Chapter 52

Bellamy left Mrs. Jansen's classroom before the bell rang, noting his improvement in time. It helped to make things like a game, if he could. He wanted to try for a best time on every classroom that was assigned to him. Because he was starting to really understand why Steve liked to work fast and get out of there.

When he walked out into the hall, he spotted a couple down by their lockers, down where Clarke's locker used to be. The girl had her hair up in a high ponytail, like a cheerleader, and the guy just looked like a football player to him. He wondered if that was what he and Clarke used to look like, but since the two looked like they had cut out of class early to make out, he didn't look in their direction for long.

Heading to the left, he was on his way to the next stop in his routine, the science lab, when he heard, "Hey, Bellamy!" from behind him.

Slowing to a stop, he turned around and saw the football player coming towards him with his girlfriend in tow. "Yeah?"

The kid smiled like they were old friends or something. "What's up, man?"

Who the hell is this? Bellamy thought, trying to place a name with the face.

"Oh, you probably don't remember me. I'm Jamison Reed," the kid introduced himself. "I'm the quarterback here. You used to help out at football camps when I was younger. In fact, I think you taught me how to throw a football."

Football camps. Bellamy nodded, remembering those. "Oh, yeah." He still didn't remember this specific person, but it was true that he used to help out a lot of the elementary school boys who aspired to play quarterback someday. But apparently this was the lucky one who'd gotten the job. Or . . . was he really lucky? The football team had a pretty bad losing streak going, so . . .

"Man, I used to idolize you," Jamison went on, like he was talking to a washed up celebrity or something. "We all did. All us kids . . . we wanted to be just like you."

And now here I am with a vacuum on my back, Bellamy thought, and wearing a jumpsuit. Cleaning.

Jamison's girlfriend was pretty forward when she confessed, "I used to have a crush on you."

Used to. It was hard not to dwell on those words when these kids kept saying them. Everything was in the past tense. "That's great," he said, not really sure how else to respond.

It got worse, though, because Jamison gave him a curious look and asked, "Why are you working as a janitor now?"

"Yeah," his girlfriend said, cocking her head to the side curiously, "weren't you gonna try to play in the NFL?"

The NFL probably would have been a long shot, because he wasn't big enough. But Bellamy knew everyone in this town had expected to see him excel after high school. Athletically, at least. "I wasn't good enough," he said, trying not to take their questions to heart. They were just immature kids who didn't realize how rude they sounded. "Sorry, but I gotta get back to work," he said, turning and walking away from them. If they never talked to him about his glory days in high school again, that was fine with him. But it did make him wonder how many other students in that school were staring at him, wondering what had happened. Wondering what had gone wrong.

...

Spring was shaping up to be one hell of a nice season, and with the warm weather came the chance for more beach days. Clarke wasn't up to doing anything more than sitting on the porch and watching as Bellamy played football with Murphy and Miller. Luckily, Raven sat with her, so she didn't have to be alone.

"Hike!" Bellamy shouted. But when Murphy hiked the ball back way out of Bellamy's reach, he yelled, "What the hell kind of hike is that?"

"I'm sorry!" Murphy said. "I wasn't a football kid!"

Bellamy retrieved the ball, shaking his head frustratedly, and handed it back to Murphy. "Try it again." They both got down in their crouch, and Miller resumed his stance to dart on down the field—or beach, more accurately—to catch the ball. They weren't even playing against each other. They were just running plays.

"Bellamy's having a youth flashback, isn't he?" Raven remarked.

"Yeah. I think being up at the school now . . . it's been making him reminisce." He wasn't talking about his new job a whole lot, but Clarke got the sense that people were recognizing him. Students, teachers, everyone. And they were all wondering how he'd ended up back there.

"I think about high school a lot," Raven blurted.

"You do?"

"Yeah. Don't you?"

Clarke shrugged. "Not really." She watched as Murphy did manage to hike the ball to Bellamy this time, and he threw it out to Miller for a complete pass. "Probably more since he's been back." She used to try her hardest not to think about high school. Because it just brought back a lot of memories.

