Chapter 87

Normally, Bellamy enjoyed the weekends. Who didn't? But this weekend had already been ruined. And he woke up on Saturday knowing that it was ruined because of him. Because of what a fucking idiot he'd been yesterday.

He woke up on his own, surprised that he'd even managed to fall asleep at all, and reached over to grab his phone and check the time. Wasn't late. Wasn't early, either. Time to get up and start the day. And hope that it would be better than the last one.

Clarke's side of the bed was empty, but he heard her in the bathroom, so he got up and out of bed and joined her in there. She was standing at the sink, rinsing off her toothbrush, and didn't even look at him when he came in. She didn't even glance at his reflection in the mirror.

"Hey," Bellamy said, not sure what else he even could say.

Her response was the most tense and terse "Hey," he'd ever heard. Which didn't bode well for the rest of the conversation. She already hadn't spoken to him much last night, and she'd lain far away on the bed.

"You sleep alright?" he asked, trying to at least get her engaged in some small-talk.

"No." She put her toothbrush back in its holder but kept her eyes downcast as she reached for the floss and pulled a long string out.

"No?" That'd been a stupid question, hadn't it? Of course she hadn't slept well. "Me, neither. Couldn't stop thinking about . . . everything." He waited, wondering if she might take that segue and run with it, but she seemed dead set on giving him as much of the silent treatment as possible. As much as he didn't want to talk about it, he knew they had to, and apparently he was going to have to be the one to bring it up. So he started with an apology. "Clarke, I'm sorry."

Instead of getting to work on her flossing, she stopped what she was doing, gripped the edge of the sink, and said, "Please, I don't wanna do this right now."

"I screwed up," he went on anyway. "I should've let you handle it." All he could do now was really, really hope that Finn didn't use his outburst against him. Hopefully he wasn't that smart. "You think you would've been able to change his mind if I hadn't barged in?" he asked her, hating to think that he alone might have been responsible for derailing everything.

"I don't know," she mumbled.

"You don't know?" Surely they would have been better off than they were now, even if she hadn't been able to get him to change his mind. God, he felt like such a loser. "Well, we should talk to Pike again as soon as we can," he said, hoping that the guidance of a professional could get them back on the right track.

"I already texted him," she revealed. "He says he can meet with us Monday at his office."

Monday . . . that seemed so far away. Bellamy worried that it wasn't soon enough. Maybe if he called him—because an actual phone call would convey the desperation better than a text would—then maybe he could convince Pike to meet with them today or tomorrow instead. Even though he probably took weekends off, maybe if he knew what had happened . . .

Or maybe you should just stay out of it this time, he thought morosely. If he tried to do something, he'd probably just fuck things up even worse.

"What're you gonna do today?" he asked her.

She sighed and finally looked up and made eye contact with him. Only through the mirror, but it was better than nothing. "Harper's teaching a hip hop class. Raven and I promised her we would go," she answered. "It won't last all day, just a couple of hours."

"Hip hop, huh?"

"Yep." She really didn't sound like she wanted to go, and she didn't look excited as she stood there flossing her teeth with almost furious determination.

"You ever done hip hop before?" he asked, trying his best to at least keep some sort of conversation between them going. Even if it was about something as random and pointless as this.

"Not really," she said.

Hell, any style of dancing was pretty much a foreign concept to him. But even so, he would have gone with her if she'd asked him to. "Well, hopefully it's fun," he said.

"Hopefully," she agreed, tossing her floss into the trashcan next to the sink. "I need to clear my head." She squeezed past him without another word on her way to the closet, where she would probably just ignore him some more. Not that he could blame her. After all, he was the reason why things in her head and in their lives were so unclear right now.

...

Clarke felt like she was a step behind before Harper even counted, "Five, six, seven, eight!" to start them off. She eyed Raven out of the periphery of her vision because she couldn't even remember what the first move was. Just the sassy walk forward, apparently, as Harper yelled over the music, "Stomp one, two, three four! Hit-hit six, seven, eight!" Clarke couldn't even remember what the hit-hit part was supposed to be, so of course she didn't hit it. She did manage to fake her way through it, kind of, but when they got closer to the newest part, she basically just moved her hips and threw her arms around a bit, because every single eight count had left her head. Why the hell had she let Raven convince her to stand in the front? She saw in the mirror that there were several girls behind her doing way better.

