Chapter 47

Everyone who had shown up to Lamaze class last week seemed to have returned for week two. Clarke got there before Bellamy, because he'd gone to work for a few hours that morning. While she waited for him to show up, she chatted with another couple, both of whom seemed to be in their late twenties, Brooke and Elijah. Judging by the rings on their fingers, they were husband and wife.

"So do you know what you're having?" Clarke asked her fellow expectant mother.

"A boy," Brooke replied, smiling. "You?"

"A girl." Clarke rubbed her stomach lovingly. "We're naming her Avery."

"That's pretty," Brooke said. "We haven't decided on a name yet."

"Yes, we have," her husband jumped in. "Brandon."

"Well, he's decided on Brandon. I want something a bit more . . . unusual."

"Oh, well, my boyfriend's name is Bellamy," Clarke said. That probably qualified as unusual. She turned around just in time to see him walking in the door, and she said, "In fact, here he is now. Hey, babe."

"Hey." He bent down and gave her a quick kiss. "Sorry I'm late."

"No, we haven't even started. This is Brooke and Elijah," she introduced him. "We've been talking."

"Hey, I'm Bellamy," he said, shaking both of their hands.

"So we're told," Brooke said. "So . . . first baby for you two?"

Bellamy sat down next to Clarke, grinning as he took off his jacket. "Yeah, but not the last."

As much as she definitely wanted to have a baby with Bellamy someday, Clarke couldn't even think about being pregnant again. She had to get through this pregnancy first. "What about you guys?" she asked the other couple. "I assume it's your first, too, since you're here?"

"Well . . ." Brooke exchanged a look with her husband, then quietly revealed, "We were pregnant once before, but . . . I had a miscarriage."

Oh, crap, Clarke thought, feeling like she'd just opened some old wounds for them. Unintentionally, of course, but still . . . "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized. "My dad and his girlfriend recently had a miscarriage and . . . I'm just really sorry."

"It's okay," Brooke said. "It's tragic, but it happens."

"We're just glad to be in the second trimester now," Elijah tacked on, putting his arm around his wife.

"I'll bet." Clarke still felt bad, for bringing it up, but at least they seemed to be focusing on the future instead of dwelling on the past. That was hard to do sometimes.

As Luna came into the room, Brooke said, "Well, looks like we're about to start. We'd better sit down. But it was nice talking to you, Clarke."

"Yeah, you, too." Clarke gave them a little wave goodbye as they made their way over to the other side of the makeshift classroom and took a seat at their own table.

"That's pretty cool, huh?" Bellamy said.

"What?" she asked.

"Well, not the fact that they had a miscarriage, but . . . they didn't let that stop them," he said. "Didn't work out with the first baby, but they tried again. And now they're gonna have one."

It definitely hadn't worked out. But it wasn't their fault. A miscarriage wasn't a choice; it wasn't something they had any control over. "Yeah," she said, looking back over at the other couple. They looked so wholesome and happy. And that was what they deserved.

"Alright, everyone, welcome back for week two of Lamaze class," Luna said, somehow managing to get everyone's attention even though her voice wasn't exactly blaring. "This is the day I like to refer to as Newborn Baby Bootcamp. Now I assure you, no questions are too stupid. In fact, none of your questions are. Whatever you find yourself curious about as we discuss things today, please just ask."

Clarke took out the same notebook she used for her biology classes, along with a pen. Even though Luna made sure all the material they covered was available to them online, there was something about writing down the information that made her feel more confident in her ability to remember it. Bellamy, of course, just leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, prepared to listen.

The first thing Luna did was take an impromptu survey among the moms about who was considering breastfeeding. All but one of them raised their hand, so she began on that topic, but not before assuring the mom who didn't want to breastfeed that formula was a perfectly fine choice as well. They learned all about how to situate both themselves and the baby, looked at diagrams and photos, and then practiced with dolls. Of course, there was no real way to practice, so Luna recommended that they work with a lactation consultant before leaving the hospital. Did the hospital here in Arkadia even have a lactation consultant? Clarke jotted down a note to ask her mom about it.

