Chapter 30
It seemed like Bellamy had a hard time sitting still at the doctor's office. Clarke, in contrast, did not have that same problem. Lately, she was dealing with some dizziness, which both her mother and her doctor assured her were common during this trimester. Something about her growing uterus putting pressure on her blood vessels. Whatever the cause, it wasn't particularly fun to deal with, and she always noticed it more when she went from sitting to standing, or vice versa. So just being able to sit in the patient chair and wait for her doctor to come back and wrap up the appointment was just fine with her.
Bellamy paced, though. Maybe he was anxious, or maybe he was just bored, but he walked all around that room, much to Clarke's amusement, until finally he stopped next to her chair and covered up her right eye with his hand. "Can you read that?" he asked, motioning to the poster on the back of the door.
"No." The letters were all blurry, so she wasn't going to even try. "Can you?"
"Yep," he said. "I mean, as well as I can read anything." He switched it up and covered up her left eye then, asking, "What about now?"
"It's just blurry."
"Hmm." Removing his hands, he looked down at her curiously, like a doctor making a diagnosis.
"What're you saying, Bellamy?" she pressed.
Without hesitation, he declared, "You need glasses."
"I do not," she denied. For years, she'd managed to avoid those health van screenings in school just because she knew they'd say the same thing. Really, taking the vision test to get her driver's license had been the only time her eyes had put something in jeopardy for her. "My eyesight's been the same my whole life," she informed him. "It's not changing. It's not getting worse."
"You squint at the TV every night," he said. "Face it: You can't see shit when it's far away."
"I can see fine," she claimed. At this point, she was just used to squinting.
"No, you can't," he argued. "You need glasses."
"Well, I don't want glasses." Contacts were out of the question, too. Just the thought of putting something like that in her eye . . . ugh, it made her shudder inwardly.
"Why not?" he said. "Who knows all the little details in the world you're missing out on?"
She pouted, embarrassed to admit that . . . he was kind of right. Sometimes she couldn't see things other people could, and she just had to pretend that she did. "It's not fair, though," she whined. "Glasses make guys look distinguished. They make girls look like nerds."
"I think you'd make a cute nerd," he assured her, giving her shoulder a little squeeze.
Dammit, Bellamy, she thought. Why did he have to be s persuasive? "Well . . . I might consider it," she begrudgingly grumbled. "If . . ."
"If what?" he prompted.
She grinned at him and made her wager. "If you wear your glasses for me tonight." Bellamy had these thick black frames that he wore around the house sometimes. They kind of turned her on.
"And nothing else?" he guessed.
"And nothing else," she confirmed.
He laughed, bent down, and gave her a quick kiss—which was basically his way of agreeing to it—just as the door opened and the doctor came in. Dr. Eric Jackson. One of the youngest doctors on staff at the Arkadia hospital, but he was the one her mom had recommended for this pregnancy. He didn't split his time between this and other local clinics like Dr. Tsing did, so when the time came to deliver, he'd definitely be able to be there.
"Alright, you two," Dr. Jackson said, taking a seat at the computer. He pulled up her file quickly and said, "Everything looks great. Your bloodwork's normal, and the ultrasound showed us exactly what we would expect. It seems like you're experiencing the model pregnancy."
"I am?" Wouldn't the model pregnancy involve fewer bathroom breaks?
"Yes. The baby's growing nicely, you're growing nicely," Dr. Jackson said. "Everything's on its right course."
"That's good to hear," Bellamy said, finally taking a seat himself. He pulled his chair up next to hers and asked, "So when it comes time for the actual delivery, you're gonna be our doctor, right?"
"Right," the doctor said with a nod.
Bellamy narrowed his eyes at him, inquiring, "And how many babies have you delivered before?"
"Oh . . . too many to count."
Bellamy still looked skeptical. "You just look really young," he said.
Dr. Jackson didn't take offense at that. He shrugged and joked, "Then I guess the Botox is working."
Clarke laughed, happy that her doctor had a sense of humor. She might need him to crack some jokes during the delivery, just to lighten things up a little bit.
"Don't worry, Bellamy," Dr. Jackson said. "I assure you, I've learned from the best."
"He means my mom," Clarke clarified.
"Your mom's delivered babies?" Bellamy asked
"She's a general doctor. That means she's pretty much done everything at some point." No way in hell was her mom delivering her baby, though. In fact, Clarke didn't envision even having her back in the delivery room. It would just be too chaotic having her mom shouting instructions at her while her actual doctor did the same.