"Good job!" Harper complimented them excitedly, pausing the music. "That was great, girls."

Clarke wiped the sweat off her forehead, feeling gross in addition to feeling lost.

"Alright, we're gonna take a five minute break and then learn the rest," Harper told them, "so grab some water, hit the bathroom, do whatever you need to do."

Everyone was breathing heavily as they scattered throughout the studio room, everyone except Raven, who barely seemed to be out of breath. She also was glistening more than sweating, which just wasn't even fair. And her abs looked amazing in the outfit she was wearing. Clarke wished she could have just done a sports bra and leggings, but her boobs would have fallen right out, and her mid-section just wasn't as muscled. Never had been.

"I need to sit," she said, holding her side as she limped to the nearest chair. "I was not ready for this."

"You're doing fine," Raven assured her. She stayed standing while Clarke took a seat.

"No, you're doing fine. You can definitely tell which one of us stuck with cheer and which one quit."

Harper skipped over to them, a big, excited smile on her face, and bubbled, "So . . . what do you guys think?"

"It's fun," Raven said. "You're a good teacher."

"Thanks. Everyone's . . . kinda catching on."

Clarke snorted and grumbled, "Not me."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," Harper said. "You had a baby two months ago."

"Yeah, and you still look better than all these other girls," Raven added quietly. "That's the real tea."

As much as Clarke appreciated her attempts to make her feel better, she still felt down in the dumps. And honestly, it had very little to do with the dancing or even how she looked in her workout gear. She looked . . . fine. And it wasn't like she was going to go perform this dance anywhere after all of this. She was here solely to support one of her closest friends, so not catching on wasn't really a serious thing. It was everything outside of this, though, the stuff back home, that was super serious.

"Hey, Harper, can you help me with this part?" one girl asked. She must not have even taken a drink break. She was one of the really good ones, even better than Raven, so maybe she was a dance major or something. She seemed determined to learn and perfect the whole routine.

"Sure," Harper said. She glanced back at Raven and Clarke and said, "Duty calls," before leaving them to go help her student.

I don't wanna be here, Clarke thought, closing her eyes for a moment. It wasn't Harper's fault. As far as dance classes went, it was one of the better ones she'd ever been to. The choreography was fun and fit really well with the music. Harper was a good teacher. But it just seemed so pointless for her to be there when there was so much else going on in her life.

"Clarke, you okay?" Raven asked, sounding concerned.

"No," she admitted. There was no disguising it.

"You need some water?"

She shook her head, feeling more tired than she was thirsty. Physically, mentally, emotionally . . . she was just drained.

Raven sat down beside her, inquiring, "What's wrong?"

Tears stung her eyes, but she tried to wipe them away, because she didn't want Harper to see her and become worried about her on a day like this. "Honeymoon's over," she mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

Maye that'd been a little over-dramatic, but it was hard not to notice how stressful things had been since they'd gotten back home. "I just wish we were back in California out on the beach," she said, picturing it in her head. "I felt like nothing could go wrong there. Everything was perfect. And now . . ." She trailed off, reluctant to divulge too much right here with so many other people not far out of earshot.

Reaching over to rub her back, Raven asked, "What happened?"

"It's just . . . this adoption thing," she said. "It's so stressful."

Raven's worried face turned into a sad one. "Is Finn . . . disputing it?" she questioned quietly.

"Yeah." She kind of hated him a little bit for that. Even if he had the legal right to contest her decision, what made him think he had the moral right to do so?

"Why?" Raven asked.

"I don't know. It's like he's got this chip on his shoulder." She truly wondered how much of this had to do with him wanting to know Avery and how much had to do with him wanting to feel better about himself.

"Well, it'll all work out," Raven said. "I know it will."

It has to, Clarke thought, glancing at her reflection in the big studio mirrors. She was alarmed to see just how worried she looked. It just has to.

