Chapter 36
The second day of the road trip didn't require Clarke to wake up quite as early as the first one had, but Bellamy could tell it was still earlier than she would have liked. He woke up without an alarm, got out of bed, went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, and she just continued to lie there on her stomach, face buried in the pillow, unwilling to move. He tried to entice her to get in the shower with him, but even that didn't work. By 8:00, when he was all ready to go, he manhandled her out of bed despite her groans of protest, undressed her, and shoved her into the shower by herself before heading downstairs to see if there were any kind of breakfast foods available. He wasn't expecting much from a Super 8 motel, but . . . maybe an apple. A bagel. Something.
It took her until 9:00 to finally get ready to go, and it was still too early for her. "We should just be waking up right now," she mumbled, yawning tiredly, even though they'd gotten plenty of sleep last night.
Once they got back out on the road, though, she perked up. She put her eclectic playlist on shuffle mode and sang and danced in the passenger's seat to "Teenage Dream," by Katy Perry. And she was so cute about it, he couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed by the stupidity of the song.
"Sorry I fell asleep so early last night," he apologized, turning down the volume on the music once the song was over.
"Why are you sorry?" she asked. "You drove all day."
"Yeah, but . . . we're supposed to be hookin' up in every state."
"We are," she said.
"We skipped Ohio."
"Well, we can do it there on the way back," she said. "Pennsylvania was . . . you know." She wriggled her fingers suggestively. "And then Indiana . . ." She trailed off, blushing.
"Indiana," he echoed, licking his lips as he thought about it. Damn, that had been one hot blowjob. "You're makin' it all about me. I haven't even done anything to you."
"Well, you could," she pointed out, slipping one hand in between her legs to touch herself.
"Hmm." That was definitely tempting, to reach over there and use his fingers to get her off, just like she'd done to him yesterday. But Clarke had to sit in that seat the rest of the way to Missouri, and they still had a few hours to drive. If she made a mess, she'd regret it. "I got a better idea," he said, switching into the right lane so he could take the upcoming exit off the interstate.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Nowhere." Literally, they were in the middle of nowhere. There was a gas station not far off the exit and a few houses about a mile down the road, but other than that . . . nothing.
"I wanna fuck you," he declared bluntly, pulling over onto the side of the road.
"Here?" she asked, looking around. "In the truck?"
Well, that was one option, but . . . that gas station looked pretty deserted, and there were no cars coming in either direction for as far as the eye could see. "Not in the truck," he said, undoing his seatbelt. He climbed out and heard her gasp.
On his way around to her side, he lowered the tailgate, suddenly very sexually inspired, and then opened the door for her. "Come on," he said, grabbing her arms to help her down onto the ground.
"Bellamy, we're in the middle of nowhere," she fretted.
"Exactly." It'd be public as hell, but what were the chances anyone would actually see them?
"There's, like, nothing to conceal us."
"Nope." He brought her around to the back of the truck and pounded his fist against the lowered tailgate, predicting, "This should be good."
"You want me to get up there?" she asked.
Already, his hands were fumbling with his jeans. "No, just bend over."
As worried and embarrassed as might have been trying to act, he saw the flash of excitement in her eyes, the kind that reassured him she was totally okay with this, even if she did try to protest.
"You wanna get fucked?" he asked, lowering his pants and underwear just enough to pull his cock out.
"Yeah."
"Then let me fuck you." He gave himself a few long strokes, almost instantly hard, because the thought of doing her right out in the open like this was a major fantasy of his.
"Oh my god," she said, rolling her eyes, huffing in mock outrage as she turned around and pulled her leggings down over her hips.
"This, too," he said, snapping the waist band of her pretty little thong against her skin.
She lowered that per his request and then bent over on the tailgate, her bare backside completely exposed and waiting for him.
"You have such a perfect ass," he complimented, smoothing his hands over her round cheeks.
"Are you gonna fuck it?" she asked almost teasingly.
"On the side of the road?" He snorted. "Yeah, right." When he finally did have anal sex with her, he was gonna do his best to make it romantic. "I'm gonna fuck your pussy, though," he said, never one to grow tired of being sheathed inside her there. That was another perfect part of her, and it deserved some attention after everything she'd done for him yesterday.
"Hurry up, before somebody drives by," she said, wriggling her butt playfully.
He put his hands on her hips to still her, not about to admit that he was secretly hoping someone would drive by. It was perverted as hell of him to want someone to see him fucking her, but . . . whatever. It was what it was.
A hiss of air escaped her lungs as he slammed into her roughly, filling her up in just one thrust. He started moving right away, holding onto her sides so he could pull her back against him while he pushed forward. It made for a nice, deep penetration, and god, she felt so tight and wet around him. And she looked so good bent over like this.
"Fuck," she swore. "Oh, Bellamy . . . oh god, yes."
Hearing her moan and groan and say all sorts of things during sex was one of his biggest turn-ons. He knew she wasn't just making sounds for the sake of stroking his ego, wasn't just pretending to love every second of this. She did love it, and whatever words came out of her mouth were words of pure pleasure. Nothing exaggerated, nothing fake.
He got this reaction out of her. Only him.
