Knich

Lexa woke up first. She fell asleep with the bedroom curtains open and the sun came in strong and early.

She played for over an hour the night before while Clarke slept. 

Once she’d had enough and needed to rest, she found a blanket in the bedroom and draped it with care over Clarke’s sleeping body. Although everything in her told her not to, Lexa couldn’t stop herself from pressing a gentle goodnight kiss to Clarke’s forehead. 

The resulting smile on Clarke’s lips in her sleep made Lexa scurry to bed by herself.

She stayed up looking at the stars through the panoramic window wishing everything could be different. Wishing there could be nothing else attached when they got home and they could have this and be this and have each other and be themselves.

The bright sun jarring her awake reminded Lexa that there was work to do. That they had a job to do. That when she saw Clarke sleeping on the couch, she needed to see her as a coworker and a song writing partner and a friend, and not as everything she didn’t know she wanted. 

Lexa hurried through the studio in her pajamas and avoided Clarke on the couch and avoided the temptation to wake her up with Wanger and Mendelssohn and Chopin and declarations of love through the keys that she couldn’t say with words. She quietly brewed a pot of coffee and brought a cup outside to get some fresh air before the heat of the day made it difficult.

She sat down on the front step and lifted her face up to greet the morning sun, closed her eyes, and heaved a deep breath in and let it out slowly through her lips. 

Her phone vibrated on the stone steps and it sounded extra loud in the peaceful moment.

“Good morning,” Lexa calmly greeted Anya.

“Hey, hi, how are you? Are you okay? Is everything good? I haven’t heard from you,” Anya rattled off quickly. Lexa could hear the sounds of New York traffic in the background and it made her appreciate the dead and silent landscape laid out before her that minded its own business and expected nothing from her.

“I’m good,” Lexa chuckled openly. 

“Are you lying?” Anya pressed.

“Can’t you tell when I’m lying by now?” Lexa tsked.

“Not always lately,” Anya’s shrug was audible through the line. “Real talk, though. How was day one?”

“Honestly?” Lexa paused to sip from her coffee. It was still too hot and she winced. “It was great.”

“Incredible,” Anya exhaled a tense and anxious breath she’d been holding back.

“Dude, these studios are awesome. There’s a freaking white yamaha grand in here that I’m absolutely in love with,” Lexa replied.

“Is that all you’re absolutely in love with out there?” Anya warned.

“Come on, Anya,” Lexa scowled.

“I’m not messing with you. I’m actually asking. Last I saw you, you were self declared falling apart over this topic. Are you alone? Can you talk about it?” Anya asked genuinely.

“Kind of,” Lexa glanced over her shoulder for any movement inside. “Everything is okay on that front. We made an agreement to just forget everything while we’re here and focus on the music, and it’s working. We made some serious progress yesterday and once she wakes up, we’re going to get back to work.”

“Glad to hear it,” Anya said with a warm smile that Lexa could feel. “For real. I’ve been really worried about you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Lexa assured her.

“Oh, I’m gonna,” Anya came right back. “You’re my favorite. I have to.”

“Thanks,” Lexa huffed out a short laugh. “What are you doing up? It’s early.”

“Raven’s got me doing studio drums for some new R&B chick this week while you two are gone,” Anya said. The city sounds vanished and were replaced with the familiar Polis lobby ambient noise. 

“You’re picking up an awful lot of studio work lately,” Lexa had more of an accusatory tone than she intended.

“Yeah, well,” Anya paused in an effort to find kinder words. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with my job, so?”

“I’m taking care of your job. You better just be practicing for when we go back into the studio this fall,” Lexa snapped.

“I can do both,” Anya confirmed. “I’m not mad. I told you. I’m not mad at all. I just need to look out for me, and Raven asked me for a favor, so I’m doing it.”

“Was she dressed when she asked you for this favor?” Lexa smirked.

“She was not,” Anya smirked back.

“Good for you,” Lexa laughed.

“Good luck out there, buddy. Shoot me a text now and then so I don’t have to make assumptions by what the overlords are posting on your instagrams. Let me know what’s really up, yeah? I saw ya girl looking a little too foxy in our t-shirt and your jacket yesterday, so I’m sending you good vibes, good luck, and much restraint,” Anya lowered her voice, but meant every word.

“Holy shit, right? I hate it,” Lexa scowled.

“Do you, though?” Anya joked and it felt right. It felt like nostalgia and security and the real world.

“Not at all, and yes, completely,” Lexa confessed through a dreamy sigh.

“Woof. Listen, I gotta go. I just got here. Godspeed on the songwriting today. Tell Clarke I said what’s up,” Anya said in her calm and casual way that always got through to Lexa.

“Thanks. Will do,” Lexa laughed.

“Love you, Lex. Text me later,” Anya said before she was cut off by the elevator.

After setting her phone aside, Lexa let her eyes fall closed as she heaved a big sigh and let the sun’s heat press a soothing, dulling hand down on her. She mindfully inhaled the calm and the quiet before getting to her feet and heading back inside.

“Good morning!” Clarke sang in a raspy voice from the coffee pot as Lexa walked into the kitchen. Clarke was still dressed from yesterday with smudged eye makeup and messy hair and sleepy morning eyes and every ounce of her looked delightful moving around the luxury kitchen in their private vacation home.

It made Lexa want to abandon all of the reservations she had just carefully put back in place.

“Morning,” Lexa replied with a cautious smile.

“Thanks for getting coffee going,” Clarke gestured at the pot with her mug. “Have you been up long?”

“Not long,” Lexa held her cup out for Clarke to refill it. “I just got off the phone with Anya. She specifically told me to tell you she says hello.”

“Isn’t she sweet,” Clarke chuckled. “Was she at work? Probably just playing it up for us.”

“It’s not for the bit. She genuinely likes you. She says so all the time,” Lexa clarified innocently. “Everytime I talk about you, she says something.”

“Talking about me a lot, are you?” Clarke joked with a sassy look over her shoulder as she put the milk back in the fridge.

“You’re pretty much the focal point of my life these days,” Lexa shrugged bashfully. Clarke stiffened up and tried to hide the barrage of feelings in response. “Which isn’t such a bad thing. I love pleasant surprises,” Lexa offered kindly and hoped she wasn’t teetering into dangerous waters that would expose her true feelings.

“I’ve been consistently pleasantly surprised by how much I’ve enjoyed this bizarre situation since we got a proper hold of it. Almost as surprised as I am by how few of the rumors about you weren’t true!” Clarke returned the warmth and Lexa visibly relaxed. 

“Are you really that surprised?” Lexa raised an impressed brow. “I was pretty upfront about how untrue all of the press about me has been.”

“I know, but it’s different to break it up and hear it line by line,” Clarke laughed. “Do you just not date altogether? Or are you really, really good at hiding it when you do?”

“I don’t date much,” Lexa brushed it off casually. “When I do, I keep it quiet until we both feel like it will last, so I guess the way they let our story out is on brand. Are you hungry? I was going to make some breakfast.”

“I’d love some breakfast. I’m hungover from the fact that you’re all rumors!” Clarke laughed and Lexa let out a laugh with her. “So I’ve gotta know, reverse real or rumor, when was the last time you were actually in a relationship?”

“My ex, the dancer I told you about?” Lexa began as she shuffled through the fridge for breakfast ingredients. “We were together for almost six years. There were rumors back then about me and other famous people, but not as many because it was common knowledge that she and I were together. After we broke up, they really started ramping up on all of the gossip. It was all more believable because I was single.”

“When were you two together?” Clarke got out of Lexa’s way and rested a hip against the counter as she sipped her coffee. 

“We split around when we were recording our second album. It’s got a few breakup songs on it that were very popular. Probably part of why they’re gonna have us part ways before I make another album,” Lexa paused and processed the connection for the first time.

“What happened between you two?” Clarke asked evenly. She didn’t want to sound too eager, but on the inside she was dying to know.

“We just,” Lexa trailed off and considered the different ways to say it. “We just grew up, maybe? We needed and wanted different things from ourselves, each other, and life in general. It was mutual and amicable.”

“You just fizzled out and got different and that’s where your big songs came from?” Clarke wrinkled her nose. 

“We loved each other very much,” Lexa replied with weight. “We got to a point where nothing was really wrong, but nothing was right at all either. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t sad or crushing or difficult. Nothing to blame or be mad at or hate or change. It just kind of ended because it was done.”

“I guess that does sound pretty sad, actually,” Clarke mulled it over and twisted the end of her culrs as she thought about the label preparing for Lexa to walk right out of her life in six weeks over nothing.

“We still talk every so often. We’re still friendly. She’s married. Her wife works on Wall Street. They live in Tribeca and have a kid. She seems happy,” Lexa carried on indifferently. 

“How often do you see each other?” Clarke asked with the cadence of an interested friend and not a prospective lover despite not being totally sure which one she was.

“I don’t remember the last time we actually spent any time together, but she drops a note any time I’m in the news. I call her on her birthday. She sends me a Christmas card every year,” Lexa said from inside one of the cabinets as she shuffled around pots and pans.

“Any hope for reconciliation?” Clarke asked cautiously. 

“Clarke, she’s married,” Lexa scoffed as she stood upright with a frying pan in hand. “And it’s a no on my end, too. I love her as an individual, but anything romantic between us is long gone. She probably knows me better than a lot of people did or will, but at this point, we’re just two people who shared something big and care about each other in the way friends who shared something important do.”

“That sounds kind of nice,” Clarke mused and found herself wondering if Lexa would be in her life in any way years later after they shared this huge thing together. 

“I guess,” Lexa shrugged again. “That was my last real relationship. I’ve been on a series of dates a handful of times, but I haven’t really connected with anyone in a big way since. Nothing seems to click or stick. I haven’t found anything real with anyone else. It’s all been very shallow.”

“So as far as the media is concerned, I’m your first serious girlfriend since?” Clarke chuckled.

“The story goes that you are the lucky one that finally caught me again,” Lexa sighed sarcastically. “I’ve been single since she and I split, and the rumors have all been sincerely that. I very rarely get physical with anyone unless we have a real, deep, honest connection.”

“You never fuck just to fuck?” Clarke raised an unimpressed brow. 

“No,” Lexa replied as she cracked eggs into the pan. Their sizzling sounded extra loud and dramatic in the silence between the beats of truth about Lexa’s actual sex life instead of the plot points of their fake one. “The bond is a big turn on for me. I need it. You’ve seen how deep my fake image goes. It’s pretty seldom I’m afforded the opportunity to actually be myself, let alone share it with someone else. It makes actually connecting with someone almost impossible.”

“Preach,” Clarke shot a knowing look across her mug. Lexa huffed an amused breath through her nose as she sliced fruit and scooped it into a bowl. “Well, wait,” Clarke furrowed her brow. 

Lexa glanced up with curious eyes.

“If all of that’s true, when the hell was the last time you had sex?” Clarke asked flatly.

“It’s been a minute,” Lexa muttered.

“Yikes,” Clarke sipped her coffee with wide eyes.

“I know your image is way off base for who you actually are, but mine?” Lexa paused as she flipped the eggs on the stove. “Mine is equally as absurd.”

“It really is,” Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe that’s why this thing with us has been so successful. We both get to rebrand honestly through each other. It’s diabolical, but it’s pretty brilliant.”

“It has been nice to see my real face on the internet instead of my rock and roll costume,” Lexa grinned. “I can never take myself seriously with all that makeup on. I feel like I look ridiculous.”

“Well then, smile! Let me add this domestic sweetness of you making me breakfast in your jammies to the content pile,” Clarke set her coffee down and took up her phone to capture a bunch of images of Lexa laughing at the stove in her soft pajama shorts and a well-worn Foo Fighters concert t shirt with tour dates on the back from when Lexa was in college.

“I feel like you get most of the better pictures of me lately,” Lexa glanced at Clarke’s screen with her as she thumbed through them.

“You’re very photogenic,” Clarke swiped into the photos she took the night before of Lexa singing at the piano, and a few selfies they took laughing hysterically over dinner that they ate sitting on the floor at the coffee table going over lyrics. “And you’re usually having fun with me and smiling for real.”

Clarke’s phone lit up with ‘Big Bad Lawyer Man’ on the call screen.

“Shoot,” Clarke hissed. 

“Is that how you have your lawyer saved in your phone?” Lexa giggled.

“One of them. He’s been a friend of the family for a long time and he insisted years ago and I never changed it,” Clarke rolled her eyes and picked up. “Hey, what’s up?”

Lexa kept busy with breakfast. Clarke didn’t leave her side and didn’t seem to need any privacy. The comfort that developed between them in causal closeness and generally existing in the other’s company was extra present as they shared a living space around the clock. Actually coexisting together felt far better than trying to make it look like they did.

“Okay, great, yeah, I saw that email. Can I e-sign those or do you need real signatures?” Clarke asked evenly and waited for a response.  “Cool, I’ll take care of that when we hang up. We can pull from the usual account to take care of it.”

Clarke chewed her lip and listened carefully while he spoke on the other end. Lexa got them plates and forks and brought everything over to the table while Clarke nodded and gave back concise yeses and nos.

“Thanks so much, that all sounds good. Or as good as it can, anyway,” Clarke carried on with a routine sigh. “I’m working so I’ve gotta get going, but I’ll be back in New York on Friday. I have something I need to bring by your office for you and the crew to take a look at for me for work,” Clarke said with a little more purpose as she watched Lexa gently move the vase of flowers from their greeting display to the center of the table for them to enjoy as they ate.

She couldn’t contain the involuntary grin that Lexa’s pure and true sweetness always brought out of her and let out a low, warmhearted sigh as she watched Lexa cross the kitchen to the stove with a little dance in her step.

Clarke’s breath hitched as she caught herself thinking that Lexa had great legs. The corresponding urge ro run her hands up the length of them as they were wrapped around her made Clarke’s guts change places.

“Great, thanks. I’ll see you then,” Clarke got out through her confused smile and hung up. “Sorry about that,” she tacked on quietly.

“No need for apologies. Everything okay?” Lexa asked openly. 

“Oh yeah,” Clarke dismissed with a wave of her hand. She hoped that any flustered feelings about Lexa’s figure could easily be brushed away with the stress of dealing with her difficult daily life. “I have power of attorney over my parents. He helps me manage all of their care and bills and needs. One of the entertainment lawyers at his firm does my work stuff, but he has a hand in it sometimes, too. We’ve known each other forever and he was close with my folks before their accident, so it’s nice to have someone in it for them and not just for the money.”

“I’m so glad you have that,” Lexa exhaled with relief. 

“I am very lucky in the circle of professional support I have,” Clarke replied. “It’s small, but it’s mighty. Let’s enjoy this spread and then get to work!” 

Clarke didn’t ask any more questions about Lexa’s love life and Lexa didn’t ask any more questions about Clarke’s parents. Both topics brought too much reality into their escape, and they had a lot of work left to do.

They showered and got ready with instructions to make it look like they didn’t put much effort into getting ready. Applying their fake personas had always been a private and solitary act. They both had to hide it from everyone. Sharing it with one another added an additional layer of specific intimacy to their relationship that only the exact bizarre scenario they were in provided. Much like most elements of their confusing, growing relationship, it was comforting and made them feel vulnerable at the same time.

While they were alone in Arizona and it came with certain freedoms, they were still sent wardrobes for each day complete with directions for their hair and make up and jewelry and attitudes. They both had a kit for each day with their clothes, their cosmetics, and instructions on exactly how to use it all. 

They were used to it. They’d been dealing with forced looks on the road for a decade, but it was always something that was handled very privately. 

Lexa looked down at their style cards for the day side by side on the bathroom counter, then brought her eyes up to the mirror to see their reflections staring back at her. Clarke’s wet hair was spun up in a towel. Her Wednesday wardrobe brought her back to her pop folk roots in another pair of obnoxiously short cutoffs and a loose, casual baby blue blouse that made the color of her eyes impossible to ignore. 

Sharing the ritual of putting on their personas was something both of them never expected to share with someone else, but found it easy to share with each other. Lexa played music on her phone while they wordlessly and routinely went through the process side by side. Clarke studied her style card while she brushed her teeth and lazily scrolled on her phone through the day’s assignments.

Lexa couldn’t stop staring at her in the mirror. 

Having breakfast together and laughing so hard and making music in the house all had delightful bits of domestic bliss that made Lexa envision a future she knew she couldn’t have, but getting ready for work in the bathroom together and sharing a space and activity that they never shared with anyone else that was a huge part of their lives with total comfort and ease socked Lexa in the chest when she really considered the weight of it. 

This was the actual domestic bliss they never knew they could have and definitely couldn’t photograph.

Clarke looked up at her reflection with her electric toothbrush buzzing in her mouth and caught Lexa staring. She managed to smirk around her Sonicare and sent Lexa a sarcastically flirty wink through her reflection. Flustered, Lexa immediately brought her eyes back down to her style card. Clarke wordlessly and nonchalantly plucked it out of Lexa’s hands.

Her toothbrush stopped and Clarke spit unceremoniously in the sink. The towel fell off her head as she leaned forward. She tossed it aside and examined Lexa’s card closer.

“That eye makeup they keep putting on you is way too heavy and it makes you look like you’re trying too hard. It makes you look old,” Clarke said succinctly and shook out her wet curls. She handed the card back to Lexa. “You should just style yourself today.”

“And how should I style myself instead of this?” Lexa nervously held up her daily look instructions.

“Like you’re a talented, smart, sexy thirty-five year old that knows she’s talented, smart, and sexy as she ages, and not like a thirty-five year old who’s trying to look like she’s twenty-three?” Clarke shrugged. “However you’d actually do your eye makeup if you were a rockstar. When we go to big money events they get you right. Your look was on point at that white party.”

“Thank you,” Lexa stiffened and left the fact that Clarke kissed her and meant it at that party alone. Clarke calling her talented, smart, and sexy with confidence and honesty caused new sweat to break out all over Lexa’s body when layered on top of the notion.

“I say throw that thing out,” Clarke pointed at Lexa’s card. “I’m not drying and straightening my hair like they want me to. It’s a thousand degrees here. What are they gonna do? Fly out and re-do it for us? We’re in the middle of nowhere! I’ll put a little lipstick on, but enough’s enough. This is more realistic anyway. If you were really my woman and you expected a full blowout for us to sit around the house and work, you’d be sorely disappointed, Babe. I wouldn’t even put clothes on, nevermind all this BS,” she added over her shoulder as she stalked out of the bathroom while tying up her wet hair.

Lexa stayed stock stiff as she heard Clarke strumming her acoustic in the other room making up a song in the full range of her voice about how dumb it would be to blow dry her hair in the heat or put on pants.

“I’m just gonna be sweating my fuckin’ tits off anywaaaaay!” Clarke sang out and brought her morning warmups to a close. Lexa’s confused, affectionate panic dissolved into a silly smile as she listened to Clarke’s vibrato.

“When she’s right, she’s right,” Lexa sighed at her reflection and dropped her style guide in the trash can.

After warming up together with a few freestyle blues progressions and nonsense lyrics about each other for the camera, they picked up where they left off the day before. With new lyrics in place and some rough ideas around how to make their musical plans match up, they started piecing the song together digitally. True to their first songwriting session, they were able to set aside everything and immerse themselves in the process.

Clarke proved to be savvy with the audio programs and took the lead on building the new song. She paced back and forth and kept time while Lexa tracked piano parts. Lexa deferred to her and didn’t flinch when Clarke told Lexa that she could do better.

Lexa manned the mouse and the keyboard while Clarke tracked lead vocals and harmonized with herself. Anytime Lexa had to tell Clarke her take wasn’t good enough or they needed to go again, Clarke simply listened, went again and did it right. 

The trust they openly shared let them work with all walls down and the mutual goal of making the best song they could. They treated each other with the respect of equals and let the other lead when necessary and transferred power without hesitation. 

It felt like dancing. 

The excitement and encouragement as the other nailed her takes or had the perfect new idea was mutual and swelled slowly over the course of the day.

At one point, Clarke paused and forgot the words she was supposed to sing when she glanced up from the mic to catch Lexa swaying to the music and mouthing the backup vocals with a glass of wine in one hand and a half eaten sandwich in the other. Her dance moves and expressive little faces of approval at the new song coming together caught Clarke’s attention in an all new way.

The kindness Lexa showed her made Clarke the best kind of unsettled. It was new and it was exciting and even though most of history told her it shouldn’t, it felt so good. It felt reassuring and safe and calm to be treated like she was Lexa’s for real. Rather than chalk Lexa’s sweet and affectionate behavior up to the bit and the job, Clarke let herself enjoy how nice it felt. 

And gave it back.

Every one of Lexa’s smiles looked wider. Her eyes were brighter. Her jokes were funny, her manners were sweet, she was too smart and too sexy and just flat out adorable in every way and Clarke struggled with what to do with all of the huge feelings bursting out all over whether she wanted to let them or not.

“You okay?” Lexa tapped the spacebar with the base of her wineglass to pause the music and the recording when she caught Clarke spaced out with a dopey distant smile.

“Oh,” Clarke shook her head and turned away with red cheeks and a flustered smile. “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s up?” Lexa asked with genuine concern in her delectable, innocent, curious brow raise. 

Lexa misplaced her pencil all day, got aggravated, creatively strung curses together when she couldn’t find it, then got out a fresh one and the cycle began anew thirty minutes later. In that exact moment that Lexa looked at her with the most earnest eyes flooded with care and consideration for her, Clarke noticed that there were five pencils stuck in Lexa’s messy bun. 

Clarke’s heart felt like it would never fit inside her chest again and it made it hard to breathe. Her stomach bottomed out and her throat squeezed shut to prevent her heart from barreling up and out and across the room to splatter all over Lexa’s dreamy lips.

“Nothing,” Clarke broke into a huge, loving grin.

“We can take a break if you need one,” Lexa replied. “Are you good?”

“So good,” Clarke responded warmly with a small sigh. “Do you mind taking it back for me?”

“You got it, Love,” Lexa nodded and zeroed in on the screen. 

Clarke knew the pet name was a nickname and part of the act and just a habit now, but the butterflies it brought to her stomach every time Lexa called her Love could only be problematic paired with the new full body experience of her real feelings for Lexa growing so strong and loud and obvious that they couldn’t be ignored anymore. 

She took a big swig of her drink, pinched her eyes shut, and forced herself to focus.

Hours later, side by side, they reviewed their work.

“It’s so fucking close,” Clarke murmured later in the evening. She chewed her lip and kept her eyes locked on the screen. “I can’t stand it that there are these obvious spots where lyrics go and I can’t figure out what the hell they are,” she muttered and pointed to the gaps in the vocal tracks.

“Maybe we should play it back start to finish and just listen,” Lexa suggested after a hard swallow. She could see straight down Clarke’s loose blouse and couldn’t tear her eyes away. Clarke stood at the computer with her hands flat on the desktop and her eyes glued to the screen. A passing thought as to whether or not Ali was trying to torture her with Clarke’s wardrobe floated through Lexa’s subconscious. 

“Alright,” Clarke huffed a huge sigh and nodded in agreement. “You’re right!” She threw her hands up and backed away from the computer. Lexa squeaked out a tiny, shaky breath of relief.

“Let’s have a quick break,” Lexa nodded towards the kitchen. “Refill our wine, get out of this room for just a second.”

“I just want to be done with it,” Clarke groaned and rubbed her hands over her eyes.

“C’mon. Get your glass. Let’s go,” Lexa encouraged and slung her arm around Clarke to guide her out of the studio. “You need a break from listening to your own voice.”

“Fine,” Clarke scowled. 

“Me and Anya do this when we’re working on our songs and we get stuck and I can’t hear myself anymore,” Lexa held her phone up. “We’re going in another room and I’m setting a five minute timer. We’re not allowed to talk about music until it goes off.”

“Five minutes? Does that work?” Clarke wrinkled her nose. 

“Almost always,” Lexa clicked her tongue and gave Clarke a knowing smirk. “It’s just enough time to get recentered without losing too much flow. Take your mind off it, but not out of it.”

“I guess it can’t hurt to try?” Clarke shrugged.  

 “You can’t talk about music starting now!” Lexa dramatically hit start on the timer.

“What are we supposed to talk about?” Clarke asked apprehensively.

“Whatever you want,” Lexa shrugged. “Anything. Nothing.”

“Ask me something,” Clarke said quickly. She looked nervous. They were both sweaty and worn out from the long day in the studio, but Clarke’s eyes met Lexa with apprehensive trust. 

“When’s your birthday?” Lexa blurted out to soothe the mood.

“February Twelfth,” Clarke said just as awkwardly.

“Ooo, Aquarius, huh? I should’ve guessed,” Lexa chuckled as she poured them two full glasses of wine. 

“Ulgh, are you one of those?” Clarke eyed her before taking a big swig.

“What do you mean, one of those? One of those what?” Lexa laughed her real laugh and they both immediately loosened up.

“One of those people who thinks the planets give them an excuse to act however they want?” Whiffs of the Clarke that used to start a fight every time she and Lexa were together resurfaced in the best way through a sarcastic dirty look.

“I just think it’s fun,” Lexa brushed her off. 

“I’m surprised we haven’t heard from the fans about whether or not our signs are compatible,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Most of mine love that stuff.”

“They probably have, because we very much are, but I haven’t been looking at anything they’re saying. It’s too confusing,” Lexa winced.

“I don’t really like it either. Too many of them love us together so much. We’ve done a little too good of a job being in love that I feel bad knowing it’s not real. I mean, we lie to them all the time, because we’re not even kind of who they think we are, but this isn’t the same. I don’t like letting them down,” Clarke joined Lexa’s wince with a wrinkled nose and uneasy eyes. 

“I don’t like that part of it either,” Lexa replied. “I was okay with it at first, but it feels different now. It’s so much harder now for a slew of reasons.”

“It really is,” Clarke replied tensely, wondering if this would be the moment one of the finally admitted it.

“Son of a bitch, are you gonna let me combine your birthday and anniversary and Valentine’s presents every year? That’s all the same weekend,” Lexa joked to break the tension with the slyest little wine buzzed smile.

“Obviously I’ll need three big presents for the three different occasions,” Clarke tsked and followed Lexa’s lead back into the safety of mocking their fake life. “And according to my personality files, I like high end shit.”

“Of course you do,” Lexa chuckled. 

“When’s your birthday?” Clarke asked carefully, following Lexa’s lead. 

“December eighth,” Lexa smiled back at her.

“What’s that, Sagittarius?” Clarke puzzled and glanced away.

“You know it,” Lexa said with confidence. 

“I told you I’ve never had any friends. I don’t know my zodiac well. I’ve never had anyone get close enough to me to think that hard about them in my life,” Clarke said flatly.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that,” Lexa dramatically set her wine on the counter and folded her arms over her chest. She looked Clarke up and down with a scrutinous smirk. 

“What do you mean?” Clarke’s voice fluttered nervously. 

“Like, I get why not. You’ve explained the circumstances to me, and I used to be on the other side of your wrath regularly, but I can’t reconcile any of that with knowing you the way I do now. You’re fun and you’re smart and you’re interesting. You’re too lovely,” Lexa trailed off and cocked her head as she examined Clarke a little too closely for comfort. 

“I don’t think anyone has ever called me lovely in my life,” Clarke shrank in on herself, feeling exposed under Lexa’s gaze and shower of compliments.

“You’re so lovely when you stop with all that bitchy stuff. It’s a fucking shame more people don’t know,” Lexa shrugged and chugged from her glass. 

“Good thing I figured out how to cool all that bitchy stuff since you have to spend so much time with me,” Clarke quipped into her wine.

“You really did figure it out. I’d rather spend my time with you than not with you lately,” Lexa replied with warmth in her eyes. 

The timer sang out on Lexa’s phone before Clarke could respond.

“Back to work,” Lexa said concisely with a smug grin. 

“Back to work,” Clarke agreed, but she couldn’t stop smiling and hoped Lexa didn’t notice she was blushing, and had been nervously, aggressively, flirtatiously blushing all day.

“Let’s go play this thing from the beginning,” Lexa confidently led the way back to the studio.

They played the latest version of the track and both listened intently for all of the new updates and changes and new lyrics. They were sweaty and tired and full of wine and ready to call it a day on the track and let it rest until the morning. They stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the computer so they could see the song slip past on the screen. Lexa chewed a pencil and watched her sheet music as the tune filled the room. Clarke furrowed her brow and mouthed the lyrics along to her own voice coming through the speakers.

“Blah blah-dee blah blah!” Clarke sang out in the empty vocal section of the chorus they just couldn’t fill. Lexa burst out laughing.

“Poetry, Clarke. Clear a spot on your shelf for that Grammy,” Lexa chuckled.

“I’m not wrong, though!” Clarke threw her hands up. “That’s what goes there! We need a perfect blah blah-dee blah blah that sums up the whole big ass, friggin’ huge feeling of this song! And it goes right there! And it sounds like that! And we have nothing else right there, and that section is really, really important, and I can’t figure out what the fuck it is!”

“I think we need to call it a night,” Lexa patted Clarke on the shoulder. “We did some great work today, and now we need to decompress and stop thinking about it and come back fresh in the morning.”

“I know you’re right, but I just want it done,” Clarke said sourly with her arms folded over her chest.

“I think maybe you should vent your frustrations,” Lexa shot Clarke a knowing look as she sat down at the piano. “Freestyle while I play,” Lexa nodded at the mic. 

“I’m not very good at that,” Clarke scowled.

“Yes you are. I heard you singing about your sweaty tits just this morning,” Lexa smirked. Clarke scoffed and kept her arms crossed tightly over the perspiring tits in question. “What do you want? Blues? Jazz? Basic pop lines?” Lexa carried on and played a bunch of chords.

“Blues, I guess,” Clarke succumbed and sauntered up to the mic. 

“I’m going to start playing. You jump in whenever you want. Don’t hurry. I’ll wait for you,” Lexa smiled warmly as she worked through a basic blues progression.

Clarke closed her eyes and shook her limbs out. She stretched her neck and took a few deep breaths before bouncing foot to foot as she let the music swarm around her. She started low and slow with cautious melodies and words about not knowing what to say. Lexa guided her with swelling chords, quick fills and arpeggios, then slowly picked the tempo up as Clarke’s lyrics got more creative and she took her vocals off their leash.

Lexa let out involuntary howls of encouragement while Clarke wailed away, pouring out her heart about how hard everything was, how frustrated she was, how difficult it was to be stuck inside of this song that wasn’t right or real.

They went on for half an hour, pushing each other and chasing each other around the music. Eventually, instinctively, Clarke followed Lexa’s lead to bring the song to a close with an absolutely showstopping series of notes that she held longer than Lexa played.

Clarke’s chest heaved as she gripped the mic and tried to catch her breath in the vibrating silence that always filled the room when they were done with a great song.

“Feel better?” Lexa managed to make a smug smirk inviting and adorable.

“Y’know? I really do,” Clarke nodded thoughtfully.

“Me too,” Lexa’s smirk softened to the sweet smile Clarke had come to depend on. “I think we should get some rest so we can solve the rest of the puzzle tomorrow.”

“Definitely. I’m beat,” Clarke yawned.

“I’ll take the couch tonight,” Lexa stretched her back as she caught Clarke’s yawn.

