodded. "Yeah." Bellamy was very special to her. In four and half months, he'd gone from being a complete stranger to being one of the most important people in her life. She couldn't imagine not knowing him, not being close to him.

"How much do you care about him?" Octavia asked.

Clarke shifted a bit, feeling like she was put on the spot with that question. "What do you mean?"

"Well . . ." Octavia rolled her eyes. "Okay, I know you guys aren't really dating, or so you say. But you act like you're dating. You fuck like you're dating. Hell, even when you fight, you fight like you're dating."

"Octavia . . ."

"So if my brother woke up one day and said, 'Hey, Clarke, I thought about it, and I want you to be my girlfriend' . . . would you go for it? Is that what you'd want?"

Clarke averted her eyes, uncomfortable with the question. Because she couldn't say yes, but . . . she couldn't exactly say no, either.

"I'm just curious," Octavia said.

"I know, but . . ." That wasn't just some casually curious question to her. It was a major one, one she didn't even have an answer for because it was so damn complicated. "Listen, when it comes to me and Bellamy, I can't . . ." She trailed off, shaking her head, trying to prevent all sorts of truly couple-y images from filling her mind. "I can't think about that."

Octavia stared at her long and hard, but much to Clarke's surprise, she didn't push the question anymore. "Okay," she said, reaching for the doorknob. She slipped back inside the house, but Clarke stayed out there on the porch by herself for a moment, letting out a shuddering exhale as Octavia's question faded from her mind.

It's all good, she thought. It's all good. She and Bellamy were what they were, and she'd gotten used to it a long time ago. She liked it, even. It was easy. It was nice. It was . . . it was different.

Sometimes it was best to just leave it at that.