Bellamy glanced over his shoulder as he fucked her, and he noticed a car a long way down the road. Either he could try to finish up before it got closer, or he could slow down, prolong it so that they'd have something interesting to see when they drove past.
He opted for the second one, even though part of him feared there would be kids in the car. It wasn't like he was trying to scar anyone for life or anything like that. He just . . . he really wanted to keep fucking her, draw it out, make it last.
"Come here," he said, slipping one hand underneath her stomach. He lifted her up, holding her straight against him, and kept his cock buried inside her. The angle wasn't an easy one, so he had to tell her, "Spread your legs," to make it work better.
She obediently moved each foot further apart, and then gasped sharply as he started pounding up into her again. "Oh god!"
He cupped and squeezed her breasts through her shirt with one hand, sliding the other down her stomach and lower abdomen to fondle the juncture between her legs. "Can you take that?" he whispered in her ear.
"Yeah," she choked out as her pussy clamped down around his cock with no rhyme or reason. "Oh, I love it."
"What do you love?" he asked, hoping to hear her say she loved his cock or his hands or the way he fucked her.
"I love . . ." Her whole body shuddered when he pinched her clit between his thumb and index finger. When she was finally able to answer, it was even hotter than he'd been hoping for: "I love the way you fill me up."
Well, fuck, if that didn't make him nearly shoot his load right then and there. He could hear the car behind them getting closer, and she still seemed oblivious to it, so he pressed down on her shoulders again to bend her over, grabbed hold of her hips, and started surging into her again, his skin slapping against hers as he sought out her orgasm more than his own.
"Fuck," he grunted, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, fighting hard to keep from cumming. If she didn't get off before he did, then he was going to lift her up into the bed of that truck, pull her hips nice and close to the edge, and eat her out right there. Because there was no way he could get back on the road having had three orgasms to her zero. That just wasn't even fair to her.
When the car finally did drive past, the driver honked the horn as if in approval, and Clarke immediately freaked out. "Oh my god!" she yelped. "Bellamy!"
He just chuckled, reaching around to touch her clit again.
"Did you know—did you know they were coming?" she asked.
He didn't really care about who was coming or going on that road. All he cared about was her cumming.
"Bellamy?"
"There's someone else up ahead," he said, pointing out a van that was slowing down on the exit ramp. "You think you can get off before they make it over here?"
She groaned low in her throat, pressing her ass back against him wantonly. "You have to make me."
"I'll make you," he promised, rubbing her clit faster, harder. At the end of the exit ramp, the van did turn in their direction, but it was still up there a ways. They'd be cutting it close. "Come on, Clarke," he said, not sure how much longer he could hold out, either. He fucked her and touched her deliberately, determinedly, and when he felt her pussy clench around him again, he knew he had her.
"Oh, fuck!" she whimpered, her hands gripping the edge of the tailgate tightly as she came. "Shit!"
There was no time to slow down as that vehicle slowly approached. A van like that could have been driven by a soccer mom, and that meant there could be kids in there on their way to soccer practice. Bellamy finished off as quickly as he could, pulling out of her the second he was done splattering cum all over her insides, and hastily pulled his pants back up. He did the same for her and tugged on the back of her shirt to get her to stand up straight. Seconds later, the van drove past them. Bellamy saw a woman at the wheel, but that was it. She barely even noticed them.
"That was close," Clarke said. "Maybe we should just go before somebody calls the cops on us."
"Good idea." He shut the tailgate and scampered back to the driver's seat. She climbed in the truck, too, giggling and saying, "I can't believe we just did that," as he twisted the key in the ignition and whipped back out onto the road.
He could believe it, though. Clarke was always willing to walk on the wild side with him.
...
Herculaneum, Missouri was smaller than Arkadia. Like way smaller. So small, in fact, that there wasn't even a suitable hotel to stay in. They had to stay in a nearby town about five miles away, where the Holiday Inn seemed to be their best bet.
Honestly, Clarke would have been okay with the Motel 6, which was one of the other options. (Of course Bellamy was paying, even though this whole road trip was really all for her.) It didn't matter to her where they stayed. All that mattered was spending time with him.
According to what was online, there wasn't much to do in the area, other than to visit the historic sight of some dead governor. Even Bellamy wasn't interested in that one, so they laid low in the hotel for a while, enjoying all the cable channels Bellamy didn't get at his house. Game Show Network was his favorite as long as they were showing some kind of trivia game. He knew all the answers to everything. He was like a walking encyclopedia, and Clarke could only sit there and marvel at all his intelligence.
"And to think," she said, snuggling up beside him, "you're gonna get even smarter when you go to college."
"If I get accepted," he mumbled, flipping the channel when Family Feud came on.
"You'll get accepted," she said confidently, drumming her fingers against his chest. "I know it." There wasn't a doubt in her mind that Bellamy was going to college. Even if it was just one or two classes to start with, he didn't seem to have that same mindset that he couldn't go anymore. He was determined.