"We'll set up a birthing plan during your third trimester, make sure everything's scheduled to go exactly the way you want it," Dr. Jackson said. "But for now, just keep doing what you're doing and enjoy your second trimester."
Enjoy? Clarke thought. That was easier said than done. She'd pretty much gotten used to being pregnant at this point, but still, she was looking forward to her body going back to normal after all of this.
"Any questions?" Dr. Jackson asked.
"Um, yeah." There was pretty much one huge question that was sort of . . . lingering over everything else. "What about the gender? Do you think we should just find out?" she asked.
"Oh, that's completely up to you," the doctor said. "Some first-time parents like to be surprised, but some like knowing in advance. I'm afraid I can't make that decision for you."
Clarke bit her bottom lip unsurely and looked over at Bellamy. "What do you think?" she asked him.
"I told you, babe, it's up to you."
It wasn't just up to her, though. He was going through this pregnancy with her, every step of the way, and she could tell the curiosity was killing him. "You wanna know," she said.
"I mean . . . I wouldn't mind knowing," he admitted.
"I don't think I'd mind knowing, either," she decided. "We just keep calling it 'the baby' or . . . well, 'it.' But it's not an it. It's a he or a she." She rubbed her tummy lovingly. "And once we know, we could start narrowing down names."
Bellamy got this excited look on his face, and his feet started tapping, like he was just itching to get up and start pacing around again.
"So would you like to know?" Dr. Jackson asked again. "It was pretty clear on the ultrasound."
"That means it has a penis," Clarke predicted. That would be the kind of thing that would be clear to see, at least for a trained professional.
"It could still be a girl," Bellamy said. "I wanna know."
"Yeah, I wanna know, too," she said, her mind made up. "But not right now. We should make a bigger deal out of it, don't you think?"
Bellamy made a face. "What, like one of those gender reveal parties?"
"Yeah." She'd seen some stuff on Pinterest that made it all look . . . a little excessive, but also really fun.
"Those are definitely the hot new trend," Dr. Jackson said. "If you want, we can send the gender to someone in your family or a trusted friend, and they can surprise you."
"Let's do that," Clarke said. "That'll be fun." There were so many aspects of being pregnant that felt like a chore, honestly, that she needed something fun to look forward to.
Bellamy nodded in agreement and said, "Alright, doc, I can tell you right now, she's gonna want you to send it to Raven Reyes."
Clarke smiled. Of course she'd trust her best friend in the world with such an important reveal. And of course her boyfriend knew that.
...
Bellamy knew nothing about gender reveal parties, so he was more than happy to let Raven just have at it and do all the planning. It only took her a few days to throw the whole thing together, but the wait was torture. He just wanted to know; he wanted to know so badly. At night, he and Clarke would lie awake sometimes speculating.
They ended up having the party at Eligius. The owner agreed to let them have the space for an entire Saturday afternoon. Bellamy didn't know what to expect when he walked in, but he should have known that Raven wouldn't half-ass anything.
"Oh my god, look at all of this!" Clarke exclaimed.
It was really something, that was for sure. Above the bar hung a huge banner that said, Boy or Girl? And there were balloons and streamers everywhere, pink and blue, of course. A wide array of desserts littered the bar, including two cakes, one with pink frosting and one with blue. There were pink and blue cookies, too, pink and blue plates and napkins, and even pink lemonade, along with a blue drink that Bellamy assumed to be Gatorade.
"Raven is so creative," Clarke said, grabbing a blue cookie.
"Damn right she is," Raven agreed as she walked behind them carrying more pink lemonade mix. "And you owe me. Throwing together a gender reveal party right before Christmas?" She exhaled dramatically.
"You're a good best friend," Clarke said, giving her a hug. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Raven said, her smile a clear indicator that she really didn't mind putting in some work to make this happen. "This just ensures that I'm gonna be the godmother, right?"
"You're at the top of the list," Clarke told her.
Raven did a celebratory fist-pump at her side and then headed back behind the bar to mix up some more lemonade.
"That was nice of your boss to let us use this place," Bellamy said, putting his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders as they moved throughout the bar, checking out the decorations. Someone had Photoshopped pictures of him and Clarke with babies, both boys and girls. That had to be Murphy's doing.
"Yeah, it's a good space," Clarke agreed. "I'm kind of surprised how many people showed up."
