"Hey, sweetie, how was school?" Lexa froze, realizing that her mom had caught her before she could make it upstairs. She had forgotten that her mom's summer classes had just ended, and that she wouldn't be teaching anymore until the following Monday. "And when did you dye your hair like that?"

Lexa coughed awkwardly. "Um. Last week."

"Have you been hiding from me all this time?" her mom asked, crossing her arms over her chest as Lexa sighed and shrugged off her bag, dropping it next to the stairs and leaning against the railing. "So that I wouldn't see?"

"Maybe?"

"Lexa. You need to go get that redone. If you want to go out more, fine, I'll deal with it. You're almost eighteen, anyway. But you look like a delinquent with that purple hair," her mom insisted. "Did you even get it done in the town center?"

"No," Lexa muttered. "But I don't look like a delinquent. Most people have told me it looks pretty cool."

"Is that what this is about?" her mother demanded. "You're trying to be 'cool'? Cool is subjective, you know? I think it's pretty cool to do well in school and go to college."

Lexa let out a loud groan. How come everyone thought that her trying new things and not always talking about school meant that she was suddenly a high school dropout or something? "I'm not doing bad in school – it's only two days back into it, anyway. I've already been promised a scholarship to Polis, and all I have to do is apply, and there's not really a question as to whether or not I'm going to get in. I don't need to worry about school so much, mom. I can do other things."

"Well, as long as you're living here, one of the things you can't do is dye your hair colors like that. We're going to the salon right now to get it undone."

Lexa glanced up at the ceiling, taking in a deep breath. "I can go by myself," she muttered. "Just give me cash."

Her mom gave her an iffy look, before sighing in resignation and turning around, looking for her purse. Lexa waited by the stairs, since it was also by the door, and waited for her mother to bring her a few twenties. "I want whatever is left of it and the receipt back please."

"Sure," Lexa agreed. "See ya."

She climbed into her car a moment later, having pocketed the money, and pulled out of her driveway to head to the salon that was more in the middle of town. As she did, her phone started ringing with a call from Anya, and though she was reluctant to answer it, she did. "Hey, you coming over?"

"Maybe later," Lexa answered. "Mom saw my hair – I'm headed to the salon."

"She only just now saw it? Wait, you've literally managed to avoid her for six days?" Anya demanded. "That's actually impressive. Nice."

"Thanks," Lexa muttered. "She flipped out about the hair, though, so."

"Watch the salon screw up and give you orange hair or something."

Lexa couldn't help but quirk a small smile. "Thanks for the support, Anya, I really appreciate it."

"Where'd you go after school?"

"The Bean."

"That it?"

"Yep."

Anya was silent for a second. "Okay. Well. Good luck with the hair situation. I'll see you tomorrow morning." The call ended, and Lexa gratefully dropped her phone into her lap. She felt bad, lying to Anya, but at the same time, it felt empowering. She felt like she wasn't constricted, and it was exciting, thrilling.

That feeling melted away, though, when she walked into her usual hair salon to hear her stylist gasp at her hair.

On Friday was Clarke's last summer class. She'd already enrolled in the last semester of work she had, which she would be finishing slightly early due to the hours she'd already gotten. November was going to be her graduation with her associates degree. She'd started college late, after finding herself in a downwards spiral that had to do with her mom leaving her dad. It was complicated, but she was proud of herself for having been able to pull herself back up.

Even if it was only to find that college was really not for her. Art, though, that was. She didn't really want to live in Polis forever, but for now that's what she had to work with. Plus, at least she had her friends here.

The semester started technically on Monday, but Clarke had arranged her last remaining hours in the easiest way she could. She had classes Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, but not even that many due to her cramming in hours during the past two summers. The rest of her week would be filled with working, painting, living. She was happy with the way her life was coming together.

Which is why she wasn't sure why, as she drove off of the university campus and toward The Bean for the evening shift she'd managed to get last minute, she found her thoughts drifting to Lexa. She hadn't seen the younger girl since Tuesday, and she wasn't sure that she ever would.

Lexa was different. Clarke didn't quite understand her. She wondered sometimes if she'd be more like Lexa had she never moved out here, had her parents stayed together and continued to support her emotionally, and not just with a promise of a paid college. She couldn't really grasp why Lexa would want to be something other than a teenager during her last year of high school. Sometimes, Clarke wished that she could have a huge do over of that part of her life. But Lexa wanted it to be over – that much was clear. Whether she wanted to believe it or not, Clarke was bent on the fact that the brunette was going through the typical teenage rebellion thing.

She was just that, a teenager. So why couldn't Clarke stop her from popping up in her head every now and then? None of her friends had brought the girl up since the incident on Tuesday, when Finn had basically blamed her of sleeping with a seventeen year old. Even if he hadn't entirely believed it, he'd seen, apparently, the way that Clarke looked at her. Clarke wasn't quite sure what that way was, but she was sure that it wasn't what Finn had thought.

Somehow, Clarke wasn't surprised when an hour into her evening shift at The Bean, a familiar brunette entered the shop. She really was back to brunette, though, the purple streaks in her hair were gone. Clarke couldn't help but feel disappointed, though she wasn't quite sure why that was.

Green eyes met hers, and Clarke resisted the urge to start making Lexa's boring coffee before she got to the counter. "Black coffee, please," Lexa said, smiling a little at Clarke.

"Your hair is back to normal," Clarke stated, stepping away from the register to make the coffee as the younger girl fumbled with her wallet.

"Yeah. My mom got pissed at me."

Clarke tried not to laugh. "Too bad. I was starting to think that purple might actually fit you."