Clarke was so focused on all the information, as were the other moms, but it seemed to her that some of the men were spacing out. Maybe they didn't think they had to pay attention to the breastfeeding basics since it didn't really involve them, but towards the end, Luna devoted about ten minutes to offering the men some advice about how they could help. Things like getting the mom comfortably set up, doing some chores around the house while she was feeding, and burping the baby afterwards. She also noted the need for patience and understanding when it came to physical intimacy during the breastfeeding period. Clarke would have felt embarrassed as hell talking about such a thing, but Luna was very professional. "Your partner may want you to limit attention on her breasts, or stay away from them completely," she cautioned the men, "even if they were once an erogenous zone for her. You have to remember that she'll be viewing them as a food source, for the time being. Be patient with her if she doesn't find breast play sexy."

"Dammit," Bellamy muttered, just loud enough for Clarke to hear it. She just shrugged, figuring they'd have to cross that bridge when they came to it. Bellamy had always had a thing for her boobs. They were, after all, one of her most notable physical assets.

Breastfeeding took up a substantial amount of time, but after that, they moved onto things like car seats and baby proofing. The car seat she wasn't too worried about, because Raven had strongly hinted that she was going to get one at her baby shower. But the baby proofing practically made her head spin. Luna gave them all a long list of things that needed to be done before the baby started crawling, and it was daunting. They needed window locks and doorstops, safety gates for both the top and bottom of the stairs, a fire guard for the fireplace. Not to mention locks and latches on any cupboard that could be within the baby's reach. Plus, there had to be edge guards on all the furniture that could be dangerous, and things like bookcases or a chest of drawers had to be secured to keep from toppling over. How expensive was all of that going to be?

As if that wasn't enough of an information dump, they returned from a half an hour lunch break to learn all about newborn care from head to toe. Everything from clipping their fingernails to examining the color of their poop. Seriously. Some colors were apparently normal, and others were not. They also learned about the umbilical cord. Clarke had no idea it was going to be a little stump that would shrivel up and fall off within one to two weeks after birth. Seeing pictures of it seemed to catch Bellamy off guard, too. "That looks kinda weird," he remarked quietly. "Did I start out like that?" He laughed, then joked, "No, of course not. I was always a stud."

It was good that Bellamy could maintain a sense of humor about everything, because Clarke was starting to get a hand cramp from all the notes she was feverishly taking. They learned about bathing and how to deal with sleep patterns, how to handle crying and when to call the pediatrician. They also practiced swaddling the same dolls they'd used for breastfeeding. Bellamy was a natural at that, but Clarke started getting frustrated when she didn't catch on right away. She wasn't used to having to go back and relearn something, but Luna worked with her one-on-one, and eventually, she got the hang of it.

Towards the end, either as a way of making all the moms laugh or as a way of learning about how supportive partners could be, Luna got all the men to come up to the front with the swaddled baby dolls and do their best . . . well, she called it a daddy dance. She played "Cat's in the Cradle" and encouraged them all to sway around the room with the dolls, rocking them gently and maybe even singing to them. Apparently the lower male tone was very calming to a lot of babies. And no one's voice was lower than Bellamy's. He really went for it, perhaps a little too much, because he dropped the baby at one point. Everyone gasped, as if it were more than just a doll, but he just picked it up again, said, "She's alright," and picked up right where he'd left off.

Before leaving, Clarke made sure to pick up hard copies of all the information Luna had and thanked her profusely. As stressful as all this preparation was, she was thankful to have taken the class.

"Do you feel more prepared now?" Bellamy asked as they walked towards the parking lot.

"Kind of," she said. "But it's all pretty overwhelming. I mean, breastfeeding alone . . . I have a lot of decisions to make with that. Like, am I gonna feed her in public?" Right now, the thought of doing that made her self-conscious, but she suspected she'd feel differently once the baby came. "What do you think?"

"That's up to you," he said.

