Chapter 39

Working at Eligius meant that Clarke had to be pretty social, whether she felt like it or not. The sum of her paycheck was dependent on tips, after all. When the customers were rude, drunk, obnoxious, or all of the above, it was a pain in the ass to have to serve them. But when they were just nice and normal, it was fine. It gave her the chance to chat with some people she used to go to school with, too, but had lost touch with over the years. Some of them were in college, like her, some had dropped out, and some had never gone. Most of them hadn't started families yet, but a few had.

"Thanks, Clarke," one of her fellow former cheerleaders said sweetly as she laid a basket of chili fries down in front of her.

"You're welcome," Clarke replied.

"How's the little one?"

She'd gotten used to people asking about the baby, even if they were people she hadn't talked to in years. "Oh, she's getting livelier every day," she said, turning her back to get to work on cleaning some of those glasses. She had a system that allowed her to go really fast. One dunk in the soapy water for three seconds. Then a rinse for three more seconds after that.

In the midst of setting glasses on the drying rack, she heard someone approach the bar, so she spun around as she was saying, "Hi, what can I . . ." But she trailed off when she came face to face with someone who never ventured into the Eligius Bar & Grill: her mom. ". . . get for you," she finished, abandoning the question altogether since her mom clearly wasn't just there for something to eat or drink. "What're you doing here?"

Without hesitation, her mom replied, "We need to talk."

Talking sounded . . . necessary, but involved, and Clarke wasn't sure she could handle that right now. "I'm working," she said, scampering out from behind the bar in an effort to look busier than she actually was. She was one of only two servers on duty, the other being a semi-new hire named Carmen who was still learning the ropes. But the place wasn't exactly packed, and together, they had things under control. Luckily, though, there was still a recently vacated table with plenty of dirty dishes on it that needed to be picked up, so she got to work on that.

"Can't you just spare a minute?" her mom asked.

"No." She piled the plates on the underside of her forearm and used her free hand to pick up the glasses.

"Clarke . . ."

"Mom, I can't," she insisted. "I already take more breaks than everyone else on account of my bladder being the size of a pea. So just get out of my way and let me do my . . ." She'd only taken one step back in the direction of the counter when the precariously balanced plates fell off her arm and shattered on the floor. "Great," she grumbled. "See, you're frazzling me."

The other server quickly came over and said, "I got it."

"No, you don't have to."

"Clarke, it's fine," Carmen assured her. "Just go sit down."

Sighing, feeling like she couldn't focus on work now despite how hard she was trying to, Clarke set the dirty glasses back down on the table and thanked Carmen for cleaning up her mess. She hadn't meant to make more work for the girl, but she knew that, the bigger her bump became, the more the people she worked with were going to assume she needed help.

Clarke sulked over to an empty table, the one Bellamy liked to sit at whenever he came in, and slid into the booth. Her mother joined her, and they sat in awkward, uncomfortable silence together for what felt like an eternity until Clarke finally asked her, "Did Kane coax you into this?" She could just picture him morphing from boyfriend into therapist as he gave her advice on how to handle things.

"No," her mom said.

"So you decided to come see me all on your own?"

Once again, her mother repeated the same answer. "No."

"Then who . . ." She didn't finish the question, because that pretty much left one option. "Bellamy?"

Her mom nodded slowly. "He really does love you."

Well . . . at least they could agree on that much. "I love him, too," she said. Leave it to him to take matters into his own hands, even though dealing with her mom was never a pleasant experience for him.

"I know," Abby said. "I know you do. I just . . ." She sighed heavily, looking down at the table before lifting her face again. "Clarke, I'm no good at this," she fretted. "I'm a doctor; I like it when things are under my control."

"Including me," Clarke said.

Swallowing hard, her mom admitted, "Yes. And I know it sounds horrible to say that, but I like feeling like I have some influence over your life and the decisions you make."

Clarke averted her eyes, trying not to dwell too hard on that influence.

"But I don't have that anymore,' her mom said. "And it's a hard pill to swallow. Because you're my little girl, you know? You always will be. But nowadays, you're so grown up. I mean, you're gonna make a grandma out of me."

Clarke managed a small smile, nothing too noticeable, but . . . enough to let her guard down.

