This chapter is just kind of a hodge-podge of Bellarke moments, it kind of jumps around, adding little pokes and prods to move along the plot and their relationship.

Also, I had a few concerned voices at the mention of Lexa in the last chapter. Just to assure you all, that is probably the most you'll see of her for the rest of the fic. She might be referenced in a later chapter, but I'm not sure as of right now. But all in all, I would never blow holes in my own ship; Bellarke is my OTP.

Sorry it took so long for this update. I had finals and now I'm currently in Ireland for a fieldschool and we didn't have wifi for a while. My apologies, but this story might be slowing down a bit on the updates.

As always, honestly and truly my thanks to all of you out there whether you're following, favoriting, reviewing, or just reading. And as I call upon the muses, I shall begin on Chapter Nine:

On Sunday morning an exhausted Clarke was lazily sipping her coffee, still wearing her short sleep shorts and the comfy tank-top in which she had slept. She was leaning on the kitchen counter, browsing through social media on her phone when it rang. "Hello?" she answered.

"Hey Clarke, it's Octavia."

"Why are you calling my phone?" Clarke asked, confused, "Are you going to try to convince me to bring you breakfast in bed, again? Because we both know that's not going to happen." She nodded to Bellamy as he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. Clarke tried not to notice the fact that he was shirtless, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the planes of his sculpted chest. When he turned his back to her as he poured his coffee, she admired the muscles on his back as well, before she settled her gaze on his ass. Her mind drifted a little before she snapped back to reality and quickly looked away, admonishing herself and dragging her attention back to what Octavia was saying.

"That's the thing…I'm not in my bed…I'm in Lincoln's," the last bit was followed by a fit of happy giggles.

"Is that so?" Clarke teased. "And you just wanted to brag about it?"

"Yes," Octavia admitted, "but no, I wanted to see if you could distract Bellamy or something so that he doesn't notice I'm not home. I'll be on my way soon, so that we can do our Sunday lunch, but after Friday's meet and greet with him and Lincoln, I can't imagine him having a good reaction to me spending the night here."

"And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that?" Clarke asked, now keenly aware of the other Blake who was now looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Who's on the phone?" he asked. An innocent question, one Clarke normally wouldn't have a problem with, but seeing as though she was supposed to be keeping him from knowing Octavia wasn't home…

"No one," she replied quickly.

"I don't know get him in the shower or something," Octavia suggested.

"Think over what you just said," Clarke said, her own mind having done so as soon as the words left Octavia's mouth, much to her embarrassment. She sure hoped the other Blake didn't notice the pink that was grazing her cheeks.

"So you're talking to yourself?" Bellamy questioned.

"Yup. Just me, myself, and I," Clarke replied walking to the living room, trying to get away from Bellamy and his questions. It didn't work; he followed her.

"Oh, god!" Octavia exclaimed in surprise and disgust as she thought back on her words. "I know I said, 'get a room' on Friday, but I didn't mean our bathroom! I use that shower! Anyway, can you get him to not be in the kitchen or living room in about fifteen minutes so that I can sneak in and act like I was there the whole time?"

"I can do my best, but no guarantees, O." Shit, shit, SHIT!

"Are you talking to Octavia?" Bellamy asked.

Shit, shit, SHIT! "No…I'm talking to my friend…Oliver. He's a friend. From work." Clarke tried to explain away, backing away.

"Don't tell me he's right there," Octavia said, finally realizing what Clarke was going through.

"Oh, Princess, you're a horrible liar," Bellamy said, shaking his head and taking a step toward her. Clarke took another step back.

"Fine, it's Octavia," Clarke admitted. "She spent the night at Raven and Wick's."

"Then why were you trying to hide it from me?" Bellamy asked, taking another step toward Clarke. "Just let me talk to her if it's all so innocent," a devilish smirk appeared on his lips as he held out his hand for her phone.

