Chapter 31
At the beginning of the year, Clarke never would have imagined that she would struggle through a final exam. The one she had for Jaha's class was lengthy and intensive—essay questions on top of essay questions—and she didn't feel like she'd adequately prepared for it. The timing was bad, as it was scheduled for only a few days before Christmas, one of the latest finals the university allowed. Although that may have given her more time to study, she hadn't studied as much as she could have. She just fell asleep so early these days.
So many people around her were finishing up, taking their exams to the front of the lecture hall and leaving, but Clarke was only halfway through the test booklet. A quick glance at the clock alerted her to the fact that she had to pick up the pace, and she wrote quickly, her handwriting an absolute mess. Just like a doctor's.
With twenty minutes left and two essays still remaining for her to answer, her back started to hurt. Badly. When she sat for too long, especially in an uncomfortable chair, the discomfort kicked in. She would have loved to have been able to stand up and go walk around for a little bit, but time was of the essence, and it wasn't like she could just get up and leave the room during a final exam. So she sat there and tried to tough it out, tried to stay focused on what she was doing. But she had to keep twisting to the sides and stretching out as much as she could. Although she tried to be inconspicuous, the guy sitting a few seats down from her shot her a semi-annoyed look, like she was distracting him.
It felt like two worlds were colliding—her academics and her pregnancy—and not in a good way.
"Time's up," Professor Jaha announced before she'd actually had time to finish the last essay. She shook her head, displeased with her own effort, and quickly finished her last sentence. It wasn't meant to be her last sentence, but it would have to suffice.
"Please bring your exams to the front," Jaha instructed.
Out of the sixty or so people in that class, it seemed that only about a dozen remained. It took Clarke longer to gather up her things than almost everyone else, and she ended up being the last one to hand her test booklet in. She thought about apologizing to her professor for such rushed work, but then she thought better of it, deciding it best to not give him any preconceived notions about what she'd written.
"Clarke," Jaha said, motioning her back to him on her way out.
Oh, no, she thought. He's disappointed. The struggle must have been written all over her face. He'd probably expected her to be one of the first ones done, not one of the last.
"I wanted to wait until the class was over," he said, "to offer my congratulations."
"For what?" she asked.
"Well . . ." He trailed off and motioned to her belly.
"Oh, that." There really was no hiding it anymore. It was obvious. "Thanks," she said. "It was . . . unexpected."
"My son congratulates you, too," Jaha told her. "Hard to believe the two of you used to date, isn't it?"
"Yeah," she said. "Feels like a lifetime ago." And in some ways, it was.
"So when are you due?" Jaha inquired.
"Close to graduation, actually." They had her due date set for a couple of days afterward, so it was going to be a crazy month of May.
"Ah." Jaha nodded, looking as though he wanted to say more. But he didn't. An awkward silence descended onto them, and Clarke wasn't sure what to do to break it. She thought about asking him how Wells was doing when, suddenly, he spoke again. "So do you still plan on enrolling in med school next fall?" he asked.
Med school? Honestly, with everything that had happened these past few months, she hadn't given it much consideration. "I'm not sure," she answered vaguely. "I haven't really thought that far ahead."
"Well, I do hope this doesn't . . ." Jaha paused as he considered his word choice. ". . . derail your ambition. You're a talented student with great potential. And I'm sure your mother wants to see you follow in her footsteps."
Her mother sure did, but the longer this pregnancy wore on, the less likely it was starting to seem. "Right now, I'm kind of just taking things one day at a time," she admitted.
"Of course. But please, let me know if I can be of any assistance," her professor offered. "There are resources here at the university, people who can help you schedule your enrollment so that you'd only have to take one semester off, at most."
She realized he was just trying to be nice and helpful and everything, but this wasn't exactly a conversation she wanted to have. So she wrapped it up with a quick, "Thanks," and then said she had to be going. Which was a lie. Her final exams were all done. There was nothing she had to do now.
The test anxiety she'd felt for the past two hours seemed to have vanished as she walked out of the building and out onto the familiar sidewalks of campus. Or at the very least, it'd morphed into a different kind of anxiety. Jaha had seemed . . . sort of concerned about her future now. As if becoming a mother was going to limit her. He'd been teaching at the university for years now, so maybe he'd seen it happen before. But the thought of having to push med school back a semester, or maybe even a full year . . . it didn't sound awful to her. In fact, she kind of liked the thought of having some time after graduation to just focus on her family. In the grand scheme of things, wasn't that more important?
When she got to her car, she just sat down in the driver's seat, stuck the key in the ignition, and didn't even turn it. The stress she was feeling was . . . a little much right now, and she'd read some suggestion about doing deep breathing whenever worries started to plague her. She wasn't a meditation guru by any means, but she did her best to pull in some relaxing breaths and clear her mind. Finals were over, nothing she could do about them now, and this med school issue was something she had time to figure out after the holidays. She was on break now, not even scheduled to work for the next couple of days, and she intended to enjoy it.