She supposed a lot of the breastfeeding stuff was up to her. She'd have to look into it a little more. "Did you know that it's illegal in Idaho?" she said.

He made a face. "Seriously?"

"Well, maybe not illegal, but they don't have any laws protecting moms from, like, indecent exposure charges."

Bellamy snorted angrily. "That's crap."

"I know. I'm glad we don't live in Idaho." At least if she did feed in public here, no one could claim she was breaking the law. But of course, some people would probably still make a big deal out of it. Or stare.

"If anyone ever gives you a hard time about it, I'll let 'em have it," Bellamy promised.

"I'm sure you will." Maybe she'd make sure he was around if she decided to whip one out. But then again, what if he wasn't and the baby needed fed? They'd just gotten done learning how important it was to let the baby feed when it wanted to. "What else do we have to think about?" she said, flipping through the mass of scribbles in her notebook. "Oh, the baby proofing. That sounds intense."

"Monty can do it," Bellamy declared.

"Monty? Since when is Monty a baby proofer?" There were people who did that for a living. They could just hire someone.

"If that guy can figure out how to program a computer, he can figure out how to baby proof a house," Bellamy said. Typical Bellamy logic. He put his arm around her shoulders and said, "Don't stress about all this stuff, alright? We're gonna be fine."

I hope so, Clarke thought as they approached their separate cars. It just felt like there were so many different things that could go wrong.

...

The annual LGBTQ Awareness fundraiser on campus was such a hassle. Clarke didn't even feel like going, but since it was the only club she was involved in on campus, she felt like she sort of had to show up. Even though her back was hurting. Even though her feet were swollen. Even though she would have much rather just stayed home.

Thankfully, Lexa was attending the fundraiser, too, so Clarke knew she'd at least have someone to hang out with. Remaining friends with her ex had turned out to be a wonderful thing. Lexa looked awesome, too, with her hair braided on the sides and perched up in a fauxhawk down the middle. Plus, she was wearing a t-shirt with the Nike logo that said Just Do Her in rainbow colors. Clarke had opted for a shirt she'd ordered online that said, If You Play for Both Teams, You'll Always Win.

"Hey, look at this," Lexa said, her eyes downcast on her phone as they walked towards the student union. "It's a video about giving birth."

Clarke grunted. "Yeah, I've watched enough of those."

Lexa made a face as she let the video play. "Ew," she said. "It's kind of gross. How's your body gonna do that?"

"I don't know. I'm trying not to think about it." She just kept repeating the things Luna had said in Lamaze class, about how giving birth was natural, how women had been doing it for centuries, and so on and so forth.

"Well, if there was ever a benefit to being a lesbian, this is it," Lexa decided, pocketing her phone. She shuddered exaggeratedly.

"Hey, who knows? You might wanna have a baby someday," Clarke pointed out. Obviously Lexa wasn't going to be sleeping with any men, but artificial insemination and all that.

"No thanks. I'll leave birth to you," Lexa said. "Have fun with that."

Clarke grimaced. If these stupid Braxton Hicks contractions were a preview for real thing, then labor was going to suck. Braxton Hicks contractions were like period cramps, and period cramps sucked. But everything she'd heard from her mom and from things she'd read online made it sound like having a baby was period cramps on steroids.

When they walked into the grand ballroom—grand was a stretch—where the event was being held, Anya spotted them right away and approached them with decorations in both hands. "Clarke. Lexa. You're here," she greeted them coldly. "Ten minutes late."

"We had to walk," Lexa said.

"You couldn't have walked faster?"

"No, actually, we couldn't," Clarke jumped in. "My balance is crap these days, and I get out of breath really easily." They'd actually had to make a pit-stop about a block and a half away from the parking lot just so she could sit on a bench for a few minutes.

Anya took on a condescending tone as she remarked, "Those sound like excuses to me." She didn't give them any instruction on what they were supposed to be doing or delegate any responsibilities to either of them. Instead, she spun and walked over to the barest wall to put up a poster of . . . Abraham Lincoln? Clarke had to peer closer to recognize that it said Gaybraham beneath it.

