They were sat at their usual table in the canteen; Finn and Raven kissing much too passionately for public, Miller and Lincoln engaged in an enigmatic conversation about something or other with a girl hanging on Miller's arm, her eyes wide as she gawped up at him. Bellamy sat on his side of the table picking at the orange in his hands ignoring the conversations going on around him, instead watching the door at the opposite side of the room.
He watched and waited as the lunch hour ticked away minute by minute, watching and waiting to see when the golden-haired girl with the captivating eyes and fierce temper would enter the room. There was an odd feeling in his stomach, twisting and squirming and altogether unpleasant. Bellamy realised with horror that he was nervous. Nervous. It was ridiculous, why should a girl make him nervous? Let alone this girl, Clarke. Even thinking her name sent a shiver through him. He cursed himself; it was getting out of hand.
Truth be told, he was more than nervous, he was scared. Scared of what she would think of him, scared of what his reckless actions in the library yesterday might have sparked in her. In the small optimistic part of his brain, she would saunter up to him and thank him; the princess's shining knight had come to save her. But that was a fantasy. The realistic parts of him envisioned her glare from across the room, distrust and dislike in those incredible eyes. Perhaps his actions would only send her scurrying back to Wells, defending the weak as seemed to be her way. No, he didn't believe that, not really. After all the suffering Wells had caused her, she wouldn't go back to him easily.
Bellamy tried to reassure himself but everything felt wrong. Even the sweet orange tasted sour on his tongue. He hadn't given Octavia a lift that morning, nor had he spoken to her the night before, he couldn't bear to see her, because if she looked at him she would know. She would know he was angry, upset, and then he would have to tell her what he had done. He would have to tell her because he never could deny his sister something she wanted, even as children she had him wrapped around her finger like the ribbon she always wore wrapped around her hair. And if Octavia had known what he had done to Wells, it would be a matter of minutes before Clarke knew too.
It was Wells who walked in first, his head was down as he shuffled through the room but there was a purple splodge clearly visible on his dark skin where Bellamy had hit him. It gave Bellamy a sick sort of pleasure to see the fear he evoked in the boy, it was such a cruel thought that he almost hated himself for it. Almost, but not quite, he had done it for Clarke, and then meant something, right?
It wasn't long until the princess herself followed him in. Bellamy had his eyes fixed on her, but he didn't expect her to notice, he thought she would walk in and sit at her table with Octavia, Jasper and Monty, like always. But she didn't. When she entered the room her eyes were locked on Bellamy's and her cheeks were flushed with rage.
What surprised him even more was that she was coming straight towards him. He tried to ignore the loud thrumming of his heart and put on the cool, easy expression he was known for.
"Alright Princess? You look a little flustered," He shot her his winning half smile as she got closer but it didn't seem to have the desired effect for she stared down at him with a frown and gritted teeth.
"Bellamy," She spat, "Can I speak to you for a moment?" She practically growled at him and though Bellamy's stomach was doing somersaults, his face remained loyal and betrayed no signs of his unease. Behind him Finn had disentangled himself from Raven for long enough to see what was going on. He scoffed at the sight and at Clarke's angry tone.
"Sure Princess," Bellamy teased, "Climb into my lap here and we'll have a nice little chat," He was pushing it, he knew, but the opportunity was too great, the look on Clarke's face was priceless. Besides, if he let his guard down, who knew what this girl could do to him.
"Alone, Bellamy!" She snarled and Finn guffawed.
"I think you're in the dog house with this one, Bells, best do as she says," Bellamy waved at him with his hand but he stood anyway. He thought he saw Clarke's lips part in surprise as he did so but she mashed them together quickly enough. She gripped his wrist to make sure he would follow before she span on her heels and marched him toward the door.
"Oh, I love it when you're rough Princess," He said dryly as her nails dug into his skin, a foolish grin making its way to his lips.
When they were outside in the hall, Clarke rounded on him her face red and heated. Bellamy couldn't help but notice as he leant against the wall that they were stood in the same bit of hall as they had the other day, their bit of hall, as he had come to think of it.
"What did you do to Wells?" She said finally, her words filling the air between them.
"You were the one who started it all, Princess, or do you not recall beating him up in the middle of the canteen?" He pushed his back against the wall as if he were the most comfortable he had ever been when in fact his nerves were on fire, buzzing in the place where she had touched him, if only for a second.
"He wasn't yours to attack!" She retorted, her voice breaking with her frustration as she tried to reach his height. It was futile; she was tiny compared to Bellamy.
"That's stupid, Princess, you can't defend beating someone up because they were yours and then complain when someone else touches them, a beating is a beating no matter who dealt it out," Clarke bit her lip then and Bellamy found himself itching to have her lips between his teeth instead. He stepped forward, forcing her backwards across the narrow hall until her back collided with the opposite wall and the breath sped past her lips in surprise.
He continued closer, his mind whirring with exhilaration and pressed her against the wall, placing his hands on her waist to hold her there.
"Bellamy," She breathed, her anger seeming to disappear under his touch. Her waist was so tiny that his hands almost touched when they were set there. She was warm beneath his fingers and Bellamy felt as if an electric current was running through them. It was madness, he knew, but he couldn't stop, didn't want to.
His face was inches from hers and she looked almost helpless, her mouth open and her eyes wide under his gaze.
"What I did, I did because I care about you, Clarke," His voice was deep and stern and he hoped that the truth rang clearly through it so that she would understand his sincerity. He was only just beginning to understand himself.
"You care about me?" When she spoke again, her voice was timid and so different from the snarl it had been before.
"I guess I do, Princess," Bellamy smirked, enjoyed the way she rolled her eyes and tutted, revelling in the way her cheekbones turned pink and she couldn't keep her eyes on his. "Clarke?" He asked worriedly when she continued to look down, hooking his thumb under her chin and tilting it up so she would look at him.
When she did he almost lost his breath, for the full force of her eyes was unleashed upon him. They were like the sea with their flecks of grey and tumultuous moods that were conveyed through them and they were like the sky when they darkened grey or shone bright blue when she was happy. They were sky and sea together, they were deep and feeling and mysterious. They were Clarke. And they were staring into his eyes so intensely that he thought he might be swallowed whole by those huge blue irises.
"Bellamy," She murmured, still gazing at him, "Your eyes are beautiful," She nibbled on her full lower lip and Bellamy could've moaned and attacked her with his mouth right then. She thought his eyes were beautiful.
"Princess," He leant down so that their foreheads were touching, their mouths millimetres apart. Kiss me, he thought desperately, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. He had never wanted a kiss so bad before in his life. His other relationships, if you could call them that, were primarily physical, sexual and unfeeling. But right then, all he wanted was the most innocent of kisses, just a fleeting touch, anything. He just needed her, to feel her, to have her want him.
But she made a whimpering sound and pushed him away, murmuring something as she removed herself from his grip.
"I – sorry," She said hastily as his hands slipped easily from her waist. She didn't look back as she all but ran away, leaving Bellamy once more alone in their bit of hall with his hands by his side, still warm where she had been pressed against them.
A/N A bit of a shorter chapter this time because there is only Bellamy's POV. Hope you enjoyed, please review! - J x