"I don't know," Lexa admitted thoughtfully. "I think pink may have looked better."

"Ooh, do I need to call your mom and let her know that her rebellious teen is about to strike again?" Clarke teased, grinning as Lexa's eyes narrowed. "Don't do pink. I did pink when I was eighteen. Too predictable."

"You dyed your hair?"

"You're surprised?" Clarke asked back, putting a lid on Lexa's coffee and exchanging it for the bill and change in her hand.

"I guess not," Lexa answered, taking a sip of her coffee. "Well, I better let you get to work... I kind of have some homework to get done anyway." She glanced down at the book bag that was hung over her shoulder.

"Have fun with that." Clarke offered the brunette a smile, and she could've sworn that Lexa blushed a little as she tucked some hair behind her ear and turned around. Clarke tore her eyes away from the teenager as soon as she realized that she was about to be staring, and her gaze fell on the receipt that she had forgotten to give Lexa. She glanced back over at the brunette, watching her set up her little study area. She had a feeling that she knew what kind of student Lexa would be like in college – she'd hole herself up in the library for hours like that, to study. Or maybe she would always prefer coffee shops, since the university library was open to the town as well.

Clarke glanced back at the receipt, and grabbed a pen from the little cup by the register. She neatly wrote out ten numbers across the bottom, blank strip of the paper, topped by her name written out. Then, folding it so that it was obvious, she tucked it into her pocket. She wouldn't deliver it just yet.

Lexa didn't get up to leave at all that evening, and it was coming up to closing time when Clarke saw the brunette look up and realize that she was the last person in the coffee shop, aside from Clarke, who was quietly getting ready to close up. When she heard Lexa begin to shove her things into her bag, she quickly finished what she was doing, made sure the cash register was locked, and then grabbed her things. She managed to catch Lexa just outside the building. "Hey, wait up."

Lexa froze, turning around and watching as Clarke quickly locked up The Bean. "What's up?"

"You forgot your receipt," Clarke answered, digging into her pocket and then extending it to the brunette. Lexa took it slowly, a look of concern written across her face. "It's a pretty important one. See you around."

She turned and headed to her car before she could watch those green eyes search the receipt for what was so important about it.

Lexa turned the little paper over in her hands again, looking at it as she sat in her bed later that night. She should've been asleep, especially considering how long she'd spent studying. Her brain was worn out, but it was working now at a mile a minute. Clarke had still been in her line of sight when she'd realized that a phone number was written on it. Clarke's.

But it didn't make any sense.

Clarke was in college, Lexa still had a year left of high school.

Clarke had been the one getting onto her for trying to get with Finn, and though Lexa was now very glad that she hadn't, it was for a different reason. Clarke had been so persistent about the age issue – she'd made a big deal about it more than once. And yet, she'd just handed Lexa her number, an invitation to establish endless communication.

Lexa, of course, wanted to save the number into her phone and text it right away. She would be crazy not to, she knew, because Clarke was incredible. Every piece of Lexa was telling her to do something else.

Part of her was telling her to text Clarke now. Another piece was saying to wait a little longer. Then a few pieces of her were shouting that it was a bad idea – she'd get Clarke into trouble, somehow, or she herself would realize that maybe she'd been in over her head to try and be around Clarke. To be someone that she had never been before.

There was one part of her telling her to abandon it all. Everything from the past summer. Abandon the idea that she could be more than what she'd always been. Abandon the thought that she could be break out of a stereotype. Abandon the acceptance that she liked girls, that she liked Clarke.

That part of her made her want to vomit, and she nearly fled to her bathroom as she let those thoughts plague her mind for a moment.

When she cleared them, her hands began working against her will, grabbing her phone off of her nightstand and opening up a new contact field. She wasn't sure of Clarke's last name, but she supposed that it would be better to just have her first name saved anyway. Her fingers shook a little bit, in either fear or thrill or perhaps both, as she typed the number into the correct box.

It saved into her phone, and took in a deep breath, moving to her text message app.

To Clarke – Hey.

The response was fast, maybe too fast.

From Clarke – Hey yourself, cutie.

Lexa blushed, despite herself.

To Clarke – This is a bad idea...?

She had to put it out there, or else she would kick herself later, she could almost feel it. But she wasn't sure what Clarke would say about it, if she would even acknowledge it. Lexa had to know what the blonde was going to say about it, she had to know what to expect from her.

She couldn't figure Clarke out, and she needed to.

Lexa assumed that she'd caught the blonde off guard, because the typing bubble was there for nearly a minute before the short reply came through.

From Clarke – What is?

Lexa furrowed her eyebrows. Was Clarke legitimately playing dumb? Lexa suddenly wondered if she would even be able to figure Clarke out at any point in time.

To Clarke – Having each other's numbers.

From Clarke – There's no crime in that, silly. And sorry I can't fulfill your rebellious needs, but I'm not into performing crimes or felonies of any kind. ;)

To Clarke – You're ridiculous.

From Clarke – Well, ridiculous me has had a few drinks. Speaking of, Finn is definitely about to get himself arrested. Gotta go be the "un-fun" responsible one.

To Clarke – Good luck with that.

There was no response after that, and Lexa let out a soft sigh. She really wasn't sure what was going on there. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it wasn't worth all of the worry. At least, the large part of her that couldn't ever take her eyes off of Clarke was helping her to feel that way.

Plus, wasn't Clarke a sort of representation of the life that Lexa wished she had?

Shaking her head, the brunette set her phone on her nightstand, blocking out her thoughts and wrapping herself up in her blankets snugly.

She had no idea what she was doing.