That night, they drove around Herculaneum just to see what it was like, and Clarke was pretty sure they drove by the church where the wedding was happening tomorrow. There were four churches in that small town, what with this being part of the Bible Belt and all. It was kind of an odd place to picture a lesbian wedding taking place, but Clarke didn't want to stereotype. There were open-minded people everywhere, just like there were close-minded people everywhere. Small towns or big cities, every place was going to have a variety.
"Let's go get a drink," Bellamy suggested when they drove up to a bar.
It seemed like as good of a place as any to stop for a while. They were on what looked to be the town's main street, and there weren't any other bars to stop at.
When they walked inside, Clarke immediately noticed something weird about the clientele. "Uh, Bellamy?" she said. "Is there something a little off about this crowd?" Everyone in there looked very, very old.
"Maybe the nursing home's having a night out," he said, finding them a table. He pulled her chair out for her, and she sat down, feeling like they stuck out like two sore thumbs in the midst of all these grandpas and grandmas. Surely there were some young people in this town.
When the waitress approached their table, she noted, "You must be passing through."
"How can you tell?" Clarke asked.
"Never seen you before," the waitress replied with a shrug. "Plus, everyone in town knows it's senior citizen night. Anyone over sixty-five eats and drinks for free."
"Can people under sixty-five drink or free?" Bellamy asked optimistically.
The waitress smiled at him. "Sorry, Hot Stuff. Gonna have to charge you."
Clarke made a face. Hot Stuff? Bellamy was her Hot Stuff, not this chick's.
"I'll just have a beer then," Bellamy told her.
"I'll also have a beer," Clarke added, "and . . ." She flipped through the menu on the table, in the mood for something gooey and greasy. "Mozzarella sticks?"
"Coming right up," the waitress said, heading back behind the counter.
Clarke grunted, giving Bellamy a look. "I think she likes you."
"Jealous?" he teased.
"Why would I be jealous?" she countered. "She gets to serve you beer; I get to ride your cock."
"Shh, Clarke," he said, looking around. "We're in the presence of a more conservative generation here."
"Since when do you care about being conservative? You fucked me on the side of the road earlier," she reminded him. "Besides, half of them probably can't hear anything anyway."
"Oh, I can hear," a man at the nearest table said, turning around. "I can hear quite well, actually."
Clarke blushed and smiled sheepishly. "Hi."
"Well, hello, dolly," he said, patting Bellamy on the back. "You're a lucky man," he said before turning back to the group at his table.
Bellamy tried to stifle his laughter. "Can't hear anything, huh?"
She rolled her eyes.
They got their drinks and split a plate of cheese sticks while some old Elvis song played over the jukebox. They didn't really try to talk to anyone, but as the only young people in that bar, they were definitely noticeable, and people started talking to them. The little old ladies absolutely loved Bellamy. They pinched his cheeks and tried to give him kisses, and he was a pretty good sport about it and let them. They asked if he was an actor or a model, and when they found at he was a handyman, they started rattling off all sorts of things around their homes and assisted living apartments that needed fixing. Of course they wanted him to be the one to come fix it, but he had to break their hearts and tell them he wouldn't be in town long enough for that.
Clarke got the attention of more of the old men, of course. They took turns complimenting her hair and her smile and her figure—from anyone below the age of sixty-five, it may have come off as creepy, but with them, it was all pretty harmless. A particularly friendly man named Herb even asked her to dance when "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You," came on, and even though she told him she had two left feet, he wasn't dissuaded. So she got up and slow-danced with him for the hell of it, and Bellamy gave Herb's wife Margaret a dance that seemed to make her whole night.
"Thank you so much," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Herb had the decency not to kiss Clarke, but he did give her a hug.
Some of the oldest people started to clear out early, Herb and Margaret among them, but Clarke was surprised how many of them stuck around past 10:00. "Shouldn't it be their bedtime by now?" she leaned over and asked Bellamy quietly.
"Not necessarily," he said. "They can still live it up." He waved goodbye as one woman used her walker to head out the door. "Bye, Nancy!" he called. "I hope you get your sink unclogged."
She beamed at him and blew him a big, exaggerated kiss.
"Always so popular," Clarke mumbled.
"I like elderly people, as long as I'm not stuck behind them on the highway," he said. "Besides, this is gonna be us someday, Clarke."
"Us?" she echoed, not sure why her mind lingered on that word.
"Yeah." He downed the rest of his beer and held up his empty glass as a way of telling the waitress to bring him another one.
Clarke glanced over her shoulder to the jukebox, where a man and his wife were slow-dancing to some old country song she didn't even recognize. They were barely moving, mostly just holding each other, swaying ever so slightly, both of them smiling as though, even after all these years, they were completely content in each other's arms. It was actually really sweet.
"Maybe I should've gotten Nancy's number," Bellamy pondered aloud.
"What?" She knew Bellamy had some kinks, but seriously . . .
"So I could fix her sink," he said. "And where'd Lucinda go? She said her furnace was acting up."
"You're on a road trip," she reminded him. "No working."
"But I could drum up some business while I'm here."
"Bellamy." She wanted him to relax and enjoy himself. Knowing him, he'd work twice as hard when they got back home just to make up for the days off.
"Alright, alright," he said, grabbing the menu. He opened it up and said, "I'm still hungry. You wanna split some fries or something?"