"I think about Zeke," Raven revealed. "I wonder what he's up to these days. And I think about the cheerleading squad and wonder what their practices are like these days. Do you think they still do conditioning?"

"Oh god, I hope not," Clarke groaned. "I hated conditioning."

"It helped get our jumps higher, though." Raven smirked. "We had some good times, didn't we? All those football games and pep rallies . . . those were all fun."

"Yeah," Clarke agreed. Part of her kind of wished she'd stuck with cheerleading her junior and senior year.

"Is that what you think about when you think back?" Raven asked.

"Sometimes." Cheerleading had never meant as much to her as it had to Raven, though. It'd never been as important. "But mostly I just think about Bellamy." She looked out onto the beach again, not surprised to see him taking his shirt off now, his sweaty torso glistening in the sun. A lot of things had changed since high school, but her attraction to him definitely wasn't one of them.

...

Clarke nearly dropped her lunch tray when a girl in her class named Jenny jumped in front of her. "Hey, Clarke," she chirped. "Can I get a quote for the yearbook?"

Jenny scarcely thought about anything other than that damn yearbook, so Clarke probably should have seen this coming. "Sure."

"Okay." Jenny whipped out a notepad and looked like an old school reporter when she took a pencil out from behind her ear. "What do you think has been the best part of your sophomore year?"

Easy, Clarke thought, looking over to her lunch table, where Bellamy was already sitting with the rest of their friends. He was smiling and laughing, and he looked so damn good. But that probably wasn't the type of answer Jenny was looking for. "Oh, um . . . getting third at state cheer, probably," she said, figuring that would look better in the yearbook than her real answer: being with Bellamy Blake.

"Great," Jenny said as she jotted that down. "Thanks." And it was onto the next person for her, just like that.

Third at state cheer? Clarke thought. Whatever. It wasn't a horrible quote to go in the yearbook, even if it wasn't true. She carried her lunch tray over to the table and caught the tail end of the conversation. Miller was saying, "I don't care if it doesn't get the recognition football does. I love wrestling."

"So you're taking that scholarship?" Zeke asked.

"Hell, yeah."

Clarke sat down next to Bellamy, in the empty seat that everyone always saved for her. "Hey, Princess," he said. He'd taken to calling her that ever since prom.

"Hey," she said. "What're we talking about?"

"Miller got a wrestling scholarship to Arkadia State," Bellamy informed her.

"Oh, really? Congratulations."

"Thanks," Miller said.

Raven bit into her carrot, making a loud crunching sound, then said, "It's kind of cool that you guys are all playing sports in college. Look at us, Clarke. We're surrounded by athletes."

"Excuse me?" Monty piped up.

"And brains," Raven added with a smile.

"And me," Jasper mumbled, looking down at his tray, where most of his food sat untouched.

"Hey, Jasper, what did I tell you?" Bellamy said. "You made it through freshman year. That's the hardest."

"I only made it through 'cause of you," Jasper said sadly. "What's it gonna be like next year when you're gone? I'm gonna go back to getting picked on. It's gonna be awful."

So Jasper was dreading Bellamy's departure, too, then? Clarke was glad she wasn't alone in that boat.

"Hey, Clarke and I will still be here," Raven pointed out.

"And so will I," Monty added, patting Jasper's back.

"Yeah, but . . ." Jasper's jaw clenched, like he was trying to hold in how sad he really was, and shook his head. "It won't be the same." He got up, grabbed his tray, and marched off towards the trash can to dump the remainder of his food.

"Should I go after him?" Bellamy asked.

"No, he's bumming," Monty said. "Give him some space."

I know the feeling, Jasper, Clarke thought. Staring down at her tray, she didn't feel much like eating, either. And it wasn't just because the cafeteria had decided to serve its infamous mystery meat. It was because she felt what Jasper was feeling, or at least a variation of it. She didn't have to worry about being picked on next year without Bellamy around, but she did worry about how her junior and senior years would compare to this one. It hadn't all been smooth sailing, but her sophomore year had by far been the most exhilarating year of her life. What if everything else was kind of a letdown? What was she supposed to next year, just stand on the sidelines of those football games and try not to think about him? Go to prom with some other guy?

