"Bellamy, I am not going to let you pay for it all!" Clarke protested, fumbling in her back pocket for her folded money she'd stashed there before they'd left.

"It's 26 dollars, Princess. Relax," Bellamy said, sliding his crisp bills onto the plate with the check.

"I'll pay half," Clarke insisted, trying to smooth out a crumpled ten dollar bill. Once she was satisfied, she looked to see Bellamy sending the waitress off with a smile. He looked back at her, victorious.

Clarke groaned, but she couldn't stay mad at him. Not that she was really even mad in the first place, but it just wasn't fair of Bellamy to pay for her dinner.

"No. I ate most of the food anyway. And you got a water!"

"Fine. But I'm leaving the tip."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes as if he didn't like that either, but Clarke fixed him with a glare and he held his hands up in surrender.

"What's 20 percent?" Clarke asked.

Bellamy frowned. "Don't you just move the decimal back one place?" He made a swooping motion with his finger in the air.

"No… that would be 10 percent."

"Then just double it! So, moving the decimal would be two-sixty, and then double, would be four… and sixty and sixty is one-eighty, no twenty, so five and…"

Clarke couldn't contain her amusement as Bellamy's attempt at mental math. They way he held up his hands and stared into the air, as if visualizing the numbers written there and he was moving them around. His dark brows knit together and he thought aloud while tendrils of black hair curled on his forehead.

"What? C'mon Princess, you know I suck at math." Bellamy dropped his hands to the table, defeated.

"You do not! You're just more of a visual thinker, and that's not a bad thing."

"I think my Algebra professor would disagree," he grumbled and Clarke smiled, patting his hand across the table. He looked up at her with puppy eyes again. They were much better this time, when he wasn't trying so hard.

"I'm sure she's just a hardass."

"Yeah, you're right."

"I'll just leave the ten, she was nice." Clarke decided, trying to crease the bill in the middle so it would stand up, but it was too flimsy from the mistreatment it had suffered in her pocket.

"Yeah, she was. Apart from her presumptuous comments."

"Comment," Clarke corrected. "She only said one thing. And you know, it isn't her fault, what was she supposed to assume?" As the words left her mouth, Clarke didn't know why she said them.

"Oh?" Bellamy said as he stood from his seat.

"I guess," Clarke said, using the opportunity to turn away from him, because she knew her face was getting red again, for what? The thirtieth time tonight? Damn pale skin. Why couldn't she have Raven's dark, tan skin, or even Bellamy's freckles to blanket her cheeks?

The bar had gotten a bit roudier as the night progressed, single men replacing the families who had been eating dinner together. The kid's menus and crayons were replaced by wine lists and bottles of Natural Lite. It was starting to set Clarke on edge a bit.

"Let's get outta here, Princess," Bellamy said, stepping in front of her as a pair of guys stumbled past, one of them lurching towards Clarke with a look. That was until he saw Bellamy… then his expression quickly sobered and he scampered off to where his buddy was laughing his ass off.

"Yeah," Clarke agreed, feeling soothed when Bellamy draped a hand on her shoulder and guided her towards the door.

"Have a good night, you two!" Ella called from the hostess stand in the entrance, and Clarke smiled kindly at her.

"You too," Bellamy said, pulling open the door. The reprieve of cool night air washed over Clarke's face like a wave, making her close her eyes and take a deep breath, filling her lungs and cooling her from the inside out.

She opened her eyes to see Bellamy watching her.

"Gettin' a little stuffy in there?" He asked with a slight smile.

"You could say that," Clarke agreed. "But the city doesn't smell as good as it did back home."

"I bet not."

"It smells like cigarettes and gasoline and booze."

"Maybe because we're standing outside a bar?" Bellamy suggested and Clarke shot him a look as they started walking.

"You might have a point."

"Might?"

Clarke groaned and picked up their pace. Bellamy followed her lead.

"What's the hurry, you got a hot date tonight?" He joked, then he paused. Clarke felt a jab of panic, then one of guilt. She absolutely hated the way Bellamy tiptoed around her.

She glanced back at him, her eyes tracing the way the shadows lay over his face. She could see his earnest brown eyes and pinched brows.

"Nope," she said, turning away from him. "I just got done with one."

"O-oh," Bellamy said, returning to her side. Clarke definitely heard the way his voice faltered, and she was glad for the streak of confidence she'd had that allowed her to say the quip, even if she couldn't look Bellamy in the eyes when she said it.

"Just joking, of course," she said before an uncomfortable silence could settle over them.

"Yeah, I know."

"But, it was pretty cool how you made that dude practically piss himself," Clarke giggled at the memory of a few minutes ago.

"Who wouldn't be scared of guns like these?"