"I hate her," she said. "Remind me why we're here again."

"Obligation," Lexa replied. Then she called over to Miller, who was hanging rainbow colored streamers from the ceiling, "Hey, you need some help?"

Clarke knew she'd be of no assistance there. She couldn't very well stand on a ladder, so that left her to help with the ground level decorations. She walked over to Anya again and asked, "What can I do?" She was there to help set up, do her duty as a club member.

"Well, most of the hard work's already done," Anya said. "And it's not like you can really help out much what with your . . . condition and all."

Clarke made a face? Her condition? Her condition? She didn't have a fucking condition; she was pregnant.

"Here," Anya said, handing her a wicker basket full of cloth napkins. "You can fold these."

It was about the most monotonous, mundane task Anya could have given her, but Clarke decided not to complain. She took the basket, sat down at the nearest table, and began folding. She got online and looked up some tutorials to make the napkins look . . . impressive. Some of it was like origami, though, which she'd never been particularly good at, so she opted for one that was simple enough and allowed her to fold the napkin in a way that made it look like an envelope. It was kind of cute. She roamed around from table to table, placing one on every plate.

About an hour later, the doors for the public opened, and Clarke never wanted to see another napkin again. Lots of people complimented them, though, and said they looked cute. Anya didn't, of course, since she was always cranky.

"Looks like people are starting to show up," Lexa remarked, as some other college students strolled in. "Is Bellamy coming?"

"Probably. It's either this or a guys night at the bar," Clarke said.

"Oh, I'd go for the guys night, no question."

Clarke laughed, a little bit sadly. "Are we horrible people for not being more enthused about this?"

Lexa snorted. "No. I mean, I know it's raising money for a good cause, but Anya's a tyrant. She turns everything that's supposed to be fun into a chore."

"Definitely," Clarke agreed. It was a shame, too, because her freshman year, the LGBTQ club had been a blast. She'd gotten to know a lot of people there, including Lexa. But someone else had been leading it then, and it hadn't been the same since Anya had taken it over. How Miller was still in it after all these years was anybody's guess. He'd already graduated, so he could have cut his ties with the group completely. It wasn't like he had a problem meeting guys.

"I guess I'll just have to make my own fun," Lexa said, grinning at her phone as she read a text.

"Costia?" Clarke guessed.

"Yep." Lexa's fingers moved fast as she texted her girlfriend back.

"Go talk sexy to her," Clarke urged. The amount of phone sex those two long distance lovers had must have been staggering.

"Be right back," Lexa chirped, already scampering for the bathroom.

Left alone, Clarke tried to look cool. A few people said they liked her shirt, but they never stayed to chat. And she supposed she couldn't blame them. She probably looked more like a hot air balloon than the life of the party.

"Hey, Clarke."

She whirled around when she heard a familiar voice. "Niylah. Hi." She gave her former fling a hug, not surprised to see that she'd shown up wearing a white crop top and ripped jeans. Niylah always looked sexy, because Niylah was always on the prowl for sex.

"Wow," Niylah said, eyes roaming all over her. "You look so . . . different."

"I know." She felt so different, too. In a way, she felt like . . . like she'd outgrown these college things. Being at this event tonight sort of felt like a different world. "How have you been?" she asked her friend. Well . . . friend with benefits. Former.

"Oh, pretty good," Niylah said. "You know me. I'm just out there living my best life, like always. You?"

Clarke looked over Niylah's shoulders just as Bellamy came in, looking very sexy in black jeans and a black t-shirt. "Yeah, I'm living my best life, too," she said, smiling at him as he came towards her. "Hey."

"Hey, Princess." He kissed her cheek and told her, "I like the shirt."

"Thanks. I had to order a men's size."

"No shame in that," he said. He smiled at Niylah, said, "Hey," then asked Clarke, "Who's this?"

"Oh, Bellamy, this is Niylah. She's . . . a friend," Clarke replied vaguely.