Had the door never opened and a familiar figure not strode inside, Clarke would have answered him immediately. But her eyes bulged in disbelief, because . . . not only had somebody young actually shown up here tonight, but . . . Lexa had shown up. She was right there, only feet away. Clarke hadn't seen her in months.
"Oh my god," she whispered, seizing the menu out of Bellamy's hands. She lowered her head and pretended to be all absorbed in looking at it.
"What?" he said, looking around. His eyes settled on Lexa, too, and Clarke watched out of the corner of her eye as she went up to the bar and started talking to the waitress. Is that Costia? Clarke wondered. She'd seen some pictures of the girl online, but the waitress didn't look exactly like her. Same hair color, sure, but plenty of girls had brown hair.
"Is that her?" Bellamy asked a bit too loudly.
"Shh!" she shushed him. Right now, she just wanted to be invisible . . . which was going to be difficult since the only other people who were still there were three times her age.
"She's really hot," Bellamy remarked.
Clarke eavesdropped as Lexa told the waitress, "Yeah, the reception's gonna be at the community center, but don't feel bad if you can't make it."
"I'll try," the waitress said. "But hey, if I'm not there . . . congrats to you and Costia."
"Thanks," Lexa said, and for a millisecond, Clarke thought she was going to leave. She thought her quietness had done the trick and she'd made herself unnoticeable. But when she chanced a glance at her ex-girlfriend, she found Lexa staring at her, narrowing her eyes as if she weren't sure she was actually seeing her. "Clarke?"
"Here we go," Bellamy said, sounding almost excited about this whole thing.
Clarke closed the menu and put on a big smile. "Hey!"
"Hey, stranger." Lexa came over to the table, and Clarke stood up to give her a hug. "I didn't know you were in town already."
"Yep. Well, staying in the Holiday Inn, technically."
"Yeah, we don't really have any good hotels around here," Lexa said. "It's good to see you, though."
"Yeah, you, too." Lexa was just as beautiful as she'd always been. Even when she'd barely run a brush through her long, brown hair, it still looked like something straight out of a shampoo commercial. She didn't have to wear any makeup to look like a model, and she had the kind of figure where she could eat three burgers in one sitting and still not gain a pound.
Lexa glanced down at the table and noticed Bellamy for the first time. "Hi," she said.
"Hey," he greeted in return.
"Are you Clarke's date?"
"Yep." He stood up and extended his hand. "I'm Bellamy."
"Nice to meet you," Lexa said.
"You, too. Congratulations, by the way."
Lexa smiled excitedly. "Thank you."
"You wanna join us?" Bellamy asked politely, pulling out a chair for her.
"Uh . . ." She glanced at the clock on the wall, then shrugged. "Sure. My girl won't mind me being a little bit late."
Clarke sat back down, awkwardly thinking of something to ask to continue the conversation. "So you and Costia live here, right?" Duh. What a dumb question. She already knew they lived here.
"Yeah. In an apartment. But next month we're moving into our own house."
"Bellamy has a house," Clarke blurted, not sure why.
"I have a house," he confirmed.
"Do you like it?" Lexa asked. "Owning a home, I mean. I know it's a lot of work, but we're really looking forward to having something to call our own."
"Yeah, that's the main reason I like it," Bellamy said, leaning aside when the waitress brought his next beer over to the table. "You want one, too?" he asked Lexa.
"Sure," she replied.
"Okay, one for her, too," he told the waitress.
Clarke sat back while Bellamy and Lexa did most of the talking—it was weird how well they got along. Not that she'd expected them to not get along. Bellamy was friendly, and Lexa was . . . well, Lexa wasn't really friendly in the same way Bellamy was, but when she was in love, she was kind of a softie. And clearly she was madly in love with Costia. Every other word out of her mouth was Costia this or Costia that. And Clarke couldn't blame her. If she was engaged, she'd want to talk about her fiancé—or fiancée—a lot, too.
Twenty minutes into the conversation, Lexa admitted, "I never would have moved out here if it weren't for Costia. But she wanted to be close to her family, and I don't really have any family to be close to."
"You don't?" Bellamy asked.
"No. Foster kid."
"Oh." Bellamy frowned. "That's rough. I never knew my dad, but at least I had my mom."
"Yeah, it wasn't great," Lexa agreed, "but I turned out alright."
"Cheers to that," Bellamy said, raising his glass. They toasted, and then, as if they'd forgotten she was even there, they both knocked their glasses against Clarke's, too. Clarke took a big drink.
"So how'd you two meet?" Lexa inquired, motioning between the two of them.
"Oh, um, we . . . it was kinda this, uh . . ." Clarke stuttered. "It was chance meeting, really. Very romantic."
"Walmart," Bellamy blurted. "Parking lot. My watermelon rolled into her leg."
"Oh." Lexa laughed, shrugging. "Hey, whatever works."
"Yep," Bellamy agreed, smiling at Clarke as he gave her knee a nudge beneath the table.
"Well, it's really nice of you guys to come all the way out here," Lexa said. "Did you fly or drive?"
"Drive," Clarke replied. "Bellamy doesn't do airplanes."
Lexa made a face. "I don't like 'em, either."
