Chapter 36

Just a Little Late

OR

Fudging, Fudging, Fudging Nut-Balls

LEXA

I raise my hand, poise my fist, clench my teeth, and wait to hear the rasp of my knuckles on wood. But again nothing happens. My fist, sweaty and unsteady, freezes inches from the door and then falls limply to my side once more.

'Damn it. Damn it. Damn it, Lexa,' I curse myself. This shouldn't be that hard. For once Master Anya was wrong... This isn't crap-your-pants scary. It's puke-yourself-collapse-AND-crap-your-pants-scary. And I'm already on the verge of hyperventilating.

I wipe my slick palms against my jeans and try to summon my courage. But it is as elusive as the deep breath I cannot seem to catch. And the doubts are running through my mind like the panic in my blood. Maybe I should have called first. Maybe being spontaneous and catching her by surprise was a stupid idea. Hell, maybe I should have just told her over the phone. No... Only a coward would confess their love for someone over the phone. This has to be done face to face.

But I feel so awkward just loitering out here on her doorstep. Maybe I should have brought her something... Something to offer. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe I should go get her something. But I have no idea what. Flowers? Chocolate? Pizza? A box of Teddy Grahams? Hell if I know. But I don't have any money to get her anything anyways, and I know deep down that such an errand would just be me finding yet another way to postpone this moment... Maybe even to talk myself out of it altogether.

So I raise my fist again. And I hesitate again. And then I finally do it. I knock once, twice, three times.

'Fudging nut-balls. Fudging nut-balls. Fudging nut-balls.' I repeat under my breath, as if the words might calm me. 'Fudging nut-balls. Fudging nut-balls. Fudging-'

"Lexa!" Clarke's voice cuts over my mutterings. She's standing on the other edge of the door frame mere inches from me, looking like a damn goddess in a soft blue sweater that makes her eyes practically glow and jeans that hug her hips as fiercely as I long to. "Hey."

She looks surprised, but also pleased, to see me. "I didn't know you were coming over. I thought you were hiking in the Gorge with Master Anya..."

"I... We..." I stutter like an idiot. "We were. Hiking. I'm back. Well, I guess you could see that, huh? I mean, I'm standing right in front of you. You're not blind. And you ARE smart. And-" I cut myself off. God, either I'm stuttering and can't string five words into a sentence, or I'm rambling incessantly. What the fudging nut-balls is wrong with me? I have to get it together.

"Uhhh... Everything OK?" Clarke asks, half frowning in confusion, half laughing at me.

"Yeah. No... Everything's fine." I sputter. "I just... I wanted to talk to you about... Something."

"OK." Clarke smiles, pulling the door open wider to let me through. "I'm actually really glad you came. I've got something I wanted to talk to you about too." She leads me down the hall towards the living room.

"Mom's out again with Mr. Kane. I think they've really hit it off. And I guess I'm glad it's working out. But it's still hella weird to run into him standing in my kitchen or sitting in my living room or just strolling down the hallway. The other day, I didn't know he was here and I walked in on him in the bathroom! Luckily he was just drying his hands. He had all his clothes on. Still... The thought of what I MIGHT have seen..." She pauses to shudder at the idea, and if I wasn't on the verge of throwing up, I would have laughed at the image.

"Anyways," She continues. "I've learned that, even though it's MY house, I'm going to have to make it a habit of knocking before I enter any room. If I walked in on the two of them making out, I think I'd develop PTSD." She laughs. Luckily, she doesn't seem to notice I don't join in.

"You hungry?" She asks, stepping into the kitchen.

"No." All I've eaten today was a pre-hike power bar and the apple slices Master Anya offered me four hours, six miles, and 2,340 feet of elevation gain ago. I watched Anya devour a bag of trail mix and a bag of baby carrots and a bag of granola and a bag of rice crackers wrapped in seaweed and a bag of something else I've already forgotten. But ever since I made the decision to tell Clarke tonight, I haven't been able to stomach a thing. I'm not hungry... I'm downright nauseated. "No... I'm good. Thanks, though."

"Suit yourself." Clarke shrugs, snagging a box of Poptarts from the cupboard and plunking down on the infamous love seat. "So... What did you wanna tell me?" She asks through a mouthful of crumbly stickiness.

I stare at her looking up at me with mild curiosity and I open my mouth and I wait for the words to roll perfectly from it like a wave, sweeping her off of her feet in one wild gush. But instead I hear:

"Uhhh... How about you tell me whatever it is YOU wanted to talk about first? Mine can wait."

Fudging nut-balls. Fudging nut-balls. Fudging nut-balls. I'm such a coward. Such a damn coward.

"OK..." Clarke agrees. "But... At the risk of sounding like Octavia... Are you going to sit down, or what?"

I realize I've been pacing the room nervously and, blushing, finally sit beside Clarke, trying my damnedest to keep my jittery feet still. I also try my damnedest to battle gravity, fighting its efforts to pull me into Clarke, close enough for me to smell her hair and skin; close enough for her to smell my fear.

"So..." Clarke begins, and I can already feel her tensing awkwardly beside me. I didn't think it would be humanly possible for me to become any more nervous than I already was, but suddenly I am not only dreading speaking my own news, part of me is also worried about hearing Clarke's.

"Bellamy's taking me out to dinner tomorrow." She says, trying to sound casual, her voice awkwardly cheerful.