"And former lover," Niylah added on, "but I'm not holding out hope for that anymore. Once I heard you were back in town, I knew I didn't stand a chance."

"Oh." Bellamy must not have known what to say to that, because he just laughed a little. "Well, it's nice to meet you."

"You, too." Niylah leaned in and whispered in Clarke's ear, "He's very hot. Good job," and then she waved flirtatiously at Bellamy—because flirting was, like, her thing that she did with everyone—and slipped further into the crowd to do some mingling.

"So is Niylah bi," Bellamy asked, "or . . ."

"No, she's pansexual," Clarke corrected.

Bellamy scratched his eyebrow, looking confused, and said, "You're gonna have to educate me about that one when we get home."

"No problem." She really appreciated Bellamy's willingness to learn about the LGBTQ community. Not that she was an expert or anything, but she'd tell him what she could.

Bellamy waved at Miller and remarked, "Hey, look at his shirt."

"Yeah, lots of funny ones," she said. Miller had gone the slightly political route by wearing a shirt with an altered Trump slogan on it: Make America gay again. "You should see Lexa's."

He scanned the crowd and asked, "Where is she?"

"Oh, Costia called, so she had to go . . ." Before Clarke could finish her sentence, someone else walked into the ballroom, two people whose attendance she hadn't anticipated. "What the hell?"

"What?" Bellamy looked to the door and saw what she was seeing. Her mom and Kane were there. Over-dressed in formalwear.

"Why are they here?" she wondered. Kane she could see, because he was very open-minded when it came to orientation. But her mom . . .

"You weren't expecting them?" Bellamy asked.

"Well, I mentioned that this was going on tonight, but I didn't think they'd actually show up." This was not the kind of crowd her mom was used to, so she said a quick silent prayer and hoped for the best. "Hey, Mom. You look . . . fancy."

Her mother plucked at the silver gown she was wearing and said, "Well, this is typically the kind of attire one wears to a charity event. I had no idea everyone here would be so dressed down."

"Yeah, this isn't exactly the hospital charity gala crowd." Clarke looked around, trying to locate Niylah, really hoping that the girl she used to hook up with would give her and her mom a wide berth. Niylah was super nice, but she had no filter. She could be graphic and vulgar and not feel the slightest bit embarrassed about it.

"Well, we can't stay long. We have dinner reservations," her mom said, much to her relief. "But we thought we'd swing by and . . . be supportive."

As weird as it was to see her there, Clarke had to admit . . . it was nice. She'd dropped hints to her mom every year that this fundraiser was going on, but this was the first year she'd shown up. "Well, thanks," she said. "I appreciate that." Maybe Kane was being a positive influence on her, or maybe this was all part of her mom's attempt to repair their relationship after a somewhat rocky year. Either way, Clarke was grateful.

"Where do we donate?" Kane asked, already taking out his checkbook.

"Oh, over where Miller's sitting," Clarke told them. "Thanks for coming."

They both gave her a hug, then wove their way through the crowd to get to the donation table. Clarke wasn't sure how much money they were donating, but knowing Kane, it'd be substantial. Maybe one of the most substantial donations of the night. All the proceeds were set to go to a youth assistance shelter that specialized in LGBTQ teens and their issues, too, so once he found that out, he'd probably attach another zero to the dollar amount.

"Wow," Clarke said. "That's surprising."

"Your mom doesn't usually come to this stuff, huh?" Bellamy said.

"My mom doesn't really talk about my bisexuality. Or think about it," she said. "I mean, it's better than it was at first, though. When I first came out to her and my dad, they both thought it was a phase." It'd been pretty awful. Her mom had even suggested taking her to see a counselor, as if that would have changed anything.

Bellamy put his hands on her waist and smirked when he said, "Remember when you told me?"

"Of course." How could she forget the first person she'd ever told?

...

Clarke yawned, feeling like she needed to go back to bed. No time for that, though. They were back behind the curtain, about to take the floor for their state cheer performance.