"I'm sorry for how I've been acting lately," her mother apologized, and it sounded pretty sincere. A little scripted, maybe, but everyone rehearsed apologies now and then. "I know it's driven a wedge in between us, and I—I don't want that. That's the last thing I want. Because I wanna be a part of your life, and I wanna be a part of your daughter's life and-"

"Avery," Clarke cut in.

"What?"

"Her name," she clarified. "It's Avery."

An unusually soft smile appeared on her mom's face, and like everyone else who heard the name for the first time, she tested it out by saying it. "Avery. That's a beautiful name."

Clarke thought about telling her that Bellamy had been the one to pick it out, but . . . maybe that wasn't the best idea.

"I wanna be there for you and for Avery," her mom reaffirmed. "I don't want to push you so hard that I push you away."

"Well, that's what you've been doing," Clarke told her.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I really am."

Hearing the words felt . . . strange. But not in a bad way. Her mom so rarely apologized because she so rarely admitted that she was wrong about anything. And in terms of her career, she hardly ever was. But when it came to family life, she made mistakes sometimes. They all did.

"It's not like I want this, either, for there to be some chasm between us," Clarke said. "I mean . . . I'm gonna be a mom, Mom. I need you." There were so many things she was clueless about, advice that her apps couldn't give her. So she needed to be able to go to the woman who'd raised her and ask questions; she needed their relationship to be a better one. "So . . . I'm willing to move forward from here," she decided, phrasing it carefully, because she didn't want to make it seem like the slate was totally wiped clean between them yet.

"Really?" Tears shot to her mother's eyes.

"Yes. But on two conditions," she added sternly. "First of all, the med school thing . . . I don't wanna hear about it. I've made my decision, and whether I change my mind someday and decide to go or end up doing something completely different with my life, then that'll be my decision, too. Not yours."

Her mom thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded. "I understand."

"And second . . . Bellamy." To be honest, she could endure more lectures about med school if she had to, but she simply could not allow the guy she loved to have to put up with so much judgement anymore. "You have to be nicer to him," she stipulated. "And that includes not being passive-aggressive, which I know is hard for you."

Her mom sighed, didn't deny that claim, and said, "I'll work on it."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Clarke was . . . a little bit skeptical. But she knew her mom well enough to know that this wasn't an act. And if it was, then Clarke would readily remind her about the conditions she'd agreed to today. If she wanted to be a part of her granddaughter's life, she was going to have to make some changes. "Okay," Clarke said, cautiously optimistic about where this could lead them now. If nothing else, it was a step in the right direction.

"Okay," her mom echoed quietly, setting her hands on the table, palm side facing up. Clarke reached across and set her hands within them, hoping that this conversation or agreement or whatever it was would hold up over time. She needed it to.

...

Construction was a dirty job. Bellamy always felt like he had to shower when he got home, even if he'd already showered that morning. It was different than all those football practices he used to have, where he'd mainly just work up a sweat and smell awful afterwards. This job covered his hands in dirt and grime by the end of the day. Very blue collar stuff.

Most of the time, his after-work shower was something he did alone. Sometimes Clarke wasn't even home at that point yet, but when she was, he always hoped she'd feel frisky enough to join him. So when the door to the shower slid open and she stepped in completely naked, his cock twitched with excitement. "Whoa," he said as she encircled her arms around him from behind. "Nice surprise. What'd I do to earn this?"

"Mmm, so much," she purred, getting herself as close to him as she could. Her round belly got in the way a bit, but it didn't prevent her from pressing her breasts to his back or from kissing his shoulder blades.

He really wasn't sure if he'd done something specific or if she just felt like fucking, but it didn't matter. Clearly she was in the mood for some shower sex, and he was more than willing to give that to her.

Turning around, he soaked in the sight of her gorgeous body, completely undeterred by the stretch marks or the way her belly button had kind of popped out these days. There were so many changes happening to her that she was self-conscious about, but he didn't care. Whether she was twenty-five weeks pregnant or fit into her cheerleading uniform again, he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

"Look at you," he said, putting his hands on her waist.

