Clarke woke up on Saturday feeling not so great. It took her less than a handful of seconds to realize that she had consumed possibly a bit too much alcohol the night before. She was just glad that she remembered that Octavia and Bellamy had paid for it, because she definitely didn't need to be blowing her cash on alcohol.

Groaning, she let her memories come flooding back to her as she breathed in slowly. She recalled her friends being assholes, as per usual, but she also remembered that Lexa had texted her sometime before midnight. Her eyes widening, she nearly forgot about the pain in her head as she began searching her body and bed for her phone.

When she grabbed it, she immediately opened up her text messages and saw that she'd saved Lexa's contact as "Lexxa". Rolling her eyes at herself, she quickly fixed it and then opened the conversation. It was pretty tame, which she thanked her drunk self for. She did remember texting most of it anyway, it was just a slightly slurred memory. She'd also made no typos, which was probably only thanks to the fact that she had the keyboard on her phone memorized.

She found herself debating whether or not she should text Lexa again, if only to apologize for her disregarding Lexa's concern. To be honest, Clarke had thought about it herself, whether or not it was okay for the two of them to be texting.

Personally, Clarke was still rather unsure of why she was intrigued by the brunette anyway. Maybe it was her eyes – they were quite ensnaring. She wondered briefly if that was what had distracted Finn enough to not even consider that she might be underage. Though, Clarke hadn't thought that she was under eighteen when she'd seen her for the first time either.

She found herself texting out a message despite herself.

To Lexa – Hey, I have to apologize for texting you back last night while I was drunk. My bad.

Taking a breath, Clarke pushed herself off of her bed and became aware, once again, of her pounding head. She groaned as she forced herself up anyway and pushed out of her bedroom and to her kitchen. She dug around one of the drawers until she found some painkillers, and she quickly took them down. After downing a glass of water and then going to the bathroom, she was already feeling better.

Back in her room, she saw her phone lit up with a new text message.

From Lexa – It's okay, I hope you managed to rescue Finn from getting arrested. :P

To Lexa – I hope I did, I really can't remember what exactly he was doing anyway. Oops.

Suddenly, Clarke's phone began ringing with a call from Bellamy. Frowning and sitting back down on her comfy bed, she answered. "Hey, Bell, what's up?"

"Oh good, you're awake," her friend answered. "Wanted to make sure, because I lugged you home last night and you weren't in the best state. I haven't seen you drink like that in a while. Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't everything be okay?" Clarke asked, knitting her eyebrows together as she tried to figure out if Bellamy was trying to hint at something.

He coughed awkwardly. "Well, last night when I asked you why you were drinking, just before I dropped you off at your place, you muttered something about being stupid and giving some girl your number."

A groan escaped Clarke's lips before she could consider that she was about to have to talk to Bellamy about this Lexa situation. She didn't think that anyone had told him about her and Finn fighting about the nature of her relationship with Lexa that past Tuesday, which meant that he was probably clueless regarding all of it. "Oh. That."

"What's that?"

"Yeah, I um. I've been talking to this girl named Lexa. She's the girl that Finn had over on the Saturday that we set up my room in the warehouse."

"Oh, wait really? That seems kind of weird. Is she in one of your classes or something?" Bellamy questioned, rightfully confused.

Clarke sighed. "No. She's... ah, she's in high school. She's seventeen. Which I found out after Finn almost slept with her, and I told him, and she apologized and whatnot."

"So... why keep talking to her exactly?" Bellamy questioned. Clarke slid under her blankets, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"I don't know. She's... not awful."

"Okay... but she's four years younger than us."

"She's gotta be eighteen soon," Clarke justified, though for what reason she wasn't sure, "she just started her senior year of high school, so."

"Clarke... please don't tell me that there's something else there besides just talking to this girl," Bellamy pleaded.

"Why does everyone think that?" Clarke demanded, furrowing her eyebrows in frustration. "I'm not an idiot. Talking to someone who's a few years younger than me doesn't equate to wanting to sleep with them. I don't need you and Finn making snap judgments about me or any of this. She helped me set up my art room last weekend, and that's it. She offered, after I saw her at The Bean before I headed over there."