"Okay, fire it up, girls," Raven pep talked them. "But keep those nerves in check. We've done this routine a million times. We're gonna nail it. And Clarke . . . wake up!"

Clarke closed her mouth mid-yawn and claimed, "I'm awake."

"Are you sure? Or did you not get enough sleep last night?" Raven said, glaring at her pointedly.

Oh, crap, she knows, Clarke thought. She'd probably gotten up in the middle of the night and noticed her empty bed. Or she'd heard her sneaking back in at 5:30 that morning.

"You're lucky you're my best friend," Raven said to her quietly.

Clarke smiled, happy to be off the hook. But if she'd been anyone else, there would have surely been hell to pay.

"And up next," the announcer bellowed, "the Arkadia Rockets!"

Feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline, Clarke ran out onto the mat with the other girls, a big, peppy smile in place, pom poms in her hand. They shouted things like, "Let's go, Rockets!" and "Here we go, Arkadia!" and the crowd clapped for them. Most of the noise came from the football players, though, who were all sitting together. With their lower, booming voices, they drowned out everyone else. Clarke located Bellamy as she took her spot in the formation, right behind Raven, who was at the point of the pyramid. Bellamy cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled something like, "Let's go, Clarke!" She smiled at him, so glad that he was there to watch this. It definitely took the sting out of not having her mom or dad there.

When everything quieted down, their music started. Every move was drilled into their muscle memory at this point. Clarke had done this routine so many times that she didn't even have to think about what she was doing. A kick here, a toe-touch there. She didn't run into any of the other girls as they transitioned into a different formation, and she remembered to do a few exaggerated facial expression, because the judges loved stuff like that.

And through it all, there sat Bellamy up in the stands, being her cheerleader this time. She couldn't only look at him, but whenever she did, he had this huge, proud smile on his face. He was proud of her.

When they hit their end pose and yelled, "Rockets!" the crowd erupted. The guys all sprang to their feet and clapped and cheered for them, but the squad held it there in their pose, each of them totally winded and gasping for breath. They waited until Raven counted, "Five, six, seven, eight," to do a synchronized clean before waving and running off, and just like that, months of hard work was over. It only amounted to a two and a half minute routine, but it felt like so much more than that.

Afterwards, the whole squad scattered to find their family members or boyfriends, and Clarke found Bellamy. She needed food, so he offered to buy her something from the concession stand. He kept complimenting the performance and telling her how good she'd done, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized she could have done better.

"I don't know. My toe-touch was low," she said. "And I'm sure we're gonna get docked for not pointing our toes enough. And I think I was a little too far out in the formation at the end. And I might have gone on the wrong count on the ripple."

"What's a ripple?" he questioned.

"A ripple. It's like when one person does the move, and then the next person does the move, and it just goes on down the line."

"Oh. Like the wave?"

"Sort of." The wave was spontaneous and easy for everyone to do, though. None of the ripples in their routine were. "You really know nothing about cheerleading, do you?"

"Well, I'm learning a lot today," he said. "Like I know that . . ." He wracked his brain, and apparently he couldn't come up with anything, because he trailed off and shook his head. "No, I got nothing."

"It's okay, I'll let you off the hook," she said. "Even though I actually do know a lot about football now."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes."

He stepped in front of her and stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Okay, then what's an audible?" he asked almost challengingly.

"Not that stuff. I'm talking about, like, the positions.".

Grinning suggestively, he said, "Yeah, you do know a lot about positions."

"Very funny." A girl in a super short purple cheerleading skirt strolled by, and . . . Clarke couldn't help it. She took a look at her, her eyes lingering on her backside.

"Pretty hot, huh?" Bellamy said.

"Yeah," she answered without really thinking about it. When she realized what she'd sort of just admitted, she tried to act like she hadn't really been listening. "Wait, I mean . . . what'd you say?"

Bellamy gave her a serious look. "Come on, Clarke. It's obvious."

She decided to play dumb. "What do you mean?"

He motioned with his head towards that girl. Who had been joined by a flock of purple skirt girls now. God, was it a requirement that everyone on that squad be incredibly tone and hot?