“That thing is very aesthetically pleasing, but it is wildly uncomfortable and I don’t recommend it,” Clarke said frankly as she paused in the doorway to the bedroom. “We have a lot of work to do tomorrow and you need some decent rest. Just come sleep in bed with me,” Clarke nodded her head into the bedroom as she simultaneously pulled her hair tie out and shook her curls loose.

Lexa looked back and forth between the modern, angular, hard couch and Clarke in the doorframe with sweaty hair framing her glowing, rosy cheeks from all the wine and weed and healing blues.

“Are you sure? Cause I can just,” Lexa pointed awkwardly at the couch.

“Of course I’m sure,” Clarke shrugged. “It’s just sleep. We’ve done it together before with success,” Clarke chuckled to hide her nerves.

They found themselves back in front of the bathroom mirror peeling off the layers of their personas the same way they started the day. They washed their faces, brushed their teeth, and wound down for the night with a natural familiarity like they did it together every night. Lexa brought them each a glass of water. They stumbled over who liked what side of the bed and awkwardly both agreed to just take the one they were closest to. 

“Do you always read before bed?” Clarke asked. Lexa had her reading light on and paged through a novel as Clarke snuggled down into the blankets with a healthy amount of space between them. 

“Most nights,” Lexa replied without taking her eyes off the page. “Is the light going to bother you?”

“Nah,” Clarke yawned and rolled onto her side away from Lexa.

“Great,” Lexa exhaled.

She couldn’t focus on the words on the page before her, but the book gave her hands and eyes and brain a reason to stay busy so she didn't slide across the mattress and make a bad decision that would blow up the lives of everyone she cared about.

“Goodnight, Lexa,” Clarke murmured into her pillow.

“Goodnight, Clarke,” Lexa couldn’t stop herself from patting Clarke affectionately on the hip, then let her hand linger and stay there as she read. A delighted smile that Lexa couldn’t see bloomed on Clarke’s lips as she drifted off.

***

In the middle of the night, Clarke startled awake with a desperate gasp. She shot bolt upright and choked out a confused shout.

“What?! Huh?!” Lexa shook herself awake beside her.

“Where’s my phone?” Clarke asked in a tight tone. She frantically ruffled the sheets and checked her bedside table. “They’re calling me! It’s happening! Where the fuck is my phone?”

“Clarke, hey,” Lexa tried and gently reached out for Clarke’s hand. “What’s going on?”

“We have to go to the hospital, Lexa! Right now! They’re calling me!” Clarke’s voice was strained by fear and disoriented tears.

“No one is calling you. You’re asleep,” Lexa turned her reading light on and they both squinted and shrank away from it. 

“Where’s my phone?” Clarke asked again, smaller this time.

“You left it on the piano,” Lexa sat up and rubbed her eyes. 

“Your apartment looks different tonight,” Clarke whined and gripped the blankets in her fists.

“Clarke,” Lexa said more firmly. “We’re not in my apartment. We’re in Arizona for work.”

Clarke pinched her eyes closed and worked to slow her anxious breathing. 

“I think you were having a bad dream,” Lexa tried gently. Clarke covered her face with her hands and took a few heavy breaths in and out. Everything was cramped and strangling and wrong and too much.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke’s tiny, embarrassed voice snuck through the cracks in her fingers. “I definitely was. I’m actually awake now. I’m so sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” Lexa shrugged sleepily. “Are you okay?”

“I have the nightmare that they’re calling me to tell me they’re dead all the time,” Clarke sighed and wiped her panicked tears away. “It’s some version of the same thing every time. I’m asleep in my apartment and I can’t find my phone, but I can hear it ringing and I know that’s what the call is, and I can’t find it and I miss it. I don’t get to say goodbye and they’re,” her voice cracked and she gulped down a difficult swallow. 

She held her hands up hopelessly and let them fall with devastating weight into her lap. 

“And they’re just gone,” Clarke pushed out through a taut whisper.

“That sounds awful,” Lexa blurted out, too close to sleep to remind herself to be delicate.

“I was in your apartment this time. You were there,” Clarke glanced away to let the new detail pass by and mow Lexa over like a train. “We were asleep in your bed.”

“We were?” Lexa’s voice got stuck on the confusing set of emotions at play in the room.

“Where did you say my phone was?” Clarke winced. She clenched her eyes shut and clenched her teeth and clenched most of the muscles in her body at how uncomfortable she was with every aspect of the entire ordeal. “It helps me get back to sleep if I check it and see that there really was no phone call.”

“It’s on the piano. I’ll get it,” Lexa tried to offer up a comforting smile, but didn’t quite get there.

“Wait, no you don’t have to,” Clarke waved her hands to stop her and reached for Lexa’s arm as she got out of the bed.

“It’ll just take a second,” Lexa assured her softly, then got up with a smooth certainty. 

Lexa’s bare feet were quiet. The light from the studio put a perfect frame of her silhouette in the doorframe in her pajamas. She looked tall and long in the lowlight.  

“No calls,” Lexa smiled kindy as she handed the phone to Clarke. Clarke opened the lock screen to triple check her call log and text messages.

She let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” Clarke dropped her chin and kept her eyes down on her phone clutched in both hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, Lexa,” she tacked on in a low voice riddled with distress.

“I can’t imagine living with the knowledge that that call is coming and never knowing when,” Lexa said firmly as she settled back into bed beside Clarke. “That must be so hard. I absolutely hate that you live with that.”

Clarke turned sharply to meet Lexa’s comforting gaze and her eyes were full of new tears. 

“It’s so hard,” Clarke admitted. Her voice was trapped in a whisper. 

“How often do you have that dream?” Lexa asked kindly. She laid in bed next to Clarke on her side propped up on her elbow on the pillows. 

“In a good week?” Clarke asked. Lexa nodded for her to continue. “Once or twice.”

“Jesus,” Lexa muttered.

“Sometimes it’s easier if I just don’t sleep a lot. It’s a big part of why I don’t. If I don’t sleep too deeply, I don’t dream as much,” Clarke sniffled and finally got her breathing under control. “It’s gotten a lot worse over the last year or two as they rapidly decline. I’m so sorry I woke you,” she tacked on as she set her phone on the nightstand.

“It’s alright,” Lexa soothed gently. “Can you usually get back to sleep after?”

“Sometimes,” Clarke shrugged and rubbed her eyes. She was embarrassed and exposed and wanted nothing more than for Lexa to hold her close but didn’t know how to ask. “Not always. Do you fall back to sleep if you get woken up?” 

“Usually,” Lexa yawned, well on her way. 

“Good,” Clarke exhaled. 

“C’mere,” Lexa flopped on her back with her eyes closed. She held her arms open and patted the mattress beside her for Clarke to cozy up next to her. “I’ll hold you so you know you’re really here and not still in that dream.”

“Really?” Clarke asked eagerly.

Lexa responded simply with another sleepy pat on the mattress. Clarke fell right in and snuggled up beside her. The way their bodies fit into one another made them let out a unison sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” Clarke mumbled against Lexa’s shoulder. 

“Any time, Clarke,” Lexa replied softly before drifting back to sleep.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before they took her away, Clarke allowed herself to relish in the reprieve of Lexa’s comforting hands and sleepy heartbeat.

***

Clarke woke up to desert sun filtering through the shades, the smell of Lexa’s hair products on the pillows, and the light notes of Lexa warming up on the piano in the next room. It was peaceful and perfect and she wanted it every day. Clarke exhaled a content sigh as she squeezed Lexa’s pillow to her chest before getting up.

Keeping all of her emotions in the correct lanes grew more and more difficult as Lexa grew sweeter, more thoughtful, too supportive and caring, and correspondingly sexier by the hour. Lexa’s unyielding comfort and consolation no matter how many angsty curveballs Clarke threw her way was impressive, delightful, and a complete and total turn on that Clarke needed to get and keep under control.

“The camera’s on!” Lexa called from the piano when she heard Clarke moving around in the bedroom.

Lexa’s piano prowess wasn’t making it easy to keep how attractive she was quiet. 

“Thanks for the heads up,” Clarke grinned in the doorway in her husky morning voice.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Lexa matched the grin. She had her hair up and was already dressed in jeans and a soft tank top. She was up and working with sheet music all over the piano. One of the pages of lyrics from the day before on her stand had a coffee ring on it. Her phone was set up to capture her morning warm ups.

Before Clarke could make it past the piano, Lexa slid through the glissando and opening riffs of ‘I Want You Back’ by the Jackson 5. She flicked hopeful eyes up at Clarke.

“So it’s gonna be one of those mornings, huh?” Clarke joked and shot her hallmark wink at the camera to acknowledge it as she looped her arms around Lexa from behind in a sweet morning hug. Jumping headfirst into their act for the internet, Lexa leaned her head back to look up at Clarke who instinctively met her with a sleepy kiss on her forehead. 

The giant grin Lexa beamed up at her was perfect for the act because it wasn’t an act at all.

“Sit down,” Lexa slid over to make room for Clarke on the bench as she played. “I made you a coffee,” she added and nodded at two mugs in front of them.

“Thank you,” Clarke said with a soft smile as she took hers in her hands and bopped to the beat. She jumped right into the opening lyrics right on time and right on key. Lexa chimed in with back up vocals. They laughed and smiled at each other with their whole hearts while they sang and danced in their seats.

Their soft morning looks and genuine smiles blended in with big laughter and harmonies. Both of them took the opportunity to exchange loving glaces that could be excused and ignored. As they pulled the song to a close, Lexa rolled right into the very recognizable opening notes of  ‘Heard It Through The Grapevine.’

“Lex, I just woke up,” Clarke griped and nodded at the camera. “I’m in my pajamas and I look like hell.”

“Your pajamas are cute and so is your bedhead. Sing this one with me,” Lexa brushed her off and kept playing with an elated smile as she brought more style to her music. The camera caught Clarke’s very real blush and crushingly flirty grin that Lexa missed sitting beside her. 

“Fine, but I’m playing, too,” Clarke sassed as she got off the bench and plugged in her electric guitar. She ripped through all of the song’s strings licks and tossed the bedhead in question around sarcastically. 

Lexa laughed and kept rolling through motown hits. Clarke played and sang along. They harmonized to The Supremes as they refilled their coffees. They made their own versions of hits from The Four Tops and The Temptations as they passed a joint to loosen up for the day. Lexa made breakfast and kept singing from the kitchen as Clarke strummed through Sam & Dave hits on her acoustic sitting on the counter.

They got so into their cover of Stevie Wonder’s Signed, Sealed, Delivered that Clarke was on her knees playing a solo that caused Lexa to pause and just watch.

Clarke brought the pink Les Paul on the flight with her. At the time, Lexa couldn’t imagine why she’d need it, but seeing Clarke on her knees in a white camisole and pink striped pajama pants with a sheen of fresh sweat on her chest and those messy curls made it so very obvious.

Lexa stopped the video so she could take a few still photos of the moment. 

It was so perfectly Clarke, the real Clarke, the Clarke that only she knew, that she had to have it forever. She couldn’t stop smiling at how good it all felt. Mornings playing music with Clarke held such a specific and secret, sacred magic that she wanted to cast every day.

It would be one of the things she missed most when they inevitably took Clarke away from her.

“Thank you ladies and gentlemen!” Clarke jokingly got to her feet out of breath and took a bow to a non-existent audience as she strummed her final chords over and over. “Clarke Griffin and Lexa Woods, live from Arizona! We’ll be here all night!”

Clarke’s chest rose and fell as she caught her breath. She turned and found Lexa sitting at the piano grinning ear to ear.

“What?” Clarke asked bashfully.

“I love to see you let yourself go and just have so much fun,” Lexa answered, unable to shake the glee and grin watching Clarke enjoy herself always brought with it. 

“Making and enjoying music with you always brings it out of me,” Clarke caught Lexa’s grin. “Speaking of, as much as I’ve absolutely loved this motown morning, I feel very much warmed up and ready. We have a lot of work to do today. I’m determined to figure out what the missing words are in that damn chorus if it kills me.”

“Fortunately, this video accomplished most of our content work for the day,” Lexa held her phone up. 

“Awesome. Send that to Ali. I’m gonna get dressed and then we’ll finish this song!” Clarke declared in a loud, goofy, operatic singing voice before heading to the bedroom. 

Left alone in the room that reverberated with music and pulsed with tension and chemistry and warmth and confusion, Lexa uploaded the videos. She slid the photos into her Real Clarke folder with a sad smile knowing that all too soon, it would be all she had left.

“Did you get any texts this morning about changing your look yesterday?” Clarke called from the bedroom a few minutes later.

“No?” Lexa called back. She spread the sheet music and lyrics out on the piano from the night before so they could pick up where they left off. Satisfied with the layout, she crossed to the computer and pulled up their tracks. “Did you?”

“Yup!” Clarke laughed. “I am not to deviate from the style card today or I’ll be in trouble!”

“What did they pack for you? A prom dress?” Lexa joked, distracted by the computer.

“Nope,” Clarke replied lowly from the doorway. “Just very, very red lipstick that I must be heavily photographed in.”

Lexa glanced up absentmindedly from the computer at the sound of Clarke’s voice, then back to the screen before her brain caught up with her to execute an unmistakable, undeniable, bug eyed double take.

“Holy shit,” Lexa gulped.

Only three of the buttons on Clarke’s loose white button down were fastened. Rolled up sleeves, bare feet, another pair of those goddamn shorts, an agonizing amount of a black lace bra peeking through, and Clarke’s tan formed a grand crescendo up to her impeccably red lips that grabbed Lexa’s gaze and pinned it in place.

“What?” Clarke asked flatly.

“That is, uh,” Lexa swallowed hard. Her jaw tensed up and her tongue felt too big for her mouth.

It hit her abruptly and violently that she hadn’t kissed Clarke’s lips since she kissed them for real, and she couldn’t form a single other coherent thought.

“What?!” Clarke repeated, annoyed.

“That certainly is red,” Lexa finally offered up in a tense, high pitch to try and ease Clarke’s impatient discomfort.

“I totally forgot that I have a whole suite of Revlon ads coming out next week,” Clarke scowled and rolled her eyes. She held her phone up. “An updated shot list just dropped. Apparently, for cross promotion purposes, we have to emphasize how kissable I am.”

“Good! Great! Wonderful!” Lexa babbled and searched the desk for every possible excuse to use her hands for anything other than grabbing Clarke by the waist and showing her just how kissable she really was.

“All of which sounds much easier to do after we’ve had a few drinks, and it’s still early, so let’s get to work and worry about it later. Work for you?” Clarke asked through a phony grin.

“Very much so,” Lexa nodded firmly. 

“Alright, fire that thing up. Let’s listen to the damn thing again and figure out what to do,” Clarke huffed and waved an annoyed hand at the computer as she crossed to get her notes.

Lexa made every excuse she could to stay put at the piano for most of the morning. Clarke stomped around the studio aimlessly trying out words and phrases for the missing lyrics in all different ranges of her singing voice. Lexa swore Clarke had an extra sway in her hips to everything Lexa played. 

The can of Diet Coke Clarke left next to the computer had her bright red lipstick on the rim. Clarke bit her bottom lip when she was deep in thought, which she spent most of the day in trying to find her lost lyrics, and drew extra attention to her lips that already screamed for it. She held her guitar pick in her teeth when she needed to write something down while she played. Frustrated with herself, she lay on the floor next to the piano and blew smoke rings as she passed a joint to Lexa. 

Every single thing in the room seemed to point at Clarke’s plump, perfect lips and Lexa found her eye and mind wandering to them much more than they already did.

The air between them shifted into something flirty around lunchtime.

Lexa moved around the kitchen with busy feet and swinging shoulders while she cooked. The playlist full of dance music that had deep grooves, heavy bass, hip hop verses and old school horn samples made it impossible not to dance. Clarke joined her in the kitchen and couldn’t stop her hips from bouncing to Lexa’s tracks.

They knew how to anticipate the other’s movements and Clarke sidestepped and spun out of Lexa’s way with a silly dancing face and a few goofy flourishes. Lexa mirrored Clarke’s footwork with a playful smile that invited the dance challenge. They taunted each other with exaggerated old school dances like the twist and the swim and laughed harder with each set of moves. 

Clarke bent at the waist to look through the bottom of the fridge for a round of beers just as Lexa spun around to open the fridge to add something to one of her pans on the stove. She bumped into Clarke and instinctively grabbed Clare by the hips to steady her. Lexa winced and froze in the incriminating position of hands on Clarke’s hips, Clarke bent over with her ass backed right up into Lexa’s lap with painfully tempting music begging them to move to it for real. 

The coyest smirk came back at Lexa over Clarke’s shoulder. 

When Lexa’s tense hands relaxed into something confident, Clarke broke the tension by comically shaking her butt to the beats right into Lexa. With permission granted, Lexa tightened her grip and pulled Clark closer. The look of shock on Clarke’s face when Lexa expertly pulled her back and up, then spun her around to catch her in her arms ready to formally dance was extra loud with her camera ready lipstick.

Clarke’s surprise quickly dissolved into intrigue when Lexa took the lead around the kitchen dancefloor. She had a can of beer in each hand and couldn’t put hers on Lexa, who knew it and made sure her dance playfully kept Clarke away from any surfaces where she could put them down. 

They didn’t speak. They communicated through smirks and looks and footwork and dance moves and one upped one another over and over. Lexa offered up a self satisfied brow wag thinking she’d won. Clarke shook her head and tsked loudly before changing her grip on one of the beers so she could pop the tab in the same hand. She brought it to her lips, slowly put back the whole thing, then tossed the empty can into the sink. 

She opened the other beer with two hands and offered it to Lexa, then wound up and smacked Lexa on the butt with her newly available palm.

“I told you that you shouldn’t play with me because I play to win, but you didn’t listen,” Clarke sighed as she sauntered back into the studio and left Lexa stunned and bothered to finish their lunch.

The new energy followed them into the afternoon. 

They needlessly brushed up against one another anytime they passed by the other in the studio. Clarke leaned into Lexa’s touch every time. Lexa stopped flinching when Clarke reached over her shoulder from behind to point at something in the sheet music on the piano or the computer screen and pressed her chest into Lexa’s back. The exchanged looks that had always been some combination of challenging, understanding, playful, and sarcastic made the tiniest shift over the line they never crossed into cautiously inviting, but hovered in the gray area of jokes and part of the bit if the other wasn’t interested.

A lunchtime beer buzz followed by wine with dinner to keep them light and loose as Lexa took dozens of photos that featured Clarke’s captivating mouth punched dents in their resolve. The new layer of flirtation spread on top of the sweetness and the friendship and the trust and the kindness felt like a natural progression, felt like part of the act, and confused and enticed them both in tandem. 

They spent the whole day sprucing up the production work and filling in creative runs to the music in between testing the waters on passively trying to turn the other on. Every ounce of the song sounded great and was ready for review, but they still had a hole in the chorus after dinner. With their stay almost up, they were forced to call it.

“I guess we’ve done all we can, and they’ll have to help us put the finishing touches on it when we get home,” Clarke tipped her head back to down the last of her beer. “I gotta say, we did a real bang up job on this thing. We came out here with a dud, and now it’s damn close to being a hit.”

“I’m glad we came out here. It really did help us turn this thing around,” Lexa shook her head and gathered up the loose papers all over the piano. “It’s truly been a pleasure working with you on this. Just imagine the music we could make if we did it regularly. I wish you were my songwriting partner all the time.”

“I wanna be yours,” Clarke agreed through a pick bit between her teeth as she set her guitar back in its case. “But without all this extra bullshit.”

“Clarke,” Lexa stood up abruptly with stern eyes and stiff shoulders. “I wanna be yours,” she said frankly and intensely.

“You do?” The pick fell out of Clarke’s mouth as she gulped in frantic fear that one of them finally said it.

“That’s the name of the song!” Lexa clarified with excitement escalating out of control on her face. Clarke’s panic soared right over her head. “That’s what the missing lyrics are! The phrase we can’t figure out!” Lexa went on urgently. “Blah blah-dee blah blah! I wanna be yours!” she finished with an electric grin.

“I wanna be yours!” Clarke broke into a relieved grin that she could both say it outloud and didn’t have to admit it at the same time. “It’s so simple and so obvious and so perfect and it was sitting right there the whole time!”

“It can’t really be that simple,” Lexa began as Clarke perked up the more she let it roll around. “Can it?”

“Yes! Yes it can! That’s it! That’s exactly it! That’s the whole feeling summed up right there! What we’ve been trying to boil it all down to! That’s what all of the other lyrics are trying to say. Push all the other stuff aside, forget the consequences, who cares what it means if it’s true or what it’s gonna do to my life, at the end of the day, I just wanna be yours,” Clarke cried passionately.

The look on Lexa’s face as she tried to decipher whether or not Clarke was still talking about the song could be dismissed as processing Clarke’s thoughts, and they both decided to let that be what it was.

“Play the song from the beginning,” Clarke frantically gestured at the computer and hurried to the mic. She slipped on her headphones and rolled her shoulders and shook off the mounting nerves. 

Lexa pulled the file up and hit play while opening a track to record whatever Clarke was about to do. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation and waited as beats and bars of the opening verse carried on and built up to the chorus.

“I wanna be yours!” Clarke sang out right on time. They both immediately locked eyes with wide open mouthed grins. Clarke waved her hands with glee and ran in place. She waited for the next blank spots in the song that needed their new lyrics and she sang it out again with all of the pure and raw honesty the words proclaimed.

They worked it through to the end and Clarke filled in all the gaps, each time she sang it out more earnestly than the last. 

“Start it over! Play it back!” Clarke cried excitedly as she pulled her headphones off. 

They stood side by side as Lexa pressed play again. Both of them stiffened up in anticipation as the chorus approached. The music swelled and the beats picked up and they grabbed at one another’s hands as they waited for Clarke’s new chorus to come through.

It was perfect when it hit. 

They both fell into a relieved embrace with a unison exhale.

“Oh my god, it fits just right,” Clarke sighed. “It’s perfect! It’s exactly what they wanted!”

“Let’s make it official,” Lexa spread her notes back out and picked up her pencil. She added ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ to the top of every page in her neat, blocked handwriting. “I think you better go get those bubbles out of the fridge, because we officially have a new song, and I’m officially proud of it,” Lexa pointed over her shoulder towards the kitchen.

“I’ll drink to that!” Clarke scurried to the kitchen with a new bounce in her step and hurried back with two champagne flutes and the bottle that greeted them. “Let’s knock out the last of any content crap we have, because I wanna clock out and relax a little. My ride is coming for me in,” she paused to tap her phone on the coffee table and look at the time. “Ulgh, six hours?!”

“That’s just rude,” Lexa chuckled.

“Get me opening this,” Clarke nodded at Lexa’s phone on the piano as she worked the bottle of bubbles with two hands. “Our celebration shots should be good stuff for this.”

“Be careful,” Lexa jokingly warned. 

“Please, you think this is my first time opening champagne?” Clarke gave Lexa a routinely annoyed look as she expertly popped the cork. They both let out a cheer and Lexa filmed them. “Heyo! Here we go!” Clarke laughed as she filled their glasses.

“Cheers to a wonderful collaboration!” Lexa turned the camera to front facing and got in the shot with Clarke. 

“Nice job, Babe,” Clarke smiled at her sweetly and kissed Lexa’s cheek. A light smudge of the red lipstick she’d been reapplying all day to stay repped for candids stayed behind on Lexa’s jawline. They clinked their glasses and sipped and Lexa turned the camera off.

“And a real one that no one else gets to see,” Lexa began in a much more serious tone. Clarke, startled, perked up.  “This trip has been incredibly special. I know we came into it apprehensively, but I’m so proud of all of the work we did here together. This entire journey with you has been by far one of the strangest endeavors of my life, but I wouldn’t trade one second of it. It’s been a true pleasure getting to know who you really are, to work with you, to make music with you, to create with you, and to get through this with you. I don’t know if I could’ve done it with anyone else.”

“Damn, Lexa,” Clarke smiled sheepishly and dipped her chin to hide the flush in her cheeks. “Where’s all this coming from?”

“No matter what happens, no matter what plot they have to end this, to end us,” her voice cracked and she paused and pointed back and forth between them. “No matter how they make us treat each other later, we’ll always know what was fake and what was real. The art was real, and we were real with each other inside of all of this. I’m not just talking about the new song when I say cheers to a job well done,” Lexa held her glass up again.

“Cheers,” Clarke replied with bashful eyes at the heavy words. She clinked her glass against Lexa’s and took a tentative sip. “I didn’t prepare a speech,” she added anxiously.

“You always bring all of our words,” Lexa gestured at the pages and piles of notes and lyrics spread out on the floor all around them. “I figured I could take a turn.”

“That was all unbelievably nice,” Clarke’s voice shrank as the weight of Lexa’s words pressed down on them. 

Despite being their wordsmith, Clarke couldn’t find any for the emotion she felt when she took in Lexa’s deep gaze that was somehow sad and hungry for her at the same time. It was new, it was confusing, and it felt absolutely enormous. 

“It’s all true,” Lexa shrugged with a shy smile that emphasized the imprint of Clarke’s lips on her skin.  

“Do we have any more work to do?” Clarke asked hopefully. “I’d love to get to just chill a little together before I have to crash and wake up at two for my ride.”

“Let’s see,” Lexa squinted at her phone and pulled up their content list. “We did that, we did that, we did these,” she muttered through wine stained lips as she scrolled. “Oh,” she stopped short.

“What?” Clarke winced.

“There’s one left,” Lexa replied apprehensively. “The last in the series of how kissable you are.”

“Let’s get it over with,” Clarke urged.

“Kissing selfie for the gram, studio in the background,” Lexa exhaled uneasily.

They pulled their eyes off of each other in unison. 

The day had been chock full of talk about kissing, and both of their brains hummed with the thoughts that the last time they brought their lips together, it was hard to stop.

“Easy enough,” Clarke nodded once succinctly in an effort to convince them both. They each downed their glass of bubbles and carefully stepped over the pages of lyrics and forgotten wine bottles from the afternoon to get to a spot with the best angle. 

“Absolutely,” Lexa mirrored her tone.

“Get our good sides,” Clarke joked and switched spots with Lexa with a gentle pass of her hand across Lexa’s stomach as they awkwardly shuffled around each other.

For the first time in days, and days that were full of delicious tension and intellectual stimulation and affectionate curiosity and genuine care, Lexa pulled Clarke into their stance with the protective hand that felt like home resting at Clarke’s lower back. It sent a shot up Clarke’s spine that nudged her closer.

“Do you want me to count down or something?” Lexa asked nervously.

“Why are you making this weird?” Clarke asked with the same nervous flicker in her voice. She had one hand at Lexa’s waist and the other draped idly over her shoulder as Lexa held her arm outstretched to take the photo. “What’s up with you?”

“I don’t know,” Lexa shrugged with an impish grin. “Nothing. Just tired and a little buzzed, I guess.”

“Are you sure? Are your feet okay?” Clarke asked and gently rubbed her thumb against the back of Lexa’s neck with soothing intentions, but the results were anything but. Her new zesty, flirty attitude fell away and when Lexa brought her gaze from the camera to Clarke’s eyes to find them full of love and concern.

“I’m good,” Lexa lied.

“Are we in the frame?” Clarke chuckled anxiously and they both looked at the screen. “You kiss me in front of hundreds of people all the time, what’s the hold up?”

Lexa couldn’t bring herself to admit that kissing Clarke in front of an audience was easy and kissing her alone felt inconceivable.

“I’ve got us,” Lexa made a goofy face that Clarke saw on the screen. The resulting giggle and smile that she let out made Lexa’s knees weak.

“What kind of kiss is this?” Clarke asked, her lips dangerously close to Lexa’s ear. “Who are we right now?”

Everything in the shot, including the two of them and their clothes, fell into a spectrum from tan to white except for Clarke’s lips that screamed in bright red. They taunted Lexa like a bull to a matador. 

“Two sex monsters in love in a secluded desert recording paradise making music for three days with unlimited booze and weed experiencing the euphoria of just finishing writing a new song they’ve been struggling with,” Lexa replied flatly.

“Hot and celebratory. Got it,” Clarke said back in a quick and rigid tone to match.

Lexa’s eyes locked in on Clarke’s lips, but she couldn’t bring herself to kiss them. She froze. She wanted every kiss with Clarke to be real so badly that she couldn’t make herself take one anymore if it wasn’t.

Fed up with Lexa’s hesitation, Clarke leaned in to close the gap between them with a gentle, unassuming kiss that was slow and steady enough to get aesthetically caught in photos. After hearing the clicking of Lexa’s phone camera, they both naturally went back in for another with less uncertainty that snuck its toe over the line into something else.

They both pulled back abruptly and intensely searched the other’s eyes for the truth. The thick air hummed between them urging them closer and closer to the breaking point.

Lexa dropped her phone unceremoniously and pulled Clarke back in with both hands for the real kiss she’d been trying not to give her for days. Clarke softened all over and melted into Lexa’s arms and kissed her back with relief and passion. She tightened her grip on the back of Lexa’s neck to pull her in as close as she could to deepen her kiss into the confession she couldn’t form with her words. 

“Wait! Wait, we shouldn’t,” Lexa whispered frantically between wet kisses. She gripped the back of Clarke’s shirt to steady herself and lasted only moments in her hectic will to stop before she was all over Clarke again. Her hands found their way under the hem of Clarke’s shirt to rest on her bare waist before she pulled back again. “I shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t do this,” Lexa could barely get the words out before she caught Clarke’s mouth with her own again.

“Then stop me,” Clarke said breathlessly as she moved to kiss Lexa’s neck and leaned into their embrace with her whole body.

“I can’t stop you,” Lexa winced. Her voice hitched when Clarke’s tongue lingered on her pulsepoint. Her brain screamed at her to push Clarke away, but her hands crept across Clarke’s skin to her lower back to bring her in. “I’m trying so hard and I just can’t.”

“Neither can I. Try to talk me out of it,” Clarke borderline begged. Her low whisper and wet lips and wooing, lidded eyes were too much. The way her hips moved under Lexa’s touch dragged a jagged breath and squeak of conflicting agony out of Lexa that egged Clarke on even more.

“I can’t,” Lexa almost choked. “I want you too badly and I just can’t.”

“Then talk me into it,” Clarke brought sultry eyes up to meet Lexa’s and threaded her fingers up into Lexa’s sweaty curls. 

“I can’t do that either,” Lexa swallowed hard.

“Why not?” Clarke’s lips lingered so close that they brushed Lexa’s ever so slightly when she spoke. 

“Because I can’t say the things I need to say to feel good about talking you into it,” Lexa’s voice disappeared into Clarke’s collar bones as she stole kisses she shouldn’t. “I can’t tell you the truth.”

“What would you say if you could?” Clarke’s chest rose and fell in anticipation.

“I’d tell you the truth,” Lexa murmured as she brought her lips up to the crook of Clarke’s neck, then to the luscious spot where Clarke’s jaw met her ear and her neck. “I’d tell you that I love you, and that I’m so in love with you that I can’t think straight. That all I can think about is you.”

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered with wide, panicked, pleading eyes and hands that searched for safety.