The words wash over me like a wave, sweeping my feet out from under me in one wild gush.

"Like... DINNER, dinner." She adds, in case it wasn't clear the first time around. Three words... A veritable tsunami picking me up and tossing me and driving me down into the rocks.

"Oh... Uhhh..." I try to form a response. But my head is swimming. I feel dizzy. I feel empty. I feel sick. I am still tumbling. Tumbling. Tumbling.

"I know..." Clarke says as if she is agreeing with me on something. I have no idea what she thinks I am thinking. "It was a total surprise when he asked me. I mean... I guess I should have seen it coming after what Raven said the other day. I guess I should know by now that Raven's never wrong about anything. Still..."

"He... Asked you... Today?" I ask, the words blustering out between breaths.

"Yeah." Clarke shrugs. "Just called me this afternoon out of the blue."

Fudging, fudging, fudging, nut-balls. Raven warned me. She freakin' warned me. I had seven days. I had a hundred perfect opportunities I never took. And now I feel like I've been sucker punched in the gut; like that priest on Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom has ripped right into my insides and yanked my heart right out. I imagine this is exactly what it must feel like to get kicked in the balls.

"And you... Said, 'Yes?'" I ask, though I already know the answer. I just don't want to believe it.

"Well... Yeah." Clarke answers. The false cheerfulness is gone from her voice. She's fiddling with the edge of her blue sweater like God playing with the edge of the sky. She seems... Uncomfortable.

"I mean... I hesitated at first." She admits. "After all, it's Bellamy we're talking about. BELLAMY. It's kinda weird with him being Octavia's brother and all. And I mean... We've been friends for a really long time... And I've always kinda thought he was cute... But I'd never really thought of him THAT way before, you know? Plus, he's Finn's best friend, which could potentially put us into some really awkward situations... But..."

Clarke turns towards me, lifting her eyes from her sweater to meet mine. They are wide and earnest and almost frantic. She is looking to me for approval. She wants, NEEDS me to reassure her that this is a good idea and I support it.

"He told me that he's been wanting to ask me out for years, Lexa." She tells me. "YEARS. He says he's had a crush on me since sixth grade. SIXTH GRADE. And he just never had the courage to tell me. And he says he wanted to, but then I was with Finn, and then there was Gina, and... Well... He says everything's finally lining up and he's not gonna waste another second of his life waiting to ask me. And... How could I possibly say 'no' to that? I mean... YEARS." She says again. "He's been in love with me for YEARS. Can you believe that?"

Yes. Yes, I can believe that. I can effing believe that.

Clarke's eyes are still wide and hopeful and almost pleading. She is still waiting for my approval. And I realize that Bellamy is just like the male version of me, a hopeless mortal pining over a goddess. And it's not too late. I could still tell her. I could still tell her that I'VE been in love with her for years too. I could tell her that as much as Bellamy wants her, I want her more, a million times more.

But I just hold my tongue. Because I see it now... It is HIM that she wants. She wants him. Not me.

And it makes perfect sense. Because Bellamy's a boy and I'm not. And Clarke likes boys, because she is normal and I'm not. And how could I have been so pathetically stupid as to believe I ever had a chance with her? With boys like Bellamy and Finn around, why would she EVER want me?

"That's... Uh..." I sputter out, feeling the words choke inside of me as my throat closes painfully. My throat is burning. My eyes are burning. Fudging, fudging nut-balls... I'm going to effing cry. "That's great, Clarke. Really great."

"Really? You think so?" Clarke asks. Her voice is strange. I expected it to be smooth with relief, and it partly is. But I swear I almost hear a tinge of regret or... Did I imagine it? The jagged edge of disappointment. But I can't bring myself to look at her, and by the time she speaks again, her voice twangs with cheerfulness once more. "Wanna help me figure out what to wear?"

"Uhhh... I uhhh... I actually have to go." I choke out, pushing myself from the cushiony chasm of her sofa, avoiding her eyes all the while.

"You have to go?" Clarke asks, confused. "But you just got here. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." I reply unconvincingly.

"You seem upset, Lexa." Clarke says, frowning at me. "Wait... Do YOU like Bellamy? Is that it? Because if you like him, I won't go out with him, I swear. I'll make up some excuse and-"

"No, I don't like BELLAMY, Clarke!" I blurt out, nearly shouting in my frustration and hurt. I'm on the verge of tears and I can't be here a second longer. I can't. "I've never liked BELLAMY."

The way I say it, it's so painfully obvious, and I'm now on the verge of confessing as well as crying. I feel like I practically already have, and I might as well just tell her everything. But I can't. Not right now. Not like this.

Clarke is staring at me with wide blue eyes shining with confusion and surprise at my sudden outburst. She doesn't get it. She still doesn't get it. And i don't know if I'm more relieved or disappointed.

"I'm sorry." I mumble, lowering my voice. "I just... I have to go. I'm just... I'm just not feeling very good." It's one of the few truthful things I've said to her tonight. "Sorry. I'm uhh... I'm just going to go." I mutter one last time and I rush from the room, not turning back to look at her once, even as she calls after me. And I push my way through the door and out into the chilly dusk. And I climb atop Safe Passage, the Toddler Tromper, and throw my weight into the pedals with the fervor of Lance Armstrong. And it isn't until I round the corner that the floodgates finally open and the wind beats the tears from my face.