Chapter 27

Whoever said December was the most wonderful time of the year obviously hadn't bothered with Christmas shopping. In Arkadia, options were pretty limited. There was the Walmart on the outskirts of town that was usually pretty picked-over and consistently smelled of cat pee, and there was also a Target that, while more expensive, was marginally more appealing to someone whose sense of smell was already in a heightened state. Clarke liked to get her shopping done early, so she dragged Bellamy along with her, not on Black Friday, not even on Saturday, but on Sunday. Totally worth it to wait a few days just so she didn't have to deal with any crowds. Not that there were a lot of crowds in their small town, but anything was too much.

"Jesus Christ," Bellamy swore as they roamed through the baby section. He picked up a small package of diapers and asked her, "You see the price on these?"

She'd seen that they were about nine dollars, which was ridiculous. "Yeah, it's awful," she agreed. And the worst thing about diapers was what an absolute necessity they were. It wasn't like they could just not get diapers for the baby. They had to buy them, regardless of how overpriced they were.

"How are we gonna be able to afford all this stuff?" he asked, a trace of worry in his voice as he set the diapers down and continued on with her.

"Well, we can always go to Walmart for diapers," she suggested. "It's gotta be cheaper there, right?"

"I don't know."

It probably hadn't been a good idea to veer back into this section, but whenever they went anywhere together, it was hard not to. They were loading up on baby supplies gradually, but the toys were a lot more fun to buy than the necessities were. "We'll just have to budget," she said as she pushed the cart along in front of her. "We can do it."

"Hopefully," he said as he shuffled along behind her. "Alright, so what's next on the Christmas list?"

Clarke checked the notepad on her phone and replied, "Lingerie for Harper. She wants to spice things up in the bedroom with Monty. You can help me pick that out."

"I can?" he said.

"Yeah. Just tell me what looks sexy."

He chuckled, put his hand on her back, and suggested, "You know, you could always model the lingerie for me."

"I feel like a blimp," she warned him.

"So that's a no then?"

"That's a hell no." She wasn't modeling anything unless they were in the privacy of their own home, just the two of them. Besides, dressing room mirrors were notoriously unflattering. "So what do you think your sister wants?" she asked him, strolling towards the women's undergarments.

Bellamy grunted. "The freedom to punch her professors in the face?"

"Well, I need to get her something." It'd been years since she'd gotten Octavia a Christmas present. Thirteen year-old Octavia had been a fan of glittery eyeshadow, but eighteen year-old Octavia probably wanted something different. "What does she like?"

Bellamy was absolutely no help as he rattled off responses. "Kickboxing. Annoying me. Lincoln. Just get her a shrine of Lincoln."

"I'll get her . . . some stuff for her dorm room, maybe," she pondered as they strode on up to some furniture and accessories. "Have you seen it? Is it cute or crappy?"

"It's pretty crappy," he said. "I don't think she's there very much."

Clarke stopped and picked up a dark blue pillow off of a display couch. "Well, some nice throw pillows never hurt anyone," she said. "Or a comfy blanket." She touched the fluffy blanket draped over the back, letting out a little, "Ooh," when she felt how soft it was.

"Comfy blanket costs forty dollars," he said, showing her the price.

"Oh." Withdrawing her hand, Clarke decided, "She can get a less expensive comfy blanket then."

The shopping probably took longer than it should have. Bellamy, to his credit, didn't complain . . . much. He didn't really find any gifts, mostly because he was dead-set on doing thrift store shopping and finding some online deals on Cyber Monday. He was basically just there to keep her company, and because he was being such a good sport about it, she did give in and model one piece of lingerie for him.

When they got up to the check-out, Clarke could barely believe her eyes when she spotted who was behind one of the counters. "Oh my god, Bellamy, look," she said, pointing ahead.

"What?"

"It's Finn." His hair was long enough now that he was trying out a man-bun. Clarke wasn't really sure it was working for him.

"I thought he was a janitor," Bellamy said.

"He must work here now." For his sake—and the sake of her future child support checks, if she decided to accept them—she hoped this job was paying more. But how could it? Weren't store cashiers kind of dying out anyway since so many places were doing self-checkouts now?

She was more than happy to go to one of those self-checkout stations, but Bellamy grabbed hold of the cart as she started to push it in that direction. "Wait, what're you doing?" he said.

"Avoiding him," she answered. Wasn't it obvious?