Just as she was about to twist the key and turn on the car, she felt . . . something. A fluttering feeling in her stomach, at first barely noticeable. But as she froze and concentrated on the odd sensation, she felt it again. It was almost like butterflies in her stomach, except she wasn't nervous. And it was different somehow.
It was the baby. Had to be, right? Here she was, halfway through her pregnancy, and she had yet to feel the baby kick.
The fluttering feeling continued, and she whipped her cell phone out of her purse to call Bellamy. Please answer, she thought. If he was working, he wouldn't have his phone with him, but if he was still on his lunch break, then maybe he would.
On the third ring, he picked up the phone with a, "Hey, Princess."
"Bellamy," she gasped, holding her free hand to her stomach.
She must have sounded worked up or out of breath or something, because right away, he asked, "What's wrong? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah." It hadn't been okay during that exam, but now it was. "I think the baby's kicking," she told him excitedly.
"What?"
"Yeah. I feel it." She pictured her daughter in there turning over or doing backflips. Like a little acrobat. "It's either that or just gas," she said. But if it was gas, she thought she'd maybe feel sick or at least like she needed to use the bathroom. And she didn't feel that way.
Bellamy laughed and asked her, "What's it feel like?"
"I don't know. It's hard to explain." She knew it wasn't likely that he'd be able to feel any movement yet, as everything she'd read said that mothers naturally felt things sooner than their partners did. But she still would have loved for him to be sitting next to her right now, experiencing this with her. "I wish you were here," she said wistfully.
"Me, too," he said. "I could try to take off work early."
"No, you don't have to." She didn't want him to get in trouble with his boss or get a job strike or anything. "Maybe she'll still be kicking when you get home."
"Maybe," he said, sounding a little sad that he was missing out. But when he said, "I love you," he sounded happy again.
"I love you, too," she told him as the sensation in her stomach died down. In that moment, she felt like she was saying those words to both of them, to her boyfriend and her baby.
...
Christmas Eve came a few days after finals ended, and with it came some relaxation for Clarke. Hosting Thanksgiving had been a good idea, because it basically got her and Bellamy off the hook for this holiday. Nobody expected them to make anything or do much of anything. They just wanted them to show up. Well, Bellamy's mom wanted them to show up. Clarke's mom, on the other hand . . . she probably would have been fine if Clarke had shown up to her house solo on Christmas Day. But obviously that wasn't gonna happen.
The plan was to spend Christmas Eve at his mom's house, wake up, and open presents there in the morning. After that, they would all go over to her mother's to have Christmas dinner. How late that would go was anyone's guess, but Clarke knew it wouldn't be hard to make an excuse to get out of there early if they needed to. Being pregnant came in handy for that kind of thing.
Aurora had to work at the hotel until 6:00 p.m., but she still came home and whipped up dinner for the three of them. Nothing fancy, but it hit the spot. Afterward, Clarke lay down on the couch, curled up with Bellamy, feeling lazy as fuck since Aurora was doing all the dishes on her own. Bellamy offered to help her, but his mom would have none of it.
"So you felt her kick the other day, huh?" Aurora said as she scampered back and forth from the living room to the kitchen, collecting a few glasses that hadn't made it into the sink with everything else.
"Yeah." Clarke smiled just thinking about it. She hadn't felt anything else since, but all her apps promised that she'd soon be feeling a lot.
"First time?" Aurora asked.
"Yep. Which I was really relieved about, because I know they say you have to wait a while to feel the baby move when you're a first-time mom, but I was getting worried."
"Nothing to worry about," Bellamy said, tightening his arm around her shoulders. "Doctor said you're having the model pregnancy, remember?"
"Hmm." She still wasn't completely convinced about that, because her signs and symptoms did sure know how to make life a lot less comfortable for her. But she supposed it could be a lot worse.
"Bellamy, were you able to feel anything?" his mom asked after she'd returned to the kitchen.
"No," he answered, so much disappointment in that one word.
"I think it takes a little longer for other people to be able to feel it," Clarke said. "Right?"
"Usually," Aurora confirmed. "Although Octavia . . ." She came back into the living room, drying off a glass. "I swear that girl started kicking at the end of the first trimester."
"Why am I not surprised?" Bellamy muttered as the front door swung open. And in walked Octavia herself, dressed in what appeared to be a new winter coat and matching hat.
"What's not surprising?" she asked nosily as she caught the tail end of the conversation.
"You being a brat," Bellamy replied, "even in the womb."
"Ha, ha," she deadpanned. "Merry Christmas to you, too, big brother."
He just smirked at her.
