Chapter 1

I'm pretty much fucked, Clarke Griffin thought as she trudged up the steps to the front porch of her beach house. Everything sounded so nice and peaceful out there on her own little expanse of sand. Waves stuttered towards the shore, and the late summer wind whispered against her ears. But Clarke's mind was a hurricane. In fact, as she walked inside, she felt like her head was spinning, going around in circles with everything she'd neglected to do that day. The essay question on the back of her biology test, for starters. Picking up her dress for tomorrow night's charity event. Meeting Raven for lunch. Just one thing after another. It wasn't like she'd woken up intending to flake out on so many of her responsibilities, but . . . that was just the kind of day she'd had. And the day wasn't over yet.

Stress was nothing new for Clarke, so she tried her best to talk herself down from it as she lumbered up the stairs, her purse in one hand, a white Walgreens sack full of junk in the other. Just email Jaha. He'll let you come in during his office hours and do the essay, she told herself. You can try to pick up the dress tomorrow, and Raven's your best friend. She won't be mad. Even as she talked herself down from everything bothering her, her stomach still felt knotted up with nerves.

Her bedroom was such a beautiful sight. Not only because it was a beautiful room, but also because she just felt like lying down on that big, queen-sized mattress, crawling under the covers, and finding some trashy but addictive reality show to watch all night. Would've been nice.

Breathing a heavy sigh, she tossed the sack on the plush chair next to her television's display case and debated what to do next. She supposed she could change into something comfy, not that the jeans and black tank top she was wearing were uncomfortable. Or she could call her mom and re-confirm what time she was supposed to be at the gala tomorrow night. Or she could jump in the shower, try to wash off all the bad parts of the day.

Not one of those things was the most important thing to do right now, though.

Fortunately, life brought her a distraction in the form of an unmistakable ding, the same ding that sounded whenever she got a new text message. All too eager for something to take her mind off of everything else, she unzipped her purse, rummaged around inside for a few seconds, and then took out her phone.

She almost dropped it right away.

No way, she thought, staring at the words on the screen in astonishment. No freaking way.

She clicked on the message notification, and there on the screen was a little grey word bubble from a number that hadn't texted her in years. From a person who hadn't texted her in years. And yet here, right now, were two words that brought her right back to a simpler time.

Hey, Princess.

Staring at her screen, stunned, she wondered if she was seeing things. She even blinked her eyes a few times, just to be sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. But Hey, Princess stayed right there, never changing, almost daring her to attempt to formulate some kind of coherent response. As if she could even do that.

She could hardly believe it. It'd been so long that she didn't even have his name and number stored in her phone anymore, and to be quite honest, she was impressed if he still had hers. More than likely, though, he'd had to ask someone for it. Right? Not that it mattered. He was texting her. Two words, but it was enough.

It was Bellamy.

...

Clarke's chest heaved as she struggled to bring in any breath after another grueling run-through of the homecoming routine. Whoever said cheerleaders weren't athletes didn't know what the hell they were talking about.

"Okay, girls, good practice," Raven said as the squad lumbered towards their bags. "But keep practicing at home. It still doesn't look right."

The girls groaned, and some complained about how sweaty and sore they were. Clarke waited until they had all left to approach her best friend and remark, "It still looks like crap." Tina kept getting out of formation, and Andrea still had a habit of breaking her wrists in a high-V.

"Well, of course," Raven said, "but I can't tell them that. It's too de-motivating."

Clarke shrugged and set her pom-poms down atop her own bag. Personally, she didn't mind the blunt criticism, but they had a lot of uber-sensitive girls on the squad this year, including a couple freshmen who looked like they might cry anytime someone pointed out their mistakes. Raven was a good captain because she knew that positive encouragement went a long way with them.

"Don't worry, it'll come together in time for the pep rally," Raven assured her. "It always does." She yanked off her practice tank top, replacing it with the shirt she'd worn to school that day, and asked, "You need a ride home or something?"

"No, I drove."