Octavia was saying something in her ear, but Clarke wasn't paying attention. "She, uh—, um…" Clarke took a couple steps, Bellamy mirroring her actions, and she managed to get the coffee table in between them, her back to the couch. The smirk had not left Bellamy's face. When she took a step to the right, he followed her moments. When she took a step to the left, he took one in the same direction. Then Clarke noticed a sudden spark in his eye as an idea came to him. She looked at him suspiciously. Next thing she knew he had placed a foot on the coffee table and launched himself at her, tackling her onto the couch.

She squirmed underneath his weight, he had somehow managed not to complete break or crush her in his efforts. She squeaked and squawked and giggled as she tried to wiggle her way out from under him, but she was soon thoroughly pinned horizontal on the couch, his knees on either side of her hips. Her last stitch effort to keep the phone away from him was to extend her arm as far above her head as she could. She should have known better because his long arms let one hand easily pluck her phone out her grasp, while the other gathered both her wrists and pinned them to her chest. He triumphantly brought the phone to his ear and with a smile down at his captive said, "So, Octavia, where are you really this morning?...Octavia?...Are you there?...Octavia?" He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. "I guess she hung up. Now I'll just have to get my information out of you!" He set Clarke's phone done on the coffee table and looked down at her with a mischievous smile. "So, where's Octavia?" he asked in such a casual tone if anyone had only heard it and not seen that she was currently pinned down on the couch or witnessed what had just transpired just, they would have thought nothing of it.

"You're getting nothing out of me!" Clarke said defiantly, but smiling up at her captor.

"Well, then I'll just have to torture it out of you!" And with that Bellamy removed his hand that had been pinning hers and with his other as well began to mercilessly tickle her.

"No! Stop!" Clarke cried between giggles.

Bellamy paused his assault, "Does that mean you're going to tell me?"

Clarke shook her head, "I cannot betray a friend."

"I'll get you talking; it'll just be a matter of time," Bellamy resumed his tickling. Clarke alternated between trying to protect her sides and trying to grab his hands and hold them aloft, laughing constantly.

"I—I—I can't—breathe!" she gasped out between giggles. Bellamy pulled back with a content smile on his face and let her sit up and try to catch her breath, allowing her to bring her knees up, so he wasn't looming over her anymore. When she was breathing normally, he looked over at her casually, aside from the big smile that was stretched from ear to ear.

"So, where's Octavia this morning?"

. "Why don't you just ask her when she gets home?" Clarke said in a teasing tone and leapt off the couch before he could catch a hold of her again. She nearly succeeded in her dash for the kitchen and her abandoned cup of coffee before she felt strong arms wrap about her waist and lift her off the floor.

Bellamy let out a full hearted laugh as she squealed in protest. "But this is so much more fun."

"Can I at least have my coffee?" Clarke pouted.

"Well, according to the poem in the book you got me, I do owe you that." He relented and let her go to her coffee. As she picked up the mug, which still had some warmth left, she turned to lean against the counter and face Bellamy who was leaning against the other.

They smiled at each other over their coffee mugs. "What's it going to take for you to tell me where Octavia is this morning?"

"Mum's the word," Clarke replied. Now, it wasn't just on the principle of not betraying a friend that she wouldn't tell him, but she wanted to tease and get under his skin a little. "She'll be home soon."

"Hrmph," Bellamy grunted, narrowing his eyes, the smile never leaving his face, nor the twinkle leaving his eyes.

Ten minutes later, minutes that were filled with more teasing and light flirting—though neither would admit to the latter if asked—Octavia came casually walking through the door of the apartment.

"So, O, where've you been?" Bellamy asked.

"And I believe that's my cue…" Clarke said and made a break for her room to let the siblings hash out their issues. As she closed her door she heard Bellamy's raised voice: "You were where?!"