"We just decided to make a road trip out of it," Bellamy said, taking another swig of his beer. "Any suggestions for what we can do around here?"
"Not much, unfortunately," Lexa said. "I see you crashed senior citizen night, though. That's always a party."
Bellamy chuckled. "Yeah, I got molested by a couple old ladies, but you know."
"Margaret?" Lexa guessed. "Or Nancy? Lucinda?"
"All of them, actually."
"Wow, this is a really small town," Clarke said. "You just knew automatically who he was talking about."
"Well, of course," Lexa said. "Everybody knows everybody here. Half the town's gonna be at the wedding tomorrow."
"So people here are, like . . . accepting of everything?" Clarke asked, not wanting to be too invasive with her questions.
"Well, there's always gonna be people who object to it," Lexa said, "but for the most part . . . yeah, everyone's been pretty good about it. It helps that everyone here has known Costia her whole life. And her family. Her dad's the head of the volunteer fire department. Her mom runs a boutique. Everyone knows them."
"Man, and here I thought Arkadia was small," Bellamy said. "But I guess we are big enough to have that Walmart, so . . ."
"Good thing, too, otherwise, you guys may never have met," Lexa pointed out, grinning pointedly.
True, Clarke thought, trying to even imagine that. Bellamy had become such a huge part of her life these past few months. She spent more time with him than with anyone else. She practically did live over at his place, even though she still had her own apartment. And now here he was in Missouri with her, chatting with her ex-girlfriend as though he'd known her for years.
For almost a hour, they sat at that bar and talked to Lexa while the senior citizens gradually cleared out. When they were the last ones there, they finally got up, and Bellamy dropped enough cash on the table to cover everyone's food and drinks. When Lexa revealed that she had to walk home, Bellamy offered her a ride, but she declined. "Thanks," she said, "but it's a beautiful night. I might as well enjoy the fresh air."
"I enjoyed the fresh air in Illinois," Clarke said, thinking about her and Bellamy's little fuck-fest on the open highway. It was possible that she was a little buzzed right now.
"Well, I'll see you guys tomorrow," Lexa said, her shampoo commercial hair whirling around her as she swayed down the sidewalk. "Bye!"
"Bye," Bellamy called, waving.
"Bye," Clarke added, waiting until she was out of earshot before she whacked Bellamy's arm and huffed, "Seriously?"
"What?"
"You just kept talking to her. On and on and on."
"Yeah, I liked her," he said nonchalantly. "Plus, she's smokin' hot, so . . ."
"Do you have any idea how awkward that was for me to be sitting in a bar with my ex-girlfriend?"
He snorted. "And do you have any idea how much I'd love to sit anywhere with my ex-girlfriends?"
Well, when he put it like that . . . oh, god. Now she just felt insensitive. "Sorry," she apologized quietly.
"No, it's okay." He put his arm around her, leading her down the sidewalk to where his truck was parked on the corner. "You wanna go back to the hotel and have sex?"
"Mmm-hmm." She'd enjoyed senior citizen night at the bar, and as awkward as it had been, she'd actually kind of enjoyed getting to chat with Lexa again. But she'd enjoy sex with Bellamy so much more than either of those things.
Later that night, as she lay on her stomach feeling satiated and utterly satisfied, Clarke imagined what she would have said to Gina and Roma if either one of them had been sitting at that table tonight. And she couldn't do it. It wasn't just the fact that she wasn't as naturally sociable as Bellamy was. It was that . . . she knew things between Bellamy and herself would be completely different if either one of them were still in the picture. She wouldn't even know him. Maybe they still would have met at Walmart that day, but he never would have agreed to hang out with her at Dropship that night. And then everything would have been different.
"You okay?" he asked as he traced his hand up and down her back, brushing ever so slightly over the crack of her ass.
"Yeah," she said, feeling like she could fall asleep sooner rather than later. Bellamy had woken her up way too early this morning, and she was really hoping they'd be able to sleep in tomorrow.
"You look like you're kinda . . . lost in thought," he noticed. "Are you?"
"A little," she admitted, not quite used to her mind working so rampantly after sex.
He touched her head, circling his thumb over her temple. "What're you thinking about?"
She sighed. "Oh, nothing. Just . . ." She trailed off, not sure if she even wanted to bring up what was on her mind.
"Just what?" he prompted.
She gazed at him for a moment, losing herself in his dark brown eyes, getting distracted by all the freckles on his face. "I was just thinking that . . . I was never as close to Lexa as you were to Roma and Gina," she confessed.
He frowned. "You don't think so?"
"No." It wasn't even that she was sad about it, because as he'd basically pointed out earlier, at least Lexa was still alive. "I mean, I loved her, yeah, and she loved me. And even Finn . . . that was like a first love/puppy love thing with him."
"Yeah, I never had that," he said. "With Roma . . . it was the real deal right away."
"Oh, I'm sure," she said, recalling all the things he had stashed away in that box in his nightstand. She wondered if he ever looked at the things in there without her knowing. Maybe some of those early mornings when he was awake and she was still sleeping . . . maybe he looked back at all his memories of her, and she wasn't even aware of it.