"In your new car?" Raven sighed wistfully. "God, I wish I had one of those."

"Well, I wish I had a boyfriend," Clarke muttered. "So that makes us even."

Raven smirked, reaching up to take her brown hair out of its signature ponytail. "True. And I guess I would rather ride on my boyfriend than ride in your car."

Can't say I blame her there, Clarke thought. Raven's boyfriend was hot and smart, a great but all too rare combination. "Hey, speaking of that . . ." she segued awkwardly.

"Of riding my boyfriend?"

"No. Well, sex, actually," Clarke clarified.

Raven's eyebrows shot up in interest.

"You and Zeke have been doing it for, what, a couple months now?"

"Yeah."

"And you don't regret it, right?"

Raven replied without hesitation, "No, not at all. He was ready, I was ready. We're safe."

Clarke wasn't on the pill yet herself, but she'd watched enough condom videos on YouTube to know how one was supposed to look when it was securely put on. "I really wanna lose my v-card," she admitted quietly.

Raven laughed, running her hands through her hair to smooth out the bump her ponytail had left. "Well, you gotta get a boyfriend first."

"I don't have to," she claimed.

Momentarily, Raven froze with one hand in her hair. She gave Clarke a curious look, then said, "Wait a minute, wait a minute, what're you saying? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm just . . . I'm tired of being the good girl," Clarke confessed. It wasn't exactly a bad reputation to have, but it got kind of boring after a while. "I wanna do something unexpected."

Raven grunted. "Well, sleeping with some random guy would definitely be unexpected."

"He doesn't have to be random," Clarke said. "We have plenty of guys here to choose from."

"Oh, please," Raven scoffed. "Clarke, half the guys who go to this school still think Justin Bieber hair is an acceptable look. And the other half barely even know what a vagina is, let alone how to work with one."

Damn, when she really thought about it . . . Raven was right. Arkadia was a relatively small town with a typical small school. There were only about sixty students in every class, and if she did the math and approximated that only half of them were males . . . minus the freshmen, because she wasn't willing to lose her virginity to a freshman . . . "Okay, you're right," she decided. " So I have a small pool of guys to choose from."

Raven folded her arms across her chest and gave her a serious look. "Let me ask you something: How far did you get with Wells?"

Oh, good old Wells, Clarke thought. She'd bumped into him in the hallway today—literally—and they'd done that thing where they tried to step around each other but both kept stepping the same direction., therefore staying in each other's way. "Second base," she recalled. "Right? That's the boob one."

"I don't know. I lose track," Raven said. "That's not very far."

"Exactly." A little under the shirt touching was nice and all, but there was so much more she wanted to explore, so many more things she wanted to experience. "I feel like I'm behind."

"You are not behind," Raven assured her emphatically. "You just turned sixteen. There's no rush."

"But I wanna rush." Clarke was well aware how impulsive and reckless it sounded, but she felt like she was gonna go out of her mind if she didn't get to start acting more grown-up soon. And part of being a grown-up was having sex for the first time. And then for a second time, and a third. "I wanna do something new, something exciting. I mean, every day, I just go through these routines. School, cheer practice, go home and do homework. Then I wake up the next morning and show up early for student council or book club, and it's all just the same exact thing."

"So you think sex is gonna spice up your life?" Raven asked.

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Because most guys don't know what they're doing at this age, Clarke."

"You said Zeke does," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I lucked out. Big time." Raven grinned. "Emphasis on big."

"So then I'll hook up with somebody experienced," Clarke declared. The thing about small towns was that people did start having sex in high school a lot. It wasn't like they had anything better to do.

"Why not just wait until you're in love?" Raven implored.

"Because it's taking too long, and I'm getting impatient." Sure, she hoped to be in love someday. Deep, true love like her parents had for each other. But until then . . . she just wanted to have some fun.

"Okay. Let's just say I'm supporting this," Raven said, "which I'm not. What are your standards?"