...

Whenever Bellamy needed to calm down, he liked to just go sit in the nursery with Avery. Whether she was awake and playing or asleep like she was now, he found comfort in just being around her. Sometimes he just watched her, and sometimes he talked to her.

Holding her in his arms, he watched her little mouth move as she let out a tiny burp while she slept. Even though there was a lot of shit going on around her, she was blissfully oblivious to it all, too young to understand. And he was thankful for that, because she deserved to be taken care of and adored and not have to deal with anything confusing or dramatic ever in her life. Of course she would, someday, but today didn't have to be that day. He could shield her from the world for a little while.

"Daddy screwed up yesterday, sweetheart," he said apologetically, glad that she wasn't old enough to be mad at him about what he'd done. Sighing heavily, disappointed in himself, he mumbled, "Not the first time I made a mess of things."

...

The B+ on the top of his essay still didn't seem real to Bellamy. He'd never done that well on an essay before. But then again, he'd never worked quite as hard on one, either.

"I'm so proud of you, Bellamy," Gina said as they made their way down the sidewalk towards his dorm. "Really, I am. You're crushing it."

"Only 'cause of you," he said, folding his essay and putting it in his backpack.

"No, because of you," she insisted. "You're the one who's put in the work. I'm just helping."

That was nice of her to give him the majority of the credit, but she was working some magic as his unofficial tutor. No offense to Monty, but he'd never been able to get results out of him like this.

"Seriously, though, did you ever imagine you'd come to college and get such good grades?" Gina said excitedly. "This is so awesome."

It was, so he took his phone out to text his mom about it, knowing she'd be thrilled. He saw that he had a notification letting him know that one of the few Twitter accounts he followed had updated, though. The Arkadia high school one. He thought it might be something football-related, so he checked their Twitter page and saw that it was about the Quiz Bowl team. Something he'd never taken part in and hadn't even known existed, to be honest. He wouldn't have even bothered reading the tweet if it wasn't for the picture that accompanied it. It was a photo of a small group of students, all dressed up in business-casual clothes, standing up on the stage of some other high school holding a plaque. And Clarke was in that picture, even though she hadn't been on that team last year. Back row, big smile on her face. Standing next to Wells Jaha.

"I mean, to be honest, I'm even a little jealous," Gina went on. "You scored higher than me."

Clarke looked . . . happy. Which was good. Wasn't it? He wanted her to be happy.

So why did he suddenly feel like crap then?

"Bellamy?" Gina said, trying to get his attention back.

"Oh, sorry. Sorry." He put his phone away, but he kept seeing that picture in his mind. "Had to check something."

"Yeah, I noticed."

He wasn't even sure what there was to check. It was a standard group photo. Wells hadn't even had his arm around Clarke or anything like that. But if they were on that team together, then they were probably spending more time together again. If they hadn't already started dating again, maybe they would. It'd be easy for them to be together. Her parents liked Wells, after all. Wells was a good, clean-cut guy. Wells was bound to be successful.

"Well, I'm sure you've got plans with your friends tonight," she said, slowing down as they got closer to his dorm, "so . . . I guess I'll see you Monday?"

"Yeah." They studied after class on Mondays. Seemed to be working out well for them. Probably no need to change that now.

Gina looked like she wanted to say something else, or maybe she wanted him to say something, but since neither of them did, she just sort of started to walk away awkwardly. He let her take a few steps before her blurted out, "Actually . . . you wanna go out?"

She completely stopped and turned back around, looking surprised. "Go out where?"

"I don't know. Just anywhere." They spent so much time in the library or the tutoring center, but they never actually went out and did anything fun. Clarke was having fun, or so it seemed by that picture. So maybe it was time for him to have some fun, too.

"Okay," Gina said with barely a pause. Her eagerness to spend her Friday night with him . . . it said a lot. The flirtatious look on her face said just as much. He knew she'd been waiting for him to ask her out, hoping. But he'd never planned on actually doing it.