"Well, every relationship's different," he said. "I think it's good you and Lexa can still be friends. Sort of."
"Yeah." It was a good thing, and she knew it, even if they never talked again after this wedding. "I don't know, I guess I just realized . . ." Again, she let her sentence fade, and this time, she really didn't want to finish it.
"What?" he asked.
She shook her head against the pillow, refusing to answer this time. "Never mind," she said, turning onto her side. She scooted back against him, and he curled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, face pressing against the back of her neck. He didn't make her keep talking this time, which was good, because she was afraid to.
In her mind, though, the realization she'd had tonight rang out loud and clear: She was closer to Bellamy than she'd ever been to Lexa, and certainly closer to him than she'd ever been to Finn. He knew her better than either of them did, and she wasn't even sure how that had happened. But over the past six months . . . it had.
...
Much to her satisfaction, Clarke slept in the next morning. She awoke at 9:30 to find that Bellamy wasn't there, but he'd left a note next to her phone saying he'd gone down to the pool to swim. The fact that he could do any kind of physical activity this early in the morning absolutely flabbergasted her, because the only strenuous thing she could do in the morning was have sex. And even then, she kind of just laid there and let him do most of the work.
Once she got her teeth brushed and put some clothes on, she headed down to the pool and found him playing Marco Polo with a couple of kids, one boy and one girl who couldn't have even been in junior high yet. She kind of had to just stand back and watch him with them for a moment, because it was so sweet, and he genuinely looked to be having a good time.
"Oh, hi, Clarke," he said, waving when he noticed her. "I made friends."
"I see that." God, he really would be a great father someday. He just had that vibe.
When the kids left, he attempted to pull her into the water with him, but she fled before he had the chance. He came back upstairs shortly afterward and got in the shower with her, but the water got very cold very fast, so they limited themselves to kissing only.
Since the wedding wasn't until the afternoon, they had all morning to take it easy. They went out for breakfast and then stumbled upon a nature reserve on their way back to the hotel. Bellamy insisted that they stop and walk around, impersonating the late great Crocodile Hunter when he said (in his best Australian accent), "You never know what strange and wild beasts we'll find out here."
"In Missouri?" She doubted it, but she walked around the nature reserve with him anyway. There really wasn't much of anything to see, other than a lake and some birds here and there. But then again, Clarke didn't really care about seeing any animals. She was content to just walk around with Bellamy, hand-in-hand, enjoying his company and laughing at all his nerdy jokes, of which there were many.
Bellamy wanted lunch, but she didn't want to eat before the wedding. She had a dress to squeeze into, after all, and she wanted to look good in it. So he grabbed something to go from the local burger joint and sat on the bed stuffing his face while she began to curl her hair.
"Crap," she swore, setting her curling iron down on the sink counter. She'd been aiming for some Khloe Kardashian beach waves, but what she was ending up with looked more like Shirley Temple.
"What?" Bellamy asked, his mouth full of French fries.
"Nothing," she muttered, envious that, as a guy, he could just run a comb through his hair, put on his suit, and be ready to go. "I just can't get this to look right."
"You look fine to me," he told her.
"You have to say that," she said, meeting his eyes through the mirror. "Because I won't sleep with you if you say I look bad."
Grinning, he said, "Nah, you'll sleep with me no matter what I say."
She blushed, because that was very true. She totally would.
Once she'd finally combed out her hair to make the curls loose and wavy the way she wanted, she got to work on her makeup, trying to keep it simple and classic. The last step was to try to put on her new blue dress, but somehow, she managed to get stuck in it with her arms above her head, and she couldn't move them. She whimpered for help, and Bellamy had to pull it down over her head, twist it around in the right direction, and zip her up in the back. "You look really cute," he told her, smiling affectionately when she was all ready to go.
"Thanks." He didn't look too bad himself. A casual t-shirt and jeans would always be her favorite look on Bellamy, but when he dressed up, he looked so dapper and dashing. Like a prince.
They got to the church half an hour before the wedding was set to begin, and it really did look like half the town had turned out. Clarke didn't really know anyone, so she wanted to find a seat right away. But Bellamy of course started to talking to people. He recognized a few of the older guests from the bar last night. Plenty of the younger women in attendance wanted to talk to him, too, and Clarke couldn't say she blamed them. Seeing a new, attractive guy in a small town like this was probably a big fucking deal, because most of these girls probably went to high school with the same guys they'd once been in preschool with. There was some minor flirting on their end, but Bellamy never really seemed to reciprocate. So Clarke wasn't jealous. Besides, some of the girls who talked to him had brought other girls as their dates, so . . . unless they were bisexual, they probably weren't even really flirting.
During the actual wedding, they sat near the back. It went quick enough, and it was a nice ceremony. Lexa's dress was very loose and flowy, and Costia's was form-fitting and sleek. They both looked beautiful and totally in love as they vowed to cherish each other in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, as long as they both shall live. The vows were ironically traditional for such a non-traditional wedding, but the way they both said them was really heartwarming. They were obviously meant to be together; they'd found their special person. The rings and the kiss at the end to seal the deal . . . that was all just symbolic of what they already had together.
