Four:

"Wake up, bitches!" Octavia screamed through the blow horn at precisely 5:30 AM. It was day one of the competition; a week since her incident with the Omega Theta boys and the infamous breakup. Clarke made a mental note to check on Nathan Miller after the girls were awake and sent off on their mission. The goal? Plan a breakfast for the entire house in two hours. Clarke wanted to see who had the best ability. Her eggs were in Octavia's basket—Octavia would be her ideal choice except for the fact that she couldn't show favoritism. That's why there were girls assisting her with the huge choice. Of course, they had their own favorites to choose from. Clarke, despite wanting Octavia for the job, was a sucker for an underdog story. She had her eyes on Harper if things went south with O not that they really could, Octavia was massively skilled and quite social.

Clarke learned forward, taking the blow horn from her obnoxious friend with a giggle. "Good morning, ladies." She turned her head to Octavia, "Go join them. You can't appear to have an unfair advantage—not that you really do. You don't even know the task but I really don't need a rebellion on my hands." Octavia nodded slowly and joined the rest of the sleepy sisters. "Okay, listen up! Day one: planning. Plan the perfect breakfast for your sisters and present the plan to the judges in two hours. On hour three, the winners plan will be revealed and we will all eat. From this, the bracket will be created. Just because you're not on the first bracket, doesn't mean you can't get on it. Everyone's dismissed!"

The judges were a mixture of alumni and other seniors—Clarke's favorite judge was Raven Reyes, the definition of the underdog. She barely fit in with the sorority but Clarke liked her. She could be blunt and honest and Clarke was pretty sure she would either back Harper or Octavia in the end. Then, there was Roma—slut, really. Clarke didn't care for her at all but that was most likely because she casually slept with Bellamy for a good year, posting pictures of them left and right on social networks as if she were his girlfriend. That might be a problem when it comes to Octavia winning. Then, there was Lexa—Lexa may or may not be a lesbian, Clarke wasn't sure yet but she really didn't care either way. Who was she to judge, right? Still, if Lexa was involved with anyone that might also be a problem for Octavia.

Clarke's main objective was for Octavia to be the next president. She deserved it. She worked hard but she was a junior and her major wasn't something prestigiously worthy. That's why Clarke suggested the competition in the first place. She wanted everyone to have a chance—especially Octavia. Bellamy didn't make it easy for her, either. His busy pants-dropping schedule defaced the Blake name by the hour. She didn't want to disturb Octavia's planning to tell her that she was going to take a break from watching the girls run frantically around the house so she sent a text.

To: mymainmotherfuckingbitch

Ducking out. Brb.

For 5:42 in the morning, the campus was pretty dead. She remembered that it was the weekend and normal people sleep on the weekend. Oh well, she was going to wake up the Omega Theta boys regardless. Omega Theta was an eight minute walk at the most, fourteen minutes in heels when you're completely wasted. Clarke was wearing a brown jacket, a greenish belly shirt and a pair of well-fitted jeans. It wasn't her intention to look drop-dead gorgeous in her casual wear, but she did.

She extended her hand to knock but thought better of her choice. They never locked their door because of their one-night stands floating in and out. She remembered that conversation from the second week of college—Bellamy was trying to convince her to fuck him and she was growing more and more tired of his shit. She opened the door and bounded up the stairs, her boots softly patting against the creaking wood. This time, she did knock on Miller's door. He responded with a groan but she started to talk anyway, "Um…hey, it's Clarke. Sorry, I know it's early." She called to him about the same time the door at the end of the hall swung open. She placed a hand on her hip as she took in his sleepy eyes and tangled hair. "Go back to bed." She ordered before knocking on Miller's door again.

"Oh, honey I don't think you can barge into my house and tell me what to do." He moved forward. Why don't you ever wear a shirt? "What do you need Miller for?"

Clarke shrugged, "I have some free time on my hands and Miller's stitches need to be checked unless you guys finally decided to go to a real doctor."

He moved closer to her and started to bang his hand against the door. He was pushing her up against the door while carefully moving his knuckles against the wood. She let out a ragged breath, her eyes moving to his lips. I kind of want you to kiss me… kind of think it's a bad fucking idea… Bellamy started to tilt his head, started to position himself when the doorknob started to shake. "Fuck." He whispered before turning around and going back to his room. She followed the way his steps were sleepy but also powerful. Are we ever just going to do it?

No.

Bellamy is a bad decision and you can't afford any bad decisions right now…

None at all.

…

Mymainmotherfuckingbitch:

So…drinks tonight or what?

Clarke tapped the pencil in her hand against the white notebook paper and sighed. She was busy studying for an important test and naturally her best friend was only concerned about the annual Saturday night party. Octavia was celebrating the fact that she made it on the bracket even if she didn't get first place. That pissed Clarke off because Octavia should have gotten first place—her breakfast was by far superior but she wasn't going to ruin O's party.