"You know what's crazy?" Miller said. "This is our last Friday of high school. This is the last crappy school meatloaf I'll ever eat."

"Is that what it's supposed to be?" Clarke whispered. It looked more like . . . stroganoff.

"You guys are so lucky," Raven said enviously. "We still have two weeks left after you leave, and it's gonna take forever."

"Hey, we earned it," Miller claimed. "We've suffered through twelve years of this place."

"Thirteen if you count kindergarten," Zeke added.

Miller grunted. "Fuck, might as well count preschool then."

As those two began to reminisce about how much they missed the naptime that preschool had provided, Clarke spaced out a bit, and it wasn't until Bellamy asked, "Hey, you okay?" that she returned to the conversation. Theirs was a separate conversation, though, because Raven and Monty were both listening to the other two guys.

"Yeah," she said. "It's just hard to believe you guys are gonna be gone so soon."

"I know," Bellamy said. "But we still have the summer." He leaned in and kissed her, and she hated that her first thought was, How many kisses do Bellamy and I have left? She didn't want to spend the remainder of her time with him counting down, thinking about the end, wondering if she'd really be able to let him go the way she'd always said she would.

...

Clarke hadn't even realized there were tears in her eyes until Raven asked, "You alright?"

"What?" She jerked her head away from the football game and tried to blink the tears away as subtly as she could. "Oh, yeah. I just got something in my eye. I'll be back." She managed to get up and headed inside, leaving Raven out on the porch alone to watch the football plays the boys were still running. She didn't mind reminiscing, but when it came to think back to high school . . . some memories made her smile. Others just hurt.

...

Bellamy had been wary of taking his sister up on her offer to have dinner at her and Lincoln's place, just because he and Lincoln still weren't exactly . . . pals. But he had to admit, the food had been pretty damn good, and it was nice not to have to worry about cleaning up.

"We should do this more often," Octavia said.

"Yeah, it's been fun," Lincoln agreed.

Clarke slumped back in her chair, holding her stomach, and groaned. "I don't think I have any room for dessert."

"What?" Octavia said. "How is that possible? You're eating for two."

"But the baby's taking up so much room right now," Clarke said. "It's so hard to fit any food in there. I do better with small meals throughout the day." She burped, said, "Excuse me," and then said, "I have to go to the bathroom," as she tried to get up. Didn't have much success with that.

"Let me help you," Bellamy said, getting to his feet.

"No, I got it," she insisted. But again, she tried to get up and just couldn't. "I don't have it," she whimpered. "Bellamy!"

He grabbed Clarke's arms and heaved her up, not unaccustomed to having to help her out with walking and getting up lately. Clarke's stomach was just in the way and made even the simplest things more difficult for her. She waddled into the bathroom on her own, though, and shut the door.

"I'll get these in the dishwasher," Lincoln said as he started to clear the table.

"Thanks, baby," Octavia said. She remained sitting, and Bellamy sat back down with her, already preparing for another call for help. The toilet seat in this place was kind of low, or at least it'd always seemed that way to him. Chances were, Clarke would need his help getting up off of that, too.

"Your girlfriend seems miserable," Octavia remarked.

"Yeah, I think, physically, it's been pretty hard here at the end." He felt bad for her; really, he did. But also . . . he was kind of glad that, as a guy, he'd never have to go through all of this.

"Well," Octavia said, "you'll be happy to know that seeing her go through pregnancy has really deterred me from having a kid."

"Really?" She was right. He was happy to hear that.

"Not for all time, but for the time being."

Music to his fucking ears. "That's great."

"I knew you'd think so," she said. "Right, Lincoln?"

"What?" Lincoln asked from the kitchen.

"No babies for us for a while."

Lincoln chuckled. "Let's get you through college first."

"Yes," Bellamy said, encouraged. "I approve of this. Way to go, O." As much as he hated that his little sister was no sexually active, at least she wasn't being irresponsible.

"You know what I approve of?" Octavia said, changing the topic quickly. "You popping the question to Clarke. When's that happening?"