She didn't even realize she was crying until Bellamy nudged her shoulder and asked, "You okay?"
"Yeah," she answered quickly, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. "I'm just doing the stupid girl thing." She smiled at Lexa as she and her new wife walked down the aisle, cheers and applause from all their guests accompanying them. They both looked so happy.
"Are you gonna cry at Octavia's wedding, too?" Bellamy asked teasingly.
"Maybe," she admitted. "Are you?"
"Oh, yeah," he answered without hesitation. "I'll bawl like a baby."
She laughed lightly, giving his arm a squeeze. Knowing how close he and Octavia were, it wasn't hard to picture that.
The wedding reception took place about a block away from the church at some community center building. The decorations inside were simple, and the food looked like something fit more for a backyard barbeque than a fancy event. It was a lot better than that crap they'd served at the art department dinner, though, and Bellamy ate to his heart's content, declaring, "I'm so glad this isn't rabbit."
Lexa and Costia had their first dance as a married couple, of course, and that was very romantic, but after that, the atmosphere was pretty lighthearted and jovial. Bellamy and Clarke were at a table with some of the other out-of-towners, but there was a lot of mingling happening, so nobody really stayed seated for long. She was able to meet some of Lexa's new friends, all of whom seemed nice, and she was even able to meet Costia at one point. Lexa introduced them while Bellamy was off at the food table, the center of attention for a particularly inquisitive group of lesbian friends who, much like Niylah, all wanted to know about his oral sex technique.
"Clarke, it's so nice to meet you," Costia said, giving her a hug. "Lexa's told me so much about you. I know it really means a lot that you could be here today."
"It does," Lexa agreed. "Thank you, Clarke."
"Yeah, of course." It wasn't like there was any bad blood between them or anything, so it wasn't hard to show up.
"I know it was a long drive," Lexa went on, "and I really do appreciate it. And I'm glad I got the chance to meet Bellamy, too. Where is he, anyway?" She looked around curiously.
"He's, uh, over there," Clarke said, pointing him out.
"The dark-haired guy?" Costia asked. "Ooh, he's cute. Not that I'm the best judge. But he seems cute."
"He is cute," Lexa confirmed. "Not that I'm the best judge, either."
"Hmm, maybe I should go introduce myself and rescue him, though," Costia contemplated. "I love our friends, but they can be kind of . . ."
"Crazy," Lexa filled in.
"Exactly."
"Oh, I'll go rescue him then," Clarke said. "You guys just . . . bask in your newly-weddedness."
Lexa and Costia smiled sweetly at each other and gave each other a quick peck on the lips.
Clarke had only taken a step when Lexa called her name. "Clarke!"
She spun back around.
Her ex smiled at her warmly. "Seems like your boyfriend's a keeper. You did good."
My boyfriend? Clarke thought. She and Bellamy hadn't discussed in depth whether or not they were going to let people assume that's what he was to her, but she figured . . . that was just easier. Much in the same way she didn't feel like explaining the unusual nature of their friendship to her parents, she didn't feel like explaining it to Lexa. So she didn't bother to correct her, didn't bother to admit the truth, that Bellamy wasn't her boyfriend. She decided to let him have that title for the day, because . . . why not?
She interrupted Bellamy's conversation with his new companions—they seemed to be discussing whether a woman's breasts or butt was the most attractive body part—and cooed, "Come sit with me." She didn't do as well in these large-scale social situations as he did. She couldn't go up to somebody and strike up a conversation like she'd known them her whole life.
"You doin' alright?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist.
"Yeah," she replied, leaning into him.
"Yeah?" He waved goodbye to his new friends and meandered with her towards their table, which was right next to Herb and Margaret's table, the older couple they'd danced with at the bar last night. When they sat down, Margaret turned around and asked Clarke, "Are you going to try to catch the bouquet?"
Clarke smiled at her and shook her head. "No, I don't think so."
"You should," Margaret insisted.
No, Clarke thought adamantly, inhaling a shaky breath, I shouldn't.
It didn't matter much anyway. Even though she didn't get up and join the other girls trying to catch either Lexa's or Costia's bouquet, it ended up in Clarke's lap anyway. Lexa had played softball in high school, so she could throw hard and far, and her aim was pretty damn accurate. She tossed it right to Clarke, smirking deliberately, and Clarke just smiled meekly and held it up to cover her face while everyone clapped for her.
"Jesus Christ," Bellamy swore. "I guess she wanted you to have that."
"I guess," Clarke mumbled in agreement, handing the bouquet to Margaret instead. Margaret was reluctant to take it of course, but Clarke insisted she didn't want it. And she really didn't. So she was happy to give it up.
It was shortly after catching the bouquet—unwillingly—that Clarke started to knock back a few more drinks. It was all pretty much champagne and wine, so nothing hit her particularly hard, and she wasn't trying to get wasted or anything. She just felt like she'd enjoy herself a little more here if she was slightly tipsy. Bellamy was driving, so he wasn't drinking much. He could keep her from doing or saying anything too embarrassing.