"Why?" It was Arkadia. It wasn't like anything else was going on.
"I don't know, I just figured it'd be our family and friends," she said. "But I see some people from some of my classes here. Like, acquaintances, you know." She waved at a few of them, then said, "Oh, and there's Callie," with fake cheerfulness in her voice.
"Your mom's friend?" Bellamy scanned the room for her and saw her talking to Abby. Yep, that was the woman who'd hit on him and earned Clarke's ire.
"Yep. Still haven't apologized to her," Clarke said. "And I don't plan to."
Bellamy looked around for his mom, hoping she'd get there soon. She had to work, so she'd told him she might be a little late. She'd be bringing Octavia with her, of course, and Octavia would probably drag Lincoln along.
Harper scuttled up to them suddenly and said, "Hey, don't mind me," as she bent down to get a closer look at Clarke's stomach. "I gotta check something." She looked at some photos on her phone and declared, "You're carrying high. That means it's a girl."
"Does it?" Clarke asked.
"Yep." Harper showed her a few images on Google to demonstrate the difference between carrying high and carrying low, and although Bellamy took a peek, they pretty much looked the same to him.
As it turned out, Harper wasn't the only one there guessing about the gender. A lot of women stopped Clarke to ask her how she was doing and what her symptoms were. There were a lot of . . . superstitions, it seemed, and anyone there who had a child themselves was using their own experience to make their predictions.
Finally, they got to the back table, which was actually two tables pushed together. They were decorated, too. There were Hershey's chocolate bars set out on top of it, some of which had the he of the logo colored in with blue and some of which had the she colored in pink. In addition, there were some cans of silly string available for people to crab, again both blue and pink, and in the center of the table was a sheet for people to write down their guesses. "Wow, look at all these predictions," Clarke said.
"Pretty evenly split," he noticed. Abby and Kane had both guessed that it was a girl, but Lexa and Murphy's names were both on the boy side.
"What're these?" he asked, picking up one of about a half dozen folded pieces of paper on display on that table. They were set out like nameplates, but they had full sentences on them.
"Old wives tales," Clarke said. "There's, like, no science behind any of them whatsoever, but some people swear they're true."
"Huh." He read the one in his hand first to himself, then out loud to her. "Sweet versus salty cravings. Sweet means it's a girl; salty means it's a boy."
"Well, what if I'm just craving everything?" she said.
"Then that just means you're pregnant." She definitely wasn't discriminating between sweet and salty foods, so that one was no help. He set it back down and picked up another. "Excessive morning sickness is said to be a sign that you're having a girl," he read.
"It was bad for a while there," she recalled. "But it's tapered off."
"What's this one?" He smiled as he read the next one. "Pregnancy glow. It is said that little . . ." The words got mixed around as he looked at them, so he had to stop and start over again. "It is said that little girls steal their mother's looks, so a pregnancy glow is actually an indicator of a boy."
"Hmm, you do say I'm glowing."
Clarke had enough good looks that nobody could steal them all, though, so that one did little to convince him. "Moody versus mellow," he went on. "Moody means you're having a girl." He didn't want to say anything that would get him in trouble, but she had been blaming a lot of outbursts on pregnancy hormones lately. "Well . . ."
"Just make your prediction," she said.
"Alright." He picked up a pencil and jotted his name down on the girl side. "I'm very confident."
"How?" she said. "I'm the one carrying the kid, and I don't even know."
"It's a girl," he declared. "Trust me." He really didn't know why he had such a strong feeling about it, but he did. In fact, he'd barely even entertained names for boys, because he was so sure they weren't getting one.
"I'm gonna go with a boy just to be different than you," she said, scribbling her name on the other side.
"Oh, it's on," he said. "I can't wait to be right."
"Here," she said, handing him a canister of silly string, "I think you take the pink stuff now since that was your guess."
"Sweet." He hadn't gotten to play around with silly string in a while, and just having some in his hand made him feel like a kid himself again. He shook it up and aimed it at her, but she warned, "Don't squirt any on me," before he had the chance to do so.
Leaning down, he spoke quietly into her ear and teased, "That's not what you said last night," before giving her cheek a big kiss.