“But you made me promise that if I fell in love with you that I wouldn’t tell you. I don’t break promises to the people I love, so if you need me to talk you into it, I can’t,” Lexa pulled back with purpose and earnest eyes. Clarke hopefully and sincerely searched them and finally, truly felt and understood good and honest trust for the first time.

It was exhilarating.

She pulled Lexa in as tightly as she could and kissed her with lips that held promises and gratitude and apologies and dangerous and wonderful possibilities. 

“I want to be yours so badly, but there’s just,” Clarke trailed off before Lexa cut her off with a kiss that insisted on more and told her she was safe, and she was right, and she was exactly where and when she was supposed to be. Clarke’s body rolled into Lexa’s and shuddered involuntarily. “There’s just too much.”

“Right now it looks like there’s just you and me,” Lexa’s voice was breathy between deep kisses. 

“Why do you love me?” Clarke got out through a strained whisper. Her eyes were wide with the need for the truth.

“How could I not?” A little laugh escaped through Lexa’s love filled grin. “Your brain is incredible, your resilience is admirable, your humor makes me want to get out of bed in the morning, your voice is straight out of heaven, and your body makes mine vibrate like it never has before.”

Clarke snuck a hand in to cover her eyes before she snuck in another quick kiss. A hot flood of new and overwhelming emotion clouded every part of her.

“You make me feel like myself in a world that doesn’t let me. I’ve been holding myself back for so long, and I’m gonna burst,” Lexa admitted. “I know things are more than complicated in every possible way with the two of us, so if you don’t feel the same way, please say something and I’ll back off, but I-”

Clarke cut Lexa off with a reassuring, aggressive, powerful kiss.

“You make me feel like myself, too,” Clarke gasped as she dropped to the floor and pulled Lexa down on top of her. “I never thought it would feel good to be myself, never thought anyone would let me, but when I’m me and you’re you, it just feels so,” Clarke paused, her chest rising and falling with swelling anxiety and relief at the same time. She laid on her back on top of all of their notes and lyrics with Lexa straddling her lap, a hand on either side of Clarke looking down at her with those eyes that told Clarke she was going to be okay.

“Right,” Lexa finished for her. 

There was nothing left to say.

Clarke yanked Lexa in for the kiss that said everything she couldn’t. Her lips and hips and breaths told Lexa that she was hers, that she could have her, that they were each other’s now and there was no stopping it.

The strength Lexa usually upheld to protect Clarke and reassure Clarke and guard and guide Clarke and sooth and console Clarke was mind numbingly hot when she stopped holding back and used the same strength to take a hold of Clarke with hands that took orders from primal needs. 

They rolled across the floor to put Clarke on top and knocked over a wine bottle that spilled all over their notes. Both of them ignored it, totally lost in finally giving in to every urge that had nagged and whispered and percolated between them. Lexa finally ran her hands through Clarke’s hair, she finally pressed her lips to Clarke’s sweaty chest and finally heard all of the short huffs of want and need Clarke let out as she ground her hips into Lexa’s.

Lexa grabbed Clarke by the waist, put her on her back, sat across her hips again, then gripped the front of Clarke’s shirt and ripped it open. Clarke gasped and her stunned eyes met Lexa’s above her before Lexa eased herself down to burry her face in the tits that had been taunting her for a month.

Clarke dropped her head back and let her arms fall out to the sides as she arched up into Lexa and totally gave herself over. She stopped thinking, stopped worrying, stopped weighing consequences and let go of everything as she released control of her body and let Lexa just have her. 

While she claimed all of her daddy energy was manufactured, the way Lexa moved, the way she knew every exact spot to put her lips to pull new sounds out of Clarke, the way her hands found new homes in every new stretch of skin they touched made Clarke believe every single rumor.

Lexa’s fear was gone. Lexa’s stress evaporated. They were the only two people in the world as they rolled across the floor with a trail of clothes and spilled wine behind them giving themselves and each other everything they thought they couldn’t have. Lexa didn’t think about the band, she didn’t think about the future, she didn’t think about anything other than Clarke writhing below her.

Clarke let herself dissipate into the existential state of it all. The pure euphoria that exploded in her brain when Lexa finally slipped her fingers into her was better than the highest high and the best drugs. For the first time, Clarke rode the magic of the sixth sense of fucking someone she loved. 

Lexa shouted nonsense in between trying to call out Clarke’s name but having no voice to do it when Clarke had her head between Lexa’s legs and grabbed at the floor around them trying to find anything to tether her to the earth while Clarke’s tongue sent her to another planet. 

They made it to bed by the third or fourth time, neither of them kept count.  

After hours of blurry, wonderful, rough, exhilarating sex and magic, Lexa rolled over on the mattress and gasped for breath. Her eyes lulled close while Clarke gently stroked her tired fingers up and down Lexa’s back. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Clarke let out a huge, relieved sigh as she dropped into her chair beside Lexa in the photo studio. She habitually inched it closer and rested her body against Lexa’s with a casual hand on her thigh. “I just got in. I was in Connecticut overnight.”

After parting from brunch the day before, Lexa went into work and Clarke went home to get more sleep before going back out to see her mother.

The hug on the sidewalk when they left wasn’t for any cameras. 

Clarke melted into Lexa’s arms and stayed that way for too long. The soft kiss Lexa left on Clarke’s forehead wasn’t requested by their marketing overlord. They were just two people who cared about each other saying goodbye after a tough time. 

Lexa had been thinking about it nonstop for the past twenty-four hours.

“I’m serious and I’m intense and I’m thorough, but I’m not a monster, Clarke,” Ali replied with a smile that was different from her usual maniacal fare and was almost understanding. “How’s your mother doing?”

“She’s resting comfortably,” Clarke replied evenly. “Surgery was a success.”

“Was she awake when you got there?” Lexa turned to Clarke with a gentle understanding that made Ali perk up. She bit her tongue, let them continue, and listened closely.

“A little bit, yeah,” Clarke shot Lexa a small, hopeful smile as she settled into her seat. “She came to last night and she actually recognized me and we had a few nice moments together. She’s doing well and she’s on track. I stayed in case she woke up again, but when I left this morning she was still asleep. She should be able to go home in a few days as long as everything holds and she stays stable.”

“That’s great news,” Lexa let an alleviated sigh out as she naturally slung her arm over the back of Clarke’s chair.

“That is really great news,” Ali chimed in. She sat at a table across from them with her elbows on the table top and a scrutinous eye running over the former nemeses sitting together and comforting one another on intimate topics they knew almost too much about.

Their body language was different from their forced familiarity that Ali had both created and come to know. It was different. It was softer and kinder and held a friendship and a closeness that she didn’t tell them to curate.

Because it was real.

“I should be good to go for the next few days,” Clarke nodded to confirm it and dug a notebook and a pen out of her bag on the floor beside her to keep track of any new plans.

“Wonderful!” Ali clapped her hands together. “The content you two have been making is great. Excellent work. The fans are losing their damn minds. You’re both looking very natural and staying on brand. We do have a lot coming up that’s going to push some limits and set you further outside of your comfort zones, but if you pull it off, the reward will be worth it.”

One of Clarke’s knees bounced anxiously. Lexa kept flicking her eyes down to it. 

“You both have that spot on that celebrity edition of the newly weds game show reboot this week. The Grounders will be there with you which leads us to our next phase of Clarke starting to play more with you and the band ASAP,” Ali continued.

“I think we should do reels together in our practice space doing cover songs. She takes lead vocals and I’m on piano with the band,” Lexa spoke up confidently. Clarke shot her a pleasantly surprised look.

“Do you?” Ali smirked back.

“I think our fans should hear her sing something that isn’t her songs or our songs, but songs they already know well. That way when we drop a new song all together, they already know they like the way we sound together. We’re creating something new, so let’s warm them up with something safe that shows off everyone’s skills,” Lexa explained in a steadfast business voice that stirred something in Clarke’s chest. 

Lexa smoothly reached out and put a firm hand on Clarke’s knee and pressed down to stop the bouncing. 

“It’ll hype them up to see what we can do on our own after they see how well we cover classic hits they know and love.” She squeezed Clarke’s knee before letting go.

“Lexa, you little sneak, have you been reading my notes?” Ali joked with a devilish grin. 

“That’s a great idea,” Clarke nodded with impressed brows. She glanced away in thought and ferociously clicked the pen in her hand open and closed over and over.

“We’ve already played a bunch of covers together,” Lexa’s overconfidence caught up with her.

“You have?” Ali cocked her head. “And you didn’t think to maybe capture that beautiful, content-rich moment between the two of you?”

“You didn’t send her that?” Clarke turned her head towards Lexa, confused.

“I thought,” Lexa cut herself off when she tripped over how close Clarke’s face was to her own.

“You didn’t send me what?” Ali sat up straighter.

“No, I didn’t,” Lexa huffed. 

“Why not?” Clarke asked innocently.

“Didn’t send me WHAT?” Ali tried again, creeping gradually across the table by the moment.

“It felt too personal,” Lexa exhaled and avoided Clarke’s glance. Ali sat bolt upright.

“I can see that,” Clarke shrugged. “I was wondering why they weren’t using anything from that afternoon. It was fucking magical.”

“If I have to ask a third time, I’m going to unhinge my jaw like a snake and breathe a stream of white hot fire straight through both of your skulls,” Ali said in a terrifyingly monotone voice.

Lexa and Clarke froze and just stared back at her for a few beats.

“Show her the video,” Clarke said in a low panic with an encouraging pat to Lexa’s thigh, but refused to break her gaze from Ali’s demonic stare. 

After another huff and loud scowl, Lexa dug her phone out of her bag and sifted through her camera roll. 

Clarke’s brow twitched when she saw the name of the folder Lexa kept the recording in.

“We put a playlist on the stereo and played and sang along to it for hours after the content morning,” Lexa hit play and slid the phone across the table to face Ali.

Ali didn’t emote or speak and let excruciating minutes of the video play while she sat in stiff silence.

Clarke and Lexa both carefully leaned in to see the screen and decipher anything that might be going in Ali’s brain.

Ali abruptly paused the video and sat up straight. 

They both leaned back in unison.

“I don’t use this word lightly, but this bit of the two of you doing ‘Some Kind Of Wonderful’ is simply adorable,” Ali pointed at the phone on the table and gave them a dead stare. “I had my doubts that the two of you could get along, but what the actual fuck, girls? This is pure platinum!”

Clarke sagged with reprieve against Lexa who couldn’t hide the disappointment in her eyes.

“It’s not pure anything. We were just having a good time,” Lexa bit her lip to cover up her frown.

Ali didn’t miss a single twitch of Lexa’s disgruntled features.

“Can we use it?” Ali asked.

Clarke and Lexa whipped their heads up at the same time.

“You’re actually asking us?” Clarke gaped.

“Until she sends it to me, it’s technically Lexa’s property. The legal intricacies of this thing go both ways in certain areas and that’s one of them,” Ali shrugged indifferently. 

“I’m fine with it,” Clarke shrugged back. 

The pen clicking resumed.

“Go ahead,” Lexa relented with a defeated sigh. She picked her phone up and uploaded the video to her work cloud.

“Wonderful,” Ali’s voice stayed even as she observed every nuance, movement, and breath Lexa took with a keen eye. 

They were both different, but Lexa’s changes were extreme.

She was steadfast, too protective, and showing huge swings of emotion into territory that didn’t make any sense, unless…

“Alright! Hair and make up!” Ali clapped her hands over her head and the crews rushed in to pull Clarke and Lexa apart to their respective chairs.

One of her executive assistants walked behind her and Ali grabbed him by the arm to stop him. She pulled him aggressively down so she could speak quietly right into his ear.

“I want Anya Bridges in my office this afternoon,” Ali said with purpose. Her assistant gave an obedient nod and pulled out his phone as he scurried away.

Once they were dressed and ready, Clarke and Lexa stood on the usual set holding hands and waiting for instructions as assistants buzzed around and photographers snapped test photos.

“Why didn’t you send the video?” Clarke asked quietly. She looked down at her shoes and tapped her toes together and apart repeatedly.

The lights on the white set were so bright. There was nowhere to hide.

“I don’t know,” Lexa muttered after a lengthy pause that gave her away.

“Yes, you do,” Clarke kept her eyes low. “I saw the name of the folder.”

“You looked too happy,” Lexa confessed after debating to lie for too long. “You’ve just looked so sad lately that I didn’t want them to get to take that from you and turn it into something else. You should just get to be happy because you’re happy, not because they need you to be happy so they can use it. I felt like it shouldn’t be theirs. That was the real you and it should just be ours.”

Clarke broke into a smile and felt the warmth of overwhelmed tears behind her eyes. Something in her stomach hostilely changed positions and made her jaw tense up.

“Thank you,” Clarke still didn’t look up and tapped her shoes more rapidly. “That’s actually kinda sweet.”

“Why are you so fidgety today?” Lexa huffed and thankfully dodged the implications behind Clarke’s kind words.

“Huh?” Clarke brought her head up and shook her hair out of her eyes to meet Lexa’s. 

Any time Clarke was crying or about to cry, her eyes were so goddamn blue. They suckerpunched Lexa in the chest and made her stabilize herself before continuing.

“The knee bouncing and the pen and all this fidgeting you’re doing,” Lexa pointed with their joined hands down at Clarke’s feet. “You never do any of that. Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Clarke blushed and rolled her eyes away. “I quit smoking cigarettes a few days ago. I’m driving myself batshit.”

“With everything going on in your life, you decided to stop smoking this week?” Lexa chuckled and edged back into their sassy routine.

“You said you didn’t like to kiss me when I’ve been smoking,” Clarke shrugged nonchalantly. 

Lexa’s mouth fell open in flustered and honest shock.

“You have to kiss me all the time now, so I stopped,” she finished with an impish smile at Lexa. “Not to mention that they’re expensive and killing me.”

“Really?” Lexa finally mustered up. “So you just stopped? Just like that?”

“It sucks and I hate it, but yes. I’m already enough of a bitch as it is, so you might decide you like me smoky better. For all the hard work you’ve put into tolerating me and everything I come with, I figured it’s only fair to do my part.”

“I’m not tolerating you. We’re working together,” Lexa said, a whiff of wounded in her tone.

“Yeah, NOW,” Clarke chuckled. “But you certainly were tolerating me for a while there. You’ve been so good about just getting this weird job done and so patient with me, and you keep up the theatrics so well that I figured I could do my part and make it easier for you,” Clarke shrugged again. 

“Wow,” Lexa nodded and thought it over. 

She didn’t want to think it over but she couldn’t stop. 

She knew Clarke was talking about the fake kisses. She knew the conversation was about work and the charade and the plots and the fake chemistry between them, but the real chemistry between them and the gray area they had danced into made the weight of it too heavy to carry on the fake set while they held real hands in their fake costumes holding back their real selves.

“Alright, chicas! Let’s get these shots over with so you can get back to work on that lukewarm track of yours!” Ali barked as she and the photographers made it to the set.

Lexa had never been so happy to hear Ali’s voice.

***

“Am I in trouble? Cause I haven’t said shit to anyone,” Anya declared with her hands raised as she sat across from Ali in her plush, white, naturally lit office that afternoon.

“You’re not in trouble,” Ali sighed dismissively.

“Sick,” Anya nodded with wide eyes. 

“I need to ask you a confidential question off the record and I need you to tell me the truth,” Ali spoke in a voice that wasn’t quite a threat, but couldn’t really be described as anything else.

“That sort of sounds like I’m in trouble,” Anya tsked slyly.

Ali sent glares at all of the assistants in the room who took the hint and all scurried out the door.

“This is all off the record and I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t tell anyone I asked you this question, I won’t tell anyone your answer,” Ali’s voice was icy and smooth.

“Am I allowed to be alone in here with you?” Anya asked in a confused whisper. “You’re always surrounded by a hoard of those dudes,” she tacked on and pointed over her shoulder.

“Do we have a deal?” Ali leaned forward across her desk and brought a sketchy wave of intimidation with her.

“I don’t get to tell anyone about this and neither do you?” Anya puzzled. She wasn’t falling for Ali’s spell and it made one of Ali’s eyes twitch just slightly. “Seems messed up. Why would you do that? What do you want?”

“I’m just looking for information to adjust my strategy and I’m hoping to get it quietly. I do what I want when I want how I want. You know that. I have some suspicions I want confirmed so that I can act accordingly if I’m right,” Ali rattled off with sharp annunciation. 

“Then why are you talking to me?” Anya shifted in her seat. “I’m just collateral damage in this whole thing.”

“Do we have a deal?” Ali repeated. 

“Sure, your highness. I’ll keep it out of the press if you do, too,” Anya rolled her eyes. “What’s the burning question?”

“Are Clarke and Lexa fucking?” Ali asked all too frankly.

“Yoooo!” Anya leaned back in her chair and tried not to laugh and failed. “There’s no way you secretly dragged me up to the penthouse just to ask me that!”

“Are they?” Ali pressed gently.

“I don’t know?” Anya yelped. “If they are, they haven’t said anything to me.”

“Is that something that Lexa would tell you?” Ali gently pressed further.

“I would hope so,” Anya replied quickly.

“But you don’t know so?” Ali raised a brow.

“Sometimes she likes to keep things to herself. That’s her right and her business,” Anya didn’t like where this was headed.

“Sure, we all have our secrets to keep and cherish always, but you two are the very best of friends. If she was fucking Clarke, you’d know about it,” Ali sat forward to level with Anya.

“I like to think I would, but I really don’t think they are,” Anya tried to feign indifference, but she realized halfway through her answer that she wasn’t all that sure. 

Lexa had been different lately. 

Anya and the band were looking through their social apps just that morning and commenting how wild it was that the two faux lovers were able to set their differences aside and commit to the bit with so much success. They scrolled through Lexa’s feed on one phone and Clarke’s on another and laughed and joked at the meticulously managed circus.

It was Echo that pointed out Lexa’s real smile in a few of the pictures.

And it was Lincoln who commented how pretty Clarke was when she wasn’t scowling.

Anya knew it was all fake, but it looked so, so real.

“So you don’t know for sure if theyre fucking? Do you think they’re fucking and they’re not telling you?” Ali’s tone was too frank and too friendly at the same time. 

Anya narrowed her eyes at Ali and folded her arms over her chest.

“Why are you asking me this?” Anya spoke cautiously.

“Because something’s up with them and I want to know if I need to change the carefully crafted hour by hour plan I have for them for the rest of the summer or not, and asking them point blank will either scare them off if they are into each other, or give them ideas if they’re not,” Ali said bluntly.

She was telling the truth and Anya could see it. A crack in her robotic exterior.

“That’s it?” Anya pressed back. “They’re not in trouble if they’re sleeping together?”

“Are they?” Ali matched her tone.

“I don’t know,” Anya kept up. “Will it matter?”

“It’ll matter, but they won’t be in trouble.”

“I still have no idea. I just wanted to check,” Anya grinned smugly. “Why will it matter?”

“Because if those two talented little babes are actually into each other, it could complicate the painstakingly orchestrated break up I’ve planned and the resulting futures I’ve promised them,” Ali said flatly. 

“Wait, you actually care about them?” Anya asked openly.

“Technically, according to the fine print, yes, I do,” Ali replied with a closed lipped smile.

Anya sat back in her chair with her arms folded over her chest and a scrutinous eye locked on Ali scanning for a lie. For a trick. For a way this conversation would take her down somehow.

It wasn’t there.

“Thank you for your time and your confidential honesty, Anya. If anyone asks, I never spoke to you and you didn’t see me. That’ll be all for today,” Ali shoved a smug grin across the desk.

“It’s been a pleasure not speaking with you,” Anya tried to match it, but was too confused by the whole thing.

They both held their gaze with one another as Anya backed out of the room and left the office.

She let a big breath out and hurried to the elevator. Rather than hit the button for her practice room, she picked the floor that had Raven’s office on it and burst through her door without knocking.

“Hello! Yes! Come in! The door’s open!” Raven joked and fashed her trademark big grin. Her face fell when she took in Anya’s disgruntled brows.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Anya pointed over her shoulder with her thumb into the hallway. She was sweaty and nervous and jumpy.

“No? I’m getting caught up on paperwork. Why?” Raven set her shoulders and tried to keep the worry from reaching her eyes.

Anya closed the door and flipped the lock.

“I just left Ali’s office,” Anya paced in the small space between Raven’s desk and her guest chairs.

“Is everything okay?” Raven swallowed hard.

“She told me I can’t tell anyone about what she asked me,” Anya huffed. “I’m not even supposed to tell anyone I was up there.

“I’m guessing by your dramatic entrance that you’re about to lay that burden down on me?” Raven gave a sassy smirk from behind her computer. 

“Can I?” Anya winced.

“Is it super juicy and I’m gonna want to tell?” Raven asked and warned at the same time.

“Kind of,” Anya sighed. “Why do you think I came straight here?”

“Anya, babe, what the hell?” Raven rubbed her forehead and summoned extra patience.

“We can talk to each other about it!” Anya whined. “If we only talk to each other, it’s a closed loop secret!”

“Fine,” Raven held her hand up like she was under oath. “I swear to not tell anyone but you about what you’re about to tell me.”

“She sent everyone out of the room so it was just the two of us and asked me off the record if Clarke and Lexa are fucking,” Anya said flatly.

“Are they?” Raven genuinely asked.

“That’s not the point!” Anya huffed. “But did Clarke say anything to you?”

“No,” Raven shrugged. “I haven’t really seen her much the last two weeks. She’s got all that stuff going on with her mom and she and Lexa are working around the clock. I’ve been trying to give her some space and let her come to me.”

“Lexa’s been a little funny,” Anya looked past Raven and out the window and into the streets of Manhattan as all of the images from the internet fought to get into her subconscious at once.

“We were kidding around when we said they were going to fall in love,” Raven said sternly, but Anya’s hard eyes made her second guess. “Right?”

“Is Clarke the kind of chick to spite fuck her or anything like that?” Anya chewed her lip.

“I don’t think so,” Raven said quickly with an affirming head shake. “She’s bonkers, but not that kind.”

“Did you see that new video of them that just surfaced? Clarke’s wailing on Grand Funk Railroad and Lex has a little cutie face on hammering the keyboard? It just went up an hour or two ago?” Anya brought her stare from the distance back to meet Raven’s.

“Yeah,” Raven nodded and pressed her lips together. “I saw it.”

“I know Lex behind a piano,” Anya sighed. “That video’s real.”

“I’ve had the pleasure of listening to Clarke in the booth when no one else is around,” Raven smiled fondly. “Letting someone hear that is not something she does often.”

“You don’t think,” Anya began and broke into a perplexed grin.

“I think if Clarke was getting some, she’d be a lot more pleasant to be around,” Raven snorted.

“That’s a really good point, actually,” Anya lit up. “Lexa’s been like, super stressed and really sad. When she’s having sex she gets goofy and floaty and silly.”

“Sounds like we’re in the clear and you didn’t accidentally lie to Ali,” Raven wrapped up for them. “Now do you want to get the blinds and bend me over my desk or what? I don’t have any more meetings for the rest of the day and your contract is gonna start soon.”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Anya sprinted to the windows and unbuckled her belt.

***

“Welcome back, folks! I’m sitting with our finalists, Clarke Griffin and Lexa Woods, New York’s newest It Couple who have recently revealed that they’ve been dating in secret for months and months and now they’re out and about in public because they simply couldn’t keep it in anymore. Both are with Polis Records, Clarke has a successful singer/songwriter career and Lexa is the frontwoman for the popular pop rock group, The Grounders, and they have totally demolished their competition today!” The host of The Newly Weds Reboot exclaimed and pointed to Clarke and Lexa sitting side by side in oversized, plush red chairs smiling for the cameras.

The set was gaudy and had too many flashing lights. His suit was bright red, polyester, and cheesy. His smile resembled a cartoon and his voice sounded like it was plucked from a 90s gameshow.

They played against three other celebrity couples in word games and challenges in which the advantage came from knowing one another the best. All of their winnings went to charity, and now they were sitting in the finalists’ chairs headed for the lightning round.

“Ladies, you have absolutely smoked the competition up to this point! A clean sweep through the first three rounds and now you’re playing for the big prize! Lexa, what charity are you two songbirds playing for today?” The host pointed his mic at Lexa.

“Clarke and I are playing for the Alzheimer’s Association today,” Lexa replied calmly. Clarke reached across the gap between their chairs and gripped Lexa’s hand. 

“Is this a charity that’s close to your heart?” He asked honestly. 

Lexa turned and shot Clarke a reassuring smile.

It was Clarke’s idea to tell the truth after all of the bad press from the red carpet at the fashion show. They couldn’t surprise her with it anymore if everyone knew about it. Once it was common knowledge and not a big scoop, they’d stop asking her about it.

Theoretically.

“Clarke’s father suffers from Alzheimer’s. This is a big one for us both,” Lexa answered him with the weight of a partner who supported her future inlaws. Clarke looked down into her lap and hid a complicated, sad smile at hearing Lexa say the words out loud for her.

Lexa squeezed Clarke’s hand tighter.

They planned it. They discussed it over and over and Lexa confirmed left, right, and center that Clarke was comfortable with opening up about her parents on a national stage, but it was still difficult.

“Clarke, I’m so sorry to hear that,” the host said gently accompanied by a hum of sympathy from the studio audience.

“Thank you,” Clarke nodded solemnly with a tight smile.

“Hopefully we can lock up that cash to help! The two of you have had a near perfect run on the show so far, so let’s see if you can take down the final round and lock up fifty thousand dollars for your charity!” He bellowed, instantly back to his host caricature.

Anya, Lincoln, and Echo sat in the front row. The cameras panned to them regularly for their reactions and Anya had a hard time keeping up her act of supportive friend when Clarke and Lexa did almost too well at the couple’s game.

“Okay! Before the games began, we separated all of our couples and we asked them questions about themselves and they had to write their answers down. We’re going to ask the other member of the couple the questions, and if they match the answer their partner wrote, they win points! Let’s get their cards out here!” He motioned for an assistant to bring out full sized sheets of cardstock that had the game’s logo on one side and handed a stack to each of them.

“How much you wanna bet Ali rigged this and gave them those questions yesterday?” Anya muttered to Lincoln.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” he scoffed through his stage smile.

“Each correct answer is worth ten points. You only need seventy more points to reach the total needed for a win, so seven correct answers will get you there! You each have six cards, so we’ve got plenty of time and plenty of wiggle room. Ready?”

“Ready,” Clarke and Lexa replied in unison.

“Number one! Clarke! We’ve seen a whole lot of Lexa’s piano skills lately and it’s all the buzz that she’s been a pianist her whole life and has a degree in composing from the nation’s premiere music school. Who is Lexa’s favorite classical musician?”

“My honey loves Beethoven,” Clarke answered confidently with zero hesitation. Lexa grinned smugly and held up her card that had ‘Beethoven’ written in her trademark all caps handwriting.

A positive ding sound effect blared and ten more points were added to their score.

“Very nice! Six more to go! Lexa! Clarke has dozens of guitars. Which one is her favorite to play?” The host leaned closer in anticipation.

“She’s got a vintage Les Paul from the 80s. It’s pink,” Lexa grinned.

Clarke held up her sign to read ‘Pink Les Paul’ and bounced in her seat with excitement as another victorious ding rang out.

“Two for two, girls! Here we go!” The host cried. The audience cheered. “Five more correct answers locks the money up!”

“She’s got a fucking Les Paul from the 80s?” Echo turned to Anya with a raised brow. “Who the fuck is this chick?”

“Clarke, The Grounders have played shows all over the world. What city is Lexa’s favorite to perform in?” The host asked slowly.

Clarke paused in thought and glanced at Lexa with a curious little smile. Lexa shrugged back innocently and got her card ready to flip over.

“She really loves Berlin,” Clarke trailed off. The host got ready to call it. “BUT!” Clarke stopped him and held up a finger. “Her real favorite place to play is New York, New York, USA.”

“Lexa?” The host asked apprehensively. 

Lexa pretended to scowl then broke into a grin as she flipped her card over to read ‘New York City.’

“This has to be rigged,” Anya muttered as she and the grounders clapped. 

“Lexa loves a hometown show,” Lincoln brushed it off. 

“I know that, and you know that, but how the fuck does she know that?” Anya pointed subtly at Clarke surrounded by flashing lights and silly heart shaped set pieces.

“Alright, Lexa! To keep up the streak and go four for four! What is Clarke’s favorite morning activity?” The host asked.

“This is a family show, right?” Lexa asked smoothly and turned to shoot one of the cameras a charismatic wink. 

The audience burst out laughing and sent a few whistles and catcalls toward the set. Clarke covered her face with her hands as she laughed and played along with Lexa’s flirty persona. 

“I’m kidding! Her favorite thing to do in the morning is sing,” Lexa answered as her chuckles died down.

“Clarke?” The host nodded towards Clarke’s sign.

“I sing in the mornings!” Clarke sang out in an over the top opera voice as she flipped over her sign that read ‘sing songs.’

“I think they’re gonna make it! What do you think?” The host pointed at the audience who cheered in response.

“We got this,” Lexa reached out and squeezed Clarke’s shoulder.

“Clarke, to make it five for five, which one of your songs is Lexa’s favorite?” The host read from his cue cards.

“Sunflowers,” Clarke said immediately as if it were common, obvious knowledge.

“Sunflowers!” Lexa shouted at the ceiling and held up her sign with the song title written neatly.

“Here we go! Lexa! Let’s keep it going! Six for six! If Clarke could change places with any recording artists and have their songs be hers and their catalog be hers and their talents be hers, who would she choose?” The host kept the pace up.

“Oooh,” Lexa paused to think and tapped her signs on her lap as she mulled it over. She looked at Clarke and scratched her chin in thought as she tried to find the answer.

“Come on, you know it, babe,” Clarke said with a reassuring smile.

“No hints, Clarke!” The host warned.

“Stevie Nicks?” Lexa winced.

“I told you you knew it!” Clarke cried and flipped her sign over to read ‘Stevie Nicks’ in her loopy handwriting. 

“Hell yeah!” Lexa raised a fist in the air.

“Alright folks! Here we go! This is for all fifty grand! Clarke, if you get this next one the game is over and not only are you two victorious, but you will have an unheard of, first time on the show, perfect score in the lightning round! Are you ready?” The host hyped up the crowd.

“Hit me!” Clarke tried to settle in her seat but she was too caught up in it all.

“Lexa is a self proclaimed bookwork and she reads a lot,” the host began.

“She really does,” Clarke agreed. “Her place is full of books,” Clarke playfully rolled her eyes.

“What is Lexa’s favorite book?” The host asked slowly and tensely.

Lexa’s face sank and she tried to hide it. 

She knew this was something they had never discussed.

“Oh!” Clarke snapped her fingers quickly and turned to Lexa. She gestured with her hands to get the words to come out. Lexa looked on in agonizing anticipation. “It’s tan and it has purple writing! What is it called! Shit!” Clarke blurted out, then caught her curse and covered her mouth.

“We’ll edit that out, but we do need an answer, Clarke,” the host pressed.

“The Alchemist!” Clarke cried out triumphantly.

Lexa stared back at her with a gaping mouth and thrilled, wide eyes.

“Is that it?” Clarke cringed and shrank into her chair. 

Lexa silently and dramatically flipped her card over.