As shallow as it sounded, somebody fit and good-looking wouldn't hurt. "Attractive," she began to list off. "Considerate and attentive in bed. Knowledgeable."

"About sex?"

"Yeah. I just want somebody who'll make it . . . exhilarating." It was kind of a rush just thinking about it. She'd lain awake countless nights imagining how good it could be. Sure, there'd be the initial pain, and Raven had mentioned that there was bleeding, too, but once she got over that . . . sky was the limit.

"Exhilarating, huh?" Raven echoed. "I don't know if you're gonna find that here."

Clarke was about to start brainstorming some potential male candidates when the door to the gymnasium opened, and in came two football players. One she recognized right away, because his jersey was all over that field on Friday nights, oftentimes celebrating in the end zone. Number seven. Bellamy Blake. He took off his helmet when he came inside, shaking out his dark, sweaty hair. It clung to his forehead, so he pushed it back, revealing his brown eyes and the freckles on his face.

He was so hot. Everyone thought so.

Bellamy's friend, the starting running back, Nathan Miller, was with him. He was a good-looking guy, too, but there were all sorts of rumors that he was into other guys, so that ruled him out. But Bellamy was definitely into girls, and girls were definitely into him. A couple girls on the cheerleading squad claimed to either have slept with him or given him a blow-job. They liked to brag about it a lot.

Neither one of the two guys paid much attention to her or Raven, as they were laughing about something else. They were loud, and they pushed and shoved each other on the way to the locker room.

Bingo, Clarke thought as inspiration struck. She'd just found her attractive, experienced guy. She grinned at Raven.

"Are you kidding me?" her friend spat. "Bellamy Blake?"

"Why not? He meets all my criteria. Or so I've heard."

"Yeah, me, too, but . . . Clarke." Raven gave her a look. "Come on. Bellamy's a senior. He's way more experienced than you. Plus, it's kind of just a one-and-done deal with him, either that or casual hookups here and there. Not that I would know, but that's what everyone says."

"That's fine. That's all I need." She wanted to lose her virginity. Whether or not she gained a boyfriend in the process was irrelevant, and to be honest, she didn't even expect that of Bellamy.

"Do you even really know him?" Raven pressed.

"I've said hi to him in the halls, at parking lot parties." He was two grades above her, so it wasn't like she had classes with him or a locker in the same hallway or anything. "Oh, and he told me he liked my swimsuit at the car wash we did this summer."

"Of course he did," Raven mumbled. "Look, Clarke . . . I like Bellamy. Everybody likes Bellamy. But doing it for the first time with him . . . that's like the big leagues. Maybe you should take it down a notch or two."

"I already tried that with Wells," Clarke reminded her. "There was no chemistry."

"What makes you think you'll have chemistry with Bellamy?"

"Only the fact that everyone has chemistry with him."

Raven sighed, resigned to the truth of that. "Yeah, you're right. I totally had a crush on him back in the day. I swear, the first day he smiled at me was when I hit puberty."

"See? He's hot," Clarke said. In fact, hot wasn't even a strong enough word. "He's sexy." Being an athlete, Bellamy had some nice muscle definition, especially in his arms. Those biceps . . . they were good biceps to have. And she'd seen him down at the basketball court by the park a few times, playing shirtless. Which was nice. "Why wouldn't I wanna have sex with him?" she said, letting her imagination run wild, wondering what all he could teach her.

"Do me a favor," Raven urged. "Just . . ." She pressed her hands together in a prayer position and pointed them at Clarke. "Just think this through, okay? Zeke and I are sleeping together because we love each other. It's a really big deal. Once you give up your virginity, you can never get it back."

I know, Clarke thought. Her mom was a doctor. They'd had the sex talk when she'd been nine years old.

"Promise me you'll give it some thought?" Raven pleaded.

Clarke nodded. "I promise."

"Okay." Raven smiled at her, zipped up her cheer bag, then slung it over her shoulder. "I gotta get home. Dad's cooking dinner tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, though."