The party wasn't anything like Bellamy's birthday had been. There was music playing from the jukebox, but people weren't dancing, and despite the fact that they were in a bar, no alcohol was being served. It was mostly an excuse for people to mix and mingle, and obviously Clarke was in high demand for that. Bellamy ended up meeting some new people, girls she had classes with or who she'd hung out with back when she'd lived in the dorms. There were some people from high school who'd shown up, most of whom looked completely different. Everyone, man or woman, had just gotten a lot . . . bigger. Fatter. Comparing himself to them made Bellamy feel pretty good about himself and glad that he hadn't let himself get out of shape.
His mom and Octavia showed up about an hour into the party, and Octavia made sure to explain to him that Lincoln had wanted to come but that he was recovering from the flu and didn't want to risk Clarke getting sick. She wrote his prediction down for him, though—boy. His mom shook her head at that and said, "I don't think so. I'm trusting my son's instinct on this one," and she scrawled her name on the girl side of the chart.
"I'm trusting Clarke's instinct," Octavia said, putting her name beneath Lincoln's.
Bellamy couldn't help but notice that about sixty percent of the predictions seemed to be falling on the boy side now. Was it really because Clarke had put her name over there, he wondered? Did people believe her more than him just because she was the mother, or because . . . because he wasn't even biologically the father? He didn't vocalize the question to anyone, but it sort of floated around in the back of his mind while he continued to mix and mingle.
About an hour into the party, Bellamy's minute insecurity amplified when he looked outside and saw none other than the actual biological father walking around on the sidewalk, pacing back and forth, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Finn looked like he wanted to come in, but he never did, and Bellamy wanted to make sure it stayed that way. Inconspicuously, he slipped away from Clarke, leaving her to chat up some of her former fellow cheerleaders, and ventured outside to confront her ex on her behalf.
"What do you want?" he growled, not even bothering to hide his disdain that the guy had had the audacity to show up here.
"Nothing," Finn muttered, letting the cigarette drop from his mouth. He snuffed it out with the toe of his shoe and said, "I just heard this was going on today, so I thought . . . maybe I could swing by."
"Maybe not," Bellamy snapped. He wasn't needed, hadn't been invited, so there was no reason for him to be there.
"Look," Finn said, "I realize you've stepped in or whatever . . ."
"No, not whatever," Bellamy interrupted vehemently. "You don't get to skip out on all the ultrasounds and doctor's appointments and every day-to-day thing in this pregnancy and then just show up for the fun stuff. That's not how it works." He was the one who'd been there for Clarke through all of this, and he'd continue being the one who went through everything with her. Finn had made it perfectly clear that he wanted no part in it, so as far as Bellamy was concerned, showing up to this party was just his pathetic attempt to make himself seem like less of a loser than he actually was.
Thinking about it for a moment, Finn nodded reluctantly and mumbled, "Fair enough."
Damn right it's far, Bellamy thought, glaring at the guy. Until he walked away, he wasn't going to be satisfied.
"I would like to know, once you guys find out," Finn said, whipping another cigarette out of his pocket. "If that's not too much to ask." Shoulders slumped, head drooping, he stepped down off the sidewalk and trudged across the street. Although he got in his car, he didn't drive off. And Bellamy suspected he wasn't going to.
Not wanting to miss out on any more of the party, Bellamy headed back inside, hoping Clarke's friends and acquaintances had kept her sufficiently distracted so that she didn't even know Finn had been loitering outside. She didn't need him to be a damper on her day.
Kane intercepted him close to the door and asked, "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," he said, casting a quick glance at Abby to see if she'd caught sight of him out there, too. Apparently she hadn't, because she and Callie were clucking with laughter. His mom was sort of standing near them, but it was clear that she wasn't actually part of their conversation.
"Alright, I think it's time to do the damn thing," Raven suddenly announced, motioning for someone—Miller, he presumed—to cut the music.
"Where'd he go?" Clarke asked, looking around. "Bellamy!" When she spotted him, she motioned him over. "Come on."
Pushing Finn out of his mind, he ambled up to his girlfriend again and put his arm around her waist.
"Alright, everybody, gather round," Raven said as she arranged all the guests in a circle. She grabbed his and Clarke's hands and pulled them over to an empty round table. "You two sit here," she said. "Murphy, are you filming?"
"Always," her boyfriend replied.
Bellamy held Clarke's chair out for her, then took a seat next to her and scooted his chair closer to the table. They were really doing this. Months of not knowing, and now they were gonna know.