"No, look at you." She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back underneath the water, far enough that it could pour down on her hair, too. "You are my boyfriend," she said, pressing him back against the shower wall, "and you are so, so amazing." She kissed him passionately, hands all over him, and her touch heated him up more than that water did. He touched her, too, smoothing his hands up and down her sides and around back of her to give her ass a good squeeze.

He wasn't sure what they were going to end up doing, but when her fingers snaked down in between them to fondle his balls, he had a pretty good idea that she might decide to either jack him off or go down on him. And although he wasn't opposed to that, he knew this wasn't the most comfortable location for her to do that. Being on her knees on the shower floor would hurt, and besides . . . he wanted to make her feel good, too.

He moved so that he was the one behind her, and she braced her hands against the shower wall, instinctively bending forward a bit. But he coiled his arm around her, right underneath her breasts, and lifted her back up again. With her standing up like that, he was able to kiss the side of her neck and her shoulder. God, she tasted so good.

She moaned, circling her hips around, rubbing her ass against his groin. He had a full-on boner going at this point, and he wondered if she took delight in it, knowing that she could do this to him, that she could get such a reaction.

Keeping one hand on her hip, he let the other reach upward and squeeze her left breast. Her nipple pebbled against the palm of his hand, and she arched her back to press up into his touch. The wet strands of her hair stuck to the side of his face as he breathed into her ear.

"Oh, make love to me, Bellamy," she moaned, her words spilling out as quickly as that water was spilling down on them.

"Make love, huh?" he said, liking the terminology. Whether they went at it like bunnies or drew it out and made it sweet and romantic, sex with Clarke was always all about love.

He smoothed his hand on her hip around the underside of her belly, trying to reach in between her legs. But that wasn't so easy to do anymore, so he had to bend his knees a bit to get a better angle. She spread her legs apart a little further, and he was able to give her slit a few good strokes. It was hard to tell how much wetness was the water and how much was just her, so he inserted his middle finger into her, pumping it in and out a few times, fingering her just enough to make sure that she was as aroused as he was.

"Oh, yeah," she whispered, splaying her hands against the wall. "Oh, Bellamy . . ."

Whenever she said his name during sex, it really spurred him on, so he withdrew his hand and stood up straighter again so he could slide his erect cock up the crack of her ass. Again, she arched her back, and he kept his right arm wrapped around her heavy breasts, just holding them and squeezing as he rubbed himself against her.

The water was cooling off a bit, but he didn't bother to adjust it. Their bodies were hot.

She pushed her hips back and started to bend forward again, but he pulled her back up and said, "No, stay up here. Stay here." He couldn't mold his body into hers when they were in bed anymore, at least not when he was on top of her. But right now, he could. So he matched the spread of his legs to hers, bent his knees again, and nudged the head of his cock against her entrance. The teasing got a low growl out of her, and when he couldn't hold off any longer, Bellamy pressed up and inward, burying himself in her from behind.

"Oh . . ." she gasped, craning her neck back. Her eyes were closed, and her face was contorted in pure pleasure.

Oh, fuck, he thought as his own eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Every single time he and Clarke joined like this, he had to fight the urge to cum right away. There was no way he was going to let this be over so soon, though, so he grabbed hold of her hips with both hands and started thrusting. Slowly. He wanted to feel her tight, wet pussy on every inch of his cock, pulling him deeper.

He latched his lips onto the side of her neck to kiss her while he rolled his hips into her, and she reached up with one arm to cup the back of his head and shove her fingers into his hair. Whenever his hips pressed forward, hers pushed backward, and they moved together as easily and fluidly as the water streaming down on them.

Make her cum, Bellamy told himself, even as his balls started to tighten and he felt himself getting closer. Clarke was so good to him sneaking into the shower like this. She deserved to feel adored.

Desperate to get her teetering over that same edge that he was, he massaged his hands over every part of her body he could reach. Her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts. Nothing was off limits, so he touched her all over. And she loved it. All sorts of shuddering moans flew out of her mouth, and her hips stilled as the onslaught of physical sensation overwhelmed her. He pressed himself in so far that he could just grind against her, and it felt so fucking good, he just knew he was going to lose it.