On Wednesday morning around 10:00, Bellamy let himself into Octavia and Clarke's apartment. He had looked everywhere for his annotated copy of Ovid's Metamorphoses, and the only place let it could be was here. He knew Octavia had to be in the office by 8:00 and he figured it would be around the same for the Conservation Center based on the times Clarke had left for work before he got up when he spent a weeknight at their place. He and Octavia had made up after their spat on Sunday, but he still wasn't in the mood run into her and Lincoln, which according to Clarke was becoming a regular occurrence at the apartment in the evenings.

He made his way to straight to the living room and saw his book sitting on the coffee table. When he picked it up, he realized the music he had been hearing was coming from the kitchen, not from a neighboring apartment like he had originally thought. He stepped into the doorway of the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of Clarke dancing around and singing Taylor Swift…in her underwear, more specifically a maroon lacey bra and maroon cotton bottoms that said "Sunday" across the back.

"Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break; And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake; I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake," Clarke shouted into a wooden spoon as she, true to the lyrics of the song, shook her hips in a way that sent Bellamy's mind straight to the gutter.

His eyes roamed her nearly naked form appreciatively, his mind supplying more than a few inappropriate things he would like to do. Wait a second! What was he thinking? No, no, no. He could not possibly be having these thoughts about Clarke Griffin! Okay, clearly he was having these thoughts, but the point was that he shouldn't be having them. Clarke was annoying, and argumentative, and self-righteous, and smart, and witty, and someone who he really wanted to push up against that fridge and kiss. What? No! His internal quarrel was interrupted with a startled squawk. Clarke had noticed his presence as well as where his eyes had been currently drifting as she "shook it off."

He watched as several emotions flitted across her eyes: surprise, confusion, embarrassment, shocked embarrassment (she must have realized exactly what she was, or rather wasn't, wearing). She finally settled on indignation. "Bellamy Blake! Were you just checking out my ass?" He couldn't help but notice that her crossed arms only pushed up her breasts.

"In your dreams, Princess." Or at least in mine his traitorous libido added as he glanced at her chest again.

"What are you even doing here?" She demanded.

He met her eyes and held up his book in response. "I would ask what you're doing here, but clearly…" he said gesturing to her body.

"And now you're staring at my boobs," she said accusingly. It was not a question this time. However, Bellamy did notice a smile trying to creep its way onto her face.

"I am not!" he retorted, knowing very well that he was, this time not bothering to try to hide the angle of his gaze.

"Well, because some of us can't be respectful adults and not gawk at people who have the perfect right to wear whatever they want in their own apartment when they're supposed to be home alone, I'm going to go put some clothes on," Clarke said in a huff and walked out of the kitchen. And he'd be damned if she didn't put an extra sway into her hips as she walked off. "Oh, and can you take the cookies out of the oven if the timer goes off?" She called over her shoulder.

"I come for my book and you put to work," Bellamy grumbled. "This is why you don't have friends!" he called after her teasingly.

"I do have friends!" she defended from her room. "And they're the ones who will get to eat those cookies, not you!"

"Well, if I'm the one taking them out of the oven, I'm sure as hell having some!"

Clarke walked back into the kitchen just as Bellamy was setting the cookie pan on the stove. She now wore a baggy pair of sweatpants and an Augustana t-shirt, though Bellamy much preferred her previous attire.

"Thanks, Bell," Clarke said with a smile.

"I should be getting to campus," Bellamy told her as he set the oven mitts on the counter, "I really just came to get this book. I have the class I TA for in an hour."

"Sure, I see how it is," Clarke replied in a mocking annoyed tone, "you make me go through the effort of putting on some real clothes and then you leave."

"Hey, I didn't tell you to put on clothes; I was perfectly happy with what you had on," he said honestly starting on his way to the door.

Clarke rolled her eyes and wrapped a couple cookies in a paper towel and handed it to Bellamy. "Some cookies for your travels," she said.

"So, I am one of your friends!" Bellamy exclaimed in sarcastic surprise.

