Don't worry, Guys; I'm still finishing the other fanfiction. I'm just writing this when I feel like writing and am stuck on everything else. Oh, and when I say "inspired by" the film, I mean it very loosely. The relationship and the setting is similar . . . that's pretty much it.

Three weeks earlier . . .

I had a theory I was the only person ever to bring reading material to a party. This thesis of mine seemed to be supported by the throng of teenagers surrounding me, holding not books, but plastic cups full of beer and other illegal substances that had no business being in the hands of minors.

But of course, if I said anything of that nature to them, I was in danger of having both myself and my medical textbook kicked out from Tyler Simone's household. It was only made worse by the fact that technically, I wasn't even supposed to be here. Future juvenile delinquents didn't exactly jump at the chance to invite the school's top Honor Roll student to their contraband extravaganza and my friend had, quite literally, smuggled me in.

For whose benefit though, I couldn't say.

"You need to socialize more," Thalia had chided me earlier, going into full-fledged lecture mode. She'd strode back and forth in my room, like she was a lawyer making her case to a jury. "Next year you'll be off to med school and then you'll become an intern and any life outside of work will sputter out and die. Have you ever seen Grey's Anatomy?"

Actually I had. I'd spent my tween years watching it with my parents, listening intently to my mom as she'd point out every error in their surgical procedures. It always took nearly two hours to make it through a single episode. A painful throb resonated deep within my chest.

"Even better," I'd said. "Then I won't know what I'm missing."

Thalia had shaken her head, black curls flying around her round cheeks. Her lips puckered in clear distaste. "No. You're really big on experiences, right? Well, consider Tyler's party an experience. An experience of fun. Partake in the fun."

I'd just grimaced. "You know fun is a subjective term, don't you? If we were participating in my definition of fun, we'd be ankle-deep in recreational reading or watching pulmonary bypass procedures on Youtube."

Thalia stared at me, her big brown eyes widened in horror. She'd clasped my hand tightly in hers. "Clarke, You need this night. For the both of our sake's. "

"Aren't you forgetting one important detail? I wasn't invited."

But it had been like she hadn't heard me. "Please, I'm sure the and guest was implied. But, if you're worried about it . . . " She darted over to my dresser and for a second, I thought she was looking for something provocative. If that were the case, she'd be looking for awhile. But to my relief, Thalia just pulled out a light-blue hoodie. She'd tossed it at me. "Problem solved. Wear that and we'll just go in the back door."

Which currently left me lounging on the couch, dawned in puffy, wash-worn clothing while every other girl was dressed to the bare-minimum. Or most. Frankly, I judged these people for having not recognized me yet. If not my modesty, I would've at least expected someone to catch the textbook occupying my lap.

But no. The students of Arkadia High were far more preoccupied with their misdemeanors to pay me any mind. Which probably worked in my favor.

I tried to focus on the small text on enzymes but the pounding music and the sour tang of beer made it hard to concentrate. I dog-eared the page and retrieved my phone from my back-pocket instead.

A grain of disappointment settled inside me.

No new messages.

I'd hoped Finn would've texted me by this point. He'd left yesterday morning to tour a few Washington campuses. He had a passion for electrical engineering and a few schools there had some good programs he'd been interested in for the months. Finn's drive was similar to my own, serious and undeterred. It's what ultimately made us a compatible couple for the last year and a half; we understood each other's dreams and-more importantly-encouraged them.

I'd texted him this afternoon, but sent another one asking how it was going just in case the first didn't go through. With that done, I stood up and maneuvered through the thick band of people, choking the living room and congesting the kitchen. Some dub-step song blared in my ears.

I reached the back door and pushed my way through, into the cool October air. I turned-

And collided against something hard.

The textbook was knocked from my hands and it dropped, landing with a heavy thud on the bricked patio. I looked up.

Big eyes under a set of long lashes greeted me. Tousled, curly-brown hair crowned his head. Black jacket over a dark tee. His lips were sewn into a perpetual smirk, sardonic and uninviting.

I swallowed, my annoyance from the party instantly piquing.