"What, you think I was checking that girl out?" Clarke said. "No, that would be . . . and I'm not . . ." She couldn't get a full sentence out, maybe because they were lies. Obvious lies, apparently. It wasn't like Bellamy was going to go run off and tell everyone, so she lowered her voice and asked him, "How did you know?"

"I know you," he said simply.

"Well, my mom and dad have known me longer, and they have no clue," she pointed out. "I don't even think Raven knows."

"You haven't told her?"

"No." She definitely planned to, someday, but she was still figuring it all out herself. She liked boys, and she'd only ever dated boys, but she felt attracted to girls, too. It was all pretty confusing, and the thought of everyone finding out was terrifying. "You're the only person who knows, so . . . don't say anything," she told him, confident that she could trust him more than anyone else.

"I won't," he promised. "But it's nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I think it's pretty hot."

"Of course you do." That was such a guy thing to get turned on by the thought of two girls having sex or even just kissing.

Bellamy put his arm around her shoulder, walking with her towards the concession stand again. "You know, we could go after her and see if she wants to have a threesome," he suggested.

"Oh my god." She laughed, relieved to be able to joke about it with someone who was so chill and unbothered. Bellamy didn't seem to think it was a very big deal at all. So maybe it wasn't.

...

Bellamy squeezed Clarke's hand, smiling fondly. "That was a good day."

"That was a good day," she agreed. "Too bad we got third."

"Hey, you guys did great," he reminded her. "And besides . . ."

"We did better than the year before. I know." She'd ridden home from state cheer with him that night, and she'd been so bummed that they hadn't at least cracked the top two. But he'd managed to cheer her up a lot.

"Why didn't you stick with cheerleading?" he asked her suddenly. "You were good at it."

True. She'd never been as good as Raven, but she'd been one of the better ones on the squad. "Bellamy, after you left . . ." She paused, not really sure how to explain why she hadn't stuck with it. But it'd been the right decision. For sure. "I guess I just wasn't as cheerful anymore," she finished. Before he could ask her about it some more, she said, "Come on, let's sit down," and led him to an empty table, bypassing her mom and Kane on their way out.

Bless his heart, Bellamy noticed the napkins as they sat down and said, "These are cool."

"I folded them," she said.

"A woman of many talents." He kissed her cheek again, then leaned back in his chair and put his arm around her. "So who's who here?" he asked.

"Um . . . that's Ruby," she said, pointing out a petite, curvy girl with red hair to match her name. "She's dumb as a fence post, but pretty nice. And beside her, that's Ramon. Wannabe porn star. I think Miller's hooked up with him a few times."

"You know, he's still with Bryan right now," Bellamy informed her.

"Maybe they'll last." Miller usually went through boyfriends pretty fast, so for him to still be dating the guy he'd brought to New Year's was a pretty big deal. "Hmm, who else?" Unfortunately, her eyes settled on Anya, who was pushing her way through the crowd and heading in their direction. "Oh, great," she muttered. "See the blonde chick coming this way?"

"Yeah."

"That's Anya. She's a pain." No other explanation required.

Anya stepped up to their table, a drink in her hand and a scowl on her face. "So, Clarke, is this your boyfriend?" she asked coldly.

"Yep." Her hot, sexy, totally supportive boyfriend.

Anya looked at him as if he were an insect and simply said, "Hmm," before turning and walking away.

Bellamy, clearly not used to receiving that reaction from a woman, looked flabbergasted. "What the hell?"

"See, I told you, she's awful," Clarke said. "Pretty on the outside, not the inside. Oh, and she claims to be asexual," she went on. "Which is fine. LGBTQ totally covers asexual people."

"It does?"

"It's a long acronym, Bellamy. LGBTQ's just an abbreviation," she explained. "Anyway, it's all a façade. She just wants to be in charge of something, so she pretends. But we've all seen her making out with guys on this campus."

"Ooh," Bellamy said. "Scandalous."