Clarke stuck her tongue out at him, "Just take your cookies and go."

Just before he closed the door, Bellamy stuck his head back in, "By the way, it's Wednesday, not Sunday," he said with his signature smirk.

He closed the door, but was still heard Clarke yell, "I hate you!" through the door; the smile evident in her voice.

Clarke's phone buzzed with a text message.

Bellamy Blake

I just wanted to make sure you put on
the right underwear today; it's Friday,
not Sunday.
5:06 pm

That joke wasn't funny on Saturday when
you first said it
5:07 pm

Or on Monday
5:07 pm

Or Wednesday
5:07 pm

Just let it die already
5:07 pm

I don't know what you're talking about.
I'm hilarious!
5:08 pm

You can't see it, but I'm rolling my
eyes right now
5:08 pm

You love it.
5:08 pm

Nope. Literally just walked in the door. I'm
not dealing with your shit tonight
5:09 pm

Too late. I'll be on my way in a bit for the
movie night.
5:09 pm

What movie night?
5:09 pm

O is forcing me to come to your place to
"get to know her boyfriend."
5:10 pm

Before Clarke could compose her next text, her phone began to ring. "What is this about your brother coming over for a movie night?" She asked in greeting.

"Um, yeah, I was meaning to talk to you about that…I want Bellamy to get to know Lincoln since we're officially official, and I was really hoping you could be there because you calmed Bell down the last time they were face to face. I don't really know how you did it. I thought he was going to leap over the bar and start throwing punches, but you calmed him down and then if it wasn't for his boss—your boss—showing up, I don't know what would have happened, but, but I just really need you there to keep the peace…Please!" Octavia rapidly spit out.

"So, basically you want me to hang out with you, your boyfriend, and your brother because you think I can somehow make an incredibly tense situation less tense?" Clarke said apprehensively. It was to say the least, not her ideal Friday night.

"Yeah…please, Clarke! You're a peacebuilder. I can't do this without you."

Clarke sighed, knowing it was better to just give in than to prolong the inevitable. "Anything for you, Octavia. You know that," Clarke said with a smile and a headshake.

"You're the best!"

"I know, I know. What were you calling about anyway?"

"This, actually…Wait a second, if I hadn't told you, how did you know?"

"Bellamy texted me," Clarke replied simply.

"Oh really, now?" Octavia said, if she had been in the same room, Clarke knew she would have seen Octavia's eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

"Now don't go getting any ideas in your head. He was just getting under my skin, per usual." Clarke said with a roll of her eyes, knowing exactly what her friend was insinuating and it was completely off-base.

"So, flirting?" Octavia replied in a tone as though what she suggested was completely obvious.

"I'm hanging up now," Clarke replied tersely. There was no way Bellamy was flirting with her and it was equally impossible that she was flirting with him. He was Bellamy, Octavia's older brother, who she could not stand and who couldn't stand her, there was nothing other than the possibility of a blooming friendship.

Octavia wouldn't let up. "Sure, hang up on me, so you can talk to my brother. I see who your favorite Blake is now."

"Seriously. Hanging up. Good-bye, Octavia."

"Bye, Clarke. Enjoy texting Bell!"

"I hate you."

"You love me. See you tonight!" Octavia said and hung up.

Clarke returned to her text conversation, choosing to ignore her friend's insinuation there was something more to it.

Nevermind. O just called and explained
5:12 pm

I see how it is. You don't believe me until
my sister backs up my story.
5:13 pm

Exactly
5:13 pm

So, what time are you going to be here?
5:13 pm

O said no later than 7:00, 6:30 preferable.
5:14 pm

So, basically I only have time for a shower
and a quick dinner
5:14 pm

Great
5:14 pm

See you at 6:30. Enjoy your shower.
5:15 pm

Remember to put on the right underwear.
5:15 pm

Maybe I just won't put on any underwear,
and then there's nothing for you to gripe about
5:15 pm

As soon as she hit send on that message, Clarke realized what she had said and turned bright red. Informing a guy you weren't going to wear underwear was definitely not in the "possible blooming friendship" zone. In fact, it went right past light flirting and crept into "I want to/do have a sexual relationship with you" zone. Clarke immediately put down her phone, intending not to look at Bellamy's response. Her curiosity got the better of her.