"Bye," Clarke said, waving at her and taking a seat on the bleachers as she walked out of the gym. She took her time sifting through her own over-stuffed bag, rearranging stuff inside to make room for her already-crumpled pom-poms. She even tried to fluff them out a bit, pulling out the green and silver metallic ribbons, trying to stretch out the wrinkles.

She didn't give a crap about her poms, though. Not really. Sure, they were nicer when they were fluffier, but that was just so not a priority in her mind right now. In fact, her mind was very elsewhere. Maybe in the locker room with Bellamy Blake.

It was pretty obvious that she was stalling, reluctant to leave until Bellamy came back out again. She wasn't sure what her plan was here, especially if he was still with Miller. It'd be better to talk to him alone, maybe just try to strike up a friendly conversation, let him know that she was interested, put herself on his radar.

When the door to the locker room opened, she swung her head sharply in that direction, at first disappointed to just see Miller coming out. He half-waved at her, and she smiled back, and her heartrate sped up when she realized what this meant. Miller had left, so . . . Bellamy was alone now. Just him in that locker room. All the other football guys had come in earlier, about a half an hour ago. And they'd all left.

She bit her fingernails nervously, trying to work up the courage to do it. So what if she'd just gotten done with a two-hour cheer practice and probably didn't look her best? She was wearing short black shorts and a tight pink t-shirt that really emphasized her chest. It wasn't like she looked bad even though she didn't have Raven's enviable ability to look like a supermodel at all times.

You have to do it now, she told herself, shooting to her feet, otherwise you might not get the chance.

She darted across the gym floor and ducked right into the boy's locker room. Immediately, her nose was assaulted with the smell of sweat and Axe body spray. It was disgusting. But something a lot less disgusting was the sight of Bellamy at his gym locker, every inch of his freshly-showered tan skin making her salivate as he tugged his jeans up over his black boxer briefs.

She froze right there by the door, staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

Although he looked a bit surprised to see a girl in there, he grinned a bit and said, "Hey, Clarke."

"Hey," she managed to get out. Her heart felt like it was running a marathon in her chest. Despite her determination, she was so nervous.

He waited a second for her to say something more, but when she didn't, he said, "I think you've got the wrong locker room."

"No," she said. "I mean, yeah, I know I do, but . . . I don't."

Clearly he wasn't even going to try to make sense of her rambling, because he just said, "Okay, then," as he put on his shirt.

"I wanted to talk to you," she blurted, trying not to dwell on her disappointment at no longer seeing him shirtless.

"To me?" he echoed.

"Yeah." She realized most girls probably just texted him or stopped him in the hall instead of barging into the locker room, but hey, nothing wrong with being different.

"About what?" he asked.

"You," she said, letting her eyes flit down to his crotch for just a moment. "Me."

"You and me?" he said slowly.

She rolled her eyes at herself, feeling like she was just going to talk in vague circles if she kept going like this. "Okay, I'm just gonna say it," she announced, taking a deep breath before the words spilled out of her mouth: "I wanna have sex, Bellamy. With you."

His eyes widened with intrigue. "With me?"

"Yeah. That can't possibly be surprising."

"Well, not to sound like an ass, but . . . it's not," he said. Closing his locker, he sauntered towards her, stopping just a few feet away. "I don't know what to say," he admitted. "This is new. I don't know if a girl's ever been quite this blunt before."

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"No, it's fine. It's, uh . . ." He smiled at her. "It's refreshing. No beating around the bush. I like it."

She smiled back, wondering if he was trying to be flirty, or if he talked to all girls with this same look on his face, the same gleam in his eye. Bellamy was super popular with everyone in their school, so flirting probably came easy to him. "So do you wanna have sex with me?" she pressed, needing an answer. Either she'd just embarrassed herself horribly and the whole football team would know about this tomorrow, or she'd just put the wheels in motion for something big to happen with the guy who was going to be crowned homecoming king next week.