"Guns?" Clarke's head whipped around, concerned, only to be met with the sight of Bellamy flexing his biceps. He immediately started laughing, pointing at her.

"Clarke, you thought I meant real guns? What, do you think I carry a .50 Desert Eagle in my waistband or something?"

"I don't know what you do! Maybe you're more of a Glock-19 in an ankle holster kind of guy." She defended herself weakly, trying to put on an offended expression. Bellamy was slapping his knee like this was the funniest thing that'd ever happened to him, so Clarke whacked him in the chest.

He sprung upright and asked, "What? Want to feel my guns?"

"No you weirdo! I want to go home."

"Fine. Buzzkill." Bellamy scoffed and Clarke hit him again, but retracting her hand, she felt as though it probably hurt her more than it did him. He was rather well muscled, despite the lack of exercise Clarke had seen in his life.

"I am not a buzzkill. You're just weird."

"Call it what you will," he said loftily and Clarke side eyed him and challenged;

"Where'd you even get muscles from? Steroids? Because I've never seen you work out once."

"Oh Princess, there is a lot you don't know about me."

"Really? How mysterious."

"Uh huh. I fit that saying, you know."

"Saying?" Clarke questioned.

"Yeah, you know, tall, dark, and mysterious."

"I'm pretty sure that it's tall, dark and handsome," Clarke corrected.

Bellamy grinned. "Oh, you think I'm handsome, Princess?"

Clarke turned to him, taking in his smug look, realizing she'd fallen into the trap he'd set for her.

"You brat," Clarke scoffed.

"I believe I asked you a question," He pressed and Clarke felt her stomach flutter. As soon as she felt it, she shoved it down. Catching feelings for this guy, who was twenty-three, who was her roommate's brother, who was the only one who knew her secrets, who lived in the dorm right below hers, was not something she should be doing right now. Only, the answer that left her mouth wasn't helping the facts she'd just convinced herself of.

"I think you know that answer to that, Paris."

Bellamy didn't respond and Clarke kept looking straight ahead, noticing for the first time how dark and shadowed the streets were. It felt like someone had turned on the adrenaline drip into her IV as she became hyper aware of the alleyways and black recesses, and she was already high strung.

A swift breeze blew around the corner of a building and Clarke shivered, crossing her arms firmly across her chest and gripping the backs of her upper arms with her hands.

"Cold?" Bellamy asked.

"A bit chilly," She replied, then added, "But it's your fault, because you told me I could dress like this. You didn't tell me to bring a jacket!"

"Oh okay, just blame all your problems on me!" Bellamy said, returning to the playful back-and-forth banter they'd shared all evening.

"Well, it's someone's fault, and it sure as heck isn't mine," Clarke replied.

"Hmm, you know, if I had a jacket, I would do the polite thing and offer it to you, but you didn't remind me to bring mine either."

"Chivalry isn't dead, look at that."

" 'Course not. There's still good guys left in the world, Clarke."

Clarke looked up to Bellamy as he smiled softly down on her. It was strange how their conversations could slip so easily from teasing to serious, and Clarke's emotions often couldn't keep up.

"I hope so." She finally responded, unsure of what else to say.

"I know so." Bellamy said firmly, and they walked on.

Thoughts were swirling like a windstorm in Clarke's head, and she was trying to reach out and grab hold of them, make them tangible and understandable, but they all slipped through her fingers, leaving nothing but residual feelings. Confusion, anger, security, guilt, exhaustion.

One moment she had been laughing on the street with Bellamy, and the next… she didn't know where she was. It was like walls had risen up around her and suddenly, she was trapped in her own dark mind. She stumbled blindly, feeling like only a vessel for the endless barage of emotions thundering through her.

Clarke was so caught up in her own head that she didn't realize Bellamy was no longer at her side as she stepped off the curb onto the street.

A hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder and Clarke choked on a scream as she was yanked backwards.

"Clarke!" Bellamy's voice broke through to her. What was going on? She shoved against the arms holding her, but they were strong, unrelenting. Her eyes felt like they were lagging behind the rest of her head as she tried to look around.

A car flew past, mere inches from Clarke, so close the acrid wave of air washed over her and sent her hair fluttering around like it was caught in a gale.

"Jesus, Clarke!"

Clarke scrambled back from the road, watching the red taillights of the car disappear around the corner with the squeal of tires. The arms that held her back no longer felt like constraints, but a safety net that had snagged her from yet another near fatal event.

"Clarke are you alright? Shit. Come 'ere." Bellamy pulled Clarke away from the curb, his arms wrapped securely around her whole torso. She clutched his forearm and couldn't tear her eyes from the spot where the car disappeared.