Oh really now? ;)
5:15 pm

Clarke had put on her Starry Night pajama pants and matching tank, paired with a giant Ark Corporations sweatshirt that had belonged to her dad and a fuzzy pair of socks. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun. She was sitting on the couch eating the last of her frozen pizza dinner when Bellamy let himself in.

Clarke turned over her shoulder, "Do you even know how to knock?"

"The door was open, and even if it wasn't I have a key," Bellamy returned.

"Still doesn't mean you should just walk into someone's apartment."

"But then, I'd miss the Taylor Swift concert," Bellamy said with a wink.

Clarke glared at him, but made no direct response, instead changing the subject, "O said they're running a little late, but we should pick a movie for when they get here."

"Alright, there's this really awesome history documentary I saw on Netflix—"

"No. Veto. Not in the mood for documentaries. I need something exciting that will keep me awake."

"Okay…Braveheart?" Bellamy suggested.

"Too long and drawn out; I'd fall asleep."

"The Count of Monte Cristo?"

"Too long."

"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II?"

"You can't just jump in the end!" Clarke exclaimed, sitting upright.

"But you've seen all the other movies and read the books. It's not like you don't know what happened."

"Sure. But how do we know that Lincoln has?" Clarke countered.

"Who hasn't?"

"I don't know, weird people. Plus The Prisoner of Azkaban is the best one anyway."

"No way! Half-Blood Prince!"

"Then why did you suggest Deathly Hallows?"

"Because I watched Part I the other day."

"So, really you're just usurping movie night for your own endgame?" Clarke questioned, curious to see how far this argument could go before Bellamy put a stop to it.

"No!" he exclaimed. "Okay, yes. But everyone could get enjoyment out of it."

"Not if they don't know the rest of the plot."

"We've already established only weird people haven't seen the movies," Bellamy said with an aggravated tone.

"I've only known Lincoln for a month; I don't know his life."

"So you don't even really know him, yet you say you like him well enough to go out with my sister?"

"What?" Clarke exclaimed, confused as to the shift in topic, "How did we get here?"

"You're the one who brought up Lincoln." Bellamy retorted.

"Yeah, in reference to Harry Potter. He's a great guy. Knowledge of good ole H.P. is not going to make or break his and Octavia's relationship."

"Yeah, well—"

"Just pick a movie! And nothing history heavy!"

Bellamy started a response before he instead said, "Wait a second, you're arguing with me just to argue aren't you?" Bellamy said, finally catching on to Clarke's game.

She couldn't help the smile creeping onto her face, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Bellamy shook his head, a smile alighting his face as well. "I say we watch Prisoner of Azkaban and then Half Blood Prince and figure out which really is the better movie."

"You're on! But you're not going to change my mind. Prisoner of Azkaban has the introduction of Sirius and Remus, clearly I've got the advantage." Clarke said triumphantly.

"The Half-Blood Prince is Snape, and he has the best backstory in the history of backstories. And you're arguing with me again."

"Well then just put in the movie," Clarke said with a smile.

"Maybe I will!"

After putting in the movie, Bellamy settled onto the opposite end of the couch as Clarke, resting his feet upon the coffee table. When Aunt Marge started blowing up like a balloon, Clarke reached out her foot and kicked him repeatedly, "See, see? This movie already has one of the best before Hogwarts sequences! She's full of hot air! Oh, the puns!"

Bellamy grabbed her foot and held onto it, keeping it in his lap. "Puns are great, but plot is better and then there's sub-plot. Half-Blood Prince has that in spades."