“The Alchemist, baby!” Lexa exclaimed. They both lit up, dropped their cards and jumped into an excited embrace right there on stage.

“We have a winner!” The host cried as the show’s theme blasted on the soundstage and balloons fell from the ceiling around them. Their mics were cut and they could speak freely in the chaos.

“How the hell did you know that?!” Lexa leaned in so Clarke could hear her over the noise.

“It’s on your bedside table and has a bunch of folded pages and it looks like you’ve read it a thousand times. It’s all banged up. I noticed it on content day when I was in your bed all that time and I remember thinking you were such a fucking geek cause that’s like an English class book,” Clarke said through a big, honest smile. 

They hadn’t let go of one another yet. Clarke had her arms around Lexa’s neck with Lexa’s hands planted firmly at her waist. From the audience's perspective, they appeared to be in a sweet lover’s moment.

“That book is a classic and it’s absolutely beautiful,” Lexa said back firmly. “You might actually like it. It would be good for you with everything you’re going through right now,” she added as an afterthought.

“What I’m going through?” Clarke asked with confused brows and that little thing she did with her lips when she was trying to figure Lexa out.

“Learning about your true self and learning about love in all of it’s forms,” Lexa said quickly before the cameras were all over them and they had to be back in the spotlight.

It took every fiber of Clarke’s true self not to react to Lexa’s words as they were handed a giant prop check for fifty grand for their charity and had to smile for the cameras. 

And hug for the cameras and kiss for the cameras and act like a happy couple who had just won a game based on their love and understanding of each other for the cameras. 

The fanfare quickly died down as they were whisked off the set.

“Hey, um, my feet hurt a little bit? I’m gonna take a second,” Clarke pointed over her shoulder with her thumb towards her dressing room.

“Of course,” Lexa smiled in understanding. “Take all the time you need.”

“Hey, Hot Shot! Nice work out there!” Anya shouted as she and the grounders found Lexa near the set. 

“Thank you very much,” Lexa chuckled. “I appreciate your support in all this.”

“I’m glad one of Ali’s scams at least got some money to a good cause,” Anya rolled her eyes and clapped Lexa on the shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Lexa furrowed her brow.

“She rigged the game, right? You two got all these questions and a heads up on all the challenges, didn’t you?” Anya’s laughs died down.

“No?” Lexa shook her head. 

“Come on, yes you did. You can tell us,” Anya pointed at Echo and Lincoln. 

“We just had to be on the show. We didn’t have to win,” Lexa said evenly.

“So all of that was real?” Lincoln asked with wide eyes.

“Technically, I guess,” Lexa shrugged. “We didn’t cheat if that’s what you’re implying.”

Anya studied Lexa’s face closely for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Are you sure?” Anya finally asked in an extra curious, high pitched tone.

“What's up with you lately?” Lexa let out a frustrated huff.

“What’s up with YOU lately?” Anya bit back.

“I’m literally just trying to do my job and save yours!” Lexa snapped.

“And there’s nothing extra going on?” Anya stayed tense.

“Extra what?” Lexa yelped.

“You tell me!” Anya tossed her hands up. A few crewmembers from the show looked their way.

“Can you keep your voice down please?” Lexa grumbled.

“Hey,” Clarke popped up behind them. “I’m good now. Sorry about that.”

“Anything else you want to accuse me of? We have press after this,” Lexa asked Anya with a resentful look.

“No. Go,” Anya sighed and waved her off. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just stressed out.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Lexa scowled.

She didn’t even realize she was doing it, but as she and Clarke walked off to meet their car to take them to the next spotlight, Lexa’s hand found its home around Clarke’s waist.

***

The following morning, Clarke and The Grounders were back to work bright and early.

Anya and Lexa exchanged disgruntled apologies and blamed everything on stress before the rest of them showed up. Working in such close quarters and being such close friends for such a long time allowed the two best friends to quickly brush any tension under the rug.

For now.

“I’m expecting a phone call at some point about my mother, but outside of that, I’m all yours for the day,” Clarke eased onto the couch in The Grounders’ practice room. “Lexa gave me the list of all the songs you know and have been learning. I should be good to do all of these.”

“So how do we do this?” Lincoln asked Lexa who sat at her piano behind a stack of paperwork. “We haven’t really been part of the whole fake thing yet.”

“Clarke and I have found it’s best if we set the scene for what’s happening from the public’s perspective to get ourselves in the proper headspace,” Lexa replied as she fussed with her phone.

“The idea is that she and I have been together since February, so all of you would be comfortable around me and you were all helping keep that secret for us as well,” Clarke chimed in.

“I developed my own storyline that I was about it before you two were,” Anya chuckled and adjusted one of her cymbals. “These two are into it. Our plot is that we like you,” she added and pointed at Lincoln and Echo standing with their guitars tuning up.

“I like you for real,” Lincoln shrugged at Clarke.

“Thank you,” Clarke chuckled awkwardly.

“Since Clarke is secretly very talented, and so are all of us, the partyline is that we all started playing covers together in our practice space for fun,” Lexa explained to the band. “Now that she and I are out and public, we’re going to record the covers for reels in a way that’s supposed to just look like a fun thing we’re all doing as musicians that get along, but it’s a precursor to the new song we’re doing.”

“Gotcha,” Anya nodded.

“Smart,” Echo nodded with her.

“Let’s warm up first, practice a little, then we’ll set up the camera and shoot it in a way that looks natural and not like we’ve been practicing,” Lexa offered up a cheeky grin. “Mics and recording are already checked and ready. Ali’s team took care of it,” she added and pointed at the multiple cameras around the room that she could control from her phone. They were set to catch different angles so they could get close ups as needed.

“You two do this shit all day?” Echo glanced back and forth between them.

“All day every day,” Lexa sighed.

“Sounds awful,” Echo spat out.

“It’s not all bad,” Clarke said honestly before she could stop it from coming out. “A lot of it is way better than I thought it was going to be.”

Anya caught Lexa’s cheeks pinking out of the corner of her eye.

“I figure we just take it from the top of the list unless anyone has any issues?” Lexa looked around the room for opinions.

“About that,” Lincoln cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Lex, ‘Son of A Preacher Man?’ Really? Dusty right off the bat? Those are some serious vocals.”

“Clarke, we mean no disrespect,” Anya jumped in with him. 

“None taken,” Clarke said evenly. “Yet.”

“She can do it,” Lexa replied in total confidence with a nod at Clarke. 

“That’s fucking bold, dude,” Anya met Lexa’s eyes across the room.

“She can do it,” Lexa had a new ease about her as she settled in on the piano bench. “Can you do it?” She moved her eyes to Clarke who stood up and took her place at a standing mic right beside Lexa’s piano bench.

It was put there so they’d be in the same shot, but they’d both be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy the closeness.

“I know it,” Clarke strained as she gave a big stretch. 

“The rest of us will find our usual spots in the harmonies. Cool?” Lexa worked to keep Clarke right next to her out of her view as best she could.

She hated how often she caught herself noticing every last detail of her fake partner lately.

They were all styled to look like they weren’t styled. The Grounders were in sneakers and black jeans and dark shirts. Lincoln’s head was freshly shaved. The girls all had full faces of makeup, but nothing like their stage looks. Lexa was still pushing boundaries with her glasses, but her eyeliner was present. 

They put Clarke in a pair of cut off shorts, a careless white t shirt and a head full of styled curls. They were all a little surprised by how long and shapely her legs were. 

Lexa avoided the perfect slice of Clarke’s midriff right beside her face like her life depended on it as Clarke stretched her arms over her head and let out a satisfied grunt.

“Can I hear the opening notes real quick?” Clarke pointed at Echo who obliged. Clarke closed her eyes and listened carefully, nodding her head and pointing in the air with one of her fingers as she mentally went through the pitches. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

“Here we go,” Anya sighed with wide eyes and counted them off.

The Grounders found their groove instantly and it sounded like they’d played the song hundreds of times from the solid opening.

Clarke jumped right in with both feet and sultry tones as if she'd rehearsed it with them all day.

Lincoln and Echo and Anya met impressed gazes throughout the room as Clarke made her way through the first verse and chorus. Lexa sent them smug smirks from behind the piano out of Clarke’s view when her voice came out in full force and all of them leaned back.

As the song swelled, Clarke kept up. She hit every note. She knew when to hold back, when to belt, when to make it her own. The band brought it on home with her and sang in their solid four part harmonies to back her up over soulful licks and Lexa’s improvisation on the keys. 

They closed the song out and no one spoke at first. 

They let the room reverberate with the aftershocks of great art made together.

“How was that?” Clarke asked openly as she caught her breath. 

Her phone rang.

“Shit, that’s my mom’s doctor,” Clarke sighed at the screen. It was on the piano and the vibrations made the strings inside rumble gently. “This should be quick.” 

“Yeah, of course, go,” Anya said with an understanding smile and pointed her sticks at the door. Clarke went into the hallway to take the call privately. 

The band sat in stiff silence until she was gone.

“Well?” Lexa asked hopefully.

“Pfft,” Echo surprised them all by speaking up first. “I mean, even I kind of want to fuck her after that.”

“Big time,” Lincoln agreed with bugged eyes. “Respectfully,” he tacked on urgently. 

“Maybe the fun kind of disrespectfully,” Anya joked. “Has she always been this hot and this talented?”

“For fuck’s sake, you guys,” Lexa whined and dropped her face into her hands.

“She’s great,” Lincoln assured her. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“She’s going home!” Clarke burst back in with a huge grin on her face.

“Really?!” Lexa jumped up from her seat.

“Yes! She’s doing really well. They’re going to get her transfer ready and take her back to their facility tonight,” Clarke replied with her phone clenched in both hands.

“Clarke, that’s so amazing!” Lexa said with a serious sweetness that made the whole band collectively cock their heads. 

Clarke fell into Lexa’s arms that opened up instinctively and held her tight.

“Fuckin’ A, I’m so relieved,” Clarke sighed and let a little laugh escape as she rested her head on Lexa’s shoulder.

“We’re happy to hear that, Clarke,” Lincoln spoke up.

Anya couldn’t find the words to as she took in the two of them in their very real embrace behind a closed door with most of the few people who knew they didn’t have to hold each other like that.

“Thank you so much,” Clarke replied sincerely and untangled herself from Lexa’s arms. “I’m feeling way less tense and stressed so I can do a much better job now.”

“Was that you doing a bad job before?” Lincoln asked slowly and carefully. Echo snorted and Anya sighed.

“I was all over the place,” Clarke brushed him off and adjusted her mic stand. “How many more run-throughs do you want before we roll the cameras?”

“Maybe one more for good luck,” Lexa chuckled and shot Anya a look.

They plowed through the list of songs and spent the day laughing and creating new versions of old hits and egging one another on and changing seats and playing each other’s instruments. 

Clarke and Anya switched places and Anya took lead vocals and Clarke backed her up on the drums through a ridiculous, Muppet voice version of Manfred Mann’s ‘Do Wah Diddy Diddy’ that had Lincoln on the floor clutching his sides.

Echo fit an 80s hairband style solo into a cover of Amy Winehouse’s ‘Tears Dry On Their Own’ while Clarke laid on her back on the piano belting it out like a lounge singer.

They took turns picking the song and taking the lead and they recorded the whole thing.

Lincoln’s turn was up near the end of the day.

“Clarke, I take back anything I ever assumed about you,” Lincoln laughed as they wrapped up an absolutely haunting version of Nirvana’s ‘All Apologies’ that they took over the top with Clarke singing and playing his bass while he played a violin.

“Honestly? Same, y’all. This has been incredible,” Clarke chuckled as she handed his guitar back to him. “We should do this way more often.”

“It’s my turn to pick! White Stripes! Seven Nation Army,” Lincoln said confidently as he settled his bass on his hips.

“Are you an eighth grader in your first week of bass lessons?” Lexa laughed.

“Laugh all you want, that is a classic for bassists,” Lincoln tsked. 

“I love that one,” Clarke sided with him. “Get up, Lex. We don’t need a piano on this one. Let’s try out some harmonies on this and see if we can’t come up with something cool,” Clarke beckoned Lexa off the piano bench and she hopped up right away.

“Alright, I’m in, but I want to take a quick break after this one,” Anya agreed as she thudded her bass drum a few times and got her head around the upcoming song. “You wanna smoke a butt after this, Clarke?” 

“Oh, uh,” Clarke stuttered nervously. “I quit.”

“Jesus, Ali made you quit smoking?! Is nothing sacred to that monster?” Anya looked up from her seat at Clarke with a horrified look.

“Ali didn’t make me,” Clarke shrugged innocently. Lexa took up her spot beside Clarke at the mic. “She hates kissing me when I’ve been smoking, so I stopped,” Clarke playfully tugged on the hem of Lexa’s black t shirt. 

When Clarke flipped her head down to rake her sweaty curls into a messy ponytail, Anya, Echo, and Lincoln all snapped their heads up to Lexa with expectant looks. 

Lexa opened her mouth to speak, but the only thing to find its way out was a stressed, tight, high pitched nervous laugh.

“I mean, they make me kiss her,” Lexa finally found some words to fumble through.

“And you’ve been a really good sport about it,” Clarke chuckled and backhanded Lexa in the stomach. “You want the high notes on this bitch or can I have ‘em?”

“All yours,” Lexa swallowed hard.

Anya couldn’t take her eyes off of the two of them the whole song. Ali’s words about Lexa keeping secrets knocked around in her skull with each hit of her drums. Their chemistry filled the room. She forgot periodically throughout the day that Clarke wasn’t Lexa’s girlfriend. She forgot that they absolutely were not sleeping together. She forgot they weren’t all friends and this wasn’t real at all.

It felt too right.

Her scowl faded as she watched Clarke and Lexa harmonize and move their hips in unison and tap their toes at the same time and laugh between verses and grin at each other with grins they never directed at anyone else.

Rather than feel skeptical or aggravated or upset or nervous that there was something Lexa wasn’t telling her, Anya realized as Clarke and Lexa’s voices blended perfectly and their joyful smiles mirrored each other and how happy they looked making music together just how hard the whole thing must be.

And that there was probably a whole lot of stuff Lexa wasn’t even telling herself yet.

As she crashed her cymbals and rolled her snare, Anya decided to stop worrying about it and to just be ready if and when Lexa felt like she had something to say.

Judging by the mooneyes she had for Clarke all afternoon, Anya assumed that time was going to come sooner than later.

***

Riding the high of creating music together, Clarke and Lexa had a fake date to a movie premiere that evening involving red carpet clothes and a specific script to stick to, but their photoready grins were the real deal. The afterparty was dead and they spent most of it making one another laugh by the bar.

The next morning had them getting shuttled all over Manhattan for appearances on podcasts and webshows to talk up their plans to record together and their blossoming love that everyone from every corner of the internet was newly obsessed with. 

The evening brought dinner together at a hip Filipino spot that was making headlines. The chef was a fan of Clarke’s and they were showered in extra dishes and overflowing hospitality.

Saturday night found the two fake lovers in the back of another town car in clothes picked out for them headed to a party for the sole purpose of being seen at it together.

“Do you know this guy?” Lexa asked. They were on their way to the opening of a new club in Midtown that a young, prominent mumble rapper on the label owned half of. Clarke was on the list and Lexa was her plus one.

“Not really,” Clarke shrugged. “We’ve met a few times. We presented an award at the MTV VMAs together last fall.”

“Which one?” Lexa brought her eyes off the lines of hopeful party goers and paparazzi and grinned at Clarke.

“Best use of CGI in a music video,” Clarke laughed at the absurdity of it. “He was very nice to me and he knew who I was, which I found surprising. I guess I didn’t realize he’s old enough to drink, let alone own a club.”

“He’s young enough that he didn’t get to go to all of the white parties back in the day,” Lexa chuckled. “This is retro for him, huh?” She pointed at Clarke’s flowy white dress.

They kept Lexa as rock and roll as they could in a pair of tight white jeans, white doc martens and a form fitting, thin white tank top that left little of her figure to the imagination. Her make up was softer than usual, and they styled her hair the way Clarke liked that showed off her cheekbones and jawline. 

Clarke sat beside her in a flowy white dress with skinny straps and a high slit that gave a great view of her cleavage and a sneak peek of her legs in all of their spray-tanned glory. White pumps, a smokey eye, and big curls brought her look together. They were both decked out in gold jewelry, big smiles, and new nerves that they couldn’t explain, didn’t want to, and hoped to keep hidden from each other.

“I can’t remember the last white party I went to,” Clarke half smiled. “No red wine tonight, okay?” She tacked on with a smirk.

“Hey, if that wine never spilled on you, none of this would’ve happened and you’d still be treating me like crap and hanging out by yourself,” Lexa jokingly shook a finger at her.

“True,” Clarke nodded softly. “You got me there.”

Lexa expected a snarky remark or a witty retort or something she’d need a quick and salty response for, but nothing but a warm smile came her way. 

“It’s been a really long week of press. How do you feel about not answering any questions and just blasting through this red carpet straight to the bar?” Lexa asked with a conspiratorial smile as they pulled up to the entrance.

“Ooo, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Clarke wagged her brows as Lexa stepped out of the car and turned to offer her hand to Clarke.

“Then you’re gonna want to be all over me so they think we’re so lost in love that we can’t hear them,” Lexa said lowly as she pulled Clarke in close and snuggled their faces together.

“I can do that,” Clarke smirked before turning Lexa’s face in for a full on open mouthed kiss. Lexa’s breath hitched and she hoped Clarke would chalk it up to surprise. It looked like passion in all the photos caught amongst the deluge of flashbulbs.

They ignored everyone and strutted with confidence wrapped up in one another until they were inside. 

“Nice work. Let’s get some clear liquor to celebrate,” Lexa laughed and smoothly escorted Clarke through the room.

The club was huge. 

It had all the details and perfect essence of big clubs meant for dancing that were all the rage at the turn of the century. Low blue lighting and curved bars with round booths made them feel like they’d left Manhattan and walked right into Miami in 2003. 

The strong, confident way Lexa led Clarke through a crowd made Clarke’s knees wobble. The reasons Lexa held her like that and guided her like that and looked after her like that were all fake, but the sense of security and safety and warmth it riled up in Clarke couldn’t be more real. 

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

A bunch of artists from the label were all over the club and Clarke was surprised to find how many of them actually knew Lexa. The professional work friends schtick was something Clarke didn’t expect Lexa to be so good at, and she was really, really good at it, but she also seemed to know and get along with so many of them in a sincere way.

She remembered names and anecdotes. They knew things about her that weren’t googleable. They all had history and stories and knew one another. She was funny and she was charming and she had a bunch of guys from a psychedelic rock band and a glam metal band all decked out in their wild white outfits roaring laughing at dad jokes with her pop folk girlfriend on her arm.

Clarke couldn’t believe how nice it felt.

A handful of younger hip-hop acts stopped Lexa to comment how fly she and Clarke looked together and had something to say about her swagger and her BDE that rather than get flustered or embarassed by, she sent it right back with a swift nod and a wink over her shoulder as she escorted Clarke back to the bar. 

Clarke spent so much of their history not being able to stand Lexa that she wasn’t able to see how much everyone else loved her.

It was kinda hot.

“I was never much for the club scene,” Lexa said a bunch of vodka sodas later as they settled into a booth together so they could hear each other talk over the loud, lulling mumble rap that filled the place up.

The dancefloor held groups of people standing and talking and occasionally bopping their heads, but the vibe was calm over all.

Lexa had her arm over the back of the booth and Clarke snuggled right in beside her.

“I did my time in the New York club scene when I was younger. I didn’t really like it, but I went out a lot so I could network and meet people and advance my career,” Clarke shrugged and pushed the ice in her drink around with the straw. “I managed to keep a good balance of making contacts in the industry, making contacts to get coke, and hooking up with the right people.”

“How very New York of you,” Lexa laughed. 

“What can I say? I was young and ambitious and running from myself,” Clarke laughed with her.

“We probably walked by each other all the time and didn’t know it. Me and the band were all in school when you moved to the city,” Lexa said thoughtfully. “We all moved to Manhattan at the same time.”

“I never thought of that,” Clarke glanced away and did the math. 

“But we were more into burgers and dive bars and studying than clubbing and networking and blow,” Lexa smirked slyly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have given me a second glance in my collegiate nerd days.”

“Hey, I said you looked sexy in those glasses and I meant it,” Clarke came back right away.

Lexa’s jaw twitched and she couldn’t find a response.

“I mean,” Clarke cringed. She looked over Lexa’s confused face and something softened inside of her. “You know what? Fuck it. You do look sexy in your glasses and I did mean it. You’re my friend, you’re hot, and that’s just true.”

“Thank you,” Lexa laughed it off, but crossed her legs anxiously. 

“You told me I looked hot at the fashion show!” Clarke yelped defensively. Lexa burst out laughing. 

“You look hot all the fucking time!” Lexa blurted out coaxed by booze and the warmth of Clarke’s body beside her. “You’re just hot! It’s a fact! Why do you think all of these dudes are treating me the way they are tonight? It’s respect! You look super hot right now and they think I’m hitting that!”

“Shut up,” Clarke felt herself blush immediately and thanked the low lighting for making it hard to tell. She covered the electric grin bombarding past her reserve at Lexa’s honesty.

“Isn’t that the whole point of this thing?” Lexa suavely recovered and pointed between the two of them. “We’re hot opposites or whatever Ali called us?”

On cue, Clarke’s phone lit up on the table.

She picked it up and squinted at the message.

‘Get her on that dancefloor and put on a show. Draw enough attention and you can do your sexit routine by 1am.’

“Ulgh, what does she want?!” Lexa whined. 

Clarke huffed a big sigh through a scowl and typed back ‘Get me some music with an actual beat and you’ve got a deal.’

“She’s back on her bullshit,” Clarke muttered to Lexa and showed her the text.

‘Hold please’ lit up on her phone.

“What’s up, what’s up, party people! Time to take it back to the era that birthed our boy! Get your asses on the floor and shake those money makers to the sounds that make you wanna get dooooowwwwn!” The DJ cried as the opening shouts of ‘Pass The Courvoisier’ shook the room.

‘You’re welcome. Go get ‘em, Tiger.’

“How the actual fuck does she do this?!” Clarke cried and frantically looked around the room.

“I used to think I wanted to know how she does it? But at this point I’m just gonna believe it’s magic,” Lexa shook her head.

“If it is magic, it’s the fucking dark arts for sure,” Clarke grumbled and slammed the rest of her drink. “Alright Sweetheart, you ready to party?” Clarke nodded towards the dancefloor with a silly grin.

“Lead the way, Love,” Lexa laughed as Clarke pulled her out of her seat.

The whole room flocked to the dancefloor as the lighting changed and the vibe shot through the roof. The musicians in their thirties and forties were transported right back to the clubs and house parties and memories of their glory days and were all exactly drunk and high enough to toss any and all inhibition aside. 

One of the glam rockers did the worm. A crew of country music guys had fast and furious footwork that had the mumble rappers freaking out and jumping around and joining in. A girl group typically classified as tame in the same lanes as Clarke dropped it so low they were in danger of not getting back up.

Clarke and Lexa looked for their groove together in the middle of it all.

“Lexa!” Clarke shouted over the music from her typical spot in Lexa’s arms being led in dance. Lexa shot back a quizzical face. “Are you trying to do the foxtrot with me right now to the Ying Yang Twins?” Clarke couldn’t help laughing as she asked.

“Maybe a little!” Lexa yelled back over the music. She had a bashful flush in her cheeks.

“Can you not?” Clarke said frankly through the warmest, happiest, biggest smile. 

It was Clarke’s real smile and it bulldozed the dam holding back Lexa’s real feelings that exploded inside her any time she saw it.

“This party just got fun!” Clarke leaned into Lexa’s ear so she didn’t have to shout so loud over the bass. “Just because we have to be here for fake reasons doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to actually enjoy ourselves! Just be yourself! Just dance with me because we’re us! We don’t have to be anything else to sell it! Make it ours, remember?”

“You think you can handle all these moves?” Lexa flirted back and followed Clarke’s body to the hip-hop beats.

Clarke spun around and pulled off a flawless bend and snap with her ass backed right up into Lexa’s hips with an uncomfortably perfect twerk. She brought it back up with a hand behind Lexa’s neck as their bodies fell into the groove and rolled together like they were built for it. Clarke knew exactly what to do and exactly when to do it and kept Lexa guessing how to keep up.

“You want a bucket for these?” Clarke smirked with lidded eyes.

It wasn’t salty, it wasn’t cheeky and it wasn’t goofy.

It was unbelievably, intentionally, incredibly sexy.

“Let ‘em spill,” Lexa flirted back, grabbed Clarke’s hands and with strong moves spun her out and back and dipped her like only Lexa knew how.

The laugh that came out of Clarke cut through the music and set a fire ablaze inside of Lexa.

It wasn’t in her brain or her heart or her guts where she usually felt confusing twitches of emotion when Clarke did something Lexa couldn’t explain why she liked so much.

It was between her legs and there was nothing confusing about it.

Everyone around them whooped and cheered. Clarke laughed off the attention and fell right back into a grind with Lexa and everyone around them shouting the lyrics out.

They all sang along to the rap songs they were raised on. Drinks got passed around the floor and everyone was so happy to be silly and have fun with one another. The joy was infectious and the DJ played the crowd like a fiddle queueing up classic after classic after classic.

They ended up dancing with other people and pulling out old dance moves in groups. Lexa could hear Clarke’s voice singing loudly over Biz Markie along with a group of big dudes from a Nu Metal group that looked ridiculous in white versions of their over the top rock wear as he rocked back and forth with her and shouted out the classic lyrics.

Lexa was in the line up with the girl group shaking what her mama gave her and Clarke pointed with a gleeful open mouthed grin for the country dudes she was doing the sprinkler with to take it in.

The line up of songs was so good that the room cheered as each new one began and they all sang along. 

Clarke lit up when she fell back into Lexa’s arms. Their bodies aligned and picked right up where they left off.

“I didn’t know you knew the words to so many Ludacris songs!” Lexa laughed.

“I fuckin’ love Luda,” Clarke said frankly and danced closer as they moved to the music. 

“There’s nothing in the world that would make me from six weeks ago believe that I’d be at the VIP opening of a nightclub owned by a mumble rapper having the time of my life dancing to Outkast with Clarke Griffin and totally loving every second of it,” Lexa grinned as she pulled Clarke in closer. Her protective hand that stood post at Clarke’s lower back lingered lower on that perfect spot where Clarke’s hip, back and ass all met.

“Right?” Clarke laughed. “This whole thing is easily the weirdest thing I’ve ever done or been a part of, but I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun in my entire life.”

“Really?” Lexa couldn’t stop the dopey grin from spreading further on her face. She hoped to blame the booze, but knew she couldn’t. She tried to look Clarke in the eye but the sweat on Clarke’s forehead and chest had her hypnotized.

“No question,” Clarke replied firmly. “I had completely forgotten how to enjoy myself. I don’t think I’ve felt real joy like this since I was a kid.”

“I hate that you went so long without it,” Lexa snuggled Clarke a little closer and dipped a little lower with the rhythm.

“I hate that I went so long without you,” Clarke said way too quickly. 

They met eyes and for a brief moment the rest of the room slowed down and the music dulled just long enough for them to silently beg the other to say it first.

“All the hottest Polis bitches get more shots!!!!” One of the hip-hop guys interrupted them with a tray full of bright blue shots and a grin sporting the loudest grill. “I’ve got two for you, booboos!” 

They each immediately took a shot in each hand, threw them back then slammed the empties on his tray.

They held one another’s curious eye contact.

“Yo! That’s what’s up, foxy chicks!” He laughed and danced away with his shots to offer them around the floor.

“Ali said I can start the sexit after 1,” Clarke said evenly. “It’s 1:30.”

“I don’t know if it’s the blue drinks or the rocker dudes starting a limbo over there, but I don’t really want to leave,” Lexa matched Clarke’s tone.

They both stiffly studied the other desperately looking for truths.

“I don’t know if it’s the Mystikal or the contact high from all these rappers smoking blunts, but I don’t either,” Clarke carried on diplomatically to hide how she really felt.

“What should we do about it?” Lexa raised a challenging brow and kept her hands planted firmly on her hips so she wouldn’t do anything she’d regret with them.

Lexa’s shirt was covered in dancefloor sweat and spilled drinks and Clarke’s make up and it clung to her torso too perfectly. 

Clarke bit her lip and wrestled with what to do for a few bars of the DJ’s beats.

The blue drinks shook hands with the vodka in her stomach and they decided together.

She pulled Lexa in for an earnest, heavy, slow kiss. Startled, Lexa sucked a big breath in through her nose before her hands found their way back to Clarke’s body to pull her in to deepen their embrace. 

Clarke pulled back and shivered as a shaky sigh snuck past her wet lips. Lexa’s body tried to fold in on itself at the delicious, tiny whimper Clarke let out as she pinched her eyes shut.

That kiss was real and they both felt the floor fall out from under them at the same time.

“As much fun as I’m having, I think we should get out of here,” Clarke said breathlessly as her chest heaved.

“Good plan,” Lexa nodded quickly before catching Clarke’s lips with her own again. 

They stumbled to the exit all over each other the whole way and made out ferociously on the sidewalk waiting for their car to pull up. They fell into it with a chuckle from security as he closed the door behind them.

“51st and 9th,” Lexa got out breathlessly for the driver between the kisses they couldn’t stop in the backseat of the car. Clarke had her hands in Lexa’s hair and her hips jumped forward at Lexa’s strong hands holding her waist in an all new way.

“You got it, Miss Woods,” he replied.

Hearing her own address slowly shook Clarke out of the sloppy dreamstate Lexa’s lips had her in.

“Wait!” Clarke pushed Lexa off, but caught another quick kiss on her way. “Wait! Stop! Wait!”

Lexa sat back, stunned.

“We’re drunk and high on bliss and getting carried away with this thing,” Clarke held her hands up and slid over on the seat to put some space between them. “We’re getting too close and too comfortable and this is getting too confusing.”

They both had wide, terrified, hungry eyes and heaving chests and screaming loins as they stared at each other frantically searching for the right thing to do.

“Yup,” Lexa swallowed hard and opened and closed her eyes a few times to bring herself back to reality. “That is definitely exactly what is happening.”

“I’m so sorry. That whole experience was fucking captivating in a way I do not know how to process,” Clarke had wide eyes transfixed on the back of the driver’s head in front of her to keep them off of Lexa’s inviting body, messy hair, and swollen lips. 

“In a bad way?” Lexa asked in a small voice after a thick pause between them.

“In the best way,” Clarke’s voice was tight and had the hallmark waiver in it that Lexa had come to recognize as holding back overwhelmed tears.

It took her back to brunch and back to the hospital and back to reality that this magical night was one night of ninety numbered nights that were going to be over before they knew it.

The unparalleled, joyful magic between them would all be erased by a new lie that one of them hurt the other.

Lexa’s heart sank and she wanted to cry a little bit, too.

“C’mere,” Lexa nodded her head for Clarke to slide back over and cuddle up beside her. “It’s okay. It’s confusing and it’s weird and it’s getting really hard and you’re right. It’s all just part of it.”