"Hey, Octavia," Clarke said sleepily, not quite able to lift her head off of Bellamy's chest. She did lift her hand, though. More of a flick of the wrist, really, but it counted as a wave.
"Hey, Clarke," Octavia said. "You look . . . comfy."
"As comfy as I can get," she grumbled. Nothing was super comfortable these days.
"That's why we're not moving," Bellamy said.
"Oh, really?" Octavia peeled her coat off and tossed it over the back of the recliner, then sat down on the arm of the couch. "Are you sure you're not just lazy?"
"That, too," Bellamy admitted.
He's only lazy because I am, Clarke thought. If she hadn't turned into such a blob on that couch, he'd totally be up in the kitchen with his mom, helping her put plates and silverware away.
"Well, Christmas with Lincoln's family was a blast," Octavia informed them, even though no one had asked about it. "Did you guys know they have one of those huge holiday light displays? It's timed with music and everything. It's incredible. I got a video, so I'll have to show you later."
"Can't wait," Bellamy said sarcastically, earning a whack on the head from his sister.
Aurora re-emerged from the kitchen, this time without a towel or any dishes to be dried. "I never felt the need to bother with Christmas lights," she said. "What about your mom, Clarke? Does she put anything up?"
"No," Clarke replied, "but she hires people to put them up for her."
"Oh." Aurora nodded slowly.
"It's nothing spectacular," Clarke assured her. The lights were minimal at best, and they just went in the tree in the front yard.
"Next year we'll be more festive," Bellamy decided suddenly.
"We will?" she asked. "On the beach house?"
"Sure. Why not?"
She didn't have anything against holiday decorations—in fact, she'd watched a few episodes of The Great Christmas Light Fight this year—but she wasn't used to seeing houses in her neighborhood with anything up. "We'd be the only ones around with Christmas lights," she told him.
"That just means our house would look the best."
"Your house?" Octavia said with a snort. "Isn't it Clarke's house?"
"Actually, it's my parents' house," Clarke told her. "I pay rent."
"I hope Bellamy's been helping out with that," Aurora said, taking a seat in her recliner.
"He has," Clarke reassured her. "He helps me pay all the bills."
"Yeah, don't worry, Mom," he said. "The only person I freeload off of is you."
"Good to know."
"Yep." Clarke snuggled closer to Bellamy, as close as her round tummy would allow, and yawned. "Your son's a good boyfriend, Aurora. And a good roommate." She wasn't exactly sure how or when he'd started living with her. It wasn't like they'd talked about it or had a day where they officially moved him in or anything. It'd just happened naturally and fluidly these past couple months. That house was his home now, too.
"Speaking of roommates," Octavia segued, rising to her feet, "and living with a significant other . . ."
"I sense where this is going," her mom cut in. "We'll talk about it later."
Octavia pouted and sat back down on the arm of the couch again.
Although she tried to stifle another yawn, Clarke just couldn't do it. Another one came out, and Bellamy noticed it. "You tired?" he asked her.
"Yeah." The longer they lay on that couch, the more tired she became.
"You wanna go to bed?" he asked.
"It's still early," she pointed out. It was probably just going on 8:00. Usually she managed to make it until . . . well, at least 8:30.
"Doesn't matter," he said, sitting up, bringing her with him. "I'm tired, too. We can go to bed." He helped her up off the couch and took her hand.
"If you two want, you can take my room," his mom offered. "The bed's bigger."
"Oh, it's okay," Clarke said. "We used to snuggle up in his bed all the time."
Octavia grunted and mumbled, "Pretty sure you did a little more than snuggling." And she was right. They had.
"We'll see you in the morning," Bellamy said, leading her down the hall to his bedroom. Clarke loved how familiar it was, even after all these years. Aurora must have always hoped that her son would come back home, and that was probably why she hadn't ever changed it.
"This brings me back," Clarke said, as she stripped down to just her shirt and underwear.
"This is where it all happened," he said, peeling off his shirt. "For the first time."
"And the second," she added. "And the third."
Grinning, he peeled back the covers and got in the small bed, scooting as far over as he could to leave adequate space for her. It really wasn't a bed meant for two people, but they'd make it work. They always had before.
"It's getting harder to cuddle," she said, struggling to get as close to him as she would have wanted.
"Yeah," he agreed. He tried to put his arm around her, but . . . her bump was really just in the way, and they eventually both relented and just turned to lie on their sides, facing each other. Clarke's side was still semi-comfortable to sleep on, but she was going to have to start elevating one leg with a pillow or something.
For a few seconds, Bellamy didn't say anything. He just sort of . . . gazed at her, making eye contact with her even through the darkness of the bedroom.
"What?" she asked him.
"Nothing," he said. "I was just thinking how lucky I am you chose me to be the one to . . . you know."
"Pop my cherry?" she said. It'd definitely been a spontaneous thing, but she didn't regret it. "Well, you were around, so it was just convenient."