"Calm down," Bellamy insisted. "If you say that nothing's going on, I believe you. It's just... curious, I guess, that you'd be interested in being friends with her, or more than acquaintances, or whatever. You're usually closed off from anyone besides us. You know, because of your parents and everything..."

"Yeah, I do know," Clarke snapped, before letting her eyes flicker closed and taking a deep breath. "Sorry, I shouldn't snap at you Bellamy. You're really the only one who lets me just talk about things these days, I shouldn't be so frustrated with you."

He laughed. "I'm used to it, Clarke. That's just you."

"I wish it wasn't."

"We love you, Clarke, all of us. No matter what. You know that, right? We don't care about the shit that happened with your parents, or what degree you decide to get in college, or what you want to do with the rest of your life. You're like our ringleader, and we're always going to be here for you," Bellamy promised her.

Clarke snorted, though a smile appeared on her face as well. "Some ringleader I am. Thanks, Bell. You gonna be up at the warehouse today?"

"Heading over there now. I thought up an idea of something that might interesting to write. Which is unfortunate, considering that I've been too lazy to set up my desk and computer in the back of my space. I guess that's what I get for wanting the lounge done first," Bellamy said, laughing.

Clarke smiled. "I'll help you set it up before I start my day's worth of painting. Maybe then later you can help me list some of my stuff on etsy or something."

"Sure thing, see you soon."

The call ended, and Clarke didn't even think to check her text messages before hopping up and going to get ready to leave her apartment.

In fact, the thought didn't cross her mind until she was parked in front of the warehouse, grabbing her phone before heading inside. She looked at the device curiously, unlocking it to check if Lexa had texted her back.

From Lexa – I guess drinking too much will do that to you. Maybe you should pace yourself next time.

Smiling, though she wouldn't admit it later, Clarke began to type out a response.

To Lexa – Oh yes, and I'll be sure to take the advice of a teenager about my drinking. ;)

Perhaps the winking face was much, but she knew that Lexa would get annoyed at any mention of her age. It was interesting, Clarke could admit, but every time she told herself she would figure out what was up with the girl, she gave up moments later.

She pocketed her phone and got out of her car, wanting to make good on her promise to help Bellamy with his desk.

Later in the afternoon, hours after Clarke and Bellamy had finished his desk and computer setup, and a couple hours after Monty had shown up with lunch for the three of them who were there, Clarke found herself standing in front of her easel. Paintbrush in hand, she wasn't quite sure what it was that she was creating. She was sort of sticking true to her recent abstract theme, but it was less abstract than her previous ones. Almost like realistic things stuck in an abstract vortex – like they were trying to escape.

She'd had music playing about an hour earlier, but her play list must've ended, because her room was silent. She heard sounds coming from Monty's room, which wasn't far from her own, but it sounded like the typical thing you'd hear from Monty. A bunch of tracks played sporadically while he mixed them and made them into something even cooler. Despite how strange it always sounded in the process, Clarke loved listening to his finished products, as did his pretty large Bandcamp following.

The money he'd started making from the website was actually what had Clarke interested in trying to make some money off of her art. She'd been creating a huge portfolio over the past five or so years, and she figured it was about time that she try to get her skill to actually help her further her financial situation.

She figured that once she finished school, she would end up with a lot more available time to do so. Until then, she was stuck on her school, work, and then do art schedule.

After carefully dragging her paintbrush across the canvas, she stepped back a little to scan over the piece, pushing back a stray piece of hair that had fallen into her face out of her loose bun. She was about to go back at it, but her phone suddenly beeped noisily from the table behind her. Letting out a frustrated breath, Clarke set down the paintbrush and stepped away from the easel.

She saw a notification for a text from Lexa, and she bit the inside of her lower lip as she opened it.

From Lexa – You don't happen to have some art room organizing task that an incredibly bored me could help with, do you?

Before Clarke could even think to respond, another text came through.

From Lexa – No payment is required – in fact, I'll bring coffee!