They didn't end up doing anything particularly revolutionary or fancy. Just dinner and movie, but the food was good, and the movie . . . well, it didn't really hold his interest. He'd let Gina pick it, and she'd gone for one of those historical epics. Which, normally, he would have enjoyed, but . . . even in the midst of watching a World War II battle scene, his mind kept going back to Clarke.

After the movie, they stopped and got ice cream, and then they headed back to campus that night. They didn't really talk about where they were going, but they ended up back at his place. Gina had never been in his dorm room before, but she got on the elevator with him and walked down the hall. He knew his roommate had gone home for the weekend, so they'd be alone if they went inside.

"Well, that was fun," she said.

"Yeah." If he'd been a little more present, he probably would have had a better time.

"We should do it again sometime," she suggested.

He just . . . kind of halfway nodded? Fuck, what was he even doing?

They got to his room, and he stopped, not sure where to go from here. Did he invite her in? Just tell her goodnight? Invite to walk her out to her car?

"Listen, Bellamy," she said, "at the risk of jeopardizing our . . . friendship or whatever this is . . . I have to ask . . ." She drew it out for a long time, probably nervous as hell to ask. "Was this a date?"

Was it? Hell if he knew anymore.

"No, forget I asked that," she said quickly. "I don't wanna ruin anything. We've got a good thing going, and I know guys like you aren't usually interested in girls like me, so-"

He silenced her suddenly with a kiss. Didn't even think twice about what he was doing. He just did it. And it seemed to shock her.

"Bellamy?" she whispered questioningly when he pulled away.

Even though he sort of felt like they were speeding straight ahead without seatbelts on, he found himself saying, "Stay a while." And of course that brought a smile to her face. Of course it did.

They kissed again, this time on their way into his room. He slid his key card into the lock, pushed the door open, and dragged her in there with him. She laughed a little and just seemed so damn happy.

He didn't feel happy, though. Mostly, he just felt confused, but he didn't want to dwell on that while he was kissing a girl who really liked him, so he tried to shut his whole mind off and just not think. He drowned himself in the physical sensations of it all. Her hands on his chest after he'd stripped off his shirt. The bra clasp on her back that he fumbled to unhook. Her heart, beating so fast as he laid down on top of her and settled himself between her legs.

He wasn't sure how long they went at it, but he made sure to go down on her because . . . he felt like it was the least he could do. He hadn't intended for her to do the same to him, but . . . she did. He got off on it. Hell, they both did. And they didn't stop there. He had plenty of condoms, so he put one on, asked her if she was sure, and when she said she was, he pushed inside her. She must not have taken anyone his size before, because she grimaced. He thought about stopping, and he actually would have stopped if she hadn't told him to keep going. She wanted this, wanted him.

Afterward, Gina fell asleep. But Bellamy didn't. He lay on his back, eyes open in the dark room, thinking about what had just happened. Or more accurately, what he'd done. The sex hadn't been bad at all, but lying there afterward was awful. His mind was back on, thinking about too many things at once now. Whenever he glanced at Gina, squeezed into that small twin bed with him, he couldn't even appreciate how pretty she looked. Prettier than he'd ever noticed, honestly. She was a really good girl, but . . . he was just used to seeing blonde hair sprawled out next to him. He was used to feeling a curvier body.

She wasn't Clarke.

The most frustrating thing was, even now, he couldn't let it just be about Gina. He felt horrible for giving her the wrong idea, leading her on by sleeping with her like this, but he also felt like . . . like he'd betrayed Clarke, in a way. Almost like he'd cheated on her. He hadn't, of course. Not really. They weren't even together. She could sleep with Wells or any other guy she wanted to. In fact, she was probably getting plenty of offers. So he had every right to move on and sleep with someone else, too. It'd been months. Months of not seeing her, not talking, not even texting. They weren't in each other's lives anymore. He couldn't just be hung up on her forever.

Bellamy wasn't sure how he was supposed to lie there with Gina all night, so at first he was relieved when she started to move around a little. But his relief quickly turned to dread when she tried to snuggle against his side. "Mmm," she purred contentedly. "Never knew a dorm bed could be so comfy."