Fortunately for him, she did, too. It happened suddenly, but he felt her pussy clamp down on his cock as she came with a loud, "Uh!" She had to hold onto the slippery shower wall for support, so he kept his arms wrapped around her tightly to keep her standing. Seeing her cum, feeling it, was all it took for him to cum, too, and he let out a low, guttural groan as he spilled himself inside her. Her orgasm seemed to last a little longer than his did, but he stayed inside her while she rode it out, and even when they were both done, he didn't pull out just yet. He wanted to stay with her for a little while longer, soaked and spent and completely happy.

...

"I can't believe we're doing this," Clarke mumbled as she got situated on the couch. She had to prop a pillow behind her back to feel comfortable.

"Don't worry, you're in good hands," Murphy assured her and Bellamy both as he fiddled around with his camera. He'd set it up on a tripod and was going to be sitting right beside it so that he'd be eye level when interviewing them.

When Clarke grimaced slightly and started to move around, Bellamy asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just the normal aches and pains," she replied. By now, it was a miracle if she ever had a day where she felt completely comfortable the whole time.

"I won't stay too long, I promise," Murphy said while he appeared to be fiddling around with the zoom on his camera. "I just wanna start collecting interview footage."

"You really think people are gonna wanna watch this?" Clarke asked, still skeptical about the whole documentary thing.

On the other hand, Murphy seemed completely confident. "Oh, yeah."

"But I looked up that Shane Dawson guy," she said. " He makes films about other YouTubers. They're, like, famous people."

"So?"

"We aren't famous." If Murphy did end up posting this series and it bombed with his subscribers, she was going to feel awful. This was his source of income, after all.

"I'm small town famous," Bellamy declared.

"We're just ordinary people, though," she said.

"I know," Bellamy said. "But you're extraordinarily pretty. Oh, yeah, that was a good one."

"Did you get that on film?" she asked Murphy, hoping that Bellamy's cheesiness would be documented for all eternity.

"Yeah, I did, actually." Murphy took his seat next to the camera, looking like he was about to begin.

"Good," Bellamy said. "'cause that was smooth. You gotta admit, that was smooth. Every now and then, I come up with a really good line."

"Every now and then," she agreed, smiling at him. Very few men managed to be smoking hot while being adorably cute, but for Bellamy, it seemed like it was second nature.

"Alright, let's go ahead and start in," Murphy said. "You wanna introduce yourselves?"

Bellamy didn't hesitate. "I'm Bellamy Blake."

"And I'm Clarke Griffin," she said, waving unsurely to the camera.

"What is that?" Bellamy teased, mimicking her wave.

"What? I'm waving. I'm waving to the viewers," she said, knowing she must have looked like an idiot. "If there are any."

"There will be, trust me," Murphy promised. "Alright, so you guys have been popping up in a lot of my videos lately, and people wanna know more about you. So today we're just gonna start peeling back the layers, finding out the whole story of Bellamy and Clarke."

"Jesus," Bellamy swore. "What is this, like therapy?"

"Seriously," Clarke said. All this talk of peeling back the layers and finding out the whole story . . . that sounded kind of daunting.

"No, we're just talking," Murphy assured them. "Imagine the camera's not even here."

Easier said than done, Clarke thought. It had a blinking red light on it to signal that it was recording.

"So why don't you start by telling us how you guys met," Murphy suggested.

They exchanged a glance, and Clarke wasn't really sure what to say. Because the truth was, she didn't actually remember meeting Bellamy. Her whole first day at Arkadia high school had been a blur. "Um . . . well . . ." she said.

"Uh, Clarke moved here to Arkadia my junior year," Bellamy answered.

"Right. And I was a freshman. In high school."

"Yeah, and I played football, and she was a cheerleader, so . . ." He trailed off and shrugged. "The story writes itself."

"But you guys didn't date right away, correct?" Murphy asked.

"No, we waited until the next year to start dating," she said.

"And how'd that start?"

She flashed back to the locker room, that fateful conversation where she'd offered up her virginity to Bellamy, and that was a story she didn't exactly want to make public on YouTube. "It just started," she responded vaguely.

But Murphy came to the correct conclusion anyway. "Oh, sex. I see," he said. "So after the sex started, then you guys actually developed real feelings for each other."

"Yeah." Clarke's heart still skipped a beat when she thought back to those early days and how crushed out she'd been on him.