“Part of what?” Clarke bit her lip and turned to look at Lexa with the deepest, most confused but desperate eyes.

“I don’t fucking know anymore,” Lexa sighed with a solemn, defeated shrug. 

“Do you think it’s weird that they’re able to pull this off so well?” Raven asked. She lay flat on her back naked in her bed in the wee hours of the morning after the show and the after party which she and Anya slipped out of quietly together before it wrapped up. 

“Nah,” Anya, who lay beside her in the same bare and spent fashion, replied as she exhaled a cloud of smoke from a weed pen and passed it to Raven. “They’re full time actresses. You know better than anyone that Clarke’s whole career is an act.”

“I know, but like,” Raven trailed off. Her eyes volleyed between lingering on the slowly dissipating vapor clouds in the low light and falling closed as she gently ran her fingers up and down Anya’s thigh.

“They were at each other’s throats last week and now they’re so, so good at being in fake love?” Anya chuckled.

“Like SO good at it!” Raven laughed. 

After the show, Clarke and Raven were present in the VIP meet and greet room. Clarke was funny and loving and supportive and full of smiles that Raven would’ve sworn up and down that the two of them had been doing this for months and that none of it was pretend.

At the after party, Lexa was polite and kind and a total gentlewoman to Clarke. The two of them spent the whole night all over each other, talking quietly, holding hands, snuggling and whispering in a corner whenever anyone looked their way, and even spent a little longer than necessary for show on a dive bar dance floor together. They moved together like they’d been practicing for years, and Clarke’s laughs as Lexa whipped her around were too real.

“From what Lex has told me, Ali and her bizarre group of robot assistants have thought of everything and the training is extremely intense. Did you know they’re mandated to be touching at all times?” Anya rolled over into Raven’s touch and propped herself up on her elbow so she could see her face.

“They’re certainly following that rule to the letter,” Raven rolled her eyes before letting them finally close as she settled against Anya’s body.

“I mean, good, since if they don’t, my ass is on the line,” Anya tried to hide the notes of genuine stress in her voice and failed when a nervous, breathy laugh snuck through.

“You’re one of the most talented studio drummers Polis has on the roster right now. Believe me. I’ve seen all of them. If this thing falls through, I have enough pull that I can request you every time I need one whether you’re on the label or not. You’ll have plenty of steady work,” Raven dropped her voice to a sweet and soothing tone she saved only for Anya behind closed doors.

“I don’t need you giving me hand outs,” Anya scowled.

“It’s not a hand out! I know we don’t fuck when we’re recording your songs together, but we do when you’re on someone else’s, so my judgement of your studio skills is not clouded by how badly I want your face between my thighs. Anytime I’ve had you do studio drums for other artists you’re lightyears ahead of all of the other drummers I call, much easier to work with, a lot more fun to look at in the booth all day, and way more talented than everyone else,” Raven replied steadily and strongly as she threaded her fingers into the ends of Anya’s messy stage hair. “You’re always my first choice if I can have you, personally and professionally.”

A relieved, shy smile twitched across Anya’s sex-swollen lips.

“So, about that,” Anya began in a tentative, low voice. “Do you think these collab tracks between Clarke and The Grounders count as my songs?”

“Technically they are Grounders tracks and Clarke is a featured artist, so yes, I do,” Raven replied as diplomatically as she could considering Anya’s breasts were in her face. “Something about how everyone gets paid and who has what studio time and which one of them needs it more for whatever this dumb plan is.”

“Sure, but Clarke and Lexa are doing all the work. We might as well just be a studio band,” Anya pressed.

“It’s two tracks, An. You’re going to do it in like four takes. This contract will be a week at best,” Raven said between kisses to Anya’s chest and collar bones. 

“Fine,” Anya huffed.

“Why are you pushing this so hard?” Raven leaned back so she could see Anya’s eyes when she spoke. They always told the truth when Anya couldn’t find the words to do it.

“We’ve got a good thing going right now,” Anya looked down at the sheets. She knew Raven’s trick. “Maybe we should see if it matters if we’re sleeping together when we’re also working together on my music with an easy, short contract.”

“Seeing as though I still can’t move my legs because of what you just did to me, I don’t think I’m in a sound state of mind to make such a big decision about changing the dynamic of what we have together based on your own requests,” Raven said slowly and carefully. “Especially with all of the new chaos and stress around Clarke and Lexa’s fauxmance.”

“You’re right,” Anya agreed reluctantly. 

“We need to all just focus on getting through this thing. You’re Lexa’s best friend and I think she’s gonna need you a lot this summer,” Raven relaxed into the pillows and let the lingering tingles in her body wash over her. 

“What makes you say that?” Anya slid an open palm across Raven’s belly.

“I’ve seen glimpses of the real Clarke, maybe more than she’s shown most people, and to put it politely, she’s a lot,” Raven sighed contently at Anya’s touch. 

“I know I’m not supposed to since she’s Lexa’s nemesis or whatever, but I always kinda liked Clarke,” Anya grinned at a few specific memories. “She seems like she’s out of her mind half the time, but she’s totally not. She’s slick and she’s wild and she’s not afraid of anything.”

“Pretty accurate,” Raven replied with a sleepy nod. “There’s a lot to her that’s much deeper than she’s allowed to let on. I can’t say it to her, but I’ve always really enjoyed Lexa’s company.”

“Do you remember why they hate each other?” Anya glanced away and sorted her memories.

“I don’t even think they know why they hate each other,” Raven chuckled. 

“I’m glad they cut you into the limited list of people who know what’s going on,” Anya said frankly. “Because it’s so fucking bizarre to watch them do all of this and I can’t imagine not being able to talk to you about it.”

“Oh, big same,” Raven said with knowing, scrunched brows. “How’s Lexa holding up?”

“She keeps saying she’s fine, but I feel like she’s lying,” Anya shrugged.

“Clarke’s doing a lot of that, too,” Raven chuckled. 

“Do you think they’re going to end up actually together?” Anya joked. “Can you imagine? All these years the fighting has just been pent up sexual tension because they’re secretly in love?”

“They do seem to be getting along in a particularly bizarre way,” Raven let the idea roll around in her head.

“I was joking,” Anya clarified.

“I know you were. But if you think about it,” Raven trailed off.

“I don’t think I want to,” Anya laughed. 

***

Photos from The Grounder’s show and some from the studio circulated all weekend. 

Clarke found herself looking at them less and less. The disconnect between what was really going on in the moment for her with how they were portrayed messed with her in a way she didn’t like. The label’s tricky editing mixed with her growing closeness with Lexa made it hard to remember what was real. 

While she still found the whole thing bizarre and uncomfortable and all of it was confusing and terrible and stressful, she and Lexa had found their groove existing inside of it together. All of it was easier when they were together and the magic spell of their acting kept each other going. 

They could get lost in it with each other. When she was alone, it was harder to keep up the act.

As she walked into Polis on Monday morning by herself, every head in the lobby swiveled to send a smirk her way. Ignoring them with her patented grouchy sighs that everyone around the label was used to, she got on the elevator. It was the first day of songwriting for the two of them, and she had plans to meet Lexa shortly and get started.

Clarke couldn’t figure out why she was nervous about it.

All of the other emotions she felt were easily understood, but the nagging feeling of being nervous about writing a song with Lexa just wouldn’t settle down.

Swelling classical piano filled the hallway when the elevator reached their floor. 

The Grounders’ practice room door was propped open. Clarke stepped cautiously so her shoes wouldn’t give her away and listened intently. She stopped altogether just outside and leaned against the wall to let Lexa play on. After being so saturated in mediocre music for so long, listening to the rise and fall of the technically impressive runs sent Clarke somewhere else. She took a deep breath with closed eyes as the music climbed to its highest point before swinging back down to a final resting place. 

“Still got it,” Clarke heard Lexa whisper to herself. An honest little smile of appreciation bloomed on Clarke’s face.

“Good morning,” Clarke announced herself as she knocked on the open door. “Do you always start your work week off with a little casual Vivaldi?”

“Ah, so you do know about real music,” Lexa replied with a cheeky grin and a dramatic glissando with a high note punctuation mark before spinning around on her piano bench to face Clarke. 

“I do,” Clarke grinned back and set her bag on the floor as she eased onto The Grounder’s tattered couch.

“As far as classical piano goes, dude was a G,” Lexa softened. “Morning. How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Clarke lied.

“Are you lying because of all of this?” Lexa gestured vaguely at herself and the label and the chaos of their fake love. “Or are you lying because of something else?”

“How can you tell I’m lying?” Clarke asked carefully with a skeptical side eye.

“Clarke, lying is our full time job now. I can tell when you’re doing it,” Lexa replied with a perceptive head tilt. Clarke stared back for a few beats and tried to decide if she should pull out the kneejerk sassy remarks she had at the ready or if she should tell Lexa the truth.

“My mom’s not doing so hot,” Clarke finally sighed. “One of her nurses called me this morning and gave me the latest update. It’s not great.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Lexa said sincerely with sympathetic eyes. “That has to be so hard to get those updates all the time unprompted.”

“It is,” Clarke replied, surprised by how spot on Lexa’s observation was.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lexa asked awkwardly. Clarke glanced up at her, startled and confused by Lexa’s honest kindness. “Cause we can if you want. We’re going to be spending all of our time together. If it’s going to affect you this much, maybe I should know more about it so I can be properly supportive. Or if distractions are preferred today, we can just get to work instead,” Lexa tried with a pursed lipped, uncomfortable smile as she pointed at the piano.

“I suppose this song isn’t going to write itself,” Clarke bit back the urge to pour her heart out.

“Awesome,” Lexa said with an encouraging nod. “What’s your process? Lyrics or music first?”

“It depends,” Clarke replied, all business. She pulled a notebook out of her bag and glanced at her phone for the particulars of the song’s assignment in her company files. “I’m thinking with this one and all of its requirements, maybe we start with some basic lyrics for concept, then find a sound we like, then fill in the rest in a way that matches up and feels right.”

“Works for me,” Lexa agreed. 

“Do you have any initial thoughts?” Clarke raised a brow.

“I’ve gotta say no,” Lexa chuckled with stressed eyes and a playful wince. “I’m better with hooks. You’ve got great lyrics in your verses, so if you want to start with lyrics, I’m gonna defer to you.”

“Is this a set up? Are you about to make fun of my songs somehow?” Clarke eyed Lexa with thick suspicion. 

“No, I mean it. You really are great with lyrics. You’re clever,” Lexa smiled earnestly. “It’s clear that they’ve made you write about dumb things, but you have a lot of interesting turns of phrase in your lyrics, and you’ve put together rhymes I never would’ve thought of.”

Clarke just stared back at her waiting for the insult.

“Clarke, this is work. I listened to all of your songs a few times because I need to write songs with you. I don’t like them, but they’re well done for what they are. I analyzed them because we have to create together, so I hoped to understand you and your songwriting before we jumped into this,” Lexa sighed.

Clarke held her skeptical look a few beats longer.

“I listened to all of your albums, too,” Clarke finally admitted. “You’re right. You really know how to nail a chorus that makes people want to get out of their seats. Even though your music is totally basic, which I understand is against your will after seeing you live, it’s technically very, very good basic music. Composing major, right?”

“Good memory,” Lexa clicked her tongue and pointed at Clarke with a pencil.

“It shows,” Clarke said with a sarcastically annoyed huff.

“So theoretically,” Lexa paused for encouraging, dramatic effect. “We should be pretty good at this.”

“Theoretically,” Clarke begrudgingly agreed. “Let’s talk concepts and ideas for lyrics.”

They spent the day proposing ideas and picking them apart. 

By nine PM, the Grounders’ practice room was covered in torn pieces of paper, empty coffee cups from the lounge on their floor, two different kinds of half eaten take out because they worked through two meals, and a few tiny shreds of a new, sexy pop song.

They were so deep in the process that neither of them remembered they didn’t like each other.

“I think we should call it a night, Woods,” Clarke murmured. She was on her back on the floor beside Lexa’s piano with her hands over her face with little left in her.

“Yup,” Lexa agreed and dropped her pencil down against her notes. “I think we’re at capacity for bad ideas.”

“That’s the smartest, most eloquent thing you’ve said all day,” Clarke chuckled. “Write it down.”

“Come on,” Lexa held a hand out to help Clarke up from the floor, who accepted. Clarke sat beside Lexa on the bench and didn’t let go of her hand. The familiar sensation of being close to one another felt right after all of their training to never be apart.

“Anya’s tracking drums on something for Raven upstairs,” Lexa said after reading a text. “I’m gonna go meet her for a drink.”

“I’ll walk up with you. I’ve gotta catch up with Raven,” Clarke nodded towards the door as she got up to get her things together. 

They both glanced down at their joined hands, then quickly let go. 

“Sorry,” Clarke winced. “New habits.”

“I get it,” Lexa brushed it off and collected her jacket and bag and shoved a bunch of the notes from their day into it. “I feel a bizarre need to constantly be holding you. The conditioning Ali put us through is military grade hypnotism.”

Clarke broke into a genuine laugh. 

“You’ve got a great laugh,” Lexa said absentmindedly.

“What?” Clarke shot her a look.

“Nothing,” Lexa shrugged as they walked down the hall together. “Your real laugh and your fake laugh are so different. Your real one is great. I’ve heard it a few times over the last few days. It sounds just so honest, you know? Like you couldn’t keep it in if you wanted to.”

“I guess I don’t know why I’d bother trying to keep it in,” Clarke shrugged back as she hit the button on the elevator to call it. “I don’t see the point.”

“It does prove that I was right about something, though,” Lexa tsked.

“What’s that?” Clarke asked dryly.

“I’m so funny,” Lexa replied with a raised brow and a playful smirk just as the doors slid open to reveal her least favorite intern with her arms crossed over a stack of folders and a sourpuss face.

“Ontari,” Lexa’s features dropped. “Nice to see you.”

“Lexa,” Ontari rolled her eyes. Lexa panicked and reached down for Clarke’s hand to observe their always touching in public rule, but Clarke already had her hand in Lexa’s back pocket. 

“Going up?” Lexa asked politely.

“Unfortunately,” Ontari sneered. Lexa ignored the attitude. Clarke glanced between them, then snuggled herself into Lexa.

“Are you coming to my place after you catch up with Anya?” Clarke asked Lexa in a voice that sounded too natural and not quite like her overly rehearsed fake girlfriend voice.

“Uh,” Lexa shot confused eyes at Clarke who flicked hers to Ontari beside them, then back to Lexa’s with brows that begged Lexa to play along. “Definitely,” Lexa finished with new confidence.

“Perfect,” Clarke snuggled into Lexa’s neck and kissed her jawline.

“Get a room,” Ontari scoffed as the doors opened on the studio floor. She stalked out of the elevator and down the hall to one of the open studio doors. 

“She hates me,” Lexa said lowly once Ontari was out of earshot.

“That’s obvious,” Clarke chuckled. “What’s her issue with you?”

“I don’t even know,” Lexa shook her head. “Anya thinks she wants to be me. One of those weird obsession situations that’s wildly misguided.”

“That’s what I thought,” Clarke muttered and knocked on Raven’s studio door. “Figured I’d get a little possessive and piss her off.”

“Are you being nice to me?” Lexa joked.

“Eh, technically I was being mean to her and you were there,” Clarke shrugged. “So I guess not.”

“Sup, ladies?” Anya grinned through smudged lipstick as she opened the door. Raven was behind Anya straightening her shirt out.

“Laying studio tracks, are we?” Lexa smirked.

“Laying something, alright,” Clarke piled on, still in Lexa’s embrace.

“Are you two sweet little lovebugs out here cuddling and making fun of me?” Anya cried, then reached out and pretended to flick Lexa’s nose. “Ready to get shitty, Woods?!”

“I’m ready to get buzzed at best. I have to work in the morning,” Lexa laughed. 

“Boo! Fine, I’ll drink enough for both of us. Clarke, pleasure to see you, as always,” Anya nodded politely at Clarke, then turned towards Raven with a seductive smirk. “Pleasure doing business with you, Reyes.”

“Pleasure was all mine,” Raven sighed through a big, satisfied grin.

“Stop saying pleasure. It’s gross,” Clarke flinched away from them.

“I assure you, Clarke. It was beautiful,” Anya wagged her brows at Clarke. “C’mon, Lex!” Anya linked her arm into Lexa’s and dragged her towards the elevator. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Lexa laughed and shot a friendly smile back at Clarke. 

“Text me if you’re up later!” Anya shot a sultry look at Raven.

“Hold the door!” Ontari called as she hurried back through the hall.

“Oh, you little intern, you’re so lucky I need like, five more seconds of looking at that fine ass before I leave!” Anya put her foot in the door and shot Raven a cocky head nod that was equal parts totally sarcastic and completely serious.

Raven’s scowl was fake and her flushed cheeks were very real.

“Call me!” Anya called as the doors slid shut.

“You want to get a drink?” Clarke asked flatly after the chaos dissipated. 

“Yup. Maybe two,” Raven nodded succinctly and grabbed her bag.

In the elevator, Anya stood between Ontari and Lexa to keep some space between them.

“So you’re fucking that folk diva now, huh?” Ontari asked bluntly to interrupt the award tension.

“Whoa!” Anya choked back a surprised laugh.

“Excuse me?” Lexa snapped her head around.

“I thought you hated her?” Ontari challenged with a brow cocked.

“We’ve been trying to keep our private life private,” Lexa rose to her full height. 

“Is that right?” Ontari brought the other brow up to match.

“It was important to us that we got to have something that was just ours while we learned to understand it,” Lexa kept on in a firm and real tone that took Anya back a step. “Our passion for each other was so strong that in order not to give into it in public, we had to be mean to each other. That’s all been fake.”

“That all sounds fake to me,” Ontari sent Lexa’s words right back at her.

“You can’t wrap your head around how real it is,” Lexa spoke slowly and evenly and took an intimidating step towards Ontari.

“We know each other in a way you could only dream of. She’s special, and she’s different, and she’s smart, and she requires a blend of intelligence and empathy to understand and get close to that you’ll never know,” Lexa managed to seem even taller in the small space.

Ontari shrank away from Lexa’s growing presence.

“And this is the last time you’re gonna speak about her like that,” Lexa added on, hands planted firmly on her hips.

Ontari let out an audible gulp.

“Are we good?” Lexa asked Ontari through a tight, fake smile.

“We’re good,” Ontari nodded quickly.

“Damn, dude,” Anya whispered after an uncomfortable, tense silence.

The elevator chimed its soft double ding and Ontari exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

“Let’s go get those drinks,” Lexa patted Anya on the shoulder and headed out the door with a grin.

***

“So you two are like, very much sleeping together now, right?” Clarke asked a while later once she and Raven were posted up at a nearby bar. 

They both lived busy, hectic, overscheduled lives and found that hanging out with each other required little explanation or backstory. They were less good friends and more people that got along and understood each other, and they found themselves getting a little too drunk and telling each other too many truths every few months. 

“Very much so, yes,” Raven nodded through a wince as she anxiously thumbed the label on her beer.

“More than usual?” Clarke glanced away as she pounded her beer.

“Kind of?” Raven mirrored Clarke by looking into a non-existent horizon as she tried to sort her words. “Maybe different than usual.”

“How so?” Clarke leaned her elbows on the bar and turned to face Raven.

“I like it more lately? Maybe?” Raven sheepishly dipped her chin to hide her ever blushing cheeks. “I don’t know!”

“Super cute. Love that,” Clarke chuckled.

She’d had a front seat to Raven and Anya’s will-they-for-real-won’t-they-for-real over the last few years. 

“So what’s the hang up?” Clarke asked frankly.

There was always some threadbare excuse not to commit for real, and Clarke couldn’t remember the current reason they weren’t diving in.

“What hang up?” Raven asked indignantly and subconsciously sat up a little straighter.

“Something’s different this time,” Clarke shook a finger at Raven. “I spend a lot of time with Anya and The Grounders now and you’re both being weird about it.”

Two blocks south on very similar bar stools at a very similar bar, Lexa and Anya were having the very same conversation.

“We’re not being weird about anything,” Anya tried unsuccessfully to nonchalantly shove Lexa’s observations under the rug. “Who said we’re being weird? I’m not weird.”

“You’re being weird right now,” Lexa rolled her eyes.

She’d been on the other end of Anya’s I-love-her-it’s-not-that-serious volleying match just about as long as Raven and Anya had been hooking up.

Lexa thought the whole thing was kind of cute.

“You’re different lately,” Lexa pointed a finger at Anya and shook her head. “Your music is different. Your playing is different. Your whole sound is different.”

“Is it bad?” Anya paled with a hand to her chest. “Because we both agreed that if this ever fucked with work, we’d drop it immediately.”

“No! It’s actually really fucking good, and I haven’t been able to figure it out,” Lexa grinned.

“What can I say?” Anya shrugged. “Good rock and roll comes from getting laid.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Lexa agreed with a quick and acknowledging pause. “But you’ve been getting laid pretty much daily since I met you. You’ve never had a hard time getting laid, you’ve never had a shortage of opportunities to get laid, I’ve never known you to turn down getting laid, and sometimes I’m actually lowkey concerned by how frequently you get laid. I don’t believe that simply getting laid right now is what’s making your music so good.”

“Well then, Maestro, what’s making my music so good?” Anya taunted before taking another shot.

“You’re not getting laid,” Lexa said smugly. “You’re fucking someone you luuuuv.”​​

Two blocks north, Raven pushed Clarke away with a scoff.

“We are absolutely not in love!” Raven gasped. “Or luuuv or lurve or anything else you’re gonna try on me!”

“Kick rocks, yes you are!” Clarke laughed.

“We are two people who enjoy each other’s company and enjoy having sex with each other,” Raven, who had switched to heavy pours of wine, tried to keep a straight face.

“Denial doesn’t really go with your whole cool music producer aesthetic,” Clarke jokingly pointed at Raven from the sunglasses on her head, to her purse, to her high end jeans, and to the toe of her designer shoes. 

Raven pinched the bridge of her nose and spent a little too long in her own world. Clarke gave her the room to think about it.

“Is your beef with The Grounders over now that you’re Lexa’s woman or whatever?” Raven asked abruptly.

“Okay, one? I’m not Lexa’s woman. That’s strictly work and I’d appreciate it if you’d show me some understanding around that as one of the five people I’m allowed to talk to about it,” Clarke rattled off quickly and firmly. “And two! I don’t have ‘beef’ with The Grounders. Lexa’s just fucking annoying. Anya and Echo and Lincoln are fine.”

“Anya always liked you,” Raven muttered.

“Oh my god! I was fucking with you before, but damn! That’s pillow talk level honesty. You ARE in love!” Clarke gasped through a huge grin.

“I am not in love with her!” Raven shouted at the ceiling with her hands outstretched.

Two blocks south and two drinks later, Lexa and Anya were still at the bar.

“Dude, I’m so fucking in love with her,” Anya sighed blissfully. 

“I’ll drink to that,” Lexa sighed with Anya through a proud smile. “How does she feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” Anya shrugged with a forlorn expression. “I don’t think I want her to know.”

“How do you know she doesn’t know already?” Lexa asked optimistically.

“No one in the kind of stupid love I’m in can think that logically,” Anya said sadly. “She’s always got her head on straight about me. About us,” Anya paused to put back another shot. “She can see too clearly, or something. Love makes you crazy and she’s acting too sane.”

“That’s actually very perceptive,” Lexa wrinkled her brow as she mulled it over. “And usually true. But Reyes has a pretty sharp mind. Maybe she’s your exception?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m trying not to think about it. I like everything the way it is,” Anya fidgeted with her empty shot glass and refused to look Lexa in the eye.

“No you don’t!” Lexa couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Anya, you wear your heart on your sleeve louder than anyone I’ve ever known. I’m sure she knows how you feel.”

A few streets north, Raven was at the bottom of a few more glasses of wine.

“Okay, fine. I know she loves me,” Raven huffed.

“Which is great news, since you love her, too,” Clarke continued for her. A tiny wine-encouraged giggle snuck through.

“Damnit, Clarke!” Raven doubled over with laughter.

“So for real, come on,” Clarke’s laughter died down. “What is the issue?”

“Work!” Raven whined loudly.

“There’s no rules at work about dating your colleagues. Trust me. I’m professionally in love and I’ve read every line of my contract,” Clarke chuckled at the absurdity of it. “I’d go to HR about it to make sure, but then I’d breach my fraudulent monogamy contract because they don’t know it’s not real.”

“No, I mean between me and her,” Raven grumbled. “When we started hooking up years ago, it was so important to us both that we not mix our sex with work. It’s taken us both a lot of hard work to climb to the places we’re in. When I’m on a Grounders contract, we leave each other alone. It’s paramount to her that she focuses on work and keeps her gig with The Grounders as long as she can.”

“Yeah, I know. Lexa’s the only one that can afford to lose the band,” Clarke replied nonchalantly. “It’s a big part of why she’s my so-called girlfriend now.”

“We have a contract for your lover tracks coming up, so she and I need to cool down quick, but it feels fucking impossible with how hot everything between us has been lately,” Raven clenched her fists.

“These tracks are basically fake,” Clarke shrugged. “It sounds like the perfect time to try it out.”

Two blocks south, Anya whacked Lexa in the arm.

“See?! That’s exactly what I said!” Anya huffed, then dropped her forehead onto the bar. “If ever there was a time to see if our attraction can survive the workplace, it’s your fake sexy pop tracks!”

“I’m sorry pal,” Lexa patted Anya on the back. 

“Hey wait,” Anya sat up quickly and straightened out her messy hair. “How did the song writing go?”

“It barely went,” Lexa scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. 

“You and your boo can’t get along?” Anya winced.

“No, actually. My boo and I have been pretty much on the same page since we called that truce,” Lexa let her gaze fall to her soggy, fraying coaster. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I like working with her. She’s actually very talented.”

“Say whaaat?” Anya perked right up. “No way.”

“I’m not sure how to explain it. She’s smart. I think she’s really smart, but I’m not sure why yet,” Lexa said with a shy little smile. 

“You did always dig smart chicks,” Anya nodded as she accepted another drink from the bartender.

“Anya, I don’t dig her. She’s not my real girlfriend,” Lexa reminded her openly.

“Dude, I honestly kind of forgot,” Anya chuckled. “You two are like an old married couple half the time. She was fucking great on stage with us. Did you two plan that?”

“No, I surprised her with that. I thought she was going to murder me,” Lexa laughed. “I think she had so much fun doing it that she forgave me.”

“The way you jumped down Ontari’s throat sure sounded real,” Anya raised her brows at Lexa.

“Because Ontari needs to think I feel that way. Everyone needs to think my love for Clarke is real and Ontari is part of everyone,” Lexa said flatly.

“If you say so,” Anya tossed her drink back. “Seems like you two are getting on awfully nicely.”

A few streets up, Clarke accepted another beer from the bartender. 

“We figured out how to get along because we have no choice,” Clarke said too quickly with a whiff of defense in her tone. “It didn’t make sense to keep being assholes to each other. We both need this to work out, so we decided to work together for the common goal.”

“But the pictures-”

“The pictures are all fake, Raven,” Clarke reminded her. 

“God damn, it’s crazy how they can manipulate all of that,” Raven exhaled with wide eyes. “Even I’m starting to fall for it.”

“Honestly? Sometimes it all confuses me, too. Lately I’m having a hard time figuring out if Lexa’s being nice to me for practice and for show or if she’s just nice.”

“She is nice,” Raven replied bluntly. “I’ve always told you that but you didn’t want to hear it.”

“I still don’t,” Clarke shrugged. “She’s fine. She’s a very good sport about everything and she’s been very respectful. No one has ever treated me the way she treats me. It’s weird. I’m not sure what to do with it.”

“You like her,” Raven smirked after a few moments of thought.

“She’s fine,” Clarke corrected her. “She’s very good at her job.”

“I wonder if that’s all she’s good at,” Raven said with a few tipsy, suggestive gestures.

“I guess we’ll never know,” Clarke let out a mock forlorn sigh.

***

Bits and pieces of the song started shaping up in writing sessions mixed between fake dates, appearances on podcasts and web shows, getting their photos taken at the right places with the right people, and an absolute craze of social media around the two of them over the next few days. 

“Did you see Ali’s email about the preliminary song work?” Lexa asked without looking up from her phone. They were on a high profile afternoon date eating on the patio so they could be very visible and properly photographed at a popular new Italian spot currently getting hot press. 

After spending so much specifically intimate time together, they found some strange ease in one another’s company. They knew how to sit quietly together without it being awkward. They started picking up on one another’s real body language inside of the fake body language, and neither could quite find the words to describe the comfort they found in someone they didn’t like.

“I did,” Clarke grumbled. She scrolled through her work emails with her feet snuggled between Lexa’s legs under the table. It was a perfect, sunny New York afternoon and her heels had been kicked off. Her bare feet fit tightly between Lexa’s black denim calves. 

They sat quietly and worked through lunch and enjoyed the sunshine and the weird, new peace that came with not having to say much to one another. The honesty and understanding that came with sharing the lie was heavier than they both anticipated.

“She thinks it’s kinda stale,” Lexa wrinkled her nose. “I can’t say I disagree with her, but I’m not really sure what we should do about it,” she added before putting a big bite of salad into her mouth.

“I think we need to consider having sex with each other,” Clarke replied frankly as she set her phone down and stretched her neck and shoulders way too casually.

Lexa dropped her phone with a clatter on the table that rattled her silverware and drink glasses. She choked loudly on her food. Clarke snapped to attention, alarmed at Lexa’s outburst.

“You do?” Lexa asked cautiously after swallowing dramatically and clearing her throat. She was stock stiff with wide eyes waiting for clarification.

“Absolutely,” Clarke said before picking her fork up and returning to her own salad. “Don’t you?”

Lexa couldn’t find any words or actions. She opened her mouth to speak a few times, but nothing came. She sat up straight in her chair and looked right through Clarke like she was a ghost.

“Are you alright?” Clarke asked in a lowered, concerned voice.

“Are you?!” Lexa spat out frantically.

“Yes?” Clarke replied as confusion settled on her face. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Lexa stammered.

“Excuse me?” Clarke quirked a brow at her. 

“Are you seriously going to just sit there and eat your salad after casually suggesting that we should fuck?” Lexa almost choked again as she forced the words out.

“What?!” Clarke gasped. “Lexa! I don’t think we should ACTUALLY have sex with each other!” Clarke began loudly then dropped her voice down to a grumble through gritted teeth. “Jesus Christ! Are YOU out of your fucking mind?”

“But you just said-”

“I meant hypothetically! I meant we need to discuss what our fake sex life is like so we can act accordingly and make this stale song hotter, as requested! Holy shit, did you think I was propositioning you?” Clarke struggled to keep her voice down.

“I don’t know!” Lexa spat back. “What the hell was I supposed to think?”

“That we should consider what our fake selves are like during sex! What kind of sex life we have, and how that’s going to be portrayed and analyzed! You said they make you out to be this smooth daddy character and I’m a prude, so how are we going to portray all of that and then write a sexy song about it!? That we need to understand every nuance of this bullshit and we’ve been avoiding kind of a big one!” Clarke hissed and tried not to flail her hands in aggravation as she pointed between the two of them.