Her hand came to rest on his chest, and underneath the covers, she tried to drape her legs over his. He couldn't reciprocate, though, couldn't touch her back with the same type of affection, so he slipped out of the bed and immediately went over to his dresser to grab a pair of sweatpants out of the drawer.

"Come back here," she said, patting the space he'd occupied on the mattress. "You're warm."

No, I'm not, he thought guiltily. If anything, tonight he'd been ice cold. She had no idea, though, did she? To her, they'd really connected, and now they were closer than ever.

He couldn't let her keep thinking that. It wasn't fair to her. She deserved better.

"Gina, we need to talk," he said, hating that he was about to hurt her.

"About what?" she asked. She didn't sound worried yet.

"This," he said. "Us."

Slowly, she sat up, concern now spreading across her face. "What do you mean?" she asked, holding the sheets to her chest. "Was I not . . . was I not good?"

"You were great," he assured her. Really, she hadn't done anything wrong.

"It was good, right?" she said, trying to smile. "I thought it was good."

He couldn't lie to her and say that it was amazing. But that wasn't her fault. This one was all on him. "It's just . . . this was a mistake," he said, knowing that each word was just going to feel like an even bigger knife in the gut to her.

"No, it wasn't," she said. "We're both two consenting adults, and we like each other, so . . ." She trailed off, almost as if she were waiting for him to agree with her. When he didn't, her voice got really quiet as she asked, "We do like each other, right?"

He winced internally, wishing there was a way to do this without being cruel to her. But he'd already been cruel. "Yeah, I like you," he said. "We're friends. And . . . I think it's better if we're just friends."

Even though the room was dark, he was able to see the huge frown that found its way to her face. "Then why did you sleep with me?" she asked, a mixture of sadness and anger in her voice.

"I don't know," he admitted. He shouldn't have. He didn't wanna be that type of guy.

"Oh my god." Scrambling out of bed, she started to collect her clothes, all the while trying to cover herself up with his bedsheets.

"Look, I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely.

"You're sorry?" she resounded. "For using me?"

"No, I didn't-"

"You did," she cut back in, yanking on her clothing. "This was just sex to you. You just wanted to get laid, and I was around and all too willing."

"No, don't blame yourself," he said.

"Oh, I don't," she said. "I blame you. How could you do this to me?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but he was at a loss for words. Nothing he could say would make her feel any better.

"In case you haven't noticed, I have feelings for you, Bellamy. Strong feelings," she said, crying now. "And tonight, I thought maybe finally . . ." She sniffed back tears and shook her head. "But I guess I thought wrong."

Shit. It would've been bad enough if he'd taken some random girl out on a date and hooked up with her, but Gina? She was genuinely his friend. One of the only good people he knew here. "It's just . . . I don't really wanna be in a relationship right now," he said, trying to be honest without being too detailed, without going into detail about the ex-girlfriend he couldn't get over. "I'm sorry I let things go so far. I screwed up. But I have to be honest with you. I don't wanna lead you on."

She choked out a devastated laugh and understandably didn't accept one word of that apology. "You already did," she growled, grabbing her shoes. Without even putting them on, she fled the room, and he heard her crying as she ran down the hall. She'd held it together with him, focused on being angry and giving him a piece of her mind. But she'd probably go home and break down about this all night, because she was heartbroken. And it was all his fault.

...

As much as he loved holding his daughter—probably could've done that forever—when Bellamy heard the front door open, he knew Clarke was home; so he put Avery back down in her crib, made sure she looked comfortable, and then hustled downstairs to see his wife. The same wife who hadn't spoken to him very much in almost twenty-four hours.

Halfway down the stairs, he stopped and just looked at her. Lots of her hair had fallen out of its ponytail, and most of the makeup she'd put on that morning was gone. She still looked pretty, though. Prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"Hey, Princess," he said, wishing he could make it sound lighthearted and flirtatious. Not right now, though. Not when things were so up in the air.

"Hey," she said, actually making eye contact with him. At least that was an improvement from this morning when it seemed like she hadn't even wanted to look at him.