As everyone quieted down and watched in anticipation, Raven handed them a black balloon and said, "Okay, in this balloon is confetti. Either pink or blue. Nobody knows. Except me." She grinned smugly, as if she liked being the only one in that bar with the knowledge. "When I count to three, you're gonna pop the balloon and find out what you're having. Now, if we look at all the predictions . . ." She motioned Harper over, who had the chart in her hand. "It seems like a slim majority says boy. Including the mother."
"Look, I just want a happy, healthy baby," Clarke said. "It doesn't matter what gender it is."
"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say." Raven handed Clarke a small pin and said, "Here you go. Pop whenever you're ready."
Clarke chewed on her lower lip for a moment, a sign of her nervousness, and handed the pin to Bellamy. "You do it," she told him.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
Even though these gender reveal things were really more of a spectacle than they needed to be, he kind of felt . . . privileged to get to do the honors. "Okay," he said, holding up the balloon. He looked to Raven just to make sure it was okay.
"On the count of three," she said. "One . . ."
"You ready?" Bellamy asked his girl.
She nodded.
"Two . . ." Raven went on, joined by the other guests this time. "Three!"
Bellamy jabbed the balloon with the pin, and he and Clarke both jumped a bit when it popped. And out came loads of pink confetti.
"It's a girl!" Raven exclaimed as everyone clapped and cheered.
A girl, Bellamy thought, shaking pink confetti off his face. Wow.
Beside him, Clarke was all smiles, half-laughing, half-crying. "You were right!" she said to him.
He was. He couldn't explain how he'd known, how he'd sensed something about a child that wasn't even technically his. But he'd sensed it all along.
"You okay?" he asked, rubbing her back as her crying started to intensify. They were clearly happy tears, though, and she nodded to assure him of that. "Come here," he said, pulling her in for a hug. She held him tightly and cried on him while everyone said things like "Aww," and "That's so sweet." He understood it being an emotional moment for her. Hell, if there hadn't been dozens of people looking on, he would have cried, too.
Obviously the reveal itself was the highlight of the party, but it didn't end right after that. Everyone took their turns congratulating Clarke, and most of them congratulated him, too. He thanked them, of course, but out of the corner of his eye, he kept noticing Finn's car still parked across the street. It was a damn distraction if nothing else. Bellamy really wanted to just forget about him and be completely present at the party, but the only way to do that was to get him gone.
When Clarke took a bathroom break, he ducked outside again, this time with one of those Hershey's bars in hand. He marched across the street, and impatiently knocked on Finn's window. The guy had fallen asleep, but he jolted awake when Bellamy knocked and rolled down the window. Wordlessly, Bellamy tossed the candy bar onto his lap, letting him see for himself that the she of the logo was colored in pink. There. Now he knew.
Finn didn't say anything, not even a thank you, so Bellamy didn't bother to stick around. He headed back across the street to rejoin his girl—girls—at their party.
...
Minus Finn's cameo, it'd been a good day. Bellamy didn't bother to tell Clarke about it, figuring she was better off not knowing. Instead, he spent the evening focused on her and the baby. The second they got home, even though she was tired, she said she wanted to brainstorm baby names. Apparently one of her many apps said that they were supposed to have started that a couple weeks ago, and she didn't want to be behind schedule. The first step, she said, was ruling out some names, so she wanted him to make a list of every former lover he'd ever had. Because those names were automatically ruled out to her.
That list took several sheets of paper.
"Hey, Bellamy?" she called into the bathroom that night as he brushed his teeth.
"Yeah?" He spit and rinsed, then shut the light off and stepped out into the bedroom.
"I think we should be reading to the baby more," she said, scrolling through something on her iPad. "There's a lot of research out there that says it—she—can hear us. And we wanna build her vocabulary, right?"
"Not sure I'm the best person to do that," he said, settling down on his side of the bed.
"You're the perfect person to do that," she insisted. "Remember when you used to read to me?"
He snorted. "Only because you forced me to study."
"I always thought it was relaxing."
He wasn't sure how on earth him stumbling over sentences and mixing words around had been relaxing, but it'd helped him increase his fluency just a little bit, if nothing else. "Well, anything to relax my Princess," he said. "Or Princesses, I should say."
"Ooh, Princesses. You're gonna have a field day with that." She leaned over and set her iPad on the nightstand, plugging it in to charge it up. "Maybe I should sing to her sometime," she said. "Do you think she'd like that?"
What kind of question was that? Who didn't enjoy hearing Clarke sing? "She'd love it," he said. Maybe she'd even take after her mom and be a good singer herself.
...