“My feet hurt,” Lexa held her hands up and abruptly pulled her legs back under the table. Everything between them automatically stopped and reset.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke immediately dropped her tone to something sincere. “That’s not what I meant at all and I can’t believe your mind went there.”

“I’ll be right back,” Lexa eased out of her chair and exhaled a big, deep, calming breath as she headed for the restroom.

She didn’t know why her mind went there either, but it went there FAST.

Clarke’s laugh and careless t shirts with jeans and bright pumps and the new lipstick she was wearing this week were all things Lexa had been noticing against her will.

She was at capacity for bad ideas.

Lexa stood in front of the bathroom mirror and stared at her reflection for a while. Maybe too long. She ran her gaze over the eye liner and big brown waves that stared back at her that she dreaded sitting in a chair for. She could see her contact lenses and suddenly they were too itchy. Bracelets she hated rattled as she ran cool water over her hands and patted it against her sweaty forehead, careful not to smudge her makeup. 

Her mask. Her fake armor. 

The door to the restroom opened and she jumped, half expecting it to be Clarke. 

“I’m sorry, but are you Lexa Woods?” It was an excited young woman in her early twenties with the telltale grin of a huge fan that had just recognized her.

“Yeah,” Lexa sighed and plastered her fake smile back on. “I am.”

“I’m such a big fan!” She squealed. “I love The Grounders so much! I’ve been listening to you since I was young. Your show was the first concert I ever saw!”

“Wow,” Lexa’s smile softened to something more affectionate and honest. “That’s so wonderful. Thank you so much.”

“My best friends and I have been obsessed forever! We just saw your show last week! It was incredible!” The fan kept on with clenched fists as she tried to stay calm.

“Thank you,” Lexa repeated awkwardly. Her head swelled with new emotion that always came with running into a true fan. “Listen, I don’t have a pen on me or anything.”

“That’s okay! I just saw you in front of me and just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate everything you do. Your music has helped me through some really rough times, so thank you so much. You and the band have been such huge influences for me. You’ve helped me feel like I could come out. I’m living my best life! It’s been such a huge deal to see how happy you and Clarke are together lately, too. Everyone’s talking about it!” The fan gushed with excited, overwhelmed tears in her eyes.

Lexa braced herself so the wide eyed young woman in front of her wouldn’t see the crashing feelings of deception crumbling inside of her.

“Yeah, thanks. We’re both really happy to finally be public about it,” Lexa tried so hard to find some optimistic gusto. “She’s actually sitting outside on the patio waiting for me right now. My bag is out there. Come find me before you leave and I’ll have a little something for you.”

“Really?!”

“Totally. Just give me a few minutes,” Lexa replied with a more sincere smile before pulling the door open and marching with confidence back to the table.

“Lexa, I-”

“We play to the trope that you’re a secret freak the way some good girls are,” Lexa said, quickly and diplomatically cutting Clarke off. She had a renewed sense of business and confidence and a need to keep things moving despite her earlier blunder.

“I’m a total freak. That checks out,” Clarke nodded.

“I’m a gentlewoman in the streets and a daddy in the sheets and the reason this works is that you can keep up with me, and in some cases, can outlast and impress me,” Lexa kept on.

“Is that true?” Clarke asked with a conspiratorial grin that teetered into confusing flirty territory.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s true. We’re not talking about what’s true right now,” Lexa kept her firm, focused tone.

“You’re right. What else?” Clarke matched her and motioned for her to continue.

“You’re down for whatever, and that has pleasantly surprised me from the jump. I make you feel safe and happy enough to let that side of yourself out. You make me laugh and smile and have revived my sweet side after years of mindless, sex-filled flings with no substance,” Lexa continued.

“Love it,” Clarke nodded again.

“If we lean into your prude side, this is not believable. We need to play this like we simply cannot get enough of each other. I think we have sex in public places, and we should keep that facade up. They portray me as very sexually active, so it wouldn’t make sense that I would have a partner who is not similar. This whole thing becomes more interesting if we lean into the fact that we’re so madly in love that we’ve become sex monsters who are banging all the time around the clock, but we love each other and we have lots of fun together, too. We have to go hard with you being a closet freak and I’m a secret softie and we bring it out of each other.”

“I agree,” Clarke replied in the same diplomatic fashion. “I think we need to act that way and lift that up, and the song we’re creating needs to be about fucking, not about being in love.”

“I think it can be both, and about how much better fucking is when you’re in love with each other,” Lexa raised a brow.

It was the second time in days that the notion came up.

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since she said it to Anya.

“Go on,” Clarke raised one back in approval.

“Anyone in love can make love, but it’s when people who are in love still fuck that the real magic happens,” Lexa explained. “Or that’s at least where the hottest songs come from.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Clarke smirked.

“I am,” Lexa sent a cocky smirk back. “Is it a sensation you’re familiar with?”

“I have to say no,” Clarke answered after a moment of thought.

“You’ve never fucked nasty with anyone you were in love with?” Lexa sat back, surprised. 

“I’ve fucked nasty plenty, but I’ve never been in love,” Clarke said without missing a beat. 

“Really?” Lexa broke the quick business banter between them to share a stunned gaping grin.

“It’s true,” Clarke sighed playfully. “And I’m not sure why you’re surprised.”

“I don’t know why I am either,” Lexa shrugged and let the thoughts roll around. “I guess I just figured someone as passionate and crazy and talented and wild as you are would’ve fallen in love plenty of times.”

“Plenty of people have fallen in love with me,” Clarke sarcastically rolled her eyes and flipped her golden curls over her shoulder. “But I’ve never had that feeling for anyone else.”

“Why not?” Lexa sat forward, intrigued.

“Falling in love for real requires a certain trust,” Clarke shrugged one shoulder and picked up her drink. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough to truly love them.”

“I feel like that’s kinda sad,” Lexa’s brows knit together as she processed the weight of Clarke’s statement.

“So much about my life is sad,” Clarke said quickly and truthfully. Lexa rested her hand over her mouth and studied Clarke closely for a few beats. “What?” Clarke asked and bit the straw in her drink shyly.

“It’s a fucking shame they make you write that boring music,” Lexa finally spoke up. Her tone was thoughtful and observant and totally stripped of their regular teasing. “I bet you’re just full of big, exciting songs you should’ve written.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Clarke replied evenly, and almost uncomfortably.

“It’s true,” Lexa finally went back to eating her food now that she was confident she wouldn’t choke on it. “Your lyrics are smart. I bet they’d be so powerful if you were writing about something you really felt.”

“I’ve got books full of songs they don’t let me produce,” Clarke shrugged. “I’m sure you do, too.”

“Boxes of sheet music, sure. But none of them have any lyrics,” Lexa replied coyly. 

Clarke slowly set her drink down and leaned forward with a scrutinous eye.

“Alexandria,” Clarke taunted slowly. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“That you and I are opposites, which we’ve been properly branded as for sure, but maybe we’ve been opposite sides of the same coin this whole time,” Lexa replied smugly. 

“It has been nice to find out we have more in common than how much we can’t stand each other,” Clarke chuckled. 

“About that? Get ready to get lovey, by the way. I met a fan in the bathroom and told her to stop by the table and I’d have something for her,” Lexa said lowly as she saw the fan approaching.

“Lexa!” Clarke hissed. “What the hell? Why didn’t you lead with that?” 

“I thought we had some more pressing matters to clear up between us,” Lexa hissed back. “Hey! There you are!” she brightened into a stage grin.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, really,” the excited girl from the bathroom bounced nervously from foot to foot beside their table.

“Not a problem at all,” Clarke caught Lexa’s energy and sat up taller.

“So you said you and your best friends are fans, right?” Lexa pulled her bag onto her lap and dug through it. “How many of you are there in your crew?”

“Five!” She squealed with delight.

“Shit,” Lexa muttered as she opened a fistful of her signature guitar picks. They were black with her name on them in silver and the band’s logo on the other side. “I only have four.”

“Oh, hang on,” Clarke perked up and fished into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out another fistful of picks. She shuffled them around and pulled out one of Lexa’s. “I have one, Babe.”

“Where’d you get that?” Lexa shot her a flirty smirk. “I tell you, she steals my clothes, she steals my picks, and she stole my heart,” Lexa blew a goofy kiss across the table and Clarke played along. The fan was in danger of turning into a puddle.

“I borrow your clothes, I took this pick from you on stage by accident last week, and I didn’t steal your heart, you gave it to me,” Clarke sassed back as she handed the pick to the fan who was beside herself listening to the two musicians goofing on each other. “This one is from the show the other night. Were you and your friends there?”

“We were!” The fan gushed on. “You were so good! We went home and listened to all of your stuff! We’re total converts!”

“Thank you very much,” Clarke grinned back at her. “Well? Sign something for her, Lex!” Clarke encouraged and took a sharpie out of her bag for Lexa.

“I don’t know what I have,” Lexa muttered and looked through her bag again. 

“You really don’t have to,” the fan pleaded. “This is more than enough!”

“Nonsense!” Clarke pulled her VIP pass with her name on it from the show out of the bottom of her bag. “I have this?”

“YOUR pass from the show?!” she squealed. Clarke handed it across the table and Lexa scribbled her signature on it. 

“Do you want her autograph on there, too?” Lexa nodded at Clarke.

“REALLY?!” The fan brought her closed fist full of picks to her mouth and bit it nervously. 

“Of course,” Clarke’s grin faded from fake to truthful as she added her signature next to Lexa’s. 

“Are your friends here?” Lexa asked the fan with a knowing look. 

“Yes!” she blurted out. 

“C’mon, Love. Put your shoes on. Let’s get a picture,” Lexa gestured with familiarity at Clarke’s bare feet under the table. Clarke paused and tripped on reality before getting back into character. 

They found the table full of fans in the restaurant and posed for photos and signed a few more things before heading back to their table to finish their meal.

“What was that?” Lexa asked calmly once they were alone again.

“What was what?” Clarke replied with raised brows.

“You stumbled for a second. You looked a little lost,” Lexa said evenly as she dug into her entree.

“Oh, nothing,” Clarke shrugged. “No one has ever called me ‘Love’ like that before. It tripped me up.”

“I can stop,” Lexa shrugged back.

“No, it’s fine. It’s sweet and very convincing. You just said it so smoothly,” Clarke waved a blase hand. “Even though I know it’s fake, it feels weird that you’re so nice to me. No one’s ever been this kind of nice to me.”

“Damn, your life really is sad, huh?” Lexa grimaced.

“Not to get all weepy on main, but yeah. It is,” Clarke replied, a heavy sadness sneaking into her voice. “I don’t usually have to think too much about it.”

“Well? Hopefully after you dump me, things will get a little brighter and you won’t have to,” Lexa chuckled. 

Clarke chuckled with her, but didn’t like how it felt.

They were required to attend a party that weekend for a clothing line release from one of the artists on the label. 

Saturday night found them at a party in SoHo surrounded by other musicians and movie stars and cocktails and bubbles and glamor. Press and paparazzi were in full force out front as everyone entered the show.

“Do you deal with a lot of paparazzi?” Clarke asked Lexa in the back seat of their town car as they waited for their turn to leave their vehicle in full view of the cameras.

“Sometimes. They’ve been all over me since we started dating,” Lexa rolled her eyes. It fell out of her mouth so naturally that it gave her pause. “Or, y’know. Whatever you want to call it. Before that, not really. Every once in a while. Which is fine with me. I hate them.”

“Ali’s probably orchestrating them,” Clarke huffed. 

“I hadn’t even thought of that, but I’m sure you’re right,” Lexa mirrored Clarke’s tone. “Is that what they sent you to wear tonight or are you off script?” Lexa nodded at Clarke’s long sleeved, very short, very tight black dress and thigh high boots. 

“This is what they sent,” Clarke held her hands up. “I have an outfit just like it, so maybe she has my closet bugged, too. Why do you ask?”

“No real reason,” Lexa looked out the window at the rows and rows of photographers and journalists waiting outside. “They just don’t usually dress you like that.”

“Is it a problem?” Clarke sat up in her seat and adjusted her hair.

“Not at all,” Lexa shrugged and gave her a once over again. 

“Then why are you bringing it up?” Clarke stiffened.

“Cause you look kinda hot,” Lexa let an awkward smile out that she couldn’t stop. “It caught me off guard.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Clarke eyed her curiously. “Cause I also thought I looked kinda hot, but now I’m not so sure.”

“I’m not fucking with you!” Lexa laughed. “You look hot. It’s about time they dressed you right. We’re next. Are you ready?” Lexa rested her hand on the door as they pulled up to the entryway.

“I like your hair like that,” Clarke muttered. “They should do it for you more often. You can only pull it off with bone structure like yours.”

“I know, right?” Lexa joked with a cocky and confident grin. Her curls were half pulled back with a high bouffant on top and her hallmark heavy eye make up. She was all in black with  her usual dark denim, but her overall style was crisper and blacker and less distressed and more formal tonight.

“You’re such an ass,” Clarke shook her head and held back a routine laugh. 

“You love it,” Lexa got into character as she opened the door and stepped out. She turned around and held a hand out to help Clarke to her feet.

“Clarke! Lexa! Over here!”

“Lexa! Is it true you chased Clarke for months from Europe?”

“Clarke! Who are you wearing tonight?”

“Clarke! Lexa! Over here!”

“Shit, I haven’t done one of these in a while,” Clarke let a shaky breath out through a fake smile.

“Just remember none of it is real,” Lexa said through her own photogenic grin. Her hand found its way to its natural home at Clarke’s lower back as they made their way slowly toward the venue.

“Us or them?” Clarke leaned closer.

“I guess I meant them,” Lexa paused and turned towards Clarke to share a grin together and let the photographers on her side of the aisle get her good side. “Even I’m starting to forget we’re fake.”

“Clarke, is it true that your parents are both in the hospital with terminal illnesses?” A reporter shoved a mic in Clarke’s face.

“What?!” Clarke stopped in her tracks and spun towards them.

“A source tracked down your parents in Connecticut. You’re out here doing press while they’re dying?” the journalist pressed.

Clarke froze. 

In all of her training, she could never keep up a facade when they came for her family.

All of the journalists and photographers around them zeroed in on the new juicy story unfolding.

“They’re not,” Clarke tried. She couldn’t find any words. Her tongue was suddenly too big for her mouth and her throat dried out. Panic set in quickly and shut her systems down.

“Clarke! What hospital are they in?”

“Clarke, what are they dying from?”

“How long do they have to live?”

“Hey!” Lexa barked and startled all of them. She pulled Clarke in closer with her most genuine protective stance yet and flashbulbs went off all around. “Don’t talk to her like that!”

“Lexa,” Clarke tried again. Before she knew it, Clarke’s arms were around Lexa’s waist both searching for comfort and to hold her back.

“Her parents are resting comfortably at home, fuckwad!” Lexa pointed fiercely at the journalist who started it. The crowd of them all backed off in unison as Lexa pushed further. “Her dress is Dior, her boots are Jimmy Choo, we’re madly in love with each other, she’s not on tour right now, she’s working in New York, and she starts recording her new album in the fall. Anything else you want to ask her, you sick pieces of shit?!” Lexa cried with a set jaw and eyes on fire. 

Clarke pinched her eyes shut and waited for the backlash and barrage of questions and accusations.

They never came.

“Nope,” one journalist finally spoke up.

“That’s what I thought,” Lexa said firmly and pointed hard at all of them. “Don’t do that shit again or our people will be all over you. You all know who’s at the top of Polis Records. She’ll eat you alive if I don’t get there first.”

“Lexa! Clarke! Over here!” another group shouted at them.

“C’mon, Love,” Lexa nodded her head and guided Clarke away. 

They didn’t say anything else as they walked the rest of the gauntlet of paparazzi. Clarke stayed glued to Lexa’s side and Lexa kept her protective role up. Lexa’s hard face faltered when she felt Clarke desperately grip the back of her shirt when she accidentally stepped away slightly.

“While I appreciate the back up, you don’t need to be in hyper vigilant mode all night,” Clarke said quietly as they moved into the venue to find their seats. She didn’t mean it, but felt like she had to say it. 

Lexa’s hyper vigilant mode beside her was one of the most relieving sensations Clarke had ever felt in her life.

“None of that was fake. None of that was for this,” Lexa grumbled and gestured between them. “I hate that shit. It’s none of their business, and it’s not cool to do that to you in front of everyone. It’s so wrong.”

“Thank you,” Clarke paused their walk with a gentle hand at Lexa’s shoulder so she could look Lexa in the eye. “Really.”

“It’s not even a thing,” Lexa brushed it off with a sincere smile. “You’re not my real lover, but I think you’re my friend? Or something? Whatever you are, you’re mine somehow now, and I’m not letting anybody fuck with you.” 

They held their eye contact a little too long. Clarke’s witty comebacks all fought to get to the forefront but none of them made it.

“Unless it’s me,” Lexa broke into a cheeky smile that carried a weight only they could understand. “I’m still gonna fuck with you. But it’s different when I do it.”

“It is different when you do it,” Clarke matched Lexa’s smile with a soft one of her own. “But thank you. Seriously.”

“I got you,” Lexa replied earnestly and couldn’t stop herself from planting a habitual kiss on Clarke’s temple. They both stiffened up by how much they liked it and how natural it felt. “Sorry,” Lexa fumbled. “Habits.”

“It’s okay,” Clarke brushed it off quietly. 

“Are your feet alright?” Lexa asked earnestly. 

“Yeah, they’re fine, actually,” Clarke smiled warmly. “Yours?” 

“All good,” Lexa returned it.

“Probably should play up some sweetness after that display. Have you checked your phone?” Clarke winced. 

“Ulgh,” Lexa sighed and pulled it out. “Do you think I’m in trouble?”

‘We love a protective Lexa. Shake it off and turn this night around into something sexy ASAP tho.’

“Well?” Clarke shrugged optimistically. “She’s been pleased with our natural instincts, I guess?”

“I’m just glad I’m not fired,” Lexa let out a big breath out with wide eyes. “Let’s sit down.”

Once the fashion show was over, everyone mingled and chatted and posed in the right photos with the right people. After a few drinks and a few quiet moments alone in the bathroom with her vape and her actual personality to collect herself, Clarke officially shook off the reporters’ prying questions and was able to be her fun, fake self.

There were so many questions about her and Lexa, but they were mostly rooted in genuine congratulations because of how happy together they appeared to be.

“Alright, my feet are getting a little sore now,” Clarke said discretely to Lexa two hours later.

“Yup,” Lexa nodded gently. “Mine are a little achy, too. Everyone is being almost too nice and too excited about us getting together.”

“Fashion and art party. A lot of Molly and shrooms and good vibes in here tonight,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “I can get us out of here in about five minutes if you follow my lead this time,” Clarke raised a prospective brow and pulled out her phone.

“Oh yeah? Are you gonna call in a bomb threat?” Lexa chuckled.

“Not quite. You in?” Clarke asked as she sent a message to Ali to bring their car around and started a casual walk towards the exit. 

“What are you doing?” Lexa asked lowly through a fake smile as someone looked their way.

“Remember that whole thing about us being sex monsters now?” Clarke smirked as she guided Lexa closer to the area to wait for their car.

“Yes,” Lexa swallowed hard with grave suspicion of where this plan was headed.

“We’re gonna make out right now, and it’s gonna be aggressive,” Clarke warned calmly. Lexa’s eyes flew open, but she listened intently to the rest of the plan. “I’d appreciate it if you’d play along. Now, my dress is very short, and I feel like the last thing this evening needs is a shot of my ass all over the internet, so be careful, alright?”

“That’s your plan? An aggressive make out?” Lexa hissed.

“I know what I’m doing,” Clarke gave her a stern look. “Do you trust my plotting skills or not?”

“I trust you,” Lexa said quicker and with more fervor than either of them were prepared for. It made Clarke pause and linger on Lexa's light eyes before shaking it off and jumping back in.

“You’ve gotten really good at kissing me sweetly, but now I need you to kiss me like we fuck nasty,” Clarke called back to their awkward conversation about their fictional sex life. “We need all these fashion clowns to think that you’re about to take me home and do weird stuff to me.”

“What kind of weird stuff?” Lexa wrinkled her nose.

“Lex, we’re on a fucking ticking clock here,” Clarke took a steadying breath so she wouldn’t raise her voice or break character. “Whatever kind of weird stuff you want.”

“I’d just appreciate a little context so I can-”

“Do you want to stay here all night and do this into the after party? Or do you want to give the illusion for the next three minutes that you’re about to turn me upside down and make me forget my own name because all I can scream is yours? You'll be at home in your pajamas by midnight!” Clarke snapped. 

“Definitely that” Lexa agreed quickly.

“Then get it the fuck together and kiss me like you want to rip my clothes off and split me in half,” Clarke demanded in a hushed, fierce voice as she grabbed Lexa by the front pockets of her jeans and pushed her into the wall behind her and kissed her with force and convincing faux passion.

“We’re really doing this?” Lexa asked quickly between kisses she tried to keep up with.

“We really are,” Clarke whispered quickly before wrapping a leg around Lexa. Lexa followed her instructions and kept a hand on Clarke’s ass to convince the audience she enjoyed regular handfuls of it, and to keep Clarke’s dress in place. 

“Then buckle up, Babe,” Lexa smirked before grabbing a handful of Clarke’s hair and bringing her in for a wildly public, over the top make out that caught attention. 

“Woods! Griffin! Your car’s here!” Security attempted to politely break them up. Clarke stayed all over Lexa as they made their way to the car laughing and kissing with their hands all over each other. Clarke dropped into the back seat and pulled Lexa down on top of her, kissing her the whole time.

The security guard closed the door behind them, and Lexa was still in character. She put her hand behind Clarke’s head to keep it from banging on the opposite door and leaned in with drive and courage and hefty emotion with kisses that were far too good. 

“Alright! Alright! You can stop! We have tinted windows!” Clarke held her hands out palms up and her whole body went rigid.

“Right,” Lexa heaved a breath and pushed herself up off of Clarke slowly and carefully. “Sorry. This is a lot. It’s hard to start and stop and keep it looking real.”

“I know. It’s okay,” Clarke exhaled and backed up into her seat. “Nice job,” she nodded awkwardly at Lexa.

Their heavy breathing was interrupted by a slow clap from the driver’s seat.

Ali spun around from behind the wheel with a devious smirk.

“Clarke Griffin, you vixen,” Ali winked, chucked low in her throat and then let out a big sigh. “I had an exit strategy prepared for you, but that one was way better!” Ali shook her head as she pulled into traffic. 

“Can I have a raise?” Clarke joked.

“Definitely,” Ali scoffed. 

“Nice!” Clarke nodded in approval.

“And you’ve proved that you’re both ready for the next phase!” Ali cried out.

“I fucking hate this so much,” Lexa sighed and watched New York go by out the window.

Silently, Clarke reached across the back seat to hold Lexa’s hand. Unable to process any more emotions for the night, Lexa pinched her eyes shut and didn’t move a muscle.

“Me too,” Clarke sighed and gave Lexa’s hand an affectionate squeeze. 

***

“So you’re gonna make me haul my ass from Hell’s Kitchen to friggin’ Bushwick at nine AM just so we can take a bunch of photos that look like we’re having a morning together in Lexa’s apartment?” Clarke asked flatly in their Monday morning meeting with Ali that week.

After the fashion show and vigorous public make out and confusing moments of actual closeness and friendship and trust woven throughout, Clarke and Lexa both spent their Sundays alone at home with their phones turned off. 

Processing.

And actively very much not processing.

“I live in Williamsburg!” Lexa gasped.

“The fuck you do! This is Bushwick!” Clarke pointed at the address on the documents in front of them.

“It’s on the cusp!” Lexa snapped.

“Ladies, please!” Ali held her hands up to stop their bickering. “You’ve proven reasonable aptitude to get us the content we need on your own, so I’m trusting you hugely. Clarke? Get your ass to Lexa’s place by nine am tomorrow and follow the list of required content and submit it all back to me by 1pm, or we’ll all come out there and do it together until you get it right all week long.”

“Or?” Clarke asked in a ballsy lapse in judgment. Lexa braced for the inevitable retort.

“Or you're both fucking fired!” Ali grinned at them. 

“Right,” Clarke sighed. 

“Now get out of my office and get back downstairs to work on that sad little track you two need to sex up severely by next month,” Ali brushed them off with an insulting hand wave and spun her chair around. 

“Hey!” Lexa snapped once they were alone in the lobby waiting for the elevator. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck, what?” Clarke snapped back.

“What the fuck is your problem? What the fuck is up with talking to me like this? What the fuck is up your ass? What the fuck did I do? You want a bucket to carry all of these?” Lexa ticked off on her fingers and gave Clarke a look of genuine hurt.

Clarke dropped her face into her hands and gave a big, shaky sigh as she begged the flood of tears behind her eyes to stay dammed.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke collected herself and looked up at Lexa. The sadness in her eyes was overwhelming and pressed up against Lexa’s frustration. “I’m just not really feeling it today.”

“I haven’t exactly been feeling it every moment of this either, but I’ve still treated you right,” Lexa said solemnly with a hand to her chest. “I thought things between us had changed.”

“They have. You’re right. I’m sorry,” Clarke said quickly.

“Do not treat me like this,” Lexa pleaded.

“My mother’s really bad,” Clarke’s voice caught on the lump in her throat and caused a few of the tears she held back to come loose. “They called me this morning. I can’t get that reporter’s words out of my head that I’m not there. I feel like shit and I’m losing it, and I’m taking it out on you and that’s not cool.”

“It’s not cool at all,” Lexa agreed and worked to keep her tone even and less hostile and it showed in her stiff posture. “I’m really sorry to hear that, but I’ve been clear that I’m here for you in that arena if you want. I’m not going to be your punching bag, though.”

“I don’t have any friends,” Clarke blurted out.

“What?” Lexa squinted at her. “What about Raven?”

“We keep things superficial. I don’t have any real friends,” Clarke swallowed hard and stuttered as she spit the truth out.

“So?” Lexa shrugged, confusion present on her brow.

“So I don’t know how to be one,” Clarke flicked sheepish eyes up to Lexa. “I don’t recognize friend behavior. I don’t have any references, but I think you’re being a really good friend to me.”

“I’m sure as shit trying, but you’re not making it easy!” Lexa laughed to break the tension. 

Clarke laughed too. Her real laugh. The one Lexa liked the most.

“I told you I’m really sweet,” Lexa tacked on with a confident smile.

“I told you I’m absolutely fucking nuts,” Clarke reminded her. She matched the smile despite the tears in her eyes.

“And I still signed a contract to love you or whatever for three months, so stop fighting it,” Lexa joked. 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke repeated more sincerely.

“Apology accepted, but knock it off,” Lexa warned playfully. Clarke almost laughed but couldn't get there. “We’ve been through some weirdly intimate stuff together. We’re sharing one another’s biggest, most important secret. You asked me if I trusted you and I said yes right away.”

“I know you did,” Clarke replied quickly. 

“And I meant it,” Lexa asked earnestly. “Do you trust me?

“I,” Clarke started. Her eyes widened in fear. 

Lexa let out a defeated sigh and pressed the button to call the elevator.

“Lexa,” Clarke tried again.

“It’s alright,” Lexa held a hand up to keep Clarke at arms length. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

They rode the elevator in silence. 

The dim lighting of the practice floor hallways made it feel easier to hide.

Lexa’s disappointed energy took up the space between them that was seldom there.

“Maybe we should call it a day,” Lexa spoke up as she rested her hand on her practice room’s door. “No good art comes from a place like this.”

“I don’t know how,” Clarke responded coldly.

“To make good art?” Lexa puzzled and left the obvious zinger dangling. She couldn’t bring herself to do it when Clarke looked so badly beaten up by her own despair. 

“To trust anybody,” Clarke replied through a nervous waiver. 

“Oh,” Lexa’s mouth stayed stuck in a startled O for too long. 

“I never have. I’ve never had to. I’ve never even really,” Clarke trailed off looking for the words. Lexa gave her the space to find them with encouraging eyes. “Wanted to? Needed to? Had the actual chance to?” 

Clarke held her hands up and let them fall in frustration against her thighs with a dull thud. 

“This whole thing between us is getting complicated,” Clarke’s voice tightened to a whisper. “I know the romance and affection is fake, but the kindness you’re showing me feels real.”

“It is,” Lexa replied frankly.

“It’s very foreign to me,” Clarke spoke slowly and carefully to make sure she chose all of the correct words. “I can’t remember the last time someone showed me real kindness without expecting something from me in return.”

“All I expect from you is the same respect I show you,” Lexa shrugged shyly. “We’re in this thing together. I’m not going to trick you, I’m not going to betray you, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

“How do you know that?” Clarke’s eyes welled up again. “How do I know that?”

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me,” Lexa softened into a grin. 

Clarke bit back new tears. 

“Go home, Clarke. You look like you’ve been awake for days,” Lexa mumbled.

“I haven’t slept since I saw you,” Clarke admitted.

“I can tell. You look like hell. Call your folks. Get some sleep. I’ll work on the music and I’ll see you in the morning,” Lexa sighed and nodded at the elevator that was still open and waiting behind them. “And before you try to pull any stoic shit and act like you’re too big and bad to be sad and afraid, yes, I mean it. Get out of here.”

“You’re the only person who knows how sad and afraid I am,” Clarke choked out.

“Thank you for trusting me with that information,” Lexa’s comforting grin ticked up into a familiar cocky smirk as she learned in the open door frame. 

“You’re so good at being such a shit sometimes,” Clarke laughed and cried at the same time.

“SO good at it,” Lexa chuckled. “Are you gonna get out of here, or do you want to get to work?”

“Since you’ve been pushing me to take a forceful look at my soul these days, I think maybe I can try to make some art,” Clarke took a deep, steadying breath.

“Oh, you have a soul?” Lexa kept her grin on and she committed back to their bit and banter where they felt safe. The edges around Clarke’s distress softened.

“Get behind the piano, you butthead,” Clarke muttered and wiped her eyes.

“Butthead?!” Lexa tried to keep the act up but she couldn’t stop laughing. “There’s my articulate lyricist! This is going to be a great session!”

“Thank you,” Clarke said solemnly as Lexa closed the door and took up her seat behind the piano.

“For what?” Lexa asked innocently.

“Your patience. Your kindness. Your understanding. Your compassion,” Clarke ticked off on her fingers. “You want a bucket for these?” She added with a sly smile. 

“Thank you both for being prompt. We have a lot of work to do!” Ali announced the next morning.

Rather than a conference room, Clarke and Lexa were summoned to one of the label’s photography studios. The wide open room had an aggressively lit blank white backdrop in the middle with racks of wardrobe nearby. Multiple tables of paperwork and staff neither Clarke nor Lexa had met before were spread out all over. They were all Ali’s inner circle and were sworn to the same secrecy about what was really going on as Raven and the band.

Ali sat at a folding table with papers and files and electronics all around her in one of her high fashion dresses and dramatic pairs of heels.

“Before we delve into the specifics of the next three months and get you into training to get your stories straight about what’s been going on between you, we need to do some preliminary affection work,” Ali rattled off.

An assistant danced quickly by and dropped a cup of coffee into Ali’s open and waiting hand without pause.

“What the hell is preliminary affection work?” Clarke asked flatly. 

