Chapter 3: Clarke (II)

Summary: Clarke gains more confidence as she keeps playing her little game...

Chapter Notes: THANK YOU GUYS for your reviews and for all the FAVORITES/FOLLOWS! I didn't really know what to expect in terms of a response, and I've gotta say, I'm thrilled. It's been a delight to write so far, and you guys have made it all the more enjoyable!

Octavia calls out to tell Bellamy there isn't any room left in her car, so Clarke needs to ride with him. Clarke feels an obscene amount of pride when she finds Bellamy bent over in his driver's seat, knocking his head against the steering wheel. She's pretty sure he doesn't know she can hear him cursing up a storm to the beat of the mini-honks of the horn caused by his forehead. She would be offended by his near-obsession with avoiding her today if she didn't know exactly why he was freaking out. Yeah, his truck is pretty packed up, and Clarke can't help but think it's serendipitous that the floor in front of the passenger seat (and the seat itself) is covered in stuff. She huffs a laugh when Bellamy sputters out an apology for the passenger seat being too full to sit in. Clarke assures him with a gentle (torturous) hand on his shoulder that it's perfectly okay. It's a bench seat, she can sit in the middle, she'll be fine. She considers for a moment that he might not be fine, but reminds herself that getting him flustered is the point of all of her teasing. God, this is fun.

Clarke is obnoxiously proud of herself when Bellamy starts coughing wildly after she bends over to pick up the purse that she dropped as she was getting into the truck. No, she actually didn't drop it on purpose. But bending over slowly and (popping her ass out as she did so) is definitely intentional. She scoots into the middle seat, making a point to get as far from his seat as possible. She has plenty of time to scoot closer to him on the drive there. Luring him into a false sense of security is totally not part of this increasingly dangerous game she's playing (Just kidding, yes, it absolutely is).

"Bellamy, what are you listening to?" Clarke asks as she turns on the radio to hear NPR coming through the speakers. Dammit if she doesn't find his concern with world events a huge turn-on. As much as she'd like to keep listening to it (she really would), that's not part of the plan. She fumbles with the buttons, purposely fucking it all up. He resists taking over and helping her with the knobs until she "accidentally" turns the volume up to an ear-splitting level. As he reaches over to turn it down, she crosses one leg over the other, causing him to unintentionally graze the smooth skin of her thighs (unintentionally on his part, anyway). Radio teasing? Check.

Clarke is pretty sure Bellamy regrets asking, "Is O still behind us?" when she turns around, deliberately brushing her boobs against his arms as she twists her torso to get a better view. Clarke shrugs, making sure to generously graze his arm with each globe of flesh. Satisfaction shoots through her when he groans in frustration.

"Yeah, she's about to pass us on the left so we can follow her." She leans just slightly into him, squishing her left breast against him as she points out O's car passing them by. She revels in his full-body shudder with an inordinate amount of pride. She hears her phone chime with a text, so she faces forward again to retrieve it. "O asked us to stop and pick up breakfast for everyone. Take the next exit." Clarke is downright amused by Bellamy's frantic nod. Again, she'd be offended by how badly he wants out of this truck if she didn't know it was because he was sporting a raging hard-on right now.

Clarke takes vicious delight in Bellamy's strangled groan when she presses into his shoulder, sandwiching his upper arm between her boobs as she leans over to look at the menu. She "accidentally" loses her balance and falls forward, catching herself by groping his (rock hard) pectorals as his hands dart up to her waist to help her steady herself. She shrugs innocently, "Sorry about that" as she moves to "dust" his shirt off. She looks up at his face and is taken aback by his blown-out pupils and parted lips. Now he's got her locked in his gaze and she can feel her heartbeat in her ears. She feels Bellamy's heart beating a wild tattoo under her palm, and she's pretty sure it's obvious she's just as worked up. He looks at her lips, and she thinks oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck this is going too far. Before either of them can do anything else, the car behind them honks its horn telling them to stop holding up the line. Clarke swallows her disappointment as Bellamy drives to the pickup window.

The rest of the trip to the new apartment, Clarke lays off the teasing, feeling beyond flustered herself. They both seem to appreciate the much-needed silence as Clarke tries not to overthink what almost happened at the drive through.

When Clarke walks into the new apartment, bags of fast-food breakfast in hand, Raven is sitting in one of the mismatched chairs in their new dining room, feet casually propped up on the newly-placed kitchen table. Wick is leaning against the wall, observing the group's interactions like a NatGeo photographer surveying the Serengeti. Raven gives Clarke a once-over before she starts cackling, "Well, that explains why Blake walked in here looking like a complete fucking wreck."

Clarke gives herself a mental pat on the back and shrugs, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Raven rolls her eyes and laughs some more. "Please tell me you rode with him in his truck."

"Uh, where else was I supposed to ride?"

Raven's crowing is getting out of control, and Clarke starts to panic inside because now Bellamy is walking toward them. "Rae, please shut the fuck up." She tries to keep her voice even and hopes her begging looks inconspicuous, but Raven is taking unnecessary glee in her friend's suffering and only laughs louder when Bellamy ambles awkwardly around them on his way back to his truck.

Bellamy huffs as he walks by them, viciously glaring at Raven when he spits, "Fuck off, Reyes."

Shit. Clarke didn't want anyone getting hurt by this little game, and now she's worried she's ruined all of the progress she's made with Bellamy. They're almost friends now, she thinks. And she's happy with them being just friends. It's cool, she gets plenty of raunchy fantasies fulfilled by Dream-Bellamy, so if she has to go the rest of her life without actually feeling his lips against hers, she'll survive. I mean yeah, of course she's curious as hell about how it would feel if Bellamy went down on her. Raven told her once that she would've given him a standing ovation if he hadn't left her feeling like Jell-O afterwards. Yeah, Clarke remembers that conversation because she refused to speak to Raven for a week after that. Okay, she didn't refuse-refuse to talk to her, but she certainly avoided her and made a point not to look her in the eye for a long time. Ugh, stop looking at her like that. She wasn't jealous, it was just… weird. Yeah, that's it. That's her story and she's sticking to it.

Clarke runs trips like an idiot out the door to follow Bellamy, unsure of how much distance to leave between them at this point. She plays it safe and stays a few strides behind him, hoping to get a read on his mood. It turns out the back of his head isn't really providing any answers, and the rippling of his back muscles under his sweat-soaked T-shirt is proving to be really distracting. She doesn't realize that he stopped until she walks right into him. Clarke sputters out an apology, something unintelligible about being clumsy. Bellamy smirks as he turns to face her, and goddammit her heart starts fluttering again… And ugh, the twinkle in his warm eyes is not helping. His hand grazes her bare upper leg and the shit-eating grin on his handsome face tells her that the tables have, without question, turned.

One hand settles on her waist while the other reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind her ears. He looks down at her, and she thinks oh fuck, he's about to kiss me. She forgets how to breathe as she feels herself melt into his gaze. He looks down at her lips, just like he did at the drive through, and she's trying to prepare herself for the momentousness of whatever is about to happen. Her mind goes fuzzy as he dips his head down and hovers his lips just above hers, like he's waiting for her to close the distance between them. Just when Clarke is about to work up the courage to do just that, he moves his lips to her ear.

She can feel his breath ruffle her hair before he whispers, "Two can play this game, Princess…"

He gives her waist a squeeze before stepping away and walking back toward his truck, leaving a confused and aroused Clarke standing in the hallway like a deer in the headlights.

Oh, hell no.

End Chapter Notes: If you're enjoying this, please remember to add this to your FOLLOWS/FAVORITES lists And REVIEWS fuel my creative fire! Again, thank you guys for the encouraging response!