"Oh, sure," he said. "Why'd you choose me?"
"I don't know." She'd never forget standing in that gym with Raven, babbling about how she no longer wanted to be a virgin, and then seeing Bellamy walk in. "It just felt right. Plus, you were really hot."
That got a laugh out of him, but shortly after, his tone became more serious again, almost reflective. "What if you hadn't?" he wondered aloud. "What if you'd slept with someone else that day? You think we still would've gotten together?"
She'd never actually thought about it, because that decision was just such a huge part of her history. It'd set a lot of things into motion for her. "I don't know," she said. "I mean, you never noticed me."
"Oh, I noticed," he said. "It's just . . . you were a freshman that first year you showed up. I couldn't bother with freshmen."
"Wow."
"I was an ass, okay?"
Bellamy may have been a bit . . . explorative with girls in high school, but he'd never been an ass. Not to her knowledge, anyway. "No, I don't blame you," she said. "Me as a freshman . . . I wasn't ready."
"But you as a sophomore . . ."
"Horny as hell." She wasn't sure what had gotten into her that year, but at the time, it'd felt too good to even question it.
...
In the middle of the meal preparation, Clarke managed to slip away from her family to take a phone call from Bellamy. With grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins buzzing about, it was hard to get a moment alone, but she ended up in the hallway that led back to her grandpa's man-cave. He didn't call it that, of course, but that was exactly what it was.
"What do you mean, 'What am I wearing?'" she asked him, feeling a little bit dirty. "You've never wanted to know before." He went on to explain that he missed her, and that he wanted to be able to picture her in his mind right now, because he was in his bedroom getting ready to jack off. "Oh, I see," she said, picturing him lying in his bed with his hand wrapped around his dick. The thought of him rubbing one out but pretending it was her hand or her mouth . . . it really turned her on.
He asked her to take her underwear off, but she wasn't feeling quite that daring. Maybe if she'd just been at home, but not at her grandparents' house. "I can't take them off," she said, wishing she had the guts to play along with the phone sex thing a little bit more. "I'm with my family."
Behind her, someone cleared their throat, alerting her to the fact that she wasn't wandering around that hallway alone. She suspected it was her mom, but whoever it was—mom, dad, Aunt Cindy Leigh—it was embarrassing to get caught in the middle of such a racy conversation. "I'm gonna have to call you back," she said, abruptly ending the call. She turned around, coming eye to eye with her mom, and lied, "That was Raven. She just wanted to wish me a merry Christmas."
Her mother crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"
It was a flimsy cover-up at best, so she muttered, "No," and looked down at her feet.
Her mom's hand darted out and seized her phone from her.
"Hey!" she yelped. Bellamy would probably call back later, or send her a dirty text or something. He was a lot more daring than she was, so sometimes he sent pictures.
"You don't need this," her mom said, pocketing the phone. "In fact, it'll do you some good to have a few days away from that boy."
"That boy?" Clarke echoed, hating that her mom always found new derisive ways to refer to her boyfriend. "Weren't there any guys in your past?" she asked challengingly. "Guys Grandma and Grandpa didn't approve of?"
"No," her mother claimed. "They always liked all my boyfriends."
"All of them?" Clarke tilted her head to the side suspiciously. "How many were there?"
"Not many."
"Uh-huh." She really wasn't believing that. She'd seen pictures of her mom back in high school, stunningly beautiful pictures. As perfect and innocent as she tried to make herself out to be, there was no way she hadn't had some boy drama. "You know, I've had a whole whopping two boyfriends in my life," Clarke pointed out, "both of whom are actually really nice guys."
"You're right," her mom said, and Clarke thought they might have made some progress until she added, "Wells was a very nice guy."
Wells was boring, though. There was no spark there. "What do you have against Bellamy?" she asked. Yes, there was the sexual activity, but other than that, most parents would adore a guy who treated their daughter the way Bellamy did.
"I just don't think he's the one for you," her mom said.
"I never said he was." Why did her parents think she was letting herself fall head over heels for Bellamy? She liked the guy . . . a lot. A lot a lot. But she didn't have delusions of a wedding and a family with him. She knew he was going to be moving on to a lot bigger and better places in half a year's time, and when that time came . . . she had to be prepared to let him go.
...
As her eyelids fluttered shut, Clarke managed a quiet, "Hey, Bellamy?"
"Hmm?"
Even without his arms around her, it felt so good to be near him, to lie next to him. To be close. "I'm really glad I chose you," she said, not sure what would have happened if she'd chosen someone else for her first time. She liked to think they still would have found each other, though. Somehow.
Bellamy didn't say anything in response to that; he just reached over and stroked her hair. There was so much love in that simple touch, that wordless gesture. Sometimes she didn't even feel like she deserved it.