"Well, sure," he replied without hesitation. "Look at you." His eyes roamed up and down her body, causing her to blush. "But I don't really know you that well, Clarke."

"Well, we could get to know each other if we have sex together," she pointed out.

He chuckled, so easy-going about this whole thing, even though she'd technically ambushed him in here. Moving a bit closer still, he backed her up against the wall and pressed one hand onto the tile beside her head. "You ever done it before?"

"What, sex? Oh, yeah. All the time," she lied. "Not that I'm a slut or anything. Not that there's anything wrong with having sex a lot. You're not a slut, either."

He grinned at her in amusement. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She cringed inwardly. You're welcome? Why couldn't flirtatiousness be her default setting, too?

"You don't have to lie to me," he told her, bending his head down. His face was so close to hers now, almost close enough to kiss. "Are you a virgin?"

Obviously he knew what angle she was working here, so she figured she'd might as well just own up to it. "Is it that obvious?"

"No," he assured her, threading his fingers through her long, blonde hair. "I can just tell."

What, did he have like a virgin radar or something?

"I've been a lot of girls' first time, Clarke," he explained. "I know that look."

"What look?" she asked, barely able to concentrate because he smelled so freaking good. Definitely not like Axe body spray.

"The nervous kind," he replied.

"I'm not nervous," she insisted, and that was at least halfway true. "I wanna do this. I've thought about it a lot." Before today, she'd never let herself entertain the possibility of having her first time with a senior, but now . . . it seemed entirely possible.

"Why me?" he asked her.

She could have launched into a laundry list of reasons, starting with how sexy his low, gravelly voice was. But she summed it up with, "Because you're you," and hoped that would suffice.

His eyes locked onto hers. He wasn't looking away.

"So?" she said, feeling like she'd somehow hooked him. "Have I managed to convince you?"

He smirked sexily. "I was convinced the second you walked in."

She almost swore she felt her heart flutter in anticipation as he closed his eyes and leaned in further. His mouth dove straight onto hers, and he kissed her hotly, passionately right from the start. It wasn't like kissing Wells, where neither one of them could quite decide which way to lean their heads and sometimes teeth got in the way. It was just this natural, amazing kiss, different than any kiss she'd ever had before. He totally knew what he was doing, and her mouth just seemed to fit with his, like two pieces of a puzzle. She savored the brush of his tongue against hers, and the feel of his hand on her waist drove her wild.

She touched his sides, moaning into his mouth as he pressed in closer. His whole body felt so toned and strong and so much bigger than hers, and the way he had her pinned back against that wall was . . . exhilarating. Just the way she'd wanted it to be.

For some reason, though, just as things were starting to heat up and his hands had begun to crawl underneath the back of her shirt, he stopped, pulled back, and just looked down at her.

"What?" she asked, eager to just keep going. If merely kissing Bellamy Blake felt that electric, she could only imagine what sex would be like.

He looked around for a moment, then said, "Not here."

Truth be told, she'd been so caught up in making out just now that she'd almost forgotten they were in the boys locker room. If he'd wanted to do it there, then she would have been willing to go for it, but in all reality, it wasn't exactly a comfortable location for her first time. "Then where do you wanna go?" she asked, hoping he had somewhere else in mind.

An hour later, after following him to his house, Clarke found herself in Bellamy Blake's bed, underneath him with her knees bent, legs spread as he fucked into her. Things had started out slowly enough, with him bringing her into his bedroom and making out for about ten minutes. When the clothes had come off, he'd lavished considerable attention to her breasts with his mouth, and that had felt amazing. Then he'd proceeded to use his fingers to do some fucking incredible things between her legs. He'd kept having to tell her to keep her legs spread, though, because she kept squeezing them together self-consciously.

