There were three photographs Lexa had chosen for the exhibition. The first was an image of a woman in scrubs sitting on the front porch steps of a rather old, rundown house. The woman was smoking a cigarette and her head was downturned, but I could barely make out that she was smiling ever so slightly.

Is that Lexa's mom? I thought.

The second photograph was a picture of an old building of some sort. It looked abandoned, but the way it was captured, the lighting, the composition, it was incredibly brilliant.

Then, the third photograph. I may have seen the other two images, but I didn't pay much attention to them. I couldn't. The third photograph was an image of me. I couldn't believe it. It was a picture of me in one of the studios of the art building working on a painting.

I was covered in paint, even on the dirty overalls I was wearing, and my hair was a wiry mess. But, somehow, I looked so beautiful. No, it wasn't me. It was the moment Lexa had captured that was beautiful. I was so focused, doing the thing I loved most in the world. I couldn't figure out how she'd gotten that picture though. I recognized the painting I was working on. It was a painting I'd done last semester before I'd even met Lexa.

Suddenly, I put two and two together and raced back into the foyer where everyone was still waiting for me.

"Wasn't that picture like fucking adorable?" Octavia was saying to Raven when I came back in the room.

"Did you see her?" I asked frantically.

"Yeah, we tried to stop her, but she said she had to go," Jasper said, regretfully.

"Shit. Which way did she go?" I said, running out the door.

"That way!" Raven called out, pointing to the right. "Back towards campus!"

"I'll meet you there later!" I yelled back, running as fast as I could down the dark, icy street.

I reach an intersection and looked down each way. It was a Friday night so there were tons of cars and people downtown at the local bars and restaurants. I tried searching for Lexa in the crowds but I didn't see her. I kept going until I reached the next intersection and looked both ways down the busy streets. Still nothing. Several blocks later, I came to a more deserted part of downtown that was right across the street from the campus quad. I had all but given up by then when suddenly I saw her. Lexa was about to cross the street toward the quad when I called out her name.

"Wait!" I yelled.

Lexa whirled around at my call, but when she saw it was me she didn't look too pleased. In fact, she looked kind of annoyed.

"Why are you following me?" she asked.

I reached her, out of breath. "I could ask you the same question."

She knew immediately what I was talking about and looked away from me guiltily. "You painted a picture of me once. Thought I'd return the favor."

"You wanted to show me earlier and I blew you off."

Lexa's eyes turned sad and regretful. "Clarke, it's fine. I know I overreacted."

"No, you didn't. And you were right about Harper. She's an asshole," I smiled halfly.

Lexa smiled a little too, but she was having trouble making eye contact. I couldn't tell if it was because she was still angry with me or because she was nervous about what I thought of the photograph.

"When we first met at the beach house, you told me it was coincidence that we kept running into each other. It wasn't, was it?" I asked, confirming what I'd realized when I saw the photograph of she'd taken of me.

Lexa shook her head shamefully. She looked like a scared little kid, afraid she might say the wrong thing, afraid of what I would say. "Costia had already told me about you, and then I saw you one Saturday at Harbor Walk while I was working my shift. I overheard you saying you had to work on a painting all day Sunday so the next day I went to the art building on the off chance you'd be there, and I was right. I was planning to talk to you, get to know you, but I was so nervous. So, I just stood there and watched you paint for a while, or should I say paint, and dance, and talk to yourself," Lexa smiled to herself, deep in thought.

"You were there? The whole time?" I asked.

"Sounds creepy when you say it like that," she laughed breathily, "but, yes, I was. You know I take my camera with me everywhere, and I just thought you looked so – perfect. All the other times we ran into each other afterwards was complete coincidence, or maybe it was fate, I don't know. All I know is I had to use that photograph. It's you, you know? The artistic, crazy, emotional, beautiful you, Clarke. If souls could be photographed, that's what yours would look like."

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't say anything. I was completely speechless.

"Lexa," I said, coming closer to her. As I neared her, our breath mingled in the cold air. "Why did you wait so long to talk to me?"

"We come from different worlds. I thought my world would be too much for you."

"Have you seen my world?" I laughed. "It's like 'The Young and the Restless'."

Lexa stayed stoic. "You're special, Clarke. You deserve more than what I can give you."

I caressed Lexa's cheek and gazed at her longingly. "I deserve you," I said, directly.

I didn't care anymore if we were ready. It didn't matter. In my mind, ready was just a concept that stopped someone from doing what they wanted to do in the immediate moment. So, I threw away all inhibitions, leaned in, and kissed Lexa fully and passionately.

This time, she didn't stop me. This time, there were no reservations. This time, she kissed me back.