"Two words: time travel." Clarke said, trying to get her foot back. When he refused to release it, she tried to kick his grasp with her other foot, which resulted only in getting that foot captured as well. "Give me back my feet," she pouted.

"No," was all Bellamy said and he turned back to the movie.

Clarke pouted for a bit as Bellamy kept his hold. But, even after he released his grip she kept them in his lap as they watched the movie in companionable silence.

The next thing she knew, she felt a strong arm go under her knees and another wrap around her back, and start to lift her off the couch. "What's going on?" she mumbled.

"You fell asleep, Princess. We barely made it past the Hogwarts Express before you passed out. I was going to put you in your bed."

"No," Clarke protested, starting to squirm, "I promised Octavia I would keep the peace. I'll stay awake this time."

Bellamy relented and placed her back to her spot on the couch. "If you say so," he said.

Five minutes later Clarke crawled across the couch, reaching over Bellamy to grab a blanket that was draped on the armchair next to the couch. "What are you doing?" Bellamy asked startled, looking down at the girl stretched across his lap.

"Blanket," Clarke explained and she settled back on her heels next to Bellamy.

"Because that will keep you awake," Bellamy commented sarcastically.

"Hmph," Clarke huffed, "I was going to share, but now…"

"No, I want some blanket," Bellamy said quickly. "Blankets make movies better."

"That's what I thought," Clarke said with a smile as she curled up next to Bellamy, covering them both with the blanket.

Octavia let herself into her apartment, holding hands with Lincoln, she led him towards the living room. She was about to yell, "We're back, bitches!" but then she saw a sight that if someone had described it to her a month ago she would have called them a liar: Clarke was curled up on the couch, her head resting on Bellamy's shoulder; Bellamy, in turn, had an arm around her shoulders and his head rested gently on hers. They were both fast asleep. On the TV, Harry and Hermione were in the hospital wing just about to use the time turner.

A week later, Clarke and Octavia were sitting around Raven's living room, dozens of bridal and wedding magazines on the table and floor surrounding them.

"Octavia, I have no idea why you brought so many magazines! I told you I want a small, simple wedding," Raven said as she flipped through a thick catalog of wedding dresses.

"Big or small, you want to see all the options out there," Octavia explained with a knowledgeable tone.

Clarke looked at her friend who has staring at the stacks of magazines, "Worst case scenario," she said, "you find out exactly what you don't want."

Raven gazed at the dozens of magazines again before stating, "I'm over this, let's talk about a new relationship…Octavia! How's Lincoln?"

"He's great. Really great," she said with a grin from ear to ear. "I've never had a relationship like this one before; I can actually see this going somewhere."

Clarke chuckled, "Yeah, because Lincoln has more than just two brain cells working. The same couldn't be said about some of the other guys you've dated."

"Yeah," Raven agreed, "the guys you tend to date have more blood rushing south than north, if you get my drift."

"You guys are so mean!" Octavia protested.

"Sure, but it doesn't mean we're not right," Raven replied.

"I—uh…"

"See," Clarke added with a laugh, "you can't even defend them."

"Moving on to my successful relationship," Octavia said dramatically, "want to see some pictures from the hike we did last Saturday?"

"Sure," Raven said.

"Of course," Clarke adjoined.

Octavia opened her phone and started flipping through her photos. Clarke and Raven ooo'd and ahh'd at them while Octavia described the day with excitement. She flipped past the last photo and one of Clarke and Bellamy curled up on the couch last Friday opened.

"When I said I wanted to talk about new relationships, I meant the newest! Clarke, why didn't you bring this up! Or you, Octavia!" Raven shouted, both offended and excited.

"It's not a thing! When did you take this, O?!" Clarke shouted in surprise at the photo. However, as soon as she asked it, she knew the answer to the question. She remembered last Friday night. She had woken up sleepily and realized she was curled up, snuggling with someone on the couch. Her first instinct had been to snuggle closer to the warm body and comforting scent, then her brain kicked in that it was Bellamy with whom she was cuddling. She had paused briefly before following her instinct of nuzzling closer; she had been rewarded with a happy sigh and a tightening of an arm around her. She blushed at the memory and hoped they didn't notice.