Across from Ali, Clarke and Lexa sat beside each other in folding chairs with about a foot of space between them. They were both in casual leggings and t-shirts and messy buns knowing their looks would be out of their hands soon enough. Clarke slouched deep with her legs outstretched and her arms folded like a teenager hellbent on refusing to learn her lesson. Lexa sat up straight with her legs crossed tight with wide, alert eyes.

The agenda on the table before Ali was in a two inch binder and it was full.

“From this moment forward, anytime the two of you are in a room with anyone else, you must maintain some form of physical contact. Obvious exceptions for when you’re playing instruments, using a restroom, anything practical like that, but your new default is that you are touching in some way, or within touching distance at all times,” Ali spoke evenly, but with urgency. Another member of her staff silently set a bottled water on the table with a bendy straw in it directly facing her. Her hands were expecting it.

“That’s ridiculous!” Lexa straightened up in her chair. 

“I know it is. We’re conditioning you to get comfortable with each other as quickly as possible. If people can see through this thing and can tell you’re faking, this all falls apart and you’re both fired. Not to mention the legal consequences. We need you to immediately appear like you’ve been fucking and liking it for months now, and it couldn’t be more palpable that you absolutely despise each other. So?” Ali gestured for them to close the space between their chairs.

Lexa’s mouth hung open, stunned. Clarke huffed and scooted her chair over without getting out of it. The loud scraping of the feet on the concrete floor made one of the photographers wince.

“Let me guess!” Clarke matched Ali’s stage voice. “If we just shut up and do what you say when you say it, this will be over sooner?”

“Brains and beauty,” Ali replied through a whiny fake pout. 

Clarke held a hesitant open hand out to Lexa who didn’t reach for it right away.

“Don’t worry. I showered this morning. It’s clean,” Clarke joked. Lexa cracked her first half smile and took Clarke’s hand in hers.

Despite the years of arguing and fighting and ripping on one another, the enemies somehow felt like allies when completely surrounded by a new common adversary.

“There, see? We’ll have you all over each other by lunch,” Ali waved a dismissive hand and returned to her notes. “You’re both smart, talented, sexy, and fabulous. Maybe you’ll even like it a little.”

“Kinda doubt it,” Clarke let out under her breath.

“Let’s try something else. Both of you get up,” Ali encouraged them with raised arms. Cautiously, Clarke and Lexa got to their feet and stood side by side still awkwardly gripping the other’s hand. 

Ali left the table and marched right over and ran a scrutinous eye over both of them.

Clarke’s posture was hunched and annoyed. Lexa was on high alert.

“Turn and face each other,” Ali demanded quickly. Clarke and Lexa begrudgingly obeyed and Ali circled around observing every square inch of them.

No strangers to being on stage and being in the spotlight, the two of them didn’t falter under her examination.

“Look her in the eyes,” Ali kept on with the same firm cadence. 

Neither of them knew who she was talking to, so they both followed directions. Both of their chests rose and fell in unison with a deep, surprised breath when they raised their gazes to meet each other.

“There it is,” Ali grinned and bit the top of her pen in excitement. “That’s some intimate shit right there! Lexa! Did you know Clarke had such dreamy blue eyes?”

“No,” Lexa said through a nervous laugh. “I figured they were brown since she’s so full of shit.” 

“Nice,” Clarke choked on a chuckle and dipped her head. “I hate that you’re funny. It’s annoying.”

“I’m so funny. You’re not ready for how funny I am,” Lexa said lowly. 

“Keep up that eye contact!” Ali shouted. “Grab her other hand! Hold both!” 

Clarke held her hand out first again and nodded down at it with a challenging brow raised. Lexa let a discouraged breath out slowly and rolled her jaw in frustration as she took up Clarke’s other hand.

It became increasingly clear increasingly quickly that the two enemies were going to need to figure out how to work together and both of them visibly hated it.

“So here’s what happened!” Ali thundered as she continued to circle around them. “Lexa! You were at the release party on the roof for Clarke’s album in November, remember?”

“One of the most boring nights of my life,” Lexa smirked at Clarke who wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue. “I almost forgot.”

“Wonderful. We studied the analytics and Lexa’s fanbase is larger, but Clarke’s is borderline uncomfortably loyal. There’s an alarming majority of single women. Lexa has a much wider demo,” Ali rattled off. Lexa wiggled her shoulders and shot Clarke a superior smile.

“Simplicity is more easily consumed by a broader audience,” Clarke said with a self-satisfied shrug.

“Very cute,” Ali huffed. “Although if you turn it about thirty degrees to the left and change your tone of voice, that’s great flirting,” Ali’s annoyed expression turned upwards into a thoughtful pause. “Lexa, pull Clarke beside you and put a protective hand at her lower back.”

“What?” Lexa squinted.

“Alexandria, we can be here all day, all week, all month, for the rest of your godforsaken life if you want! You are not leaving this room until I’m convinced you two can pretend you are in love, so PLEASE stop wasting time!” Ali cried through gritted teeth and charged at them shaking two clenched fists over her head.

Instinctively, Clarke turned into Lexa’s waiting protective embrace and the two of them winced away from the approaching threat together.

“Cute! Perfect! See? There it is!” Ali exclaimed triumphantly and pointed at them cowering together. 

“She’s insane,” Lexa whispered to Clarke and shook her head gently. “She’s insane, and this is insane and it’s going to make me insane.”

“You’ve gotta admit, that was pretty slick, though,” Clarke whispered back. “I didn’t know you were such a natural protector. They better not make me a damsel in distress. If our plot is about you rescuing me, I’m quitting.”

“Your hair smells like cigarettes,” Lexa grumbled in return.

“I’ve been a little fucking stressed lately,” Clarke hissed back. “Are you gonna write a melancholy bridge this fall about how you hated it then but you’d give anything for it now?” 

“She’s a freakin’ poet,” Lexa sighed through a lazy chuckle.

“Step apart and back together a few times until you both understand the movements and how your hands are going to fall and where your bodies should be with each other. D list pop journalists are gonna feast on this love story all summer, so get ready to have the same conversation about how you met with some giddy fake smiles twenty times a week. Lexa! Lower back protective and possessive stance! Now!” Ali barked.

“Why am I the protective possessive one?” Lexa huffed as she begrudgingly pulled Clarke closer to her. They both fidgeted and searched for comfort in the stance together and couldn’t find it.

“Selling Clarke to your fans is going to be easier than selling you to hers, so we need to sell them the strong, caring type that wants to treat Clarke like a total princess” Ali held a hand out as she spoke and her coffee from before found its way back by way of flourishing assistant. 

“I don’t know if I like that,” Clarke said flatly.

“Your fans are gonna love it, so that doesn’t really matter. We’re going to paint the picture with Lexa that chivalry isn’t dead, it’s female,” Ali replied tightly through a thin lipped smile.

“I don’t totally hate that,” Lexa chewed her lip as she let it roll around in her head. 

“Lexa, the story goes that you were so overcome by Clarke’s intimate acoustic performance on the roof that you showed up at her practice space the next day and asked her to have a drink with you.”

“Me and the band left for Europe two days later,” Lexa puzzled. 

“So you only had one night to shoot your shot before you and the grounders went on your Euro tour, so you had to make it count!” Ali shouted dramatically.

“Oh, we’re doing all this shit?” Clarke sighed and stretched her neck and shoulders trying to get comfortable next to a stiff Lexa. “Silly details and all that?”

“Carke, did you think for one measly millisecond that we weren’t doing all of this shit?” Ali deadpanned.

“I guess I didn’t want to think about it,” Clarke groaned.

“Since she has that track ‘Sunflowers’ on her last album, you showed up with a bouquet of sunflowers and asked her to meet you for a drink before you left, so your last night in America before you went on a great journey would only be memories of making her laugh,” Ali kept on.

“Sunflowers?!” Clarke gawked. “That song is about MY DAD.”

“Nobody knows what any of your songs are about, Clarke. They’re about whatever the listener needs them to be about. That’s the whole point,” Ali brushed it off.

“So she brought me sunflowers and that was the big panty dropper?” Clarke checked a hip and folded her arms over her chest. “After all of these years of fighting with her, I put out for newsstand sunflowers and a round of drinks?”

“Hey, we both know I at least went to Whole Foods for those flowers,” Lexa joked. 

“Somehow I feel like that’s worse,” Clarke glanced back over her shoulder and scowled at Lexa with an unimpressed tight brow.

“No, you did not put out, Clarke, but you had a great time, she made you laugh, you made her think, and you told her that if she was serious about you, she should look you up when she got home from Europe and ask you out again then,” Ali continued. 

“That sounds more like her,” Lexa said without thinking. 

“Sorry, babe! Are my imaginary standards bothering you because even in our fake world, you’re a giant tool?” Clarke mocked, twisting the ends of her ponytail between her fingers and shooting Lexa a theatrical pout. Lexa couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter. 

“It’s just SO CLOSE to being the kind of flirty we need!” Ali clenched and slammed her empty coffee cup on the table. “Anyway!” She turned back to them with her plastered on fake grin punctuated by candy red lipstick. “Clarke, Lexa sent you sunflowers from every stop she made. They arrived at your practice space and your home more than once a week with sweet notes about where she was and how she wished you were there.”

“Alright, that’s pretty cute,” Clarke nodded in agreement. “My fanbase would eat that right up.”

“They’re going to love it, eat it up, picture it happening to themselves, and immediately start following Lexa on instagram and listening to her music looking for clues in the last album to try and figure out if any of the songs are about you,” Ali said quickly. “You two talked all the time on the tour. You texted, you facetimed, the band will attest. Until Lexa got home from the tour…”

“When did you get home from Europe?” Clarke asked Lexa genuinely. Ali let the organic process of the two of them filling in the blanks for the fake story unfold before her and suppressed her maniacal grin as Clarke leaned cautiously into Lexa’s embrace that seemed to finally find itself.

“Uh, February?” Lexa scratched her chin and cocked a brow at Ali. “I think? It was snowing.”

“She was supposed to get in on February 13th, but there was a snowstorm in Germany, so she got home on…” Ali dragged it out and pointed with glee at both of them.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Clarke dropped her face into her hands and muttered into them.

“VALENTINE’S DAY!” Ali sang out with her hands above her head. 

“Come on!” Clarke shouted at the ceiling.

“That’s right! It was Valentine’s day!” Lexa said thoughtfully as she recalled all the memories. 

“Clarke remembered how much you said you love chocolate and she got the quintessential V Day heart shaped pack of Russel Stover. She wore a sexy red dress. She had a valentine for you, the whole goddamn storybook, fairytale, romcom experience!” Ali rolled forward and skipped over their horrified reactions. “You were going to meet Lexa at her place when she got home from the airport, but she was coming to your place! When you opened the door to leave, there was Lexa, covered in snow, jetlagged, exhausted, and just so happy to see you.”

“I’m not gonna play for a second that I didn’t go to Duane Reade for that chocolate,” Clarke said firmly.

“You’re a classy broad, Clarke,” Lexa sighed sarcastically.

“Do you actually like chocolate? If they say that, you’re gonna have to choke down chocolate all the time now,” Clarke warned.

“Oh, I love chocolate. Bring it,” Lexa said confidently. “It’s always on my rider.”

“Really?” Clarke laughed. 

“Yeah,” Lexa laughed too. “I’ve got a major sweet tooth.”

“Are your teeth fake?” Clarke leaned in and brought the level of personal space they typically shared to a new level to get a closer look.

“What?! No!” Lexa yelped and put a hand over her mouth.

“Let me see them again!” Clarke demanded and wiggled her fingers at Lexa like she might put them right in her mouth. “Come on!”

Lexa, still with her arm protectively around Clarke’s waist as instructed, lowered her hand and gave Clarke a giant grin that showed all of her teeth. Clarke looked them over.

“What?” Lexa said with an inquisitive scowl.

“You’ve got nice teeth for a grown woman who apparently eats that much candy,” Clarke shrugged.

“Dental hygiene is no joke. I brush, floss, and waterpik twice a day, even on the road,” Lexa shrugged back.

“Well, rock ‘n roll, Lexa,” Clarke snorted in a cartoon nerdy voice, pushed up an imaginary pair of glasses and held her other hand up in rock and roll devil horns. “Staying hydrated is so metal.”

“Are you two done?” Ali snapped, toe rapidly tapping on the polished concrete.

“Sorry,” they both muttered at the same time. Clarke found herself leaning tighter into Lexa’s arms to get away from Ali.

“Hug each other,” Ali demanded.

“How?” Lexa squawked.

“With your arms! For fuck’s sake, Lexa!” Ali shouted and three overdressed assistants heading her way with a Diet Coke, a new water bottle, and an ipad all froze in formation.

Lexa hesitated, but Clarke leaned right in and tucked her arms under Lexa’s and pulled her close. Lexa panicked and paused before letting her arms settle uncomfortably around Clarke. 

“Alright! Lexa’s too rigid. We knew she would be, so let’s execute plan b, people!” Ali clapped her hands over her head and the staff all shifted to new tasks all around them. “Let’s make it a little easier by getting you both into character, shall we? MAKE UP! Get them both in artist default, pronto!”

Make up artists and assistants and wardrobe swarmed and pulled the musicians apart to their stations on opposite sides of the set. Despite their normal sour feelings towards each other, Clarke and Lexa felt like the only friend to each other in the room full of strangers telling them what to do and who to be. 

Being suddenly ripped apart felt cold and unnerving.

Clarke slowly and carefully looked back over her shoulder from her glam chair.

Lexa did the same and caught Clarke’s eye from her seat. She sent a sad little half smile across the room.

Crushed by the overwhelming stress and abrupt up and down of confusing emotions, Clarke looked down into her lap for a few steadying moments before bringing up her chin to look herself in the eye in the mirror. Over her reflection’s shoulder, she could see two stylists yank Lexa’s pony tail out and hit her waves with curlers and straighteners.

Just past the back of Lexa’s head in Clarke’s mirror was Lexa’s reflection. She had her hands over her face. Lexa’s shoulders shook with sad, nervous tension as she tried to slowly let a deep breath out that was stuck on the anxious tension in her chest.

They took Clarke’s hair down and dove into styling it. Eventually, Lexa dropped her hands and glanced up into her mirror.

Clarke’s reflection met hers. As Clarke’s makeup artist leaned back into her palette and gave Clarke a clear mirror eye lock with Lexa, Clarke mouthed ‘I hate this.’

Lexa almost smiled for real into the mirror and mouthed back ‘Me too,’ before one of the stylists spun her away from the glass.

“Here we go!” Ali called out once they were both done up. “Clarke! Lexa! On set!” Clarke and Lexa scurried from their make up chairs to the center of the stark white set and stood awkwardly side by side awaiting instruction. “Your motivation for today’s shoot is that you decided to go public with your relationship this week because you’re so in love that you just can’t keep it to yourselves anymore and you want everyone to know. Clarke had the photo studio booked for upcoming promo material, and Lexa happened to be on a break from practice so she came down to see you to sneak a few kisses and the photographer caught you being cute and you decided we could use the photos. Capisce?”

“Is that a real thing that happens?” Clarke asked absentmindedly. “Like would you all really waste time and resources on that if we were really together?”

“I don’t see the two of you touching!” Ali yelled. Clarke snapped a hand out and grabbed Lexa by the belt loop on her fresh black jeans and pulled her closer.

“Whoa!” Lexa yelped. Clarked turned to make sure she was okay.

“Damn,” Clarke grimaced under the bright lights. “They just put so much fucking make up on you, huh? I’ve never seen you before and after like that,” Clarke blurted out.

“Your dress is dumb,” Lexa bit back after a long pause and nodded down at Clarke’s flowy, pastel floral number. “You look like my third grade teacher.”

“Yeah, it’s super dumb and I hate it,” Clarke came back quickly in an increasingly tighter voice and leaned with intention towards Lexa. “But it’s not as dumb as your belt buckle. What the fuck you got going on here? Rhinestones?” Clarke flicked her finger against Lexa’s glitzy belt buckle and the resulting clink of her nails on the metal sounded extra loud in the room that had gone silent watching them bicker.

“What’s with the random little braids? Do chicks still even do that?” Lexa narrowed her eyes as she reached out and took the end of one of the small braids in Clarke’s curly, half tied back, intentionally messy hair and stood up straighter with fresh fight in her shoulders. “Are you streaming Coachella from home because you’re too much of a prude to actually go?”

“Still rocking a cat eye every day in your thirties?” Clarke came back with a sassy point at Lexa’s eye makeup. 

“Are you still singing about nothing every day in your thirties?” Lexa puffed up her chest.

“You’re so obnoxious!” Clarke waved one hand in frustration but kept the other awkwardly linked on Lexa’s belt.

“You’re all over me every time I deal with you!” Lexa spat out through gritted teeth. “Does anyone ever tell you to just shut the fuck up sometimes, Clarke?”

Clarke gasped and stared at Lexa with a gaping mouth.  

“Clarke!” Ali interrupted.

“What!” Clarke snapped back.

“Kiss her!” Ali cried.

Clarke huffed a quick breath in and out to ready herself, then turned abruptly to face Lexa. After a quick beat of aggravated eye contact with a set jaw, Clarke planted a hard and heavy kiss on a stiff, uncomfortable, unexpectant Lexa’s over-lined lips.

“Is that how you kiss people?!” Clarke winced at Lexa when she pulled away.

“I didn’t know you were going to kiss me!” Lexa winced back. 

“She just told me to!” Clarke cast a hand at Ali. 

“It was still a surprise!” Lexa yelped.

“What is the matter with you?” Clarke hissed.

“I’m trying to be respectful!” Lexa hissed back.

“Call your loved ones, people! This is gonna be a loooooong night!” Ali bellowed at the room full of staff. 

“Are you gonna make this weird?” Clarke huffed at Lexa and brought her tone and attitude down a few sensitive notches.

“Everything about this is extremely weird!” Lexa squawked. “We can’t stand each other and now we’re kissing and hugging and making jokes like we’re friends now or something! It’s fucked! I hate it!”

“It’s all fake! This is just work!” Clarke let out an annoyed growl. Lexa’s brows knit together in genuine frustration and she struggled to find something to say. “You were the one that was all about it yesterday!”

Standing there looking at her feet and wishing she could figure out the right thing to do made Lexa look the same way she did lingering in the doorway of Clarke’s practice room after she took the time to check on Clarke and was really nice about it. She shuffled one foot the same way she did when she was kind as she said goodnight to Clarke near the train the night before. Lexa had the same stance and slightly dipped shoulders each time she tried to be optimistic and encouraging as they discussed how messed up the situation was.

The truly troubled look in Lexa’s eyes softened a little something in Clarke’s sad, solid core.

“Look, you don’t need to be respectful or polite with me. You don’t like me and that’s fine, but we have a job to do. I give you blanket consent to kiss me anytime you need to, hold me however you have to, and do whatever fake cute shit you want to sell this thing. Now, get over here and figure out how to kiss me correctly so this crew has a prayer of ever going home tonight,” Clarke sassed through a touch of an encouraging smile.

The room collectively held its breath.

“Are you sure?” Lexa asked firmly. Her eyes begged for trust and confirmation. “Cause I’ll do it if you’re sure. I’ll be the cutest, dreamiest, sweetest, funniest fake girlfriend you ever had. You won’t even be able to tell it’s not real.”

“I’m quite confident that I don’t really have a choice as to whether or not I’m sure,” Clarke said evenly. Lexa cocked her head, annoyed. “Fine, Yes. I’m sure. Is that what you need to hear? Now come at me, bro,” she tacked on, just as annoyed as she jokingly beckoned Lexa with her first two fingers.

Lexa briefly studied Clarke’s features looking for a lie or a joke, but it was all too honest. With steady hands and a new confident stance, she brought Clark in carefully with one at her lower back and the other threaded in Clarke’s styled hair for a soft, slow, slightly apprehensive, but very convincing kiss.

Clarke’s tense shoulders relaxed. Her stiff hands that had balled up into fists unclenched and settled on Lexa’s waist as she returned the plausible kiss with a few of her own.

A barrage of clicks cascaded from the cameras.

“Did you get that?” Ali asked the photographer lowly as Clarke and Lexa pulled apart. Clarke dipped her head and wiped the corners of her sheepish smile as she rested her forehead shyly on Lexa’s shoulder. Lexa leaned back and closed her eyes at the ceiling. She winced through a nervous smile and bit her bottom lip in suspense praying that Ali wouldn’t make them do this all day.

The photographer gave Ali a stern thumbs up.

“How was that?” Clarke asked flatly. 

“Nice job, ladies,” Ali beamed with pride. “Step one: Get Your Two To Kiss Each Other Believably? Complete.”

“Step one of how many?” Clarke asked grimly. She hadn’t moved from Lexa’s arms yet because she was too scared and startled and confused to do anything without instruction, and it was starting to feel like the only safe haven in the room.

“Oh, Clarke,” Ali tsked. “You don’t want to know.”

They spent the whole morning into the afternoon in front of the camera.

Ali shouted facts about each other for them to memorize mixed in with details about events that never happened to memorize overlaid with instructions to hug each other, hold each other, smile at each other, kiss each other, look natural with each other. Laugh on command. Tell each other jokes. Act silly together. Act soft. 

The rapid fire intense work didn’t give them time to stop and bicker. They didn’t have time to think. Both hard workers threw themselves into the assignment and started getting more and more comfortable with each other rapidly. It became less awkward as it solely became a challenge to complete.

Ali caught right on that they could keep up with her and were better off when they did because it didn’t give them time to argue. She turned the dial up to eleven on her speed and ripped it off.

“Let’s get some music please!” Ali shouted from her chair. 

“What now?” Clarke whimpered to herself as bouncy latin dance music filled the room. She and Lexa were much looser now and had shaken off any apprehensive feelings about constantly touching each other. They learned enough about how the other moved to move with them naturally and found a groove together. They held hands loosely and comfortably while waiting for their next instructions.

“Dance with each other!” Ali demanded.

Clarke hesitated, but Lexa didn’t. With quick and fluid grace, Lexa took a few steps back to put space between them, then spun Clarke into a perfect ballroom stance. Clarke’s eyes flew open with shock before she settled into her newly familiar place of Lexa holding a strong hand against her lower back.

“Do you know the Cha Cha?” Lexa asked calmly.

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re being serious right now,” Clarke narrowed her gaze at Lexa.

“Just watch my feet and do the reverse. It’s easy. I’ll tell you what to do,” Lexa almost sounded excited. There was a new light in her eye and so much less distress.

“You’re serious? The Cha Cha? Lexa, this is Pitbull,” Clarke nodded her head towards the speakers.

“Follow my lead,” Lexa ignored her and started her steps.

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” Clarke yelped.

“That’s why I’m leading! Look. Look down at my feet and listen to my counts,” Lexa said with a slower, helpful tone. 

“This is fucking incredible,” Ali murmured with her hand over her mouth. “I wanted to see what they’d do, and they’re doing an actual, proper Cha Cha to Pitbull,” she carried on a dramatically wiped fake tears of pride away. “We’ve gotta put them in more situations where we give them some room to figure out what to do. These two have so much natural chemistry it’s messed up. I want to projectile vomit with glee!”

The photographers quickly got every shot they could. Lexa was a good teacher and Clarke was a quick study. 

“How are you so good at this?” Clarke giggled as she fumbled a few steps. Lexa caught her and brought her right back into the rhythm. 

“I dated a dancer for a few years,” Lexa replied with a little smirk. “She taught me a lot.”

“Like a back up dancer?” Clarke asked before Lexa twirled her around for a quick spin and then brought her close again.

“Sometimes. Ballet, mostly. She did a lot of ballroom. All kinds of stuff,” Lexa shrugged. Clarke mulled it over during an impressed nod. “What?” Lexa pressed and let her smirk fully unfold.

“Nothing,” Clarke pinched her lips shut. Lexa spun her out and back in extra close, then without warning, dropped Clarke into a full dip as the song came to a close.

“Getitgetitgetit! GET! IT!” Ali jumped out of her chair and crowded the photographer closest to her shouting and spitting through a manic, clenched grin.

Clarke burst out laughing. It was authentic and it sounded so different from all of the fake laughs during their afternoon of training.

“Where did that come from?!” Clarke caught her breath once she was upright.

“I just want to know which part of ‘charming as hell’ was unclear?” Lexa raised cocky brows at Clarke. Clarke opened her mouth for a retort, but Ali cut her off.

“Ladies!” Ali cried out. They both snapped to startled attention still in their dancer’s embrace. “We have what we need. Why don’t you two take a break?”

It was well past dark when they were finally released for the day.

Ali made them answer questions and learn new facts, some real, some made up, while walking around holding hands. A crew brought in a sofa and they had to figure out how to act familiar with each other casually sitting on a couch since they were likely to be brought on plenty of talk shows. 

Before they left for the night, Ali let them look together at some of the shots from the session.

“I like that one,” Lexa pointed to the photo of Clarke upside down in the dip with her eyes closed and her mouth open laughing. 

“Why?” Clarke asked, careful to hide any emotion. 

“You look happy and it doesn’t look fake,” Lexa shrugged. “You look like you’re having fun.”

Clarke pointed to Lexa’s face in the photo that had a gentle, genuine smile as well. 

“So do you,” Clarke shrugged back.

Ali stood behind them reviewing the photos holding hands and talking to each other calmly and productively. She bit her tongue behind a smug smile.

“Alright,” Clarke spoke for both of them as she turned around to face Ali. “What next?”

“We’re logged into your social media accounts and we’ll be controlling them for the duration, so no need to worry about what filters to choose or what to say. We have company credit cards for both of you to use for your dates and time spent together and anything you need to buy to make this look real in public. Your date schedule, couple training, and social schedule has been uploaded to your work calendars, and we’ll have curriers bring your new wardrobe to your homes and practice spaces as needed,” Ali rattled off quickly.

“I guess it’s nice not to have to think about all that stuff,” Lexa tried.

“I have your direct lines and you need to be ready for my commands via call or text at any moment. Believe it when I say it that I will always be watching you in public,” Ali kept on her quick and serious tone.

“I’m terrified by how much I believe it,” Clarke replied with wide eyes.

“A reminder that if you leak a word of this, if any of this is not convincing, if anyone finds out this isn’t real and it’s your fault, the legal ramifications will be astonishing,” Ali warned.

“We better get it together quick, then, eh, Sweet Cheeks?” Clarke playfully winked at Lexa who laughed. “I can’t afford to get sued.”

“Neither can I, Babydoll,” Lexa muttered as her laugh died down to a chuckle.

“Your first posts coming out about your relationship will be tomorrow at noon,” Ali ignored their lazy banter. “Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your lives! That’s a wrap on Clexa Day One!” she cried with gusto. The room of staff let out a chorus of relieved groans.

Clarke and Lexa gathered their things and headed for the door through the bustle of the crew breaking down for the night.

“I’m seeing a lot of space between you two!” Ali called after them.

They both paused and turned back to look at her. She raised a brow and dipped her gaze to their hands. 

“Come on,” Clarke huffed and took Lexa’s hand in hers. 

“You ready?” Lexa asked quietly. She rested her hand on the door before exiting into the Polis hallways.

“I guess we have to be,” Clarke relented. 

“Don’t look at any of them,” Lexa gave her a little nod of reassurance before pushing the door open. “Just look at me.”

“Stay focused and on the assignment,” Clarke agreed through a deep breath. “We’re in love and we’re not getting sued.”

“We love our jobs, and each other,” Lexa hyped them up further.

“Gross,” Clarke huffed briefly.

“Yup,” Lexa matched her tone.

They didn’t say anything else as they walked the Polis halls together. When they entered the bustling lobby full of gawking stares at the longtime enemies in full artist glam strolling hand in hand and grinning at each other, they stayed true to the plan, kept their eyes on each other and practiced their fake laughs and flirty giggles.

On the sidewalk just outside of the building’s big, glass, panoramic windows and doors showcasing stunned employees, Lexa’s phone chimed and startled them both.

‘Kiss her goodbye,’ from Ali lit up the homescreen. They both swallowed their natural reactions.

“So it’s gonna be like that?” Clarke flicked her eyes down at the screen, then sympathetically up to Lexa’s.

“I guess so,” Lexa replied sadly through a fake smile. 

“Just do it,” Clarke encouraged in a small, defeated voice. Lexa pulled her in for a hug that looked loving from inside the lobby but on the sidewalk felt comforting and apologized for the situation they were in.

“See you tomorrow,” Lexa said sincerely before pressing a gentle kiss to Clarke’s forehead. She turned and walked away before Clarke could respond. 

Knowing they were all watching her, Clarke forced out a fake giddy grin that fell off her face like dead weight when she was out of view.

***

The next day promptly at noon, Clarke’s phone started buzzing uncontrollably and interrupted her practice. She set her guitar down and sat quietly with closed eyes to gain a few more moment’s peace before taking in the inevitable.

She had a hard time sleeping the night before.

The long day with Lexa rolled over in her mind as she tossed and turned and tried to fall asleep. The confusing mix of feeling constantly annoyed by Lexa’s digs, but comforted by Lexa’s hand at her back all day poked and prodded at Clarke any time she got comfortable. 

They were both good actresses as made clear by how well they played their current parts in their careers, but Clarke was surprised they were both able to get their fake affection under control so quickly after a rocky start.

Pleasantly surprised, since the repercussions of not being able to do so were horrifying.

A tidal wave of likes and comments and heart eyes and exclamations pounded down on Clarke when she finally braved her social media. A gentle knock on her door dragged her out of the bottomless pit of reactions.

“It’s open,” Clarke called. She stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips trying to figure out how the hell to feel.

“Hey,” Lexa opened the door and popped her head in. She held up her phone that also chimed and buzzed uncontrollably. “I’m thinking about turning mine off.”

“Big same, but I’m too scared we’ll get instructions from above,” Clarke rolled her eyes up towards the ceiling and the executive floors much higher up.

“Looks like we’re official,” Lexa winced. Both of them felt the urge to inch towards one another after their conditioning to never be apart.

“And according to my own instagram post, apparently I’ve never been happier,” Clarke rolled her eyes all the way around with a tired laugh. “Do you want to come in?”

“Oh,” Lexa stuttered. “Uh, sure.”

“Are you alright?” Clarke asked sincerely.

“Nah,” Lexa laughed nervously. “Prepared to lie my way through it, though.”

“Right there with you,” Clarke sighed. “They updated my work calendar. Looks like you’re taking me out for dinner,” she added on in a mock flirty tone. 

“I saw that. That’s part of why I’m here,” Lexa returned the over it eyes and worn out chuckle.

“What’s the other part?” Clarke asked carefully.

“I guess I just thought we should check in after yesterday,” Lexa shrugged awkwardly. “Kind of a weird day. Kind of a weird thing we’re doing. Figured we should keep some open communication during this process. Maybe set up some boundaries or a safe word or something.”

“A safe word?” Clarke blurted out a little laugh. “How far are you planning to take things with me to sell this?”

“Come on, shut up,” Lexa chuckled. “I mean it. If one of us needs a break or it’s getting overwhelming or whatever, we should have a way to signal to each other that we need a second.”