"You're home early," he said as he walked the rest of the way down the stairs.

"I left early."

He couldn't help but notice that she had a brown paper sack in her hand, one that had a McDonald's logo on it. "And you stopped and got food," he noted.

"Yeah."

He nodded, waiting a moment before mumbling, "I made lunch." It wasn't much. He'd just browned up some taco meet, but still . . .

"Oh," she said, her expression changing into an almost sympathetic one. "Well, maybe I can just put this in the fridge and eat it later."

"No, you know what? I'm a crap cook anyway," he said, trying to downplay the ridiculous amount of embarrassment he felt as he walked briskly into the kitchen. What did it even matter? It was just food. "Let's just get rid of this stuff," he said, pulling open the fridge, where he'd dumped all the taco meat into a plastic bowl. He took the lid off and pulled out the trash can to dump it.

"No, Bellamy . . ." She took a few steps towards the kitchen, but it didn't matter. The taco meat was gone. She sighed, set her fast food bag down on the counter, and commented, "We're off."

He shoved the trash can back underneath the sink and put the now empty bowl down in the basin. "Yeah," he agreed. Something so little like this felt so big in that moment, even though it wasn't.

"We need to fix it," she said. "I don't like this."

He didn't, either. Usually things between Clarke and him were just so . . . smooth. They were both so used to things being natural and effortless. They didn't have to work to communicate because . . . hell, they were married now. It was usually easy. "It's my fault," he said, deciding he'd shoulder the blame for this one. If he hadn't barged in yesterday . . .

"No, it's—it's no one's fault," she said, coming closer to him. "This is a stressful time for both of us. And I'm not helping by being so grumpy."

"No, you can be as mad as you want," he told her, still pretty mad at himself. "I fucked up yesterday. What if Finn tries to make me seem like some violent maniac now?"

"You've got plenty of people who can attest that you're not," she said. "Most of all, me."

He looked down at the ground, almost wishing she wouldn't let him off the hook so easily. "Sometimes I just feel like such a loser, Clarke," he admitted.

"You're not." Reaching up, she cupped his cheek and urged, "Hey, look at me."

He did, and when he saw the sincerity and the love in her eyes . . . it did make him feel better.

"You're Bellamy Blake," she said, smiling softly. "You're the best man I know."

That made him feel better, too, but he still didn't like he deserved to feel all that good. "Yeah, but you married me. You're, like, required to say that."

"Well, I married you because it's true," she said. "And I'm saying it because you look like you could use the reminder."

He sighed, slowly nodding. He did need all of this. Even if he didn't exactly deserve it, he needed it. "I don't know how you've done it," he said, putting his hands on her waist.

"What?" she asked.

"Be so strong about all of this."

She averted her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. "I'm not strong. I actually started crying today."

That explained the lack of makeup then. He'd been afraid that that was why it was gone.

"I just wanted this to be easy," she said, fresh tears shimmering in her eyes. "But so far it hasn't been, so . . ." Trailing off, she shut her eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again and gazed at him almost pleadingly. "Can you just kiss me, Bellamy?"

There was a lot he couldn't do, but that right there was one thing he knew he could still do well. Even if he screwed everything else up, he could give her the kind of kiss that let her know just how much he loved her. So that was exactly what he did. It was the long, drawn-out kind, nothing too forceful. He brought her in close and kind of just held her there, even as he slowly pulled his mouth away from hers.

"Bellamy," she whispered. "My head didn't get cleared today."

Of course it hadn't. Neither had his. And they wouldn't be clear until all of this was finally over. But in the meantime . . . "Need some help with that?" he offered. At the very least, they could try to think about something else for a little while.

Maybe that was how they ended up stripping off each other's clothes right there in the kitchen. Having sex in that moment . . . it wasn't just the typical desire. It was legitimate need. He felt like he needed to pick her up in his arms and carry her over to the couch, lying her down so he could get on top of her. She must have needed to feel him inside her, because she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in tightly. As their bodies moved and melded together, it started to feel like they'd managed to escape reality and go into their own little world where nothing bad could happen. At least for a little while.