"Oh . . ." He swirled the remainder of his wine around in the bottom of the glass, wishing he had a bit more to drink. "Hopefully soon."

"How soon?" she pressed.

"Well, I got the ring paid off, but they messed up the engraving. It's supposed to say Princess, but it said Priceless."

"Oh." Octavia made a face. "Yeah, that doesn't have the same effect."

"So now I gotta wait while they fix that." He wasn't sure how long it was going to take, but he wasn't expecting it tomorrow or anything. "It sucks, but we're probably not gonna be able to get married before the baby's born."

"Well, that's okay," she said. "You can get married after."

"Yeah, I know, but . . ." He trailed off, sighing. Then he lowered his voice, so that Lincoln couldn't overhear, and told her, "I want Avery to be Avery Blake. From the minute she's born. I want us to be a family."

"You guys are a family," Octavia assured him.

Yeah, he knew that. Because he felt it. But feelings didn't make it official in a court of law. "A legal family," he clarified. Swallowing hard, he admitted, "Clarke's not the only one who's had nightmares during this pregnancy, you know."

Octavia frowned. "What do you mean?"

He hadn't gone over there tonight expecting to divulge anything, but now that they were talking . . . why not? He could open up to his sister. "Every once in a while, I have this dream where Finn swoops in and takes Avery," he confessed. "Just right out of my arms." He always awoke from it feeling panicked, breathing heavily, and it always took him a few minutes to calm back down again.

"Oh, Bellamy . . ." Octavia looked at him sympathetically but then shook her head. "I really don't think you have to worry about that. If that guy wanted to be a father, he wouldn't just sit back and let you do everything."

"I guess." That was what he always told himself, but in the back of his mind, he remembered how Finn had been loitering around outside the gender reveal party a couple months ago, and he thought about all the little run-ins Clarke had had with him where he asked about Avery or tried to give her a toy.

"You don't have to marry Clarke just to be Avery's father," Octavia said.

"Well, I mean, that's not the only reason I wanna marry her," he said. That was on the list of reasons, sure, but it wasn't at the top of the list.

"Right," his sister said, smiling at him teasingly. "You're kind of in love with her. You know, just a little bit."

"A little bit, yeah." He grinned, chuckled a little, and seconds later, he heard it. The inevitable call for help from the bathroom.

"Bellamy!" Clarke yelled. "I'm stuck on the toilet!"

Yep. Just as he'd predicted.

"Oh, this is some true love shit right here," Octavia said.

"Yeah." He got up and called back to her, in an over-the-top fashion, "Don't worry, Princess! I got you!" And then he ran to the bathroom to rescue her.

They ended up leaving before the dessert, per Clarke's request, but Octavia sent home some chocolate pie with them in case they got hungry later. He didn't bother saying it, but Clarke probably would get hungry later. The increase in small meals meant that, if she wasn't getting up in the middle of the night to pee, she was getting up so she could go downstairs and grab a snack. That pie would be gone by morning, no doubt about that.

Bellamy got into bed with her that night and tried to get as close to her as that fucking huge pregnancy pillow would allow. "You tired?" he asked, hoping the answer was a miraculous no.

"Always," she said.

Well, that wasn't surprising. It was to be expected. "You wanna have sex?" he asked. Even the sight of her stranded on the toilet tonight wasn't enough to turn off his hormones.

"No," she said, struggling to roll over onto her left side so she could face him. "Sorry, but I feel like I have a bowling ball stuck between my legs."

"What? Is that normal?"

"Yeah," she said. "I think so. The baby's descending."

"Already?" They still had a few more weeks to go.

"I know. Isn't it awful what a long, drawn-out process this is?" she lamented. "Did you know that cats and dogs are only pregnant for, like, sixty-three days? How is that fair?"

Well, that was all relative, wasn't it? Because cats and dogs couldn't go to a hospital or get an epidural. "You don't wanna be a cat," he told her.

"I do," she said. "Right now, I just wanna be a cat."

"No, you don't. Cats have to pop out one right after another. Dogs, too."