When it had come time for the actual sex part of sex, she'd felt pretty wet down there, and Bellamy had lathered up his latex-sheathed cock with some lube to make things easier. But Bellamy was . . . endowed. She'd known that because one of the other cheerleaders had sketched a diagram. But she hadn't realized until he was pushing in the tip of his dick just how big he was. That in and of itself was painful. Just a sharp, searing pain the moment he penetrated her. He'd stopped, of course, and was nice enough to ask her if she was okay, and eventually, when she'd told him he could keep going, he'd pushed in farther. The pain receded a bit, but she still felt a lot of pressure as her body stretched to accommodate him. Bellamy had, like, a porn star dick. And yes, she'd watched just a little bit of porn just to know what porn star dicks looked like.

The whole bed was rocking now, the mattress squeaking as he thrust in and out at a steady pace. She had a feeling he wasn't as deep as he could have been, wasn't going as hard as he probably wanted to, but he was definitely still moving. Beneath him, she moaned and whimpered, not quite sure what sounds to make, so she just squeezed her eyes shut, held onto his arms and shoulders, and made whatever sounds felt natural.

Bellamy had gone non-verbal, too. His face was buried against the side of her neck, where he'd sucked her skin so vigorously that he'd probably left a hickey, and his slick chest slid against hers. That shower he'd taken after football practice had been a complete waste, because he was working up a sweat.

She was sweating, too, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if she looked gross. She worried about the faces she was making, too. What if they were just not attractive? What if Bellamy looked down at her after he was done and asked himself what the hell he'd been thinking when he agreed to this?

As much as she just wanted to be in the moment and enjoy herself, it was hard to do that when she was still feeling a slight amount of pain down there. That plus the constant fretting about whether she was measuring up to his standards here . . . it made it hard to surrender to anything, so she wasn't anywhere close to orgasming when he jerked his hips into her, growled against her shoulder, and came. Or at least she assumed he came, because he stopped thrusting after that and just lay atop her for a moment, holding himself up on his forearms, even though he had to be exhausted.

He's still inside me, Clarke registered as she lay still beneath him, almost afraid to move. The most popular guy in school literally had his huge cock inside her body. Hymen broken. She wasn't a virgin any longer.

Gradually, he lifted his hips up a bit and pulled out of her, but it wasn't like the pain left her body when he did. She felt stretched and sore and was so worried about how much she may have bled just now, but he'd put a towel down beneath her, so . . . at least it wasn't like this was new territory for him.

He rolled off of her and onto his back, reached down, and took the condom off, then disposed of it in the trash can next to his bed. Clarke just lay there, looking around at the bedroom she'd barely even gotten to see before he'd gotten her on the bed. There were posters covering the blue walls, posters of NFL players and various beautiful women. Along with that was a busted basketball hoop on the back of his door, and a shelf full of trophies and athletic awards he'd collected over the years. Such a boy's room, so different than her own.

Clarke had no idea what post-sex etiquette may have existed, wasn't sure whether to say anything or not. But it felt weird to just lie there in silence, so she decided to pipe up. "So that was sex, huh?" she said, not quite sure . . . what to think of it.

"Yep," he said, sounding out of breath and tired.

It definitely hadn't been what she'd anticipated. The fingering had been really fun, and she wanted to try some stuff with her own hands sometime later when she wasn't so sore. The actual act itself had been . . . fine. Not mind-blowing the way she'd hoped, but she didn't feel like Bellamy was to blame for that. She was a girl, and girls didn't tend to have the same experience losing their virginity that guys had.

"Was it, um . . ." She felt embarrassed to ask her next question, but she really wanted—no, needed—to know. "Was I . . . good?"

"You were great," he said, smiling dazedly. He nudged his hand against hers, then apologized, "Sorry you didn't cum."

"Oh, no, that's okay," she assured him quickly, not wanting him to feel bad about that. "It was my first time, and I read some stuff online about how most girls don't have an orgasm the first time, because . . . well, because it's painful." She had a feeling she might still be sore tomorrow, too, but hopefully she wasn't walking funny. And hopefully she would no longer be hurting when it came time to dance in the homecoming pep rally.

"You read online," he echoed, laughing a little. "You're a reader, huh?"