"Why?" he challenged. "Let's go show him how good you're doing without him." He took the side of the cart and re-angled it in the direction of Finn's counter, and even though his line was longer than the one next to it, they stood in it and waited. Clarke was a little nervous about . . . well, sort of rubbing her own contentedness in his face. But then she figured, why not? Finn had left her to fend for herself, and she was happy to show him that she was doing fine. And that she wasn't even by herself thanks to Bellamy.

"Clarke," her ex said once they got to the front of the line.

"Finn." She and Bellamy had already loaded their items, so she just stood there expectantly, waiting to see if he'd actually start scanning them or just continue to look at her like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I work here now," he said.

"I see that." She wondered if he was going to be stuck working jobs like this the rest of his life. Had he not dropped out after his sophomore year, he'd be on track to graduate either this spring or maybe next December; but he'd been so insistent that he needed a break from college, that he just needed one year off. But clearly one year was morphing into two years. Knowing Finn, it'd be hard to find the motivation to go back.

"How have you been?" he asked her as he finally started scanning her items. He moved slowly, though, like a turtle.

"Fine," she replied readily. "Better than fine, actually." She peeked over at Bellamy, but he appeared to be all engrossed in the candy.

"That's good," Finn said. "And the baby? Everything's . . . normal?"

"Everything's great." She hadn't had any more issues with spotting, but even if she did . . . he wouldn't be the first, second, or even third person to know.

"Did you find out if it's a boy or a girl yet?" Finn asked.

"No," she answered.

"Oh. Are you gonna find out?"

"Maybe." It was so weird to hear him asking these questions about a baby that was technically theirs, but he was leaving everything, absolutely everything, up to her.

"Well, let me know if you do," he said. "They have some cribs here. Did you see 'em?"

"Yeah, but we're not gonna buy one."

"I'm gonna make one," Bellamy piped up suddenly, plopping a Hershey's bar down on the checkout counter.

"You . . . make cribs?" Finn asked him.

"I'm in construction. I can do it," Bellamy declared. Clarke wasn't sure whether he actually had any knowledge of how to build one or not, but she loved his confidence that he could figure it out.

"That's . . . great," Finn said, forcing a smile at Bellamy. He was acting nice enough, but Clarke sensed some tension. Finn didn't want to be a father, but he didn't seem to love that someone else was stepping in and being one in his place, either.

"You might wanna hurry up," Bellamy advised. "You got a line forming."

Finn looked behind them and said, "Oh, right," then started to scan the items faster. He screwed something up, and the register started beeping at him. His manager had to come over and help him sort it out, and Clarke could tell Bellamy was trying his hardest not to laugh.

...

Clarke was so used to her bladder waking her up in the middle of the night that it didn't even annoy her as much anymore. She still wished she could ignore it, of course, but when the option was either getting up or wetting the bed, there was no decision to be made.

Oddly, Bellamy wasn't lying next to her when she sat up and rubbed her eyes; so as badly as she had to pee, she managed to hold it as she padded out of the room. She though he might be downstairs until she saw a sliver of light coming from the other bedroom. Tiptoeing to the door, she peeked inside and saw him standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he looked around with a thoughtful expression on his face. There wasn't much to see in that room yet. In fact, they were mainly just using it as a storage room for some of the baby supplies they'd already purchased. But someday, it was going to be something.

...

On her way back from the drinking fountain, Clarke walked by the gym and saw her boyfriend just standing there near the bleachers, looking up at the banners hanging over the visitor's side. She knew exactly what one he was looking at, too. The new one. The one that proclaimed this year's football team as the state runner-ups. It would hang there for years, possibly forever, to commemorate what no one was going to deny had been an amazing season.

"That's a nice banner," she remarked as she walked into the gym.

His eyes didn't leave it, not even for a second. "Kinda big," he said.

"Well, it's a big accomplishment."

"I know," he said, letting out a heavy sigh. "But I wanted to accomplish more."

It really sucked that they hadn't been able to get that one final victory, and it sucked even more that the game had ended on an interception he'd thrown. But she really hoped there would come a day when he was able to look back on this season and feel proud about what he'd done rather than feeling disappointed. "You know what I think is gonna happen?" she said. "I think you're gonna go to college, and you guys are gonna play in the championship, and you're gonna win there."

He shook his head and muttered, "UCF never gets to play in the championship. Even though they're good enough."

UCF. She hadn't mentioned that school by name. "So is that where you're going then?" she asked him. "Is it for sure now?"