"True." Thinking about that immediately made her change her tune. "Oh god, that sounds horrible. I can't even imagine multiples."

Although he tried not to laugh at her pregnant misfortunes, sometimes he got a kick out of how she reacted to all these unusual symptoms. "You're so cool, Clarke," he told her.

"What?"

"Yeah. Being pregnant. Going through all this." He put his hand on her side, marveling, "The female body is . . . pretty amazing. But then again, I've always thought so."

"Me, too," she said, managing to lighten up a bit as she wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. "And your male body's not too bad."

"Thanks." He'd never say it, but lifting her off the couch and off of chairs and off the toilet . . . it helped keep his muscles strong. Good workout.

Her eyes locked onto his, and her expression changed to a semi-flirty one as she said, "I wish I felt up to having sex with you right now."

He wished so, too but he understood—as much as he could—why she didn't. "That's okay," he said, sitting up. "I can take care of myself." He tossed back the covers and was about to climb out of bed when she stopped him.

"No, just do it here."

With his feet already on the floor, about to stand, he froze. "Here?" he echoed. "Right in front of you?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "Entertain me."

She wanted to watch him jack off? Well, that as new, but he sure as hell wasn't opposed to it. "Okay," he said, lying back down again. He pulled his underwear down far enough to release his cock and started stroking it to get it hard.

"Did you ever do this when we weren't together?" she asked him.

"Oh, yeah." It'd been a little harder to do back when he'd been in a dorm room with a roommate—he'd always had to wait until the guy was asleep or out—but even someone who had hooked up with as many girls as he had needed to do this from time to time.

Clarke wasn't done, though. As she watched him touch himself, she inquired, "Did you think of me?" Her sweet, almost innocent tone stood out in stark contrast to what she was actually asking him about.

He snorted. "Obviously." Once in a while he'd thought about some celebrities, too, but yeah, it'd mostly been Clarke. Every single time.

"Good," she said. "I thought of you, too. In fact, don't tell Lexa, but sometimes when she and I would . . . you know . . . I was thinking of you."

He pumped himself a little harder, suddenly picturing her and Lexa and some dildos or strap-ons. As if that wasn't a hot enough mental image on its own, now he knew that she'd been thinking about him while getting fucked like that. "Don't tell any of my Italian girls," he joked. "Or my Mexican girls. Or my Canadians."

"Or your Californians, or your UCF girls."

"Yeah, don't tell any of them." He shut his eyes for a moment, imagining that it was Clarke's hand instead of his own. Or . . . other parts of her.

"What do you think about to get off?" she asked.

Once again, he opened his eyes, and he looked over at her, fixating on her lips. "You."

She smiled. "Specifically?"

"Your mouth," he said. "What you look like when you're sucking my cock." He remembered the first time she'd done it, back in his old bedroom. She'd been good at it back then, and she was even better now. He loved feeling like he was the one who'd taught her everything she knew.

"What else?" she kept on.

As much as he loved blowjobs, nothing compared to full-on sex. "How good it feels to be inside you," he answered, noting that his voice was getting hoarser as he got closer to cumming.

Suddenly, Clarke's expression changed to one of alarm, and she managed to sit up and touch her stomach. He stopped jerking off, thinking for a second that she was having one of those fake contractions. But when she said, "What if it doesn't feel as good after I have the baby?" he realized there was nothing to be worried about.

"What?"

"Think about it," she said. "I'm literally gonna be pushing a human being out of here. What if I'm, like, permanently loose afterwards?"

"Clarke, it'll be fine," he assured her.

"But what if it's not?" she fretted. "Our sex life's never gonna be the same." She scooted to the foot of the bed and sort of slid off, heading into the bathroom and slamming the door. Personally, he didn't think it was worth getting upset about, but when she got emotional about something, he'd learned it was best to just let her feel whatever she was feeling and work through it.

"I'll just keep going!" he called into her, once again placing his hand on his cock. A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened, and she peeked her head out, smiling slowly. Talk about a mood swing. But he was used to those, too, so he wasn't surprised when she got back into bed with him to watch him finish up.