Clarke heard a quiet laugh escape her lips before she realized it, and she caught herself and bit down on her lower lip to withhold the sound.

Part of her – probably the part of her that most of her friends would agree with – told her to tell Lexa that she actually didn't need help, or to lie and say that she wasn't even at the warehouse, or even just to ignore the text. But a slightly bigger part of her, the one that would always force the younger brunette into her mind, told her to figure out something for the brunette to do, some excuse, to get her to come to the warehouse.

To Lexa – Well, my art room is absolutely pristine at the moment, aside from the mess I'm probably making painting. But I will always accept free coffee, and company is not hated either. ;)

From Lexa – Oh good, because in my spare moment of confidence, I bought two coffees...

Clarke felt a smile grow on her face again, and she set her phone back down on the table. She restarted her music play list, turning the volume down a little bit, and went back to painting while she waited for her coffee to show up. And Lexa.

It was only a few minutes later that she heard the tapping of shoes coming down the hallway, and Clarke set her paintbrush down and looked backwards over her shoulder just as Lexa reached her doorway, slowing tentatively. "Hi," the brunette said, smiling. She took another step into the room and set the second coffee in her hand on the table by Clarke's phone. "I didn't know how you take your coffee, but since you refer to mine as boring, I just had them throw a bunch of sugar and cream into it and figured it'll be fine that way."

Clarke smiled as well. "Thanks!" She stepped over to the table and grabbed the coffee, taking a long drink from it. "So what, your life is so boring that all you have left to do is come hang out with me?" She set the cup down again and moved back over to her easel.

"Ha. My life is the most boring, repetitive thing ever."

"Mm, I'm sure."

Lexa huffed. "Really, it is. I hate high school."

"Everyone hates high school," Clarke insisted, shaking her head as she continued to paint.

"I just want to start college."

Clarke chuckled. "I think you'd like college. I don't, though. I'm glad mine's almost over."

"Oh, ah, how old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-one. I'm getting my associates degree in November. Before you ask – I basically started college late and then crammed it all as much as possible. I did almost a year's worth in two summers, and I'm just finishing my last semester during this next semester. It's kind of complicated," Clarke explained, shrugging. "I just want it to be over."

"What's your degree in?"

"Visual arts," Clarke answered. "As my father would say – it's the 'wasted degree'."

"Your parents don't support you?"

"My dad's relaxed a little about it. But he thinks that if I'd started college on time, I would've realized that what I've decided to do is 'absolutely ridiculous'. As far as my mom goes, well. She really doesn't care, as long as the price is within the bounds of her ever expanding bank account. Considering, anyway, that it's the only support I'm ever going to get from her on anything," Clarke muttered, before freezing as she realized that she'd just began rambling about something so personal to Lexa, who was four years younger than her and who she definitely know well enough to be spewing personal information at. "Sorry, didn't mean to ah, bombard you with that. I'm a little bitter."

"You should be, that sucks," Lexa stated, and Clarke smiled a little at the strokes she was painting across her canvas. "My mom supports me a little too much when it comes to school. She'd like me to pour my everything into it and never anything else. I kinda wanted to go into dance when I was younger, but apparently that would've steered me way from the endgame goal."

"Lame. What about your dad?" Clarke figured that it was fair of her to ask, since she'd spilled her parental issues to Lexa.

Lexa made a small noise that sounded like an uncomfortable hum. "I... don't really know. I've never met him."

Clarke froze, glancing over her shoulder at the brunette. "Oh. I'm... sorry?" Lexa's green eyes weren't looking at her, but rather the artwork that covered the room's walls.

"It's fine, it doesn't really bother me. I mean... sometimes I wonder if I'd be different if he'd stuck around when I was born. Apparently, he kinda just disappeared when my mom was giving birth to me. Maybe he knew I would turn out to be boring like my mom." Lexa's look was faraway, and Clarke felt obliged to look back at her painting, as if she was invading Lexa's space just by looking at her.

"What makes you think you're boring?"

"Um, have you met me?"

Clarke laughed lightly. "I'm pretty sure every time you've spoken to me, you've tried to be anything but yourself."