"We fell in love," Bellamy said, putting his arm around her.

"But I don't think either one of us knew it was love at the time," she added on.

"No, I didn't," he admitted. "I just knew I liked you a lot."

"And I liked you." She smiled at him.

"Yeah, too bad your mom didn't," he mumbled.

"Ooh, drama," Murphy said, leaning forward, his interest piqued. "Okay, what was that about? How'd that start up?"

"She just . . ." Clarke sighed, not sure how to explain all that without sounding like she was dragging her mom through the mud. "She was very protective," she said. "Over-protective at times. She tried everything in her power to keep us apart."

"But it didn't work," Murphy said, motioning between the two of them.

"Of course not." Bellamy smirked and gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze.

"So what kind of stuff did she do?" Murphy asked. "Was it just the typical grounding or what?"

"Oh, there was so much," Clarke recalled. She thought about it, trying to remember everything, and asked Bellamy, "What do you think? What was her most drastic tactic?"

"Well . . ." He scratched the back of his neck and cringed. "The dinner was-"

"Oh, the dinner," she cut him off.

"What?" Murphy made a face. "She invited you over for dinner?"

"No, she'd already forbid me from coming over at all at that point," Bellamy informed him.

"She invited . . . someone else," Clarke said as the entire awkward memory came back to her.

...

This schedule sucked. Clarke didn't need to stay after school to get her homework done. She got most of it done during study hall, and anything she didn't finish was something she could easily knock out at home. But her mom and dad had mandated that she stay after school every day until 5:00 in the library. And because she was in the library, that meant Bellamy couldn't be in the library. She'd spotted him after school these past couple days with Monty, which probably meant that he was getting tutored again. But they had to go somewhere else to work.

Clarke got home at 5:15—that was another part of this new schedule. She had to come straight home from school no matter what, and if she was ever late, she'd get grounded. Grounded. Like she was in fucking middle school or something. When she walked in the door, she was both tired and cranky, and her plan was to head straight upstairs so that she didn't have to engage in any interaction with her mom. But as she was taking off her shoes, she heard voices coming from the kitchen. The female one belonged to her mother, but the male one wasn't her dad. It sure did sound familiar, though.

Letting her backpack fall to the floor, Clarke ventured through the entryway and into the kitchen, surprised to see none other than her ex-boyfriend standing at the counter with her mom, helping her toss a salad. "Wells?" she spat.

He smiled at her sheepishly and said, "Hey, Clarke."

She was so shocked to see him that she couldn't even act polite. "What're you doing here?"

He motioned to Abby and said, "Your mom invited me."

Oh my god, she thought, giving her mom a warning look. She was really going this far, wasn't she? Inviting her ex-boyfriend to come by the house? Having him help with dinner? This was a set-up, no doubt about it.

"I bumped into Wells on my way home from work," her mom said, acting all innocent, "and I just thought it'd be nice to have him over for dinner. It's been so long."

"Mmm-hmm." It'd been so long because they weren't together anymore. They said hi to each other in the hallway and compared notes for classes once in a while, but that was the full extent of their interaction these days. Clarke couldn't very well kick him out, though, without seeming like a total bitch, so she desperately hoped her father was home so she could get him to do it. "Is Dad around?" she asked.

"No," her mom replied.

Of course he wasn't. This was all deliberate. Had to be. Her mom had purposefully picked a day when she knew her dad would be working extra late, just so he wasn't around to possibly, by some miracle, object to this.

"Go ahead and wash up," her mom told her. "We're almost ready."

Oh god. Her stomach clenched at the thought of going through with this. What an awkward little charade this was going to be. And not just for the two of them, but for Wells. He hadn't asked to get caught up in their drama.

Clarke sulked into the downstairs bathroom—well, the nearest one—and washed her hands, looking at her expression in the mirror as she did so. She looked infuriated. Wells had to be able to notice it. But she wasn't mad at him.

On her way out of the bathroom, she bumped into her ex, who quickly offered up an explanation as to why he was there. "Hey, um . . . sorry about all this," he said. "I didn't wanna be rude when she invited me."

"No, that's okay," she assured him. "You're welcome here anytime." Under different circumstances, it'd actually be kind of nice to sit down with him and catch up. They ran in different social circles, so they probably had a lot to catch up on.

