Clarke almost retched when she opened her eyes in the morning, her dry mouth tasting of stale beer and beach salt. The annoyingly bright sunlight streaming in through the glass doors of the pool house caused the throbbing in her head to intensify, and she groaned as she rolled off the bed. Sitting up didn't help the nausea, so Clarke stumbled to the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before her stomach emptied itself of the alcohol and party food from last night.
"Clarke, you okay?" Octavia called out sleepily from the other room.
"I'm fine," she called back before heaving into the toilet again. This is why I never go to parties. This is why I never drink, Clarke thought miserably as her stomach clenched painfully for a third time.
Cool hands suddenly gathered the tangled hair from around her face, twisting it around at the base of her neck. "Let me help," Octavia said, voice kind and regretful. "I'm sorry, I get a bit carried away with having fun sometimes."
"Not your fault I can't hold my liquor, or that I don't know my limits," Clarke replied, managing a small smile. "And I needed to get carried away with fun for a little while."
Octavia returned the smile, squeezing Clarke's arm gently, but before she could reply, they both heard the sound of the pool house door open abruptly.
"Clarke?" Her mother called frantically.
Groaning, Clarke leaned back from the toilet, grabbing a towel and wiping her mouth clean. With an apologetic glance at Octavia, she answered, "In here."
Abby soon appeared in the bathroom doorway, worried lines set into her face and a bathrobe hanging haphazardly off her delicate but strong frame. "Honey, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Clarke asserted, trying to stand, but her stomach had other ideas. As she vomited again, her mother swooped down, laying a careful hand on her back.
"You're sick?" Her mother asked concernedly, but when Clarke pulled back, her mother's expression narrowed, taking in Clarke's haggard face and red-rimmed eyes. "You're hungover."
"No," Clarke claimed quickly. "Something at dinner must not have settled with my stomach last night." Even Octavia winced at that lie, giving her a rueful glance that said, you couldn't have come up with anything better?
"Clarke," her mother said, voice tight and angry. "Don't lie to me."
Then her mother finally noticed Octavia, mouth pursing as she took in the girl's black eye. Standing, she ground out, "Let's all meet in the kitchen in ten minutes. I'm sure your father will also like to hear your explanation for not being in your own bed this morning, as well as your 'illness' and Octavia's injury."
As Abby strode out of the bathroom with angry footsteps, Clarke slumped against the wall, sighing.
Octavia soon plopped down on the floor beside her, nudging her foot as she said, "Seems one night of friendship will have to be enough, as it looks like I'm headed back to foster care. I guess getting the lawyer's daughter drunk wasn't my best idea."
The sad bravado in her voice made Clarke straighten up, and her mouth tightened in determination. "None of this was your fault. I make my own decisions. And my parents will just have to accept that fact. You're not going anywhere."
When Clarke and Octavia reached the door leading from the patio into the kitchen, raised voices echoed through the glass. Hesitating to go inside, Clarke winced as she realized her mother and father were arguing about Octavia. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed the doors open and loudly asked, "So, I'm feeling like scrambled eggs today, what about you guys?"
Her smile felt brittle on her lips as she faced her parents, who were staring at each other intensely across the kitchen island. Her father was the first one to break away, turning to the girls with exasperated admonishment in his eyes. His lips curved up into a tight but fond smile, and some of the knots in Clarke's chest released, thankful that at least one of her parents might be a little bit on her side. Her mother continued to frown, and for the moment, Clarke chose to ignore the concern in her eyes, because it was easier to be mad at her mom by conveniently forgetting that her mother's behavior came from a place of loving worry.
"I made pancakes," her mother said shortly, and Clarke nodded.
"Okay, that works too. Octavia?"
Clarke turned to her friend, who was hanging back and uncharacteristically reserved.
"Sounds great," Octavia replied evenly, flashing a small smile at the room.
"Jake, why don't you and Octavia get situated while I have a word with Clarke about the casino event tonight?"
"Abby—"
"We'll be right there," her mother interrupted, sending a follow me glare at Clarke that brooked no argument. As Clarke moved away, she felt Octavia squeeze her hand.
"I'm sorry," she mouthed at Clarke again as she followed Jake to the table. Clarke shook her head vehemently in protest and rolled her eyes, which made Octavia laugh. Walking towards her mother, Clarke kept her shoulders straight, flicking an annoyed look in her direction as they passed into the front family room.