"Well, I haven't formally committed," he said, "and you can't tell anyone, but . . . yeah, I'm ninety-five percent sure."

UCF. Central Florida. She pictured the geographic distance that would exist between them and allowed herself a moment of sadness as she said, "That's so far away." She wasn't about to stand there and feel sorry for herself, though, not when football was Bellamy's ticket to higher education. "It'll be perfect for you, though," she said. "I bet you'll love it there."

"I think I will," he said, finally looking away from the banner. His eyes took on more of their usual flirtatiousness as he asked her, "Are you skipping class right now?"

"No." She held up the water fountain pass from Mr. Moore's room and said, "I was getting a quick drink." If her biology teacher was at all observant, he'd definitely realize that her quick drink had turned into the longest drink in human history, though.

"Oh, so you're thirsty." Her boyfriend grinned teasingly.

"Bellamy." She knew that look, knew what it meant. "What class are you supposed to be in?"

"Doesn't matter," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Let's go hook up."

"Bellamy!" she squealed, laughing as she swept her up off her feet and whisked her out of the gym, probably to the nearest closet where they could be alone. She tried not to be too loud, but . . . good God, being with him was just such a good time.

...

Pushing the door open, Clarke asked Bellamy, "Why are you up already?"

"Couldn't sleep," he replied. "I was thinking about this nursery. I gotta get to work on it."

"I'm only in my second trimester, you know," she pointed out. They had time.

"Yeah, but that's gonna fly by," he predicted. Motioning grandly to the east wall, next to the window, he said, "I think the crib should go right here. And then over here would be the changing table. I can try to make that, too."

"You don't have to make everything," she told him.

"I could make shelves, though. For books and toys and stuff," he offered. "I could make a toy box."

It sounded like he was creating a whole lot of work for himself, but if he wanted to do it, then who was she to say no? "A toy box would be good," she said, wondering if this sudden surge of ideas had anything to do with seeing Finn at the store today.

"You know, I always got good grades in shop classes back in high school," he said. "One of the only classes I excelled at."

"Well, you're good with your hands," she pointed out.

"Yeah. Yeah." He laughed a little as he understood her double entendre.

She shuffled into the room and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head on his back. "Imagine if you hadn't come back," she said, "and I was just doing this all on my own."

"Ah, you're pretty tough," he said, putting his hands atop hers. "You'd manage."

"I know. But this is a lot better." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, uncoiled her arms from around him, and headed out of the room in the direction of the bathroom.

"Are you gonna go pee?" he called after her.

"Yeah."

"Second time or third?"

"It's only the fourth," she yelled back.

...

Although Bellamy was sure his dorm room hadn't exactly smelled the greatest back in the day, Octavia's had to be worse. Her roommate, for the most part, seemed to keep her half pretty clean, but his sister's half was covered in trash and dirty clothes, and it just reeked. He tried to disguise his disgust when she opened up the door and ushered him inside for their brother/sister hangout time, but while she walked around and did her pathetic version of cleaning, he found himself sitting at her desk, rummaging around the drawers for some Febreze or an air freshener or something.

"So what're we getting Mom for Christmas?" she asked as she stripped the sheets off her bed.

"Oh, I don't know what you're getting her, but I already got my gifts," he boasted. His mom was going to be the proud owner of a new microwave that had only cost him twenty bucks at the thrift store.

"But I thought we were gonna get her something nice together," she said.

Oh, he knew his sister well enough to know that that just meant he'd spend the money on something nice and they'd both get to put their names on it. Same thing had happened last year when he'd gotten her this authentic "Gift of Italy" basket.

"You'll find something," he said, willing to let her fend for herself this year. Hey, she wanted to go around acting like she was a full-fledged adult now, so she could buy her own gifts just like adults did.

"I have no idea what to get her," Octavia grumbled, balling up her dirty sheets and tossing them in her already overstuffed hamper.

The gifts had never been what mattered for their family, though. Spending time together, as cheesy as it sounded, was what Christmas was really all about. "Hey, you're not gonna go runnin' off like you did on Thanksgiving, right?" he said. "You should spend Christmas with your family."

"Lincoln's part of my family now," she pointed out.

"No, he's not," he argued. "Lincoln's your boyfriend."

"And Clarke's your girlfriend, but don't you consider her family?"

He fell silent for a moment because . . . damn, she had him there. "That's different," he insisted. "Clarke and I have known each other for years."

"Yeah, but you didn't speak for five of them."