Her mom was in full on Stepford mode when she and Wells came back out to the kitchen. The table was set way too extravagantly for a normal meal, and she'd brought out the 'company plates.' Which differed from the normal plates in that they were so damn expensive. "Looks good, doesn't it?" she said in appreciation of her own cooking. When Clarke started to sit down on one side of the table, she said, "Oh, no, you two can sit over there," and motioned to the other side, where two plates already had salads and breadsticks on them. The main course was still covered up but smelled like lasagna.

"Maybe we should invite Mr. Jaha before we eat," Clarke suggested as she walked around to the other side of the table. Then maybe her mom could get a taste of her own medicine. Being set up for dinner with another guy while her significant other was elsewhere? She wouldn't think it was so fun when it was happening to her.

"I'm sure he's busy," her mom said.

"Wells was probably busy, too," she pointed out, "before you dragged him here."

Her mother gave her a warning look as they all took their seats. "Let's just have a nice dinner, okay?" she said.

Whatever, Clarke thought, rolling her eyes inwardly. It wouldn't be nice. There was so much tension simmering beneath the surface. Even if they did manage to produce some viable conversation, it was going to be awkward no matter what.

It didn't take long for the questions to start up. They'd each only taken a few bites when her mom cleared her throat and inquired, "So, Wells, what have you been up to this year?"

"Just the usual," he replied. "Studying, getting ready for the ACT next year."

You're already ready, Clarke thought. Last year, they'd both taken it for free after their school had selected them to take part in some high-level learning initiative. She'd scored well enough to get accepted into most colleges, but Wells had done even better than her.

"Any ideas on where you want to go to college?" her mom asked. The tone of her voice was so much nicer than it was when she spoke to Bellamy.

"I'm not sure yet," Wells said, "but I'm not gonna rule out trying for the Ivy League."

Oh, yeah, Harvard or Yale or Princeton . . . any place like that would be happy to have Wells Jaha on their campus. Plus, since his dad was a professor, he could totally afford it.

"That's great," her mom said. "I'm sure you'll get accepted with grades like yours."

He shrugged modestly. "We'll see."

"I have faith in you," Clarke's mom continued on. "And I think it's great that you make your education such a high priority."

Clarke set her fork down, even less hungry now than she'd been a minute ago. Was that a subtle jab at Bellamy? Because it sure sounded like it.

"Well, I'm not athletic," Wells said, "so it's pretty much my only avenue to pursue in life."

"Your mind will take you farther in life than anything else will, I promise," Abby said.

Clarke shot her an annoyed look. Really, was this necessary? It was bad enough she'd arranged this little dinner, but did she have to dog on her boyfriend throughout it?

Her mom ignored the look and continued speaking only to their dinner guest. "And what else has been going on in your life?" she questioned. "Do you have a new girlfriend?"

"Mom!" Clarke hissed. That kind of thing was personal.

"It's just a question," she said.

Wells laughed nervously. "No," he answered. "No new girlfriend."

Oh, here we go, Clarke thought, rubbing her forehead anxiously. That was exactly the answer her mom had been hoping for. Now, she was going to pounce.

"You know, I always assumed the two of you would get back together someday," she said.

"Oh my god," Clarke groaned. "Please, Mom . . ."

"What? I'm not saying anything wrong."

"This is embarrassing."

Her mom would not drop the act, though. She just kept with it. "I always thought you two complemented each other so well. That's all," she said.

"Oh, that's all, huh? That's all?" Clarke bellowed.

"Yes."

No, that wasn't all. Not by a long shot. This whole dinner was motivated by . . . fear. Fear of the freedom that Bellamy represented. Fear of how close he and Clarke had become. Wells, on the other hand, was the safe option. He was wholesome and predictable and stable. And unfortunately, kind of boring.

"Mrs. Griffin, I appreciate everything you're saying," he said, managing to maintain his manners when neither one of his hosts was, "but . . . I think Clarke and I have both enjoyed just being friends this year."

"Thank you," Clarke told him. She couldn't have said it better herself.

"And I think that's great," her mom said, sounding as if she were backing off a little. But when she tacked on, "But if that changes, just keep in mind, she doesn't have a boyfriend."