To mymainmotherfuckingbitch:

Yeah. Where at?

Mymainmotherfuckingbitch:

Some place I heard about from someone. Can't remember who but it sounded fun.

To mymainmotherfuckingbitch:

Sounds good. You drive and please let me get back to studying before I repeat the semester.

Clarke flipped over her phone because she didn't have the time to get into a text marathon with Octavia. In retrospect, she should have packed up her things and left the library immediately to plan her night out because Wells Jaha had to step into her favorite place on campus and ruin her whole day. "Clarke…hey, I want to talk to you."

"Funny, I don't want to talk to you."

He sighed, "I know you're mad…"

"Mad?" Clarke shook her head, "Mad doesn't even begin to define it. Have you told your parents yet?" She clenched her jaw as she asked the question. It was something that they needed to talk about but she didn't want to address their parents at all. How disappointed would they be? Would they cry? Would it ruin their friendship? What if her parents took his side? What if her mom made her get back together with him? What about all the happy holidays?

He looked down towards his feet and responded quietly, "No, have you?"

"I can't break my dad's heart right now. He views you as a son and with everything going on…" Clarke didn't want to think about her father. She'd been avoiding it gracefully in front of people since the holiday ended. In private was a completely different story—she was an emotional mess. That mess was making it hard to decipher the difference between friend and ex-boyfriend as Wells looked down at her.

"I-I want to work this out. I really want to work this out. If not for us, then for him. Until he—" He crossed a line and she literally felt something snap in her chest.

"Until he what? Dies. Go on, say it. My dad is dying and there's nothing we can do about it because he has stage four cancer. Yeah, please come up with some kind of ridiculous plan that involves me pretending you haven't stuck a knife in my back and in my senior year." Clarke stood up, gathering her things as quickly as she could. "Screw you! That was a low, lame ass suggestion!"

…

She walked into the bar wearing a two-piece dress that hugged every part of her body. The skirt barely stopped below the curve of her ass, only giving the illusion that it was longer because of the inch of lace going past the solid white cotton lining. The top stopped just below her bra, her navel and the sweet ivory of her skin displayed openly. Clarke decided she looked hot. She looked desirable. More than anything, she looked single. "I would fuck you." Octavia said after a few shots, a smile plastered on her face. She went to take another shot when she started choking, "Oh my god…it's him." She pointed to the guy she'd been rambling about for the last few weeks—at least, that's what Clarke assumed.

"Go talk to him!" Clarke nearly pushed her friend off the barstool. "Use your goddamn words and talk to him!" Octavia squealed the second time Clarke pushed her. Her best friend knew that she'd been going through some emotional stuff that day and paused before Clarke waved her on. It warmed her heart to think that Octavia would pass up a chance with the hottest guy on campus for her.

She watched for a second as her friend maneuvered herself through the crowd towards the man and smiled. Eventually, she turned away and decided she wanted to be anywhere but there. Clarke was the type of person who only enjoyed being sexy with her friends. She didn't like looking alone and desperate. She liked looking available but just fine without the guy offering her a drink. She walked out of the bar, obviously drunk from all the tequila shots towards her car. She wasn't trying to get arrested so she figured she could crash in her car.

"Princess?" Clarke nearly cringed as she heard his voice. She remembered what Octavia said…couldn't remember my ass…this is one of Bellamy's hide-outs. "Well, damn twice in one day you must really want me."

"Depends, you bring your boy with you?" Clarke asked calmly. She watched as his face fell into a scowl at the mention of Miller. Clarke was always just teasing when it came to his best friend. "I wore this dress for him." His eyes started to move down her body, undressing her with those beautiful orbs. He enjoyed looking at her but he was momentarily distracted from the task when he saw someone else doing the same as him.

"That's a dress?" Bellamy frowned after a few seconds, "I don't think so. You should wear more clothes around these other guys. They might—"

"They might think I'm single? I am." Clarke flashed him a grin and stepped closer. "Very, very, very single. Remember the night we met, Bellamy?" She stumbled until she was pressed against his chest. He inhaled deeply and tried to remain some type of calm. Clarke Griffin was coming onto him. And for a second, he thought Santa Claus only got him beer money and a fresh pack of underwear. "We never kissed…I regret that now. I regret a lot of my choices." Her little hand brushed down his chest. "I'm parked over there." She shot a hooded glance towards her white 2015 Honda Civic.

He shook his head, "You're killing me."

"Am I?"

"Yeah…but you seem to forget that I am a perfect gentleman." She snorted when he started to smirk. Clarke boldly pushed her body into his, looping her fingers through the waist of his jeans. He cleared his throat, "I'll take you home…"

"I don't want to go home." She pouted.

He rolled his eyes, "Fine. I hope the idiots aren't doing anything weird tonight because you're going home with me."

Review!

What's next for Bellamy and Clarke?

And what about Octavia's man?