"Sit down for a second," Bellamy said, pulling her down and she sat nearly on his lap before he shifted her to the side, though her legs remained draped over his. One arm remained wrapped over her shoulders, holding her upright. Was that her heart racing, or Bellamy's?

Clarke was struggling to comprehend what just happened. Surely it had taken only ten seconds, but her brain was struggling to slog through the series of sights and sounds, to piece them together like a patchwork quilt that would explain the event.

"Clarke?" Bellamy's voice penetrated the hazy fog and she turned to him. His face was all unmasked concern and fear. His dark features shone oddly in the yellow glow of the streetlamp on the corner, his eyes glowing a sort of honey color.

"Hey, hey, it's alright." He said softly, and it was like the dark walls vanished and Clarke could reenter her own mind. She was aware of the way her body was shaking, she was aware of the way she was gasping for breath, she was aware of the way she was still clinging to Bellamy's wrist like it was the last tether to this planet.

"How many times are you going to save my life?" she choked out. Bellamy's lopsided smile crept onto his face and he hugged Clarke closer to him.

"As many times as necessary," He said into her hair before releasing her slightly so he could look at her face. Clarke didn't want him to release her.

"Thanks. I- I don't know what just happened."

"Some jackass came flying around the corner in his Dodge Charger and nearly took you out. Who the hell drives like that in the city? What a fucking idiot."

Clarke was surprised at the heat in Bellamy's tone. She'd never heard him curse like that before.

"I should have been looking where I was going. I was so.."

"That was not your fault, Princess. That dumbass was going at least thirty around that corner. He didn't even slow down."

Clarke took a shuddering inhalation and bit her lip as she attempted to slow her racing heart. Contrary to her attempts, it beat faster, not in response to her near death experience, but to the proximity to her rescuer. His woodsy scent washed over her and she could feel the rise and fall of Bellamy's chest against her side.

Clarke pulled her legs off his lap and Bellamy released her, slightly startled by her sudden movement.

"Y'alright?"

"Yeah...I just want to get home now," Clarke said, clutching the underside of the bench seat and staring at a crack in the concrete. Her shoulders felt freezing in the absence of Bellamy's arm.

"Sure, c'mon Clarke." Bellamy stood and offered her his hand. She looked up into his face as she took his outstretched hand.

"Thanks again," Clarke said.

"You're wearing out the word again," Bellamy warned and Clarke groaned.

"Someday, I'll pay you back for everything," she said earnestly. Bellamy only leaned his head slightly to one side and smiled softly, and Clarke felt as if she couldn't drop his hand, even now that she was on her feet.

So, she interlaced her fingers into Bellamy's and said; "Would you mind keeping me from walking into oncoming traffic again, Alexander?"

"It would be my pleasure… Wait! You never told me your middle name, Clarke."

"I've got to keep at least some secrets," she protested.

"Hmphf. I'll figure it out."

"Good luck."

"Why? Is it some weird name? Not like Marie or Anne or Mary?"

"I dunno," Clarke said as they reached the other side of the street.

Bellamy squeezed her hand tighter as he made his next guess. "It's Rose, isn't it? Clarke Rose Griffin, that sounds nice."

Clarke shook her head, too absorbed in the feeling of Bellamy's thumb gently brushing along her pointer finger to reply aloud. She didn't think he even realized he was doing it, rubbing his calloused knuckle along the smooth white skin, but she was captivated by the sensation.

"I'll ask Raven. She'll know, I bet." Bellamy decided.

"I don't think she does, actually."

"Damn. I'll just have to get you to tell me."

"Another time."

"Another time," Bellamy relented. "Still want to go to the game tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," Clarke replied. "Do you think it's too late to get tickets?"

"Nah, they have a reserved section for students. I'll get it figured out in the morning, don't worry about it."

"Thanks. Will Octavia want to go? I'm sure Raven will. I don't really see Monty and Jasper as sports fans, but maybe. You should ask them. And Harper'll go if Monty does. And what about Miller and Murphy? I bet they already have tickets, they seem very into sports." Clarke started rambling to distract herself from the stifling closeness of Bellamy. In all truthfulness, she wouldn't be disappointed if it ended up being just her and Bellamy, but she figured Bellamy would want to invite everybody.

"I'm sure," Bellamy said lightly. Clarke looked up at him but he stared straight ahead.

"I'll ask. Let you know later," Clarke said softly. They were back onto the campus now, where the streetlights were a bit closer together and the blue emergency assistance posts lit up each corner. Students were milling around, some late night studiers and some early partiers. There was no doubt that the designated campus area felt a lot safer than the city surrounding it, but the darkness and unfamiliar figures still unsettled Clarke. She didn't want to let go of Bellamy's hand, and he didn't seem to mind.