Bellamy heard music as he walked up the stairs to Clarke's bedroom. Her guitar. She was playing her guitar again. And she was singing.
"Just think of the future
And think of your dreams
You'll get away from here
You'll get away eventually."
She sat on the side of her bed, her back to him, so in the zone that she didn't even hear him come to stand in the doorway. He hung back and just watched her, just listened.
"So just think of the future
Think of a new life
Don't get lost in the memories
Keep your eyes on a new prize."
Something must have alerted her to his presence then, some little sound or maybe just some sense of him, because she looked over her shoulder and stopped playing.
"That's pretty," he said, treading into the bedroom. He didn't close the door because . . . he was under strict orders not to.
"Oh, thanks," she said. "It's, uh, Paramore."
"I have no idea who that is." He sat down next to her, sort of regretting that he'd interrupted. It would've been nice to just stand there and listen to her sing some more. "An artist, a musician," he said, pretty blown away by her talent. "I can't wait 'til you tell your mom you're not gonna be a doctor after all."
She laughed lightly, then said, "No, I probably will just end up going to med school."
"We'll see." For some reason, he just didn't see Clarke following in her mom's footsteps. She was book-smart, sure, but she was also creative. Her parents probably didn't put a whole lot of stock in creative careers, but . . . she was really good.
"Did you sneak up here?" she asked, setting her guitar down on the floor. "I know there's no way my parents gave you permission."
"They did, actually," he informed her. "For five minutes. And the door has to stay wide open."
"Damn."
"Yeah." If they'd been at his house, the door could have—and would have—been closed. "I just wanted to come give you your Christmas present before you leave for your grandma's tomorrow," he said, pulling a small black box out of his pocket. "Your mom saw this, and I'm pretty sure she's freaking out right now, so after I leave, make sure you go down and show her it's not a ring."
"Okay, I will," she said, taking the box from him. "Can I open it?"
"Yeah." This was actually the first time he'd gotten a girl a gift for Christmas. Besides his mom and his sister, of course. He and Bree had never been serious enough for that. So he was actually a little nervous. Hopefully she'd like it.
When she opened the box, she gasped at what was inside. "Oh my god, Bellamy," she said, taking out the silver necklace. "This is beautiful."
It wasn't expensive or anything, because it wasn't real silver, and it was basically just a charm necklace. But on the silver circle that hung from the chain were the words To me, you are perfect. "I know it's kinda cheesy," he admitted, "but . . . I just saw it and thought of you."
"I'm not perfect, though," she said.
"No, see . . . to me." He pointed at that word to emphasize. "To me, you are perfect."
"Isn't that from some movie?" she asked.
"Probably." Love, Actually, if he recalled. He'd watched it with his mom, not by choice.
"Well, I love it," she said. "Can you put it on for me?"
"Sure." He took the necklace from her and unhooked it as she turned around. She pulled her hair over her shoulder, exposing so much smooth, soft skin on her back and shoulders. She was only wearing a spaghetti strap top, pretty clearly with no bra underneath, and she looked so damn pretty.
With his big fingers, it took him a moment to secure the necklace around her neck, but once he did, he didn't even ask her to turn around. Instead, he put his hands on her back, completely mesmerized by the sight of her pale skin, such a contrast to his. Her whole body stilled, like she was barely breathing as he touched her. And he wanted to touch her more. He wanted to take her shirt off, his shirt off, and feel her chest against his. He wanted her to only be wearing that necklace. There was just something about Clarke, about her body and the way it fit with his . . . it was hard to keep his hands off of her.
Slowly, probably because of the fact that the door was hanging wide open and her parents were right downstairs, Clarke turned to face him again. The necklace hung right in her cleavage, a tempting sight if he'd ever seen one. It looked good on her, just as he'd known it would.
"I wish we had more than five minutes," he said quietly, taking her hands in his.
"Me, too," she whispered back.
Stroking his thumbs over her knuckles, he wondered if even five hours would have been enough, though. Probably not. No matter how much time he had with Clarke, he always found himself wanting more.
...
Where is that necklace? Bellamy wondered, looking over at Clarke's dresser. That thing was a cluttered mess, so he usually didn't go anywhere near it, but he wondered if she still had it. Hopefully she did. He couldn't imagine she'd thrown it away.
"Did you make the list?" Clarke asked him, breaking him out of his train of thought.
"I did," he said. "Did you make yours?"