"You know you're not getting out of helping to set up for the event tonight, right?" Her mother muttered as they stopped in front of the couch.
"That was never my intention," Clarke protested, narrowing her eyes. True, she hadn't been enthusiastic about contributing to the casino night planning, even after Wells had talked her into it by saying it was just one more thing to add to her college applications. Plus, it will prep you for when you plan events for your art shows, he had teased, bumping his hip against hers playfully.
Face furrowed in growing anger at Clarke's tone, Abby asked, "Then what was your intention, might I add? Or what was Octavia's, I guess?"
"I'm not going to make a habit of it. And for the last time, it wasn't Octavia's fault. I'm the one who chose to drink, not her."
"So it's just a coincidence that she comes to our home, and now my underage daughter is waking up hungover, vomiting up liquor from the night before? You never had any interest in those parties, even Wells can never convince you to go, but suddenly Octavia's here and it's Clarke-gone-wild."
"Oh my god, it was one party!" Clarke cried out, voice rising in frustration. "And I didn't go to the parties before because the people there are vapid and self-centered and I have no interest in being friends with them! Octavia at least treats me like a normal person and not a freak for having more interesting hobbies than evening out my tan and trying to snag the hottest guy on the lacrosse team. God forbid I finally have some fun and a friend other than Wells."
Her mother huffed and crossed her arms defensively, but before she could respond, the doorbell rang loudly and repeatedly.
"I'll get it!" Clarke called, darting around her mother and hurrying into the front hall. With a faint smile on her face, because the interruption could not have come at a better time, Clarke yanked the door open. As she blinked in the sudden sunlight, her smile fell in shock as she took in the extremely attractive guy glaring at her from the other side of the threshold. He looked a bit on the older side, fairly tall with broad shoulders, brown curls framing a freckled face, and dressed in a plain red shirt and well-worn jeans.
"Is this the Griffin residence?" He asked shortly, dark brown eyes flicking up and down her figure, narrowing at the bright pink sleep shorts and wrinkled oversized T-shirt. Clarke blushed, trying to smooth her wild curls behind her ear. Before she could stammer out a reply, the guy pushed past her, muttering, "Surprised there's not a butler."
Clarke stumbled back and narrowly avoided having her toes crushed by his scuffed sneakers, snapping her out of her dazed reverie. "Hey!" She barked, grabbing his elbow. "It's common courtesy to wait to be invited into someone's house, you know."
The guy shook her hand off with ease, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Sorry, they didn't offer Miss Manners classes in my neck of the woods."
At the comment, Clarke felt her cheeks flare with heat, this time from anger rather than embarrassment. What a jackass. Ignoring the fact that she had indeed been enrolled in etiquette classes during middle school—her grandfather's wishes, not hers—Clarke opened her mouth to chew him out.
He beat her to it, however. "Octavia!" He called out, heading determinedly for the kitchen.
It took Clarke a minute to follow him, as she slowly realized that he must be the brother—Bellamy, she recalled—whom Octavia had talked so fondly about last night. As she hurried after him, excited squeals sounded from the kitchen. When Clarke reached the room, she felt her irritation dwindle as she saw how tightly Octavia had wrapped herself around her brother, with eyes squeezed shut and an ecstatic smile on her face as they embraced. Bellamy's grip on his sister was no less intense, and his low, happy murmurings into Octavia's ear almost made Clarke smile.
"You must be Bellamy," her father interrupted in a friendly tone, extending a hand. After brief hesitation, Bellamy let Octavia go and shook his hand firmly. Jake smiled, then gestured towards the breakfast spread on the table. "We were just about to sit down to eat. Join us. I'm sure Octavia would love that."
Clarke saw her mother frown slightly, glancing at her husband in irritation. Clearly Abby wasn't feeling as generous regarding their guest. Clarke was torn between relief at delaying their argument and apprehension at sharing meal with the guy who had been so rude to her, so she took her time sitting down. Like always, her father sat at the head of the table, with her mother to his right. Octavia had taken Clarke's usual seat at Jake's left, with Bellamy next to her. When Clarke pulled out her chair and plopped into it, she saw Bellamy glance at her from across the table, face unreadable.