Bellamy Blake. Arkadia's knight in coal-black armor.

He'd earned the title of B4, not because he was partial to bingo, but because of his badboy tag that formed a nice alliteration when tethered to his name. Girls here found him swoon-worthy and, I quote, "mysterious." The guys however, thought him intimidating and, to some degree, a little frightening, accentuated by the silver Yamaha bike and the fact Bellamy was the only person here that could legally drink. He'd been held back, but I'd caught enough about him through the rest of the school to know that that wasn't because he'd flunked classes.

I'd snagged the fragmented words, "foster care" exchanged behind his back, consistent enough for it to probably be true. It made sense with what else I knew of him; that he'd moved around a lot as a kid. But why he chose to stay in high school and stick it out was beyond me; he didn't exactly strike me as the type serious about grades.

His dark eyes fell to the textbook and scanned the title. He looked back to me, head tilted slightly to the side. "Catching up on some light reading?" he asked, voice husky. There was a gruff edge to it, the kind you'd catch in a singer's tone, or in the voice of someone who just really liked to talk.

"Sort of," I muttered. I bent down and retrieved the book, glad it wasn't bent. I tucked my arms around it, cradling the cover to my chest.

"I don't know what's more surprising," Bellamy mused, "Seeing a medical textbook at a party or seeing the Princess with a medical textbook at a party."

I glared. While he was known as B4 and a myriad of other terms I wouldn't grace with acknowledgement, I was commonly referred to as the Princess of Arkadia.

I definitely didn't come up with the name-I wouldn't. It made a fair majority of the girls cast withering glares my way, like my A's on papers outright offended them. So I wanted to use my brain for the greater good; it was hardly something deserving of the title "Princess." In fact, it was a little degrading.

I shoved my tongue in my cheek to keep from saying what I wanted to. "I'm not here by choice," I told him. "Just for a friend."

He appraised me, that smirk of his deepening as he took in my attire. "I can see you really put in an effort."

Irritation threatened to leak into my voice. "I think what you were going for there was an apology for running into me," I said. "But I'll make that attempt easier for you by just skipping to the thanks." And then walking away, I mentally added.

But I had no such luck.

"You were the one who was in such a hurry. What, leaving because you're feeling a bit underdressed?"

My eyes narrowed. "Overdressed, more like it. And that's not exactly something I'm in any sort of hurry to rectify."

That curve of his lips turned into a tantalizing smile and I suddenly felt like a little kid being chastised by their parent. "Right," he nodded appreciatively. "Sorry, I forgot the Princess can't have her ankles showing."

"What is your problem?" I asked, now thoroughly pissed off by his attitude. Or maybe it was just his personality. "Have I offended you in some way?"

Bellamy scoffed, a throaty chuckle that reverberated deep inside his chest. "Don't flatter yourself. I just hate people who think the world revolves around them."

My lips actually parted in shock, jaw dropping open. I should've just let it go. That's what people with better self-control would do. A person who aspired to be a doctor had to know restraint. It was one of the primary fundamentals to being a good doctor.

But I wasn't a doctor yet.

"Are you actually insinuating that I'm arrogant because I give a crap about my grades?" I asked, staring at him in disgust. "That name was what the school came up with. You know, by the students who see only four years in front of them and care only about their social status in each one." I clenched my hands around my textbook, so hard until the edges bit into my palms. "I study because I want to make something of myself. Something important. So if I'm called a princess for that, fine. But just remember that when I have my scholarship handed to me, you'll be here, living it up at a party thrown by teenagers."

That smirk wasn't as perpetual as it seemed, because it instantly dropped from his lips. His dark eyes grew cold, russet-brown eyes growing dark as ash. "You don't know anything about me. Don't make the mistake of thinking you do."

And with one last contemptuous glance at me, Bellamy turned to the darkening street and stalked away.

I stood there for a good minute or so, letting the anger drain from me. I didn't want to take it out on Thalia, who I was off to find once that minute ended.

I'd tried the kind of fun that existed in her world. Now it was time for me to return to mine.