"Yep. Didn't take me very long." She held up a bright pink Post-It note that had a few names written on it.
"You can start then," he told her.
"Alright. No Lexa or Niylah."
"Niylah?" he echoed. "Who's Niylah?"
"This girl I've hooked up with a few times."
His eyebrows shot upward with intrigue. "Is she hot?"
"Not as hot as Lexa," she said before whacking his shoulder. "Will you focus?"
"Sorry." The thought of Clarke and another girl was just . . . good stuff.
"Also, no Natalie," she went on, "because I was tormented in fourth grade by this girl named Natalie. No Casey, because that just makes me think of Casey's gas station. And no Alyssa, for obvious reasons."
"Okay." None of those names had even been on his radar. "Anything else?"
"Nope, I'm pretty much open to other suggestions, as long as it's not the same name as someone you slept with. Hence the list."
"Hence the list." He took it out of the pocket of his sweatpants and handed it to her. "Here you go."
At first, she didn't seem very alarmed, because he'd folded it all up into small squares. But when she actually unfolded it and then just shook it out like a long receipt, her eyes bulged. "Dear God, Bellamy," she gasped. "How did you remember all these people?"
"It took me a while," he admitted. He'd ended up taping a couple of pages together.
"Oh, there's Roma," she said, starting at the top. "Is this in chronological order?"
"Roughly." There were probably a few names missing, but he felt like he'd gotten most of them.
"Bree," she scoffed. "Oh, look, there I am."
Yep, she was at the bottom of the first page. With a smiley face next to her name.
"So many Staceys," she remarked as she skimmed the list. "Who are some of these girls? Lucia? Callisto? Marquesa?"
"That was Italy," he said. Lucia and Callisto had been at the same time.
"Alejandra," she read. "Maria. That must be the Mexico phase."
"Yep." Maria had actually been a three-night stand instead of a one-night.
"This is overwhelming," she told him.
"Sorry." She'd asked for the list, so he'd went ahead and made it.
"You realize you've pretty much forced me to narrow it down to, like, Karen, don't you?"
"Oh, no, there's a Karen on there," he recalled.
"Where?"
"Right about . . ." It was like a fucking scavenger hunt trying to find her name, but he knew she was before the Mexico chicks. "Here," he said, pointing her out. "Canada Karen."
"This is insane," she said, gripping his list tightly, like she wanted to tear it into shreds. "My list is, like, normal, and then yours is something that should be housed in the Library of Congress."
"Okay, how about this?" He took it back from her and set it aside, feeling like she'd just get pissed if she looked at it for too much longer. "I'll tell you some names I like, and you can either veto them or keep them under consideration."
"And you promise they won't be on that gargantuan list?"
"I promise." Granted, his extensive sexual history made coming up with names difficult, but there were a few he liked that were definitely not former lovers.
"Okay, go for it," she said.
"Alright. Isabel."
"Veto," she replied quickly.
"Hazel."
She made a face. "Major veto."
"Macy."
"Hard pass."
He cringed, hoping she at least liked the next one, because it was one of his favorites. "Avery."
Again, she made a face. "Isn't that, like, a bird cage?"
"No, that's aviary."
"But you like . . . Avery." She said the name slowly, as if she were testing it out.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I just do." He couldn't even remember where he'd heard it, but it'd stuck with him. "And I looked it up. It means 'wise.'"
"Well, I do want her to be wise," she said. "Hmm. Avery. That's kind of pretty."
"That one's still in the running then?" He could always think of some others, but at least he hadn't gone 0-4.
"Yeah," she said. "Avery." She smiled and said, "This is kind of fun."
"Yeah, I'm glad we know now."
"It's a lot of pressure, though," she said. "I mean, this is her name. She's gonna be stuck with it her whole life."
"Hey, I've made it through life as Bellamy," he pointed out. "If I can make it, she can, too."
That got a small laugh out of her and a nod of agreement. "True."
Honestly, as unusual as his name was, he didn't hate it. It meant 'good-looking companion,' and that was pretty fitting if he did say so himself. Besides, it fit well with his last name.
Last name, he thought. What was this baby's last name going to be?
It was late, and although they'd had a good day, they were both tired. He wasn't going to bring that up right now. They had time to figure that out. "Whatever her name ends up being," he said, placing his hand atop Clarke's stomach, "she's gonna be amazing." Just like her mom, he thought. And it didn't matter what her first name was, or even her last name. She was going to be his daughter.