"I know." It wasn't scandalous enough to warrant an entire conversation, though, especially not when her stomach was calling on her to eat, so she said, "Oh, I'm hungry. I need to go get some food. You want anything?"

"Nah, I'm alright," he said. "I'm gonna go see Miller, maybe make a donation." He stood up and reached into his pockets, but he only pulled out two crumpled dollar bills.

"Every little bit helps," she said, pushing herself to her feet with a great deal of effort. She headed in the direction of the food table, which she'd sampled earlier while taking a five minute break from her napkin folding duties, and Bellamy headed to the other side of the ballroom to sidle up to Miller's table. As Clarke approached the food, she also approached Anya, who was talking to someone else in the group, a girl who had only come to a few meetings and who Clarke barely recognized. The girl wasn't saying much, though, because Anya was doing all the talking. And it didn't take Clarke long to realize Anya was actually trash-talking. Trash-talking her.

"I'm just saying, it sends the wrong message for our group. Don't you think?" She wasn't even trying to be quiet or discreet; she was talking at full volume, well aware that anyone could hear her. "A pregnant girl roaming around our fundraiser? Clearly she's picked her team, and it's the straight one. The whole bisexual thing was just a stepping stone for her to make her choice. I mean, she's not really bisexual if she's with a guy now."

Oh my god, Clarke thought in astonishment, floored by the utter ignorance of what she was hearing. Not only did it go against the spirit of the fundraiser they were throwing, but it was so fucking insulting and uninformed. She decided to alert the other girl to her presence with a stern, "Anya." She wasn't going to just stand there and take this. Maybe pre-pregnant Clarke would have just walked away from the situation, but pregnant Clarke had a really low tolerance for bullshit. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, so shut up," she growled. She didn't bother being quiet, either, so she garnered a few curious glances from other people standing around.

"Excuse me?" Anya said, trying to sound all offended.

"It wasn't a stepping stone, and I didn't pick a team. That's not how it works. I'm with Bellamy because I love him, and that doesn't make me any less of a bisexual than I was when I was with women. I'm still me." Clarke narrowed her eyes at her, shaking her head angrily. "You wanna be the leader of a club that shows empathy for LGBTQ people? Try showing some," she suggested, stomping off in the opposite direction. She found Bellamy at the donation table, talking to Miller as he forked over his two dollars. "Let's go," she said, grabbing his arm. He didn't ask questions, just went with her.

By the time they got home, she'd done a sufficient amount of ranting and raving in the car. She'd also called Lexa, which sadly meant interrupting her phone sex with Costia, but she needed to know what was going on.

"Ugh, she's so frustrating!" Clarke yelled as she threw open the front door. "I mean, everything she was saying was such a negative stereotype, and the last place I should have to hear that is at a fundraising event for LGBTQ people. I mean, the B's in there for a reason. I'm so pissed off."

"Me, too," Bellamy said, shutting the door. "I'm glad you let her have it."

"I probably should've said more, but I just wanted to get the hell out of there." She stomped her foot, wishing she could, like, punch something. "Ugh!"

"Hey, it's over now," Bellamy said, coming up behind her. "We're home. You don't ever have to see her again if you don't want to." He put his hands on her shoulders and started massaging them gently, as if to calm her down.

"You're right," she said, sensing a silver lining. Tonight could be her exit from a club that hadn't been fun for years now. She didn't have to go back or put up with any gossip like that anymore. "Okay," she said, spinning around. "Take your pants off."

Bellamy's eyebrows arched in confusion. "What?"

"I'm gonna suck your cock," she decided, reaching down to unbutton his jeans for him. "And I'm gonna be bisexual while I'm doing it."

Bellamy definitely looked a little surprised, but that didn't stop him from agreeing to it. "Um . . . okay." He unzipped his pants and lowered them down, along with his boxer briefs, which, although attractive, were really just in the way.

"Thank you," she said, carefully sitting down right there on the floor. Yep, she was going to give a blowjob to her boyfriend, right then and there. But it didn't mean she'd picked a team at all; she'd picked a person.