"You know Clarke, I was thinking…" Bellamy started.

Clarke felt her chest seize. "What?"

"They have a lot of- I don't know what they call them, counselors, I guess, on campus. They say they're free and confidential to all students. Maybe that would help you? To go talk to someone about...everything."

Clarke felt a shiver travel down her spine and the mere thought of telling anyone about what had happened. It was quickly followed by a sharp jab of… was it betrayal? Why did she feel betrayed by Bellamy? Surely he was only trying to help… that was all he'd even been doing.

"No thank you," Clarke said tightly.

"That's fine. I just wanted to put it out there, so you could think about it."

His hand felt more like a vice than a comfort now, and Clarke could see Frontier Hall up ahead, so she pulled free. He seemed reluctant to let her go, gazing down at her while Clarke refused to return his look.

"Thanks, but I'm fine." Clarke said coldly, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

"Okay."

Was this what she got for depending on Bellamy so much? Of course it was. She was simply too much for him to handle, so he was trying to off load her to some campus counselor, who was probably just another student in an internship position trying to gain some free experience. It was just a nicer way of saying, 'Clarke, you're way too much work, figure it out.'"

Even the thought of those words crossing Bellamy's lips were enough to make Clarke's knees tremble. He had been her biggest support, her confidant, her best friend these past two weeks, and she knew she depended on him too much. Now he had come to the same realization and it broke Clarke all over again.

They didn't speak until the elevator doors opened onto the fourth floor. Bellamy walked Clarke down the hall, which made her feel even worse. He was too nice of a guy to just ditch her, now she'd wrangled him in with guilt and pity, which was the last thing she wanted.

"Thanks for supper. I'll pay you back sometime."

"Don't worry about it," Bellamy said, and the look in his eyes was enough to make Clarke doubt what she'd been thinking about for a second, but only for a second.

She looked down at the door. "Let me know about the tickets, or if you don't want to go, that's cool."

"What? Of course I want to go!" Bellamy said quickly.

"Okay," Clarke said. "Goodnight, Paris." She had to use the nickname at least one more time. She'd just come up with it, afterall.

"Goodnight, Princess. See you tomorrow."

Clarke slowly let herself into her dorm as she listened to Bellamy's retreating footsteps, muffled on the carpet. Maybe she was wrong? He seemed pretty enthusiastic about the game tomorrow. But, they wouldn't be alone, and what boy would say no to a football game? That was all it was.

The dorm was dark and quiet. The air conditioning hummed from somewhere in the wall and Raven's little bedside clock ticked away, one second after the next.

Double checking the bathroom and the adjoining dorm, Clarke confirmed she was alone; all of her friends were out doing normal, college things. She sat down on her bed and mulled over her evening. It had been a good night, great even, until the last ten minutes.

Clarke showered and brushed her teeth before snuggling into bed with her laptop to watch a movie. She must have dozed off, because she woke up when Raven returned, Octavia and Harper in tow. Clarke wondered how they'd all ended up together, because she'd thought they all went out in separate ways, but it didn't matter, she needed to talk to all of them.

They all gave their enthusiastic agreement to go to the football game tomorrow, and Harper even produced a couple of tubes of face paint in the maroon and gold colors of their school.

Clarke texted Bellamy, but he never replied. She assumed he'd read the message and felt no need to reply. The message didn't really warrant a response she supposed. He deserved to go to sleep, he was probably worn out from catering to Clarke all evening.

She listened halfhearted as the girls retolded their night's experiences from where they had settled around on Clarke's bed. Raven and Octavia had gone to that bar where The Grounder's dodgeball team had invited them to the precious weekend, but they wouldn't serve them, even with their fakes. Octavia complained about it but Raven just shrugged, saying she'd be zonked out right now if she'd been drinking anyway. Harper had gone with Monty to the Science Museum of Minnesota, then out to dinner once they were kicked out of the exhibit at closing time.

Raven teased Harper until she blushed and Clarke smiled at her friends, thankful they didn't ask what she had done, assuming she'd just spent the night in. She knew she couldn't lie to them, and she didn't want to incur Octavia's wrath upon Bellamy or rouse Raven's suspicions even more, or Clarke would suffer the same treatment Harper had.

While Raven tried to beat down the bathroom door after Octavia got in the shower before Raven could brush her teeth, Clarke fell into a fitful sleep.

AN_

Hello folks! My apologies for how long it has been since my last update... Life has been CRAZY hectic lately and writing has had to take the back burner in my life for the time being. :( I hope that is understandable, and by no means does it mean I will not continue this story. Rest assured there are many more chapters to come. Stay safe and healthy everyone, and, as always,

Thanks for reading!

-Birch66724