Of course, the trade-off for a buzz was that it was easier to convince her to get out there onto that dance floor than it would have been if she was sober. She warned Bellamy that she'd probably step on his feet, but he just said, "What else is new?" and wrapped both arms around her waist, pulling her in close. She looped her arms around his neck, smiling up at him, and purred, "Mmm. You're a keeper, you know that?"
He nodded. "I've often thought so."
"You're not the only one."
"I'm not?"
"No." She shook her head, cover her mouth with her fist as she let out a little burp. "Sorry."
"Are you wasted?" he asked her.
"No. Just tipsy." There was a difference.
"Tipsy, huh?" he echoed. "Am I gonna have to carry you out of here?"
"Nope."
"You sure?"
"Positive." She looked over to her right, and there were Herb and Margaret, dancing together much in the same way she and Bellamy were. They were so cute and completely absorbed in each other. Clarke wondered how many years ago they'd had their wedding dance.
"Hey." Bellamy placed his hand under her chin, tilting her head up. "Do you wanna go?" he asked. "Or stay and do something fun?"
"Something fun?" she echoed. "Like what?"
"Well . . ." He grinned mischievously, and jerked his head toward the side, like he was suggesting they go someplace where they could be alone.
"I can't have sex at my ex-girlfriend's wedding," she said. "That would be . . . sacrilegious." She was pretty sure she mispronounced the word in her semi-drunken state.
"It wouldn't be," Bellamy said, "but that's fine. We don't have to, if you don't want to. Just thought I'd offer."
"It'd be wrong," Clarke said, even though she was pretty sure there was always at least one couple who snuck off during the wedding reception to get it on. And sure, it would probably feel really good to get fucked by Bellamy right now, and an orgasm might be enough to make her forget that Lexa had called Bellamy her boyfriend, that she hadn't corrected her, and that the bouquet had ended up in her lap. But . . .
Actually, that all sounded pretty convincing.
Not even ten minutes later, Clarke found herself pinned up against the bathroom door, her legs wrapped around Bellamy's waist as he held her up and fucked her roughly. She wasn't even trying to be quiet, because all that thumping against the door had to be a dead giveaway. All she could hope was that nobody had wanted to use this bathroom, because if they walked by, they'd hear her moaning and gasping his name.
"Oh, Bellamy . . ." She clung desperately to his shoulders, her fingers clutching and clawing at his shirt since he'd thrown his suit jacket on the floor. "You get me to do the craziest things."
He growled low in his throat and fucked her harder, and of course she loved every second of it.
...
Clarke was drunk and Clarke was tired, but Bellamy managed to get her to leave the reception before she got too sloppy. He wasn't really sure what had prompted her to drink so much, but . . . whatever, drunk Clarke was fun, and she didn't come out to play too often.
Luckily, she was able to put one foot in front of the other until they got to the stairs. Both the hotel's elevators were broken, so they had no choice but to climb up three flights to get to their room. "Come on, Clarke," he said, trying to pull her along behind him.
"No," she said, pouting and shaking her head stubbornly. "I won't do those."
"You're not doing the stairs?"
"No." She plopped right down on the bottom step, yawning exaggeratedly. "I'll sleep right here," she declared, almost proudly.
"You're really not gonna come upstairs?"
"Nope."
He sighed, seeing no other way than to manhandle her. "Alright, you leave me no choice then." He bent down and scooped her up with little effort swinging her over his shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around her legs to hold her in place.
"Bellamy!" she yelped. "Oh, don't drop me."
"I won't drop you," he promised, taking the stairs carefully. "Not on your head anyway." Clarke wasn't heavy by any means, but three flights of stairs carrying another person took its toll on him, especially because he was feeling a little tired himself. "Almost there," he said more to himself than to her as he kicked open the door that led out into the hallway. Hopefully no one walked out of their room and saw them right now. Not only was her ass hanging out the back of her dress, but he also probably looked majorly suspicious carrying some drunk girl back to his hotel room.
"Bellamy, my head hurts," she complained.
"That's 'cause you're upside down, babe."
"Just like I am when we do that one thing."
"What one thing?" he asked.
"You know."
"Oh, you mean, the standing sixty-nine?" He grunted. Overrated. They'd only done that once or twice. The lying down version was so much easier on his arms.
When he finally got her back to the room and back on the bed, she curled up on her side and murmured, "Mmm, let's sleep now."
He sat down beside her, brushing her hair out of her face, and said, "I think I might go take a shower." The sex in the bathroom had been a nice added touch to the day, but he'd worked up a sweat doing it.
"No," she whined, grabbing at his arms and shoulders. She pulled him down next to her, curled up against him, and wrapped one leg around him tightly, almost as if to keep him in place. "Bellamy, don't—don't leave me," she sputtered quietly, sounding as if she could fall asleep at any minute.
He laughed a little, getting a kick out of how adorable she was when she was drunk. "Where would I go?" he asked.
She didn't have an answer, but she did have the same request. "Just don't leave me."
He frowned, not sure why she sounded so afraid of that happening. He was right there. Wasn't going anywhere. Not anytime soon.
Deciding to chalk it all up to her being smashed and not really even knowing what she was saying, he waited until she was fast asleep to slip out of bed and take that shower he needed. And even then, he made it a quick one so he could get back in bed with her before she even noticed he was gone.