Sighing heavily, he muttered, "Great, so you're spending Christmas with Lincoln."

"No, I'm spending Christmas Eve with Lincoln," she informed him, using her foot to kick a sweatshirt under her bed. "I'm spending Christmas Day at home. Nice long Christmas break, and then second semester . . ." She looked around her room and rolled her eyes. "Screw this place."

"What do you mean?" Immediately, he sat up straighter, the hairs on the back of his neck rising in alarm. "You're not dropping out."

"No, but I'm not staying here," she said. "I'm moving out of the dorms."

He made a face. "Are you moving back home?"

"No. I'm gonna go live with Lincoln."

Oh. Of fucking course. How had he not seen this coming? "Does Mom know?" he asked her.

"I'm gonna tell her over break," she said.

He gave her a skeptical look and shook his head.

"Oh, come on, it's not that big of a deal," she said. "Besides, living on campus is expensive. I'll save money this way."

"Octavia, I just saw you kick your dirty laundry underneath your bed. Do you really think you're ready to be living out on your own?"

"I won't be on my own," she insisted. "I'll have-"

"Lincoln. I know." God, she was really putting all her eggs in that guy's basket, wasn't she?

"Hey, Bellamy?" she said softly, her face taking on a different expression. "You know how Clarke's mom makes you feel?"

Like crap? he thought. "Yeah."

"Well, that's kind of how you're making me feel."

Shit. He didn't mean to make her feel that way. It was hypocritical as fuck, and he wanted to try to be more supportive. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I don't dislike you boyfriend, O. I just wish he was half a decade younger."

"Well, think of it this way," she said. "At least I'll be moving in with a mature, responsible adult."

"True." By all accounts, Lincoln seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, and he had a job, a steady paycheck. "Mature, responsible adult," he mused. "That is good. Because you're none of those things."

She reached back under the bed, grabbed her sweatshirt, and chucked it at him. But it felt good to tease and annoy her. At least that didn't make her feel like crap. He didn't want to be responsible for anyone feeling that way. Except for maybe Finn.

...

"Ow!" Bellamy yelped.

On top of him, Clarke sat back a bit. "What?"

"Your boob," he said.

"My boob's fine."

"No, it hit me in the face."

"It did?"

"Yeah, it was like a huge, swinging sandbag." He held his hand over his right eye, pretending to be more injured than he actually was.

She burst into laughter and climbed off of him, lying down beside him instead. Sex with Clarke involved a lot of laughter. Despite how well they knew each other's bodies, they still bumped heads sometimes, got their limbs tangled, or in cases like this, he took a boob to the face. It didn't always have to be something so fluid and sexy, like straight out of a porno. His and Clarke's sex life together was just fun.

"Oh, good, you're laughing," he said. "Right after I said that, I was worried it'd piss you off."

"No, they are like sandbags," she admitted cupping her hands around her chest. "They just keep growing. And I have, like, no control over them right now."

"They're nice," he said. "They're just . . . heavy."

"Yeah, tell me about it," she grumbled.

Removing his hand from his eye, he looked over at her and jokingly asked, "Am I bruising?"

"No."

"No?" In that case, he'd gladly have that chest of hers up in his face again then. He wasn't even really sure if he'd been trying to motorboat her or not, but now that the idea was in his head, he was down for it.

"Oh, it's getting harder, isn't it?" she said. "To have sexy times."

"All my times with you are sexy times," he claimed, leaning over to give her a sloppy kiss. Unfortunately, before he could reverse their positions and climb on top of her—because he could still do that as long as he didn't put all his weight on her—the doorbell rang out shrilly, and he groaned.

"You go get it," she said.

These days, he pretty much just did what his princess told him to do, so he got right out of bed, tugged on a pair of sweatpants, and treaded downstairs to find out who had the audacity to interrupt their precious, oh-so-important sexy time.

When he opened the door, he found Raven and Murphy on the other side. Raven looked to her boyfriend and said, "See, I told you he'd be here."

Murphy held up The Game of Life—an old, beat-up version—and droned unenthusiastically, "You ready for game night?"

"Game night?" Bellamy echoed. They hadn't planned any game night.

"We were bored," Raven explained, letting herself in. She hollered Clarke's name up the stairs, and Murphy just shrugged and mumbled something about doing what his girlfriend said as he came inside, too.