"What?" Clarke erupted. "Yes, I do!"

"Not anymore."

"Yes, I do, Mom," she insisted. "Just because you've got all the teachers monitoring us like hawks, that doesn't mean he's not my boyfriend anymore." Valentine's Day was coming up, and prom would happen not long after that. She was going to that dance with Bellamy. One way or another.

"You know, I think I'm just gonna go," Wells said, pushing his chair back as he stood up.

"No, you can stay," her mom said.

"He doesn't wanna stay," Clarke snapped. "He doesn't wanna be here. He only came because he's too nice to say no."

"Clarke, you need to stop."

"No, you need to stop!" she roared. "This is ridiculous!" Their arguing quickly escalated to the point where neither one of them said anything to Wells as he headed out.

Clarke managed to collect herself enough to run outside after her ex and stop him just as he was about to get into his car. "Wells!" she shouted, her heart pounding as she stopped in front of him. She was just so worked up and so pissed about what was happening. "I'm really sorry about all of that," she told him apologetically. "I had no idea . . ."

"It's okay, Clarke," he said. "I pretty much figured she was on a matchmaking mission. A lot of people are talking about it."

Of course they are, Clarke thought bitterly. Bellamy may not have had money to his name, but he did have a status in that town. People paid attention to his life. And normally, they didn't pay attention to hers, but she was a part of his life now. Besides, the teachers probably talked about it, and surely her mom had told that dreadful Callie woman. So it wasn't a surprise that gossip had gotten around.

"I didn't realize it'd gotten so bad between you two," Wells said sympathetically.

"Lately, it's been the worst," Clarke said sadly. "She just . . . doesn't approve."

Wells didn't say anything for a few seconds, but when he did, it wasn't what she expected to hear. "Any reason why she should?"

Clarke frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you gotta admit, you've changed a lot this year."

She'd lost her virginity and gotten a little more drunk a couple more times. Not that big of a deal. "Yeah, but . . . I'm still me," she argued.

"I know," he said. "But she worries about you."

It was so incredibly weird to have someone her own age defending her mom, especially when it seemed so obvious to her that her mom was going out of her way to blow things out of proportion. "Wow, I had no idea you were on the anti-Bellamy bandwagon, too," she growled accusatorily.

"I'm not," Wells said. "I like the guy. He's always been decent to me, and I see what he's done for guys like Jasper, and I respect that."

Clarke's frown intensified as she struggled to understand why on earth he would empathize with her mom more than her then.

"But where is this gonna end up for you, Clarke?" he wondered out loud. "He's gonna go to college, and you're gonna be stuck here."

She felt her frown slowly dissolve, and a sad, downcast expression took its place.

"Just . . . just be careful about how deep you end up with him, alright?" Wells urged her. "I don't want you to get hurt."

I'm not going to, she thought. But dammit, when Wells put it like that, she couldn't even be mad at him. He was just trying to look out for her in his own ex-boyfriend/kept-at-a-distance kind of way.

"I'll be fine," she told him. "I promise."

...

Murphy had an almost gleeful look in his eyes when Clarke finished the dreadful dinner story. It was like he knew he'd just gotten a juicy little anecdote. "Wow," he said. "That's, uh . . ."

"Desperate. Ridiculous. Over-the-top," Clarke filled in for him. "But it didn't matter. In the end, nothing could keep us apart."

"Not even five years," Bellamy said, sounding sort of . . . proud that even time hadn't stopped them from getting back together.

"You wanna hear about that part now," Clarke offered Murphy, "the five-year time jump?"

"Yeah, we ended up breaking up at the end of the year," Bellamy said, "which was a mutual thing."

"Right. And we both knew it was coming." Still hadn't been easy, though. And looking back, she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they'd decided to stay together.

"But then all these years later . . ." Bellamy trailed off, smiling at her.

"Wait, hold up," Murphy said. "Before we get to that, let's cover all the stuff in between."

In-between? Clarke thought, tensing up a bit. "That stuff's not as important," she said, eager to talk about now. Because now, things were good.

"Are you sure about that?" Murphy said, pointing to her stomach.

She looked down at her ever-expanding bump, well aware just how important it was. "Okay," she acknowledged, "you got me there."