The response sounded indignant. "What do you mean?"

"Mm. I can't figure you out," Clarke admitted, setting her paintbrush down now and turning around to meet curious green eyes. "So you're good at school, right?"

"I... guess?"

"You are. But you don't really care if anyone knows that – I think you'd rather them not know it. You clearly didn't think Finn was at all special, but you almost slept with him. Your best friend probably picked you up that day, and attacked you with questions about why the fuck you were out at some random warehouse, which would definitely explain why you lied to her last Saturday about where you were when she called. You dyed your hair at the end of summer – which is something I feel like people usually do in the beginning of summer, because of the exact reason that you ended up dying it back to normal afterward. I just..." Clarke stopped abruptly, realizing she'd been babbling again. Lexa was looking at her with intent curiosity, maybe a little confusion, and the blonde realized that it was probably now obvious just how much time she'd spent thinking about the younger girl. "I just don't get you."

"I... started doing a lot of things I don't normally do this summer," Lexa admitted. "Like going out at random times of the day, spending stupid amounts of money on things I don't need – like the hair. I stopped talking to my mom a lot, started hanging out with a few of the people at school that no one would ever have pegged me to be friends with. I wanted to feel like there was something else for me than just school. I hate feeling like I'm a kid trying to get to one cookie jar in my house that everyone's been highlighting like it's so fucking important, when realistically I could walk out of my house and go find a bunch of cookies anywhere else."

"Strange metaphor," Clarke commented, her lips quirking up into a smirk, "but I see the point. To be honest, though, no matter how much time you spend trying to not be you, you're still going to end up being you."

"But I don't know who I am," Lexa argued, her eyebrows furrowing as her voice filled with more intensity. "How am I supposed to know who I am if I haven't been given the chance to figure it out, you know?" Clarke was slightly surprised at the sudden frustration oozing from the brunette, but she nodded in response. "I've already learned a number of things about myself this summer that probably would've taken me at least another year to figure out if I'd just spent all summer focusing on getting ready for my stupid senior year."

Clarke hummed thoughtfully. "Like what?"

Lexa froze, as if she hadn't expected Clarke to be curious. Green eyes suddenly dropped and scanned over Clarke's body, and she felt her cheeks heat up, unsure if she was perceiving the sudden tension in the room correctly. "Um." Lexa's gaze suddenly shifted to anywhere else but the blonde. "Just... things."

"Aw come on!" Clarke said, taking a step forward and raising her eyebrows. "Tell me!"

"It's nothing... important."

Clarke scanned the brunette for a moment, attempting again to figure her out. "Halfway through my senior year," she started suddenly, almost surprising herself, "my mom started packing up all of her shit. She went through every room for a solid week, collecting anything that she deemed was more hers than mine or my dad's. Then, she started disappearing a lot during the week, and I tried to pretend like I didn't know what was happening. My dad told me that she was just working more, and they both pretended like I hadn't noticed her packing everything up. Then, about a month later, she up and left. Which is pretty ironic, considering how on board she'd been with the move here, despite all of my complaining when we first got here. My dad tried to tell me that they were still together, just needing to be in different places for a while. Fucking bullshit. They got a divorce right around the same time as my graduation would've been. But I wasn't graduating, because I flunked that year after spending so much damn time worrying about my parents. Not to mention that I already wasn't the brightest when it came to math. Anyway, I had to take summer school that summer, and I got my diploma right before I would've been starting college. Instead, I took a year off. And most people do a lot of productive shit, or traveling at least, with their years off. Mine was spent with me being holed up in my room at my dad's house, painting and drinking – a lot of drinking."

Lexa was staring at her with wide eyes. "Oh."

"Halfway through the year, I found myself at a college party – I guess since most people who were nineteen at that time were indeed enrolled in Polis University. That's where I met Finn, and I slept with him on the first night that I met him. I slept with him about four other times after that, and by the time that I decided that sex with him was totally satisfactory enough, I'd met his friends. And his friends became my friends, and by the end of that year of college – for everyone else – I'd finally gotten myself together a little bit," Clarke said, letting out a breath.

