The bonfire turns into a massive party that has everyone stumbling, laughing, singing, laughing, puking, and fucking. Lexa, trying to follow Lincoln's advice, is making it her goal to talk to every girl but Clarke. And Clarke notices this. Every time she tries to casually walk up and talk to her or 'coincidentally' dance next to her, Lexa finds the girl closest to her and starts a bullshit conversation.
"Where are you from?" the brunette asks a tall, tan woman as they rest on a nearby log, their legs aching from dancing. The woman replies something, but Lexa doesn't hear or doesn't care enough to remember, so she just nods and says, "Cool."
Clarke, seeing this, groans into her drink, before heading towards them, drunk out of her mind.
"Hello, ladies," she greets them, clumsily sitting down in the sand in front of them. Lexa rolls her eyes, annoyed, but more so at herself for the butterflies that emerged in her stomach when she saw her sit down. "What's your name?" Clarke asks the girl.
"Anya," she replies.
"Anya?" Clarke laughs. "What a shit name."
"Clarke," Lexa says sternly, giving her an angry look. "Sorry," she apologizes to Anya.
"No worries," she says. "Why don't we, uh, get out of here?" Clarke's eyes light up.
"Yeah, that's a good idea," the blonde says, slurring her words. "Lexa is an amazing fuck." The brunette can feel her heart stop in her chest.
"What?" she nearly yells.
"Oh, don't be modest," Clarke laughs. "She made me cum harder than I ever thought I could," she says to Anya now, who looks perplexed.
"Wait, you two have slept together?" she asks innocently to a very embarrassed Lexa who is hiding behind her hands.
"Once," she groans.
"Once is enough to catch herpes, though," Clarke comments, shamelessly. "So watch out, Anya. And sorry about that one, Lexa."
"That's not true!" the brunette wants to say, but Anya is already standing up and leaving.
"I need to go," she lies, leaving the two alone. Clarke hops on the log next to Lexa.
"You're welcome." Her breath smells of every kind of liquor and Lexa wrinkles her nose. "She wasn't good enough for you." The blonde leans in and Lexa thinks she might kiss her, but instead she rests her head on her shoulder. It feels nice.
"You're drunk," Lexa sighs, unable to stay mad, and Clarke nods aggressively. "Where's Octavia?"
"In her room with Lincoln," Clarke groans. "Lucky bitch."
"He's a good guy," Lexa comments, but Clarke shakes her head.
"That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean?"
"I mean I'm horny as fuck," Clarke groans and Lexa can feel goosebumps on her skin. The blonde lifts her head back up and stares intently at Lexa.
"Go fuck someone then," Lexa suggests. "This place is crawling people who'd eagerly have sex with you."
"What good is that to me, when I can't even fuck Bellamy because of you?" Clarke says almost aggressively. "I can't fuck anyone. Because of you."
"Because of me?" Lexa asks, although she thinks she understands. But she doesn't want to think, she wants to know. She wants to feel it.
"I wasn't lying when I said you were an amazing fuck," Clarke says in an almost-whisper, leaning in so dangerously close to Lexa.
"But you were about the herpes bit, right?" Lexa smiles, trying to lighten the mood because she can't stand this suffocating tension.
"Yes!" Clarke laughs. "That was definitely a lie." The sexual tension is broken, at least momentarily, so Lexa takes this opportunity to stand up. "Where are you going?"
"To look for someone I can trust to take you back the room safely," Lexa says.
"Why don't you take me?" Clarke suggests and the tension begins tighten again.
"I don't trust myself," she admits.
"I trust you."
"I'm drunk too, Clarke. Two drunks don't make a right," she smiles down at the blonde who is still sitting on the log, looking up dreamily at her.
"Do you think we're drunk enough so that if we kiss, neither one of us will remember in the morning?" Clarke asks.
"I don't know," Lexa says, suddenly very interested in the proposition. "Maybe." She's standing over Clarke, but leaning down so that their faces are almost touching, and her hands and gripping the log for balance. Clarke is the one to lean in, pushing herself up so she can reach the brunette's soft lips. They kiss gently, Clarke running her hands through the other woman's scalp, pulling her in for more and more and more until they feel their lungs ache. Their lips depart, but they're not strong enough to let go just yet. Lexa leans in harder and they fall backwards, off the log and into the sand.
They laugh, lying side by side now and looking at the stars again. A few moments later Octavia reappears and agrees to take Clarke to the room. Lexa doesn't talk to any more girls that night, and when she steps back into the room, Clarke is already asleep.
The next morning, both women wake up with the feeling of the kiss still lingering on their lips, the memory of it completely clear and engraved into their minds. Neither one mentions it, assuming the other doesn't remember.