It was one of her hobbies, lame as it may have been. "I'm in Book Club," she informed him.

He snorted. "Not me."

If Bellamy had joined the book club, they'd end up recruiting a lot more members.

"Yeah, it hurts the first time, but it'll get better," he promised her. "Next time I'll make you cum."

Even though he'd started to roll over onto his side, looking like he wanted to just go to sleep, Clarke couldn't help but pick up on one very poignant part of that sentence. "Next time?" she questioned.

"Yeah."

Her heart started to do that fluttering thing again. Bellamy was already thinking about doing this again? Maybe that meant it really had been good for him. She'd been good.

Clearly he wasn't going to make a big deal out of it, so she didn't want to, either. She played it cool, not saying anything, and just lay there with him, pulling the blankets up over her chest. It wasn't like she was going to nod off or anything, but maybe she could just recuperate for a couple minutes. Then, before she overstayed her welcome, she'd get up, clean up any mess she may have made as best she could, get dressed, and try to slip out unnoticed. He said his mom didn't care if he brought girls home, but she didn't want to test that theory.

I just had sex, she thought excitedly as she lay next to him, gradually finding it easier to concentrate on the feelings of excitement coursing through her body rather than the feeling of dull pain between her legs. I just had sex with Bellamy fucking Blake.

...

Hey, Princess. Clarke kept reading the two words over and over again. Her thumb hovered over the keypad, unable to text anything back.

She probably would have just kept standing there, staring at the screen like an idiot, had she not gotten a phone call to shake her out of her stupor. It was Raven, unsurprisingly, and Clarke answered right away. "Raven . . ." She didn't even know what else to say.

"Okay, I know you probably have a good reason for forgetting about lunch today," her friend said. "Right? Because that's not like you."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. She actually did have a good reason, but she didn't even feel like talking about that right now. "I'll make it up to you, I promise," she vowed. "But Raven, you'll never believe what just happened."

"You met someone?" Raven asked eagerly.

"No, I got a text."

"Oh."

"From Bellamy," Clarke added, waiting for her best friend's own shocked reaction. And it didn't disappoint.

"What?" Raven gasped, inhaling the loudest, most dramatic breath possible. "You're kidding me."

"No, he literally just texted me." She had to text him back soon. Didn't want him to think she was being standoffish.

"What'd he say?"

She actually blushed as she revealed, "He called me Princess."

Raven squealed, literally squealed, with delight. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"What, is he, like, in town or something?"

"I don't know." Her phone dinged again, and when she checked the screen . . . another grey text bubble from Bellamy. This one was a bit wordier. I'm at Eligius, it said. Wanna come hang out?

"Oh my god," she said, wandering over to the bed so she could sit down instead of falling over.

"What?"

"He wants to meet up with me."

Again, Raven gasped. "So what're you waiting for?" she exclaimed. "Quit talking to me and get going."

Should I? she wondered. What if it was a mistake? High school had been a long time ago, and . . . a lot had changed since then. "I don't know . . ." she mumbled unsurely.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Raven shrieked. "Clarke, you know you wanna go see him. Now get your keys, get in that fancy little car of yours, and drive."

God, she was right. After seven years of friendship, Raven Reyes knew her pretty damn well. "Okay," she said, trying to recapture some of that courage she'd had when she'd barged into the locker room all those years ago. "Okay, I'm gonna go. I'll call you later with details, though, alright?"

"Mmm-hmm. Sure." Raven sounded skeptical.

"I'll call you later," Clarke promised before ending the call. She and Bellamy weren't walking, talking teenage hormones anymore. They were adults, no longer slaves to the passion but rather two grown people perfectly capable of sitting down at the bar and having a nice, relaxed conversation.

But still . . .

She made sure to fix her hair a little bit, swapped out her current bra for her best one, and reapplied some lip gloss before darting downstairs and out the front door. As she climbed into her car, she allowed herself to feel genuinely good for the first time that day and texted him back, Be there soon.