As her father and Octavia chattered away, Clarke poured herself a glass of juice. Picking it up, she looked straight at Bellamy and deliberately stuck out her pinky finger in mock pretentiousness. She sent him a pointed stare as she took a long sip with pursed lips, still keeping the finger raised. When his eyes narrowed at her teasing, she almost choked on her juice in amusement.
"You alright, Clarke?" Her dad asked suddenly, looking at her with a puzzled expression.
"I'm fine," she replied, gritting her teeth as she heard Bellamy let out a muffled laugh.
With a last, bemused glance, her father resumed talking with Octavia, and that was when Clarke realized somehow Octavia and her brother had been invited to casino night at the club with them. From the way her mother was smiling tensely, she guessed that her dad was going to get an earful later. While Clarke was glad Octavia would be going, she felt less than thrilled that Bellamy would also there. Seeing the club would just reinforce every preconception he had about her family. Since he seemed to be the most important person in Octavia's life, Clarke worried his opinions would influence his sister's and that she would lose a friend over it. Octavia was like a breath of fresh air among the staleness of her peers, and Clarke didn't want to go back to how it had been.
"Won't this be fun, Bell?" Octavia said excitedly.
"I don't own a tux," he grunted out.
"Oh, we can scrounge up one for you," Jake added before turning to Clarke. "You think Wells or Lincoln would have one he could borrow? I think my extra one may be a bit too big—and I won't even consider suggesting you wear the one from my younger days. Blue was all the rage back then, but now it's disturbingly uncool, as my daughter would say," he finished kindly.
Bellamy smiled just a bit, because not even a grump like him could resist the Jake Griffin charm. Clarke felt her face flush traitorously, because even that small flex of his lips completely transformed his face, calling her attention back to exactly how attractive he was. Looking away quickly, because the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was going moony over him, Clarke pulled out her phone to text Wells.
"On it," she muttered, finishing the message as she said, "And Octavia, you can borrow something of mine if you want."
"Really?"
"Yeah, we can pick out something this afternoon.""
"Awesome!"
"Remember you have to be at the club by three to help set up," her mother warned.
Pursing her lips, Clarke replied tightly, "I'll be there, don't worry."
"Can I help?" Octavia asked in a tentative tone, glancing carefully between Clarke and her parents. "It's the least I can do, in repayment for the invitation."
Clarke watched her mother consider the offer, because as complicated as she thought it would be to explain Octavia to the other club mothers, they really did need the help. Abby Griffin never turned down an extra pair of hands for events like this, always being worried something would go wrong at the last minute.
"Sure," she finally said with a tired smile. "Come along with Clarke, and we'll find you something to do."
"Looking forward to it," Octavia said, nudging her brother as he stared intently at Abby and then Clarke.
"I'm sorry, I have a work shift this afternoon," he said shortly in response to his sister's less-than-subtle hint. "Putting myself through college isn't easy."
"Ah, I remember those days," Jake said fondly. "Worked as a valet my first two years at UCLA, then as the manager of the overnight shift at a local campus bar. Kept it up my first year of law school, too, until a scholarship kicked in."
Bellamy blinked in surprise, and Clarke couldn't help feel a little bit smug at the mistaken assumption he had made.
"I work as a bartender during the year, but in the summer I tutor middle- and high-school kids," Bellamy admitted carefully, his tense shoulders relaxing just a bit as he and Jake started trading funny bartending stories.
Octavia caught Clarke's attention and rolled her eyes, shrugging her shoulders in a 'what am I going to do with him' gesture. Hiding a smile, Clarke ducked her head as she picked at the syrup-drenched pancakes on her plate. When her phone went off, she hoped it was Wells telling her the Jahas had no extra tuxes and that Bellamy was out of luck. Clarke was the one out of luck, however, and she grudgingly revealed to the group that Wells had several tuxes on hold for him to try on. Bellamy looked no more pleased than she felt at the announcement, which mollified Clarke just a bit.
"Thanks again for the invite, Dr. and Mr. Griffin! This is going to be fun," Octavia remarked happily. Clarke's gaze collided with Bellamy's and she almost laughed at the mournful reluctance she saw in it. He quirked a smile at her, clearly reading similar sentiments in her expression, and Clarke grinned back, content to be on the same page with him on just this one topic.