There was nothing inherently wrong with game night. Bellamy was a competitive guy, so any chance he had to win anything was fine by him. But Life had never been his favorite game. It lacked the aggression of Sorry and the straightforwardness of Checkers. They played as duos, though, Raven and Murphy versus him and Clarke, and that at least made it mildly more entertaining. Because he and Clarke landed on a Baby Girl space, and he couldn't help but wonder if maybe that was foreshadowing something.

"Remember when it was your freshman year of college, my sophomore?" Raven said. "And we'd just go out, like, every weekend."

"It wasn't like we were getting wasted, though," Clarke said as she straightened out what little money she and Bellamy had accumulated so far in the game.

"No, but we were still living it up," Raven said. "Now look at us. Sitting around your coffee table playing a board game. We're old, Clarke."

"Not as old as this one," Clarke said, motioning to Bellamy.

"Huh?" he said, only halfway listening as he surveyed the game board.

"See? He's already losing his hearing."

"No, I'm strategizing," he said. "Because if we go this way, we could have another kid, but if we go this other way, we could win the lottery."

"Your choice," she told him.

Well, money couldn't buy happiness and all that, so he shrugged and moved their little car game piece along the path that landed them on a Baby Boy space. His fingers were too big to stick the little blue peg into the car, though, so he had to hand it to Clarke so she could do it for him.

"You take the kids. I'll take the money," Murphy said as he spun the wheel. He got a nine, and that moved him right onto a payday space. He hadn't seemed too enthused about playing once they'd started, but now that he and Raven were collecting lots of money, he was into it a lot more.

"So what're you guys doing this weekend?" Raven asked them. "I heard there's gonna be a trivia night on campus. We should go. Takes four people to make a team."

"Then you'll have to recruit Harper and Monty," Clarke told her. "My dad's invited us to spend the weekend with him. At his place. With his girlfriend. To make up for not being together on Thanksgiving and to have our Christmas celebration a couple weeks early." She hoped her tone accurate conveyed her dread, because . . . Alyssa being part of the holiday celebrations this year? So weird.

"Sounds like a picnic," Murphy muttered sarcastically.

"It'll be fine," Bellamy insisted, determined not to get too stressed out about it. "You love your dad. I like your dad. Your dad likes me. We'll get through it." It was just for a few days. Besides, he was kind of eager to see this living room pool Clarke had told him her dad now had.

"Well, damn," Raven said. "They always ask a lot of sports questions at those trivia things. Would've been nice to have you there for that, Bellamy. And you for the art questions, Clarke, of course."

"Miller knows sports," Bellamy pointed out. "Get him to do it."

"Maybe," Raven said, shrugging. "Hmm, okay, how close are we to winning?"

"Mmm, you know what?" Clarke twisted her torso to the side, stretching out a bit. "We might just have to declare you guys the winners early," she said. "My back's kind of hurting."

"Cramped up again?" Bellamy asked, reaching over to rub it where it hurt her the most often.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna need to go lie down for the night," she said. "Sorry, guys, but I think the baby wants us to cut game night short."

"Oh, that's alright," Raven said, quickly cleaning up. "Understandable."

"Yeah, we'll just go home and celebrate our victory." Murphy wriggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Raven snorted. "Speak for yourself. I've gotta work tomorrow. I'm goin' to bed."

Murphy's excited expression fell, and he mumbled, "Fine, I'll celebrate by myself then."

Something told Bellamy that wasn't anything new. He had to admit, as odd as it had been for him to see Raven with someone other than Zeke at first . . . she and this Murphy kid made a pretty good couple. In their own weird way. She was beautiful; he was not. She was book-smart, but he had his YouTube thing. They kind of balanced each other out, like an opposites attract thing.

After their friends had packed up the game and left for the night, Bellamy followed Clarke upstairs into the bedroom and offered, "You want me to heat up that back pad for you?" She had this sandbag—a literal sandbag this time, not her boob sandbag—that he put in the microwave for about a minute, and then she laid with it on her back to ease the cramping.

Much to his surprise, though, she said, "Nope," and pushed him down onto the bed.

"What's this?" he said, marveling as she crawled on top of him and straddled his hips. "I thought your back hurt."

"It doesn't," she admitted, circling her groin against his.

"So that was a lie?" he teased. "You're a liar?"

"A white lie," she said innocently. "I just wanted to get you alone." Her mouth was a smile as it descended down atop his, kissing him deeply and passionately. Oh, his girlfriend . . . she was pretty horny for him under normal circumstances, but she definitely had the increased sex drive going on that some women reported during the second trimester. And he definitely wasn't complaining.