hurricane;

“Good good, don’t need any more complaints this year. Whoa-rse? You alright there, sunshine?”

“Good thing there’s only like a week left of this year, huh..? Hah.. Uh, yea, yea. You’re fine. -- I mean.. I.. I’m fine. Peachy.”

Although Maddie had been working at the hospital for a year now, this was the first time she was really living alone. She’d had roommates before, and consequently there had usually been someone home to help her with bags when she came back from grocery shopping (and of course with her parents, she’d never had to do shopping herself). Now there was just her, and as she was trying to get her keys into her door with several plastic bags bulging with food hanging from her arms, she was a disaster waiting to happen. First she heard the bag split, then she heard the unmistakable thudding sounds of her grapes falling onto the carpeted hallway floor. “Oh, shit,” she whispered, and her cheeks filled with warm blood when she realized someone had seen her spectacle. “It’s like a miracle I manage to make it from day to day sometimes, y’know?” she joked lamely, rolling her eyes at herself and setting the bags down so she could clean up the now-inedble fruit.

With the utility belt he wore on the job now slung over his broad shoulders, Clarke’s focus was intent on the iphone in front of his face as he turned the corner. Having called it a day, the young man clocked out from his maintenance job at Marlborough a few minutes ago and was proceeding to head towards his apartment to relax. Of course, the plan had seemed almost all too perfect, and soon enough he was furrowing his brow at the feeling of mush beneath his feet. Confused, freshly cut shaggy hair now faced the culprit behind the now smushed grapes at his feet, looking down at the mess he’d have to clean up tomorrow. A sigh left his chest and a shrug rolled off of his shoulders. With a dimpled pursed lipped line on his features, Clarke inevitably looked up and silently thanked his lucky stars that he’d managed to keep a cool composure, now looking at a cute blonde ahead of him. The pursed lipped line transformed into a genuine lopsided grin and his eyebrow cocked at an angle, “It could’ve been worse. It would’ve been a real tragedy if these were french fries.” Getting down on his knees, he began to scoop up the grapes with his large hands, easily. “This is a sign from the Food-Gods that you should go out to dinner with me, seeing as your snack has been foiled,” a smirk played out, hazel eyes flickering to the girl.

“Sorry for all that banging… New choreography’s got me in a bit of a pickle this week.”

“’s no problem, I’ve heard w -- whoa...rse.. I’ve heard worse.”

Sam didn’t hesitate, and opted to let her actions speak for themselves. The girl held no doubt that Clarke could figure out why she was there, he was capable of putting two and two together. However, Sam, who was very patient, could not wait for him. She pushed passed him, her hand slamming against the door as it swung open and hit against the wall. Sam was naive, but she’d be an absolute idiot to believe that the bottle blonde wouldn’t be standing half naked before her. Walking in, her assumptions were confirmed—- the girl in her whip cream, naked underneath Clarke’s t-shirt, glory. The two made eye contact, the blonde obviously caught off guard. She froze, searching for answers in Clarke, but Sam was the first to act. The brunette went about the apartment, picking up every garment she assumed and remembered the blonde to own from when she saw her leaving the bar. Clad with a pile of clothes in her arms, heels hanging from the palm of her hand, she handed them to the blonde, and took a step to the side. “Get out,” she ordered, calmly. “Please.”

Shocked was the best way to describe the overwhelming feeling that filled Clarke’s being. The moment Sam had pushed the door open wide enough to allow herself an uninvited entrance, it was as if his extremities had gone numb. For a brief moment, he remained frozen in his 6′0 stature, facing the gaping door with a furrowed brow. Just a few days ago, Sam had left him in the hallway of Evie’s apartment and now she was demanding that the girl who he’d brought home from the bar, leave. It wasn’t until Sam had spoken that Clarke turned around, sour expression on his face as he watched the brunette’s face remain harsh. A breathy laugh of disbelief left his chest, cocking his head to the side, shaking his head as if going against the girl’s wish. 

“… Shut up. I don’t trust anything you say. Is this your way of making fun of me? It was a very serious question.” 

“Oh, ouch, you don’t trust my opinion? Come on, dude. Literally, my motto is that anybody can wear anything. You own that Weenie Hut General piercing. Make it your bitch. Work it, Hastings.”

“I regret. There is so much regret. Here’s some advice– don’t let someone convince you to get a needle stabbed through your lip for fun. Especially if you’re scared of needles. There is nothing fun about it. Be honest, though.. does it give me any character?” 

“Oh yea, dude. Plenty of character. Like if I didn’t know who you were and I saw you on the street? You’d best believe I’d turn around and walk the other way. You look tough, man. The toughest. Like you leveled up from Super Weenie Hut Jr.’s to Weenie Hut General.”

At first, Sam was readying a speech in her mind. It was all illogical, of course, but in her very core, she felt as though she had the right. There was something burning inside her, and maybe it was jealousy— but either way, it was definitely more than just that. Her insides were churning, twisting into knots she could barely fathom, and all the while, she could feel her anxiety starting to rise. Keeping her cool, Sam heard footsteps approach the door, having her take a few steps back, crossing her arms for protection. Stiff, she looked up at the tall figure before her, covered with splotches of whip cream around his face and neck. It was needless to say, because her expression said it all. Sam was devastated, and it immediately covered the steaming anger she had built up to this very moment. She diverted her gaze to the side momentarily, gathering her courage to say, at least, one thing that was waiting to come out. Sam straightened her stance, turning back to him with a stern look. “Let me in,” she demanded, soft but stern.