"Why, ah, are you telling me this?"

Clarke shrugged. "I thought we were spilling out guts? Come on, now you have to tell me what juicy sort of things you've learned about yourself this summer that being a reckless, rebellious teenager helped you discover."

Lexa narrowed her eyes in annoyance, and Clarke grinned at the reaction. The brunette sniffed a little, looking doubtful about saying anything else, but she finally gave in and let out a puff of air. "I think I learned that most guys are disgusting."

"Tell me something I don't know," Clarke said, laughing and shaking her head.

"I mean," Lexa began to clarify, "I don't think I want to date any guys. I don't think I like them the way I... should."

Clarke wasn't sure if she was surprised or not by Lexa's response, but she knew that the right thing to do in the moment was to not seem taken aback at all. "Welcome to the club," she said, feeling her face soften a little. "Fuck what society says you should be anyway. Personally, I don't mind guys some of the time, but I've had a pretty shitty track record with them as it is."

Lexa looked like she didn't know how to react all of the sudden.

"Frankly, Lexa," Clarke began, taking an unconscious step forward, "even though you shouldn't let the world, or your mom, or your friends tell you who to be, you shouldn't try to be somebody else. You'll learn about yourself as you go through life – like everyone does – and hopefully you don't turn out like the majority of the fucking awful world."

The brunette breathed in deeply. "I guess you're right."

Clarke tilted her head a little. "Well. This conversation got a lot deeper than I thought it would when it started."

Lexa let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, a little bit." Her green eyes jumped up to look at Clarke again, who was now moving over to the table where Lexa was in order to grab her coffee and take another drink of it. She found herself standing right next to the brunette, who didn't shy away at all from the position as she kept her eyes on Clarke.

"You're doing that staring thing again," Clarke said quietly as she set her cup down again, turning her body to face Lexa's directly at a very close proximity.

"Sorry," Lexa breathed out, and Clarke was suddenly very aware of those glowing green eyes focusing on her lips rather than her eyes. The blonde involuntarily bit down on her lower lip, and Lexa's gaze immediately hopped up to her eyes instead, realizing that she'd been caught.

Their faces gravitated closer to one another, but it was Lexa, surprising Clarke, who suddenly tilted her head and joined their lips together. The barrier broken, Clarke pressed into Lexa abruptly, sucking her lower lip in between her own. Lexa whimpered slightly as Clarke's hands were suddenly on her waist, and both of them were lost in each other for just a moment.

Until a voice from down the hallway, just a mere ten seconds away from reaching Clarke's doorway, called, "Hey, Clarke, whose car is out front?"

Clarke pulled away from Lexa in record time, nearly stumbling backward, and took multiple steps backwards just before Bellamy appeared at the threshold of her nonexistent door. Lexa was left next to the table, looking pretty flustered, but running her hand through her hair as if that was somehow calm her down. Maybe it did. "Uh, Lexa's," Clarke answered, nodding toward the brunette, who Bellamy had already been looking at.

"Oh. Nice to meet you," Bellamy said to her, before looking at Clarke with suspicion.

"Ah, yeah, you too," Lexa returned shakily.

Bellamy glanced between her and Clarke for a moment, before his gaze finally settled back on the blonde. "You know where half of my beers went? I feel like they've been slowly disappearing over the whole past week or so."

Clarke smirked. "Ah yeah. If the code to your fridge was anything that Octavia could guess, I'm pretty sure she told it to Jasper and Raven. For what it's worth, I told them to leave it alone."

"You couldn't have picked that moment to be the angry, bossy version of yourself?" Bellamy muttered, stepping out of the room and mumbling in annoyance to himself as he headed back to his room.

"I," Lexa started suddenly, "um, I should go."

Clarke's expression dropped, her gaze falling back on the younger girl. "Okay." Lexa nervously wet her lips, looking the blonde up and down for a moment, before slowly making her way to the door. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Yeah," Lexa replied quickly. "I'll, ah, see you."

Suddenly, she was gone, and Clarke suppressed a sigh before going back to her painting.