"By the blush on your face, I would say you remember exactly when this was taken," Octavia said with a smile.

"Seriously! Since when was this a thing?" Raven demanded.

"It's not a thing!" Clarke repeated. "I mean, I slept with Roan like two weeks ago!"

"Three," Octavia corrected. "And a lot can happen in three weeks."

"Plus, we all know you just did that to get back at Bellamy for that Gina chick," Raven added.

"No. I—what? No!" Clarke stuttered. She huffed, crossing her arms and shaking her head at her friends.

"Admit it, Clarke. You like him," Raven said, nudging her arm.

"No, I don't."

"Yeah," Octavia said sarcastically, "That's why you guys have been all buddy-buddy and flirting with your Latin and pranks and getting him presents."

"One: I was doing him a favor with the Latin; two: he needed to pay for stealing my coffee; and three: the book was like two dollars!"

"Yeah, and when was the last time you got me a two dollar present for no reason?" Octavia questioned.

Clarke deadpanned, "I buy you like a five dollar coffee pretty much every week."

"Not the same thing."

"It's not like it's one-sided either," Raven mused. "He practically attacked that guy at the Drop Ship."

It was Octavia's turn to be shocked. "What?!" she shouted.

"Yeah, it was that same night Clarke slept with Roan. Right after you and Lincoln left. Clarke was dancing with a guy—before Roan—and Bellamy freaked the fuck out, screaming at the guy to get his hands off her."

"Oh. My. God." Octavia said, stunned. "And here I was just going to say something about how he's always being a flirt and texting her."

"Wait, how often are they texting?" Raven asked, excitedly intrigued.

"I swear every time I'm with one or the other, they texting. Like I bet if we checked Clarke's phone, she'll have texted him within the last 24 hours."

"Guys, I'm sitting right here," Clarke said, exasperatedly.

"Shush, I'm forming an idea." Raven said waving her off. "Do the rest of the group know about this?"

"They'd be blind not to," Octavia answered. "Jasper and Monty work with them for god's sake. And Lincoln was there when I found them on the couch."

Raven shuffled the magazines on the table and found a pad of paper and pencil and started writing on it. "Alright, Octavia, what day are you taking?"

"Huh?" Octavia asked, confused.

"I'm going to start a bet in our group for the day Clarke and Bellamy hook up, 'cause we all know that's happening. Let's say five dollar buy in?"

"Literally, sitting right here," Clarke annunciated.

"I would let you in, but you have a little too much control over the end result, so…" Raven told her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Clarke stood up, turning to her friends. She couldn't believe they thought her and Bellamy were a…a…she couldn't even bring herself to define what they were saying. He was Bellamy, Octavia's annoying asshole of a brother. Okay, he actually wasn't that bad, but that didn't mean she wanted to hook up with him or date him. Okay, maybe the thought had crossed her mind once…or twice…a day. No. Not okay. "You know what. I'm getting in on this bet and you know what date I'm picking? Never! We're not going to hook up, we're not going to start dating. It's not going to happen."

"Wait, I never said anything about dating!" Raven said excitedly.

"You want to date him?" Octavia asked in the same tone. "Oh my god! I ship it! The more I think about it, the more I see how you two are perfect for each other!"

"That's it. I'm out. I'll leave you to your delusions," Clarke headed for the door. When she was in the elevator she got out her phone without thinking and composed a text to Bellamy.

You want to hear something outrageous?
Raven is starting a bet on when we're
going to hook up
2:49 pm

As soon as she hit send, she realized she was doing exactly what Octavia had accused of her. She shoved her phone in her purse and refused to look at it when it buzzed, notifying her of his response.