Over the years, Clarke had been called many names by many girls. There was no denying that he got around, he never paraded among his friends that he didn’t. It was well known that Clarke Williams was by no means prude and or promoting abstinence. Since he had begun to show interest in girls, the heartache he had caused since then, had never amounted to the bottomless pit he now felt in his gut as he looked at Sam. And he couldn’t admit why, either. Not to her, not to himself. His spit nearly caught in his throat when she demanded to step inside, and his heart rate increased slightly. “I can’t -- Sam, what are you doing here?” Clarke repeated, furrowing his brows.

Jude smiled a bit, quick to shake his head as he downed the remaining bits of the beverage. “It’s kind of fucking me up,” he started, pouring another quarter into his glass. “Like, I’m honestly amazed at how badly it’s fucking me up.” The brunette laughed a bit, finding the hilarity in what he could now call a revisiting pain. “Who the hell does she think she is, you know?” he turned to Clarke, an exasperated laugh fitting in between.

There was absolutely no hesitancy in Clarke’s quick response, “What? Dude, why? It’s not like you loved her. You.. didn’t.. love her, right..? Come on dude, we don’t do that,” he shook his head and looked from his brother to the drink in his hand. “What’s she even doing here? Literally, there is fifty states, fifty one if we’re counting Puerto Rico, why is she in Maryland? Like who wakes up one day and is like, ‘you know? my number one place to live -- the place I would die to live in is Maryland. Marlborough, to be exact.”

@clarkewtf

It was just after three in the morning, and despite his sleeping neighbors (and a sleeping brother), Clarke had been contently eating away at a stack of pancakes. He felt a slender arm trace along his broad shoulders before a giggle greeted his ear and a kiss was placed along his jaw line. A small smirk of a smile found its way to his face as he turned a fraction; nose brushing nose. Without a word, the blonde from the bar who he had taken home earlier grabbed the can of whipped cream off the table and sprayed a dot along his cheek before playfully licking it off. It was just after three in the morning, and though he had arranged for an Uber to arrive any minute, the gesture she’d done had given him hope for a quick round two. Quickly and with ease, his large hand took the can of whipped cream from her, scooting his chair back in the process and standing up. Keeping as little of a gap between them as possible, Clarke began to spray matching small dots along her neck and collar bone; the girl pushing the can away and managing to push the nozzle simultaneously and getting them both with the dessert topping. He let out a laugh, going in to kiss the girl, their contact being cut short by a series of knocks at the door. “Hold that thought,” he mumbled into her lips, sliding away to answer the door. 

Deciding to completely ignore Clarke’s response, Jude planted himself down beside him, quick to pour his brother and himself a glass before beginning to speak. He signed deeply, bringing the glass to his lips with his back arched. “Bella’s here.” Whether or not Clarke could even recall who Bella was, he was still the only person to know who she is, and how much she meant to Jude. 

Tapping away at the glass as it was filled a quarter of the way, Clarke had prepped himself quickly on the fact that he might have actually had to pull himself together to brace bad news. A breath left his chest noisily after Jude explained that his ex was in town, and all he could think was crisis averted. Taking a swig of the alcohol, his face grimaced a bit as it went down. “Dude you scared me,” Clarke began, shaking his head and taking another drink. “So your ex is a stalker now, nice.”

“Awesome, sounds like you’ll be buying next. Anyway, I have something to tell you,” he said, coming from the kitchen. With two glasses in his hand, and the other holding a bottle of Jack, Jude nodded over to Clarke to follow him into the living room.

Clarke had to do a double take when his brother walked through the hallway with whiskey in his hands. A lopsided grin sat on his face, and a laugh left his chest, clearly amused by what was about to happen. Adjusting himself on the couch, the younger Williams brother sat up and braced himself to hear what required alcohol to accept. “Shit dude, did you knock a chick up? What’s the occasion?”

“Dan, we got no more oranges,” Sam called, from the other end of the bar. He looked up, and nodded towards her direction with a smile. “I got you, baby.” As Dan made his way out from behind the bar and into the back, Sam started pulling out rags to clean, preparing for the late night office workers than normally came around this time. However, the brunette wasn’t in the best of moods, finding it hard to smile since she started her shift. The past couple of weeks had been dreadful— Thanksgiving was a bust, and so had been her recent happenings with her close friends in the building. Not only that, but Wednesday night was her only night off from both jobs. Gaby, the new girl, had this habit of calling in sick. Letting out a slight cough, she began wiping down the counter with a slightly damped rag, her expression stiff, and tired.

Hazel eyes trailed along the delicate features of a tall blonde standing in front of him, going on about how she was having such a good time. For the last hour, Clarke had been pushing his charm along in an effortless way, wooing the modelesque girl who had displayed plenty of interest with not only her flirty smiles but with the amount of arm touching she presented to him. His soul purpose for going out to the bar that night was to take someone home, and the girl who’s name slipped his mind, seemed to be the winner. With their bodies close, Clarke leaned in so she was able to hear him above the pounding of the music and the chattering among them, “Wanna go back to my place?” His words were accompanied by his notorious grin as he pulled back and watched the girl nod her head. Silently commending himself, Clarke nodded in the direction of the exit, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as they walked out.

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