“That’s very thoughtful,” Clarke chewed her lip and mulled it over. “And I agree that’s a good idea. Do you have any suggestions?” She flipped her phone screen down onto a chair to stop glancing at the steady flow of notifications. 

“How about if we tell the other our feet hurt, that’s a clue we need to pump the brakes and get some privacy to drop the act for a second?” Lexa suggested. 

“Easy enough,” Clarke nodded. “How are your feet feeling right now?” She asked smugly.

“Oh, they’re killing me,” Lexa chuckled. “I’ve gotta practice now and face the band. We’ve got a show this weekend.”

“I know. My VIP passes just arrived and I’ll be your supportive girlfriend in the front row,” Clarke said through a tired smile.

“Nice,” Lexa sent the tired smile back. “Want me to meet you here to head to dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Clarke replied, an uneasy sigh sneaking through her faux confidence. 

***

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Clarke began after an awkward lull at the dinner table eight hours later. Her feet were intertwined with Lexa’s under the table to maintain their Always Touching In Public Rule.They had her in jeans and a cute top and heels up against Lexa’s sharp angled all black look at a trendy New American spot that all of the artists were being photographed at.

“Does it hurt?” Lexa smiled slyly as she wiped her mouth with the napkin from her lap.

“It’s not as painful as this date,” Clarke scoffed. 

Dinner was a little weird.

No one was there to call out what to do. Ali sent her invasive texts periodically, but for the most part, they were on their own. While a few fake snuggles and fake laughs for the public got them started, now they were trapped on a very public Manhattan sidewalk patio in a very popular restaurant with a lot of people staring at them and the only thing they had in common was mutual dislike and a weird day of kissing and touching and dancing.

“I think we should call a truce,” Clarke finished.

“How’s that?” Lexa asked nervously. Her heavy eye makeup made her expressive light eyes pop even more in the low light.

“I’m really, really good at my job,” Clarke spoke lowly so none of the onlookers could pick up on what she was saying. “I do whatever it takes to do a good job, and judging by the little glimpses I’ve gotten into you over the past few days, apparently you’re really good at your job, too.”

“It appears we both do a bang up job of pretending to be something we’re not,” Lexa agreed. She sat up straighter and tried to keep an even and diplomatic fake smile on just in case anyone was looking.

“And although we can’t stand each other, currently my job is to be convincingly in love with you,” Clarke spoke slowly to get the words out without emotion. “And since I take my job seriously, and I do my job to the fullest, I need to go hard and really do that.”

“Which, coincidentally, is my job as well,” Lexa nodded along.

“If we both want to do a good job, which seems to be the one thing we truly share, we’re gonna need to work together,” Clarke sighed. “I think we need to figure out how to stop fighting all the time and stop being assholes to each other.”

“Do you think you can?” Lexa asked, her fake smile ticking up in the corners into something real.

“For the sake of my career, I’m willing to try if you are,” Clarke tilted her head and gave Lexa an earnest look.

“I think you’re right,” Lexa finally exhaled. 

“Truce?” Clarke held her glass of wine up to Lexa. 

“Truce,” Lexa agreed and clinked her glass against Clarke’s. 

“I’m pretty sure that the better job we do of this on our own, the less Ali will be all over our asses. If we have to do this weird thing for them, maybe we can at least do it our way,” Clarke’s tone shifted to something sincere and new that Lexa had never heard before. 

“I hadn’t really thought of it that way,” Lexa chewed her lip and puzzled over it. “I didn’t think we had any power whatsoever in this thing, which has been paralyzingly terrifying.”

“Not sure if you’ve bothered to check, but the photo getting reposted the most is when you had me in that dip,” Clarke chuckled. “No one told you to do the freaking Cha Cha. That was all you. That was brilliant. That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“That’s because you’re laughing for real in that photo,” Lexa chuckled at the memory. “You actually look genuinely happy. Anya had a lot of questions about what went down in that studio based on the pictures they used because I gotta hand it to them. It’s very convincing. We look like we’re having a great time and like we like each other very much.”

“Yeah, and all the photos they used were from when the two of us got it together and made it work our own way, so let’s take this bizarre thing back from them and make it ours,” Clarke said with a stern look in her eye.

“That’s so smart,” Lexa trailed off, her brain already paging through ideas. “I didn’t know you were smart.”

“There’s all kinds of stuff about me you don’t know. And look, I know you hate me, but-”

“I don’t hate you,” Lexa interrupted Clarke firmly. 

“Are you sure?” Clarke laughed nervously.

“Hate is a strong word,” Lexa continued with a heavy look. “I think you’re obnoxious, you don’t listen, you’re exhausting, and you’re a total bitch, but I always figured it had to come from somewhere and that I wasn’t the source. I’m just in your way and an easy target.”

“Go on,” Clarke propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand with a curious grin.

“Part of why I always fight with you is that I’m waiting for you to finally snap for real so I can see where the hell all of this pent up anger of yours is coming from. Your songs are so fucking boring and your image is clearly fake and it couldn’t be more obvious that you hate it. I always kind of wondered who was really in there, you know?” Lexa gestured with her wine glass at Clarke, who scoffed out a laugh and looked down at her empty dinner plate to hide that she was annoyed that Lexa was totally right.

“I hate how accurate that is,” Clarke shook her head, embarrassed.

 “I feel like I only ever see glimpses of the real you when you’re attacking me, so I provoke you all the time,” Lexa admitted.

“I don’t hate you either,” Clarke relaxed in her chair. “I resent you. I can also tell that you and the band have a ridiculously fake image and you’re clearly creating below your talents, but you all seem to be enjoying it. Your fake life looks fun. Mine is absolutely suffocating.”

“For me, maybe,” Lexa shrugged. “I’m a nerdy girl from New Jersey blessed with incredible genetics and affluent parents that are obsessed with me and are relentlessly supportive. For the other three, this is all they have. If this ends, their lives will be very, very difficult.”

“I hear that,” Clarke let out a big sigh and downed the rest of her wine. 

“What, you can’t go running back to that big house with the yard full of Sunflowers in the Connecticut suburbs where you learned to ride a bike?” Lexa asked smugly.

“How do you know about that?” Clarke asked cautiously and carefully raised a brow.

“I listened to your whole discography last night,” Lexa shrugged shyly. “Research.”

“That house is gone,” Clarke exhaled after a long pause in which she decided not to touch the idea of Lexa digging that deeply. “There is no house for me to go home to in Connecticut anymore. My parents are both in an assisted living apartment complex with terminal illnesses that I am the sole provider of their care for.”

“Oh, shit,” Lexa’s face fell instantly. “Clarke, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you?” Clarke asked calmly.

“I don’t know,” Lexa swallowed hard and tried to shake an embarrassed smile. “I guess I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t exactly advertise it because it’s so sad it makes me sick if I think too hard about it. I’m an only child. They were both only children. All four of my grandparents are dead. When they die, I’ll be the last one,” Clarke explained with a tight throat but brave eyes.

“Jesus,” Lexa puffed a big breath out through closed lips. 

“‘Sunflowers’ sells pop-folk records. ‘The last of my bloodline’ does not,” Clarke said flatly with a knowing look Lexa’s way.

“That’s awful and sounds very hard,” Lexa mustered up a sympathetic half smile. 

“It is awful and it is very hard,” Clarke agreed in a small voice. “I’ve been doing this since I was a teenager. I have no other skills. This is how I pay to keep them alive. If I lose my contract and my career, I’m probably going to lose them a lot sooner, too.”

“Then we better make this romance pretty fucking convincing,” Lexa said succinctly with a little nod. Clarke’s posture visibly relaxed. 

Lexa’s phone lit up on the table and interrupted them before Clarke could respond.

“It appears the table behind you has several hot shots from Wells Fargo at it whose teenage daughters have realized who we are and they keep pointing at the back of your head. I think they’re your fans, not mine, but they are about us, and they have massive TikTok followings,” Lexa sighed as she read the incoming texts from Ali.

“So?” Clarke furrowed her brow at the quick change of topics.

“So I’m going to get up and go use the restroom, and I’m going to kiss you before I leave, but you need to turn towards me so they can see that it’s you, and it would be ideal if we could give them an angle to get a photo,” Lexa grumbled. 

“How does she do this?! Is she in the restaurant?! Is one of these tables full of undercover Polis marketing employees?!” Clarke whispered frantically and flicked her eyes around to try and spot the spy.

“I have no idea, but in the interest of our new truce and that new info about your folks, I’m going to make this look good if that’s okay with you,” Lexa muttered as she got out of her chair.

“Can you? That first time we kissed you were a holy mess,” Clarke smirked.

“Is that a challenge or are you flirting with me?” Lexa smirked back.

“I’m walking the line between keeping our truce and making fun of you, which I think is about as close to flirting with you as I’m gonna be able to get at this time,” Clarke sighed through her fake grin that the teenage influencers were eating alive. 

“I can work with that,” Lexa cocked a confident brow before gently tipping Clarke’s chin up with her first two fingers and kissing her softly. Clarke let her eyes fall closed and leaned up to meet Lexa’s lips with all of the acting prowess she had in her. “Looks like they got their shot, so I’ll be right back,” Lexa murmured through a phony, lovey grin as she pulled away.

Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose and took a few steadying breaths once Lexa was gone. 

“May I take this, ma’am?” The server startled her out of her quiet spiral as he gestured at her empty entree plate. Clarke studied him a little too closely before answering and tried to remember if she’d seen his face around the label hallways. 

Maybe he was the spy.

“Yes, thank you,” Clarke finally relented. 

“Anything else for you both?” He asked.

‘Order dessert. Chocolate,’ lit up on her phone. She let out a frustrated breath.

“We’ll have another bottle of wine and whatever your chocolatiest dessert is,” Clarke forced a polite smile at him that slid off her face the moment he walked away. Her phone vibrated in her hand.

‘Feed it to her when she gets back to the table.’

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Clarke hissed and dropped her phone with a thud.

“What now?” Lexa grimaced as she sat back down. She habitually snuggled her feet between Clarke’s and nodded at the phone.

“I had instructions to order you dessert, which I did,” Clarke hesitated and Lexa’s eyes grew wider while she waited for the rest. “And I have to feed it to you when it gets here.”

“Oh ew. Come on! Are they gonna make us one of those couples?” Lexa yelped.

“Unless we make ourselves a different kind really quickly, I think so!” Clarke yelped back.

Lexa glanced to the side with a quick thinking expression. Her eyes darted back and forth from Clarke’s phone to her dessert fork.

“Show me the text,” Lexa perked up. “What’s the exact wording?”

Clarke spun her phone around.

“Follow my lead,” Lexa said with confidence through a conspiratorial smirk.

“The last time you said that, I ended up upside down,” Clarke said skeptically.

“I recall you telling me it was brilliant half an hour ago,” Lexa taunted as the server set down a plate of decadent chocolate cake.

“Our chocolatiest dessert, ma’am,” he winked at Clarke, topped off their wine and left the bottle on the table.

“Alright, Big Shot. Whatcha got for us?” Clarke whispered under her breath and nodded at the cake.

“I bet you can’t cut a piece of that off and get it in my mouth from there,” Lexa challenged loudly, then set her stance and opened her mouth. She beckoned for Clarke to throw the cake to her.

“Lexa,” Clarke warned.

“C’mon,” Lexa egged her on. “Is your aim that bad?”

The teenagers behind them and a few tables of twenty somethings took a sudden interest.

“If you choke, I’m not giving you the heimlich,” Clarke huffed.

“I’ll only choke if you can actually get it in my mouth,” Lexa laughed. “Judging by all this stalling you’re doing, I’m gonna be just fine.”

“Alright, hold still, you dick,” Clarke held back a laugh but couldn’t contain her very real smile at how ridiculous the whole thing was. She closed one eye sarcastically to aim, then tossed the bite of cake right into Lexa’s mouth. 

Lexa had excited eyes and held her hands up like a football ref calling for a touchdown. The onlookers cheered.

“Hey! We did it, Babe!” Lexa cried around the cake. Her pet name was fake, but her enthusiasm was real.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” Clarke jokingly tipped a pretend hat to the tables around them who were clapping and laughing.

“Nice shot,” Lexa smiled at Clarke with a mouthful of chewed food.

“Yuck,” Clarke waved her way before taking a bite of the cake. “This is pretty good though.”

“Right?” Lexa reached in with her own fork. “And technically, you have fed it to me.”

“So that’s the new plan? You’re gonna be whimsical and silly and cute?” Clarke quirked a brow.

“Newsflash, Clarke. I’m adorable, and I have been the whole time,” Lexa came back quickly.

“My fans will think so,” Clarke said thoughtfully. “My real boyfriend when I was first signed dumped me super publicly and the label has kept me single since, which works out just fine since I pretty much have been.”

“They fan the flames of just about any rumor about me sleeping with someone,” Lexa replied with disgust. “I almost never am. Anyone you’ve heard that I’m screwing? There’s a significant chance we’ve never even been in the same room together.”

“That’s so funny,” Clarke chuckled into her wine glass. “I had a solid rotation going for a while that they were adamant I keep underwraps.”

“Good for you,” Lexa tipped her glass to Clarke. 

“So you’re gonna be funny and cute and considerate and actually care about me?” Clarke swirled the wine in her glass and watched it settle and become still again. Something inside her stirred up as she spoke about how her fake self would be treated.

“They want me doting over you and treating you like a princess and taking good care of you. It’s what I do,” Lexa shrugged. The slightest hint of pink in her cheeks was easily dismissed by the warm night and heavy pours of white wine and not a glaring indicator that she was feeling vulnerable. “Starting to look like the label is finally getting me right.”

“Alright, then who should I be?” Clarke brought her eyes up from her wine to meet Lexa’s.

“Who do you want to be?” Lexa didn’t break their gaze.

“Ali’s probably just going to change it anyway,” Clarke said through a breathy, uncertain laugh after holding the eye contact a little too long.

“I think you should pull from your real self, too,” Lexa leaned back in her chair with a delighted look at where this was headed. “My fans would love to see me with a smart, hot, natural blonde that’s secretly slutty and interesting and absolutely fucking nuts.”

Clarke gaped at Lexa’s bold attitude.

“Those are literally all your own words,” Lexa reminded her.

“I know, but they sound different when you say them!” Clarke snapped.

“Does that make them any less true?” Lexa asked earnestly. 

“I guess not,” Clarke let Lexa’s words roll around as she took a big swig of her wine.

“Then why don’t we use this bag fat lie as a way to finally be honest?” Lexa raised a persuasive brow at Clarke. “Might be kind of fun. It’ll make this weird thing we’re doing worthwhile. Quicker path to using our break up to become your real self.”

“Alright,” Clarke nodded slowly. “Let’s give it a shot until she reigns us in. Are you sure you’re ready for all this?” She pointed to herself with her fork.

“Should I be scared?” Lexa laughed playfully.

“Oh, definitely,” Clarke replied, totally serious.

***

“Have you ever seen them live?” Raven asked Clarke as they hurried from their cab to the stage door of a big club The Grounders were playing Friday night.

“No, but I need to act like I have,” Clarke replied as she dug through her purse for a smoke. “I watched a couple of videos this afternoon.”

“They’re actually really, really good,” Raven said with an excited grin. “I know up until this moment you never would’ve wanted to hear me say that, so I never bothered. Their studio stuff is fine, but on stage? They kill.”

“Lexa was telling me about all of their training,” Clarke muttered around her cigarette while still digging for a lighter.

“How much time are you two spending together, exactly?” Raven asked nervously.

“A lot,” Clarke sighed. “Tuesday was a twelve hour affair of getting used to each other on all kinds of levels. We had a dinner date Wednesday night. Yesterday was another affection bootcamp day. They gave her the day off from me today because of her show tonight, but we are expected to make a love filled appearance at the after party. The second we walk in, we’re on. It’s gonna feel weird. Be ready for it.”

“What do you mean?” Raven chuckled.

“We’re kinda good at this when we both put our all into it,” Clarke shrugged. “We called a truce, had a long talk, and we’re all in. You know it’s fake, so when it looks real, just be cool.”

“Alright,” Raven trailed off.

“Well! If it isn’t my two favorite girls!” Anya kicked open the stage door with a cigarette in one hand and a spilling draft beer in the other. “Clarke! Who I have loved the whole time and definitely told Lexa she should go for it with you ages ago, how the hell are you?” Anya slung her arm around Clarke’s shoulder and gave her an overacted kiss on the cheek. “That’s right. I’m making up my own canon. I’m a B character and I want in on this mess.”

“Oh, good,” Clarke replied flatly through a tired smile as she took Anya’s beer from her and drank half of it. “That shouldn’t complicate this bizarre situation at all.”

“Right?” Anya giggled. “How are you holding up for real, though?”

“I’m fine,” Clarke lied. 

“Yeah, okay,” Anya rolled her eyes. “Listen, my future hinges on the success of this charade, too, so if you need anything, help or whatever, support, intel about Lexa to help? I don’t even know what you might need, but if you feel like I can assist, please hit me up.”

“What kind of intel?” Clarke asked with genuine curiosity. She plucked Anya’s cigarette from her hand and used it to light her own.

“What kind do you want?” Anya wagged her brows with a cheeky grin. “I know every single thing about her.”

“Alright, break it up, that’s enough,” Lexa joined them in the back alley. Sounds of the opening band wrapping up chased her out the door. “You’re looking a little more pop-rock than usual, Clarke.” She carried two bottles of beer and offered one to Clarke. 

“This is what was in the garment bag that showed up at my apartment for tonight,” Clarke shrugged. She had on tight black jeans, pink pumps, a white flowy top and a crisp black denim jacket with a Grounders button on the collar. Her curls were down and styled big and she wore more makeup and jewelry than usual. “Which is funny, because I own this exact jacket.”

“Nice,” Lexa chuckled. “These aren’t mine,” she added on and pointed to her over the top leather pants and combat boots. Glitzier eye makeup than her usual fair around the office combined with much louder accessories and huge wavy hair had Lexa stage ready.

“I think they’re going to start dressing us to match each other,” Clarke tugged on the hem of Lexa’s leather jacket playfully. “Which should be interesting when you come to one of my shows.”

“You don’t know what I really look like yet,” Lexa tsked and matched Clarke’s tone. “Maybe I’ll borrow some of those flowy floral numbers the label lets you keep.”

“I hope you’re joking,” Clarke warned as she exhaled her smoke away from Lexa.

“Anya! Lexa! Ten minutes!” A stagehand called out the door at them.

“I gotta go,” Lexa smiled warmly. “Can you try to get some gum or something before I have to kiss you in front of people later? I can’t stand those things,” Lexa wrinkled her nose and pointed at Clarke’s cigarette.

“Uh, yeah,” Clarke stammered. She took one more drag before putting it out. “Sure. I have some.”

“Thanks. It’ll help me stay in character,” Lexa grinned and kept eye contact with Clarke as she walked backwards a few steps towards the door. “I hope you enjoy the show!”

“You’re right. It’s weird,” Raven said bluntly after the stage door closed behind Lexa.

“Just you wait,” Clarke sighed.

The venue was packed. 

Clarke and Raven had VIP passes. Security escorted them to a small, blocked off area right down in front where they had a great view of the stage, and a lot of the audience had a view of them.

“Everyone behind us is taking your picture!” Raven leaned in to talk over the noise of the chanting crowd beckoning the grounders to come out.

“Yup!” Clarke replied with her fake, excited smile on. “That’s happening a lot this week! Everyone knows who I am again all of a sudden!”

A bunch of green lights lit up the stage as a loud power chord burst through the din of the crowd. The unmistakable silhouettes of the band bounced onto the stage and took up their positions. 

“What’s up New York!” Lexa called into her mic. A wave of cheers flooded back to her. “We’ve got a great show in store for you tonight!” The cheering grew even louder. “We’re gonna do all of your favorites, and maybe a few special treats, too!” Lexa looked down into the VIP area, caught Clarke’s eye and shot her a flirty wink. “Are you ready?!”

The band exploded into their set. 

They were high energy, very technical, and so much fun to watch. The solos, the movement, and the way Lexa commanded the audience made Clarke’s fake support slide into actual cheering after the first few songs. They sang in perfect four part harmonies over choruses. They were funny together and nice to each other. Their loyal fanbase cheered and screamed and danced and sang along the whole time.

“Alright, we’re gonna do something fun tonight,” Lexa announced during a lull between songs near the end of the set. Her chest heaved as she strolled around the stage after a particularly rowdy song. Echo wiped her face on a towel and tossed it off stage. Anya chugged a beer and yanked her long messy hair into a ponytail behind her kit.

“I love you, Lexa!” A rambunctious fan screamed out from the floor seats.

“Hey, I love you, too, but be careful with that. My woman is in the house tonight and she’s feisty,” Lexa joked and was met with laughter and a new round of cheers. “She also is a very talented guitar player,” Lexa trailed off. Clarke looked back and forth at two security guards approaching her from either side.

“Lexa, NO,” Clarke planted her hands on her hips.

“Do you guys think she should play on this next one with us?” Lexa smirked at the audience. The thundering applause and cheers made the room shake. Raven’s laughter got swallowed by the crowd as Clarke glared at her. “Alright! Get her up here, boys!” Lexa coaxed the security guards to help Clarke onto the stage.

“Hey! Wait! Hey!” Clarke yelped as she got brought up to center stage with Lexa.

“Hi, Honey. Say hello to New York,” Lexa beamed the smuggest smile at Clarke before pointing the microphone at her.

“Hello, New York,” Clarke played along and gave a bashful little wave to the crowd. 

“I’m gonna play piano on this next one and let my babe here hold down the rhythm guitar for me. What do you all think about that?” Lexa grinned at the audience who responded positively with more cheering and shouting. Clarke’s look of shock made it abundantly clear that the moment wasn’t scripted.

Anya leaned into her mic and started a slow and low chant of Clarke’s name over and over with a soft drum beat. The audience picked up on it immediately and within moments the entire packed venue was chanting her name.

“What do you say, babe?” Lexa held back her laughter.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Clarke said loudly enough for only Lexa to hear through a fake grin.

“She’ll do it!” Lexa held a triumphant hand over her head, then lifted her guitar strap up and over onto Clarke.

“You’re dead. You’re a walking dead woman. I’m gonna just straight up murder you,” Clarke muttered as she let Lexa’s guitar find its place on her body.

“Hey, look at me,” Lexa got close to Clarke so she could hear her and held the mic away so no one else could. Clarke flicked worried eyes up to meet Lexa’s solid, happy glance. “This is one of our oldest songs. It’s a 1 4 5 1 starting on D. You’re fine. This is below your skill level. Follow Lincoln for cues.”

“But-”

Lexa shut Clarke up with a quick kiss that sent the audience over the edge.

“You got this,” Lexa said firmly with the most reassuring, real smile. “Maybe it’ll even be a little fun for you.”

“Fun?!” Clarke yelped.

“You ready to party, New York?” Lexa rallied the crowd once more before setting her mic in its stand by the piano. Clarke flicked through a few quick chords to get a feel for the new instrument. 

“Are you ready to party, Clarke?” Anya had the most excited, silly grin of them all. Clarke nodded at her reluctantly. “One! Two! One, two, three, four!” Anya clicked her sticks above her head to count them off.

Clarke listened to the opening, nodding her head and tapping her foot as she found the feel of the song. After the intro, she found her groove with them and jumped right in. Lexa was right. The song was structured simply and she slid right into the line up. The classic patterns and vocals let the grounders take turns soloing hard and bringing impromptu creativity to the tune.

Clarke loosened up right away and thrived on the high of being on stage and playing with other people for the first time in way too long.

“Clarke!” Echo shouted over Anya’s drum solo as she approached Clarke on the stage. “How’s your solo game?”

“Decent. Rooted in blues and jazz!” Clarke shouted back.

“Nice!” Echo nodded in approval. “I’m next, but let’s take turns. 12 bars each, call and answer. I’ll start!”

The downbeat came before Clarke could say no. 

The look of pure, delighted, unfiltered, genuine joy on Lexa’s face at the piano as Clarke and Echo bounced the melody back and forth was so real and easily mistaken for love. The rest of the band jumped back in for the final choruses and brought the impromptu jam to a close with one final loud pounding chord to absolutely thunderous applause. 

The band all clapped and pointed at Clarke who sheepishly held her hands up and dipped her head in a little bow. 

“Clarke Griffin, everybody!” Lexa shouted into her mic before she crossed the stage to meet Clarke. “Hey! That was so awesome!” Lexa cried gleefully as she accepted her guitar back from Clarke.

“I told you I was better than the music they have me making,” Clarke said through heavy breaths. “I’m still mad at you for springing that on me, but you were right. It was fun.”

“And maybe kinda honest?” Lexa smirked and raised a brow as she called back to their new strategy.

“Very honest. Still mad at you, though,” Clarke replied frankly. “And two can play at this game, and I play to win.”

“I expect nothing less,” Lexa’s grin spread even wider. 

“I’ll see you backstage, you fuckin’ asshole,” Clarke muttered affectionately through a flirty smile before leaving a smack on the ass of Lexa’s leather pants that was loud enough for Lincoln’s mic to pick it up.

He shot Lexa an open mouthed grin. Anya shouted a cat call.

Clarke strutted off the stage with a very natural, very sexy look back and subtle head nod at a stunned Lexa before disappearing. Wolf whistles and howls chased her offstage.

“Hot damn! Clarke Griffin, everybody!” Lexa repeated through a laugh she couldn't contain. “We’ve got a few more, and then you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” Lexa cried as the band broke into a new song. 

A security guard handed Clarke a bottle of water once she was in the dark wings and out of the crowd’s sight line. 

Lexa caught her eye a few bars into the song and mouthed ‘Very nice.’

Clarke playfully shrugged back as she chugged from her water. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and stole a few moments to recenter before looking at the inevitable reprimand from Ali about going off script. 

“So what you’re saying is,” Lexa Woods, lead singer, songwriter, and famous frontwoman for the pop rock group The Grounders, began slowly. She and her bandmates sat gathered around a conference table on a summery Friday afternoon with their manager reviewing recent numbers for their third studio album that had been out for a few months.

“That we’re fucked,” Anya Bridges, drummer and resident realist sitting on Lexa’s right, finished for her.

“Pretty fucked,” Indra, the band’s manager muttered through a hand covering her mouth from across the table. Delivering both the bad news to the band that they weren’t doing so hot and also needing to hype them up at the same time was never her strongest skill.

“Well? The second album was a smash,” Lexa leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table as she leafed through the charts and reports in front of her pretending to look at them and understand them, but it was all a clever cover up for how anxious she was. “What happened?”

“You put out 12 songs that sound just like the last 14, only overproduced and somehow blander, and you’re not getting any younger,” Indra replied flatly alongside a weighty glare over the top of her glasses.

“Whoa!” Lincoln, overprotective bassist and perpetual seer of the bright side sitting to Lexa’s left, spat out with wide eyes. “That’s a little harsh.”

“Not wrong, though,” Echo, strong, silent lead guitarist, glanced at Anya beside her who shrugged apathetically in return.

“So what does this mean?” Lexa spoke firmly. She sat up straighter in an attempt to convince herself she wasn’t nervous.

“I’m not sure,” Indra sighed. “The suits say they need to see ‘something’ from you,” Indra added on and raised her eyebrows at Lexa.

“From me?” Lexa asked carefully. 

“From you,” Indra nodded. 

“What kind of something?” Lexa swallowed hard.

“Something new. Something different. Something exciting,” Indra waved her hand in the air as she searched for the words. “Something that will make people look at you differently.”

“That sounds awful,” Anya scoffed. 

“There’s a label party tonight on the roof for that DJ group, the Mountain Men?” Indra slid an invitation across the table to Lexa who bit her lip in disdain as she took it in. “I know you hate them. Hell, I hate them, but because they make so much friggin’ money in advertisement royalties since all their tracks are just begging to be perky cell phone commercials, we have to put up with their shit.”

“What about the rest of us?” Lincoln asked quietly. “Why only an invite for her?”

“Do the rest of you want to go?” Indra quirked a brow at them.

“Fuck no!” Echo laughed.

“Absolutely not,” Anya said quickly at the same time.

“I mean, not even kind of,” Lincoln clarified in unison with them. “But is it weird they don’t want all of us?”

“This is a punishment,” Lexa sighed and waved the invite at them. “I’m taking it for the team and they knew I would. I always do.”

“Well? Maybe you can find your ‘something’ at the party,” Indra tried. “Marketing is working over the weekend to figure out what to do. We’ll have something for you at the top of the week to shake things up. Enjoy your weekends,” Indra waved a hand in clear dismissal.

“I won’t,” Lexa grumbled as she gathered her things.

All four of the grounders were graduates of the Trikru College of Music, one of America’s most prestigious spots to study the craft. They met as freshmen, became fast friends, and had been making music together since. After being scouted and signed, the label guided their career into the mainstream by simplifying their styles and playing more to their looks than their skills. 

Lincoln was an accomplished violinist and cellist with a degree in symphony performance. He could play pretty much anything with strings on it, and when they were playing warehouse shows in college and small clubs thereafter, he became their bassist. His grooves were as tight as his unrealistically statuesque physique. 

Naturally charming and genuinely sweet, he instantly became the brother none of them had and protected his group of girls ferociously. He came to New York for school from the west coast with everything he owned after his parents told him that if he threw away all of his opportunities to study music rather than something practical, he couldn’t come home. Lexa, Anya and Echo became his new home in New York.

Echo never said much and let her music speak for her. She was an incredible guitarist, a native New Yorker, and she studied theory at Trikru. Their albums had a handful of solos on them that showed glimpses of what she was made of, but the label held her back. When she was on stage, however, she let it rip and the band had a loyal following that knew about it. 

She had theory classes with Lincoln when they were freshmen, and when he and Lexa and Anya started putting a group together to gig around the city, she was an obvious choice.

“I’ll go with you to that thing,” Anya relented with a good natured, sarcastic huff.

“Oh, thank god,” Lexa exhaled with relief. “I didn’t want to ask.”

Anya played in elite drum corps from the second she was old enough to the day she aged out. She had incredibly quick and precise hands, a degree in percussion composition and performance, creative ideas and could do a lot with a limited kit. She satisfied her drum solo lust at live shows, but most of her work in the studio was beneath her. Smart, savvy, and oozing with rockstar energy at all times, most of the women she came in contact with ended up beneath her, too.

She grew up in a tough situation outside of Boston that she never talked about, worked every second of the day that she wasn’t in school or rehearsals, and clawed her way through college with financial aid, scholarships, and odd jobs. She was more open about it now that they were established and more mature, but the band was the only place she ever felt at home.

Lexa and Anya were roommates their freshman year and became instantly inseparable. Although she was the lead singer, lyricist, and rhythm guitarist for the band, Lexa’s roots grew from behind a piano. She was a classical pianist and a composing major and spent her life training on the keys. Guitars and leather jackets and heavy eyeliner paid the bills and kept them all together, but she never had dreams of it when she was young.

“Yeah, yeah. You do enough for us. I can take a hit, too,” Anya smiled and patted Lexa on the shoulder.

Lexa was their leader and always had been. She booked their shows when they were twenty and broke. She pushed them further with each rehearsal and she found their sound and really could bring the best out of each of them on and off the stage. The only one who came from a place she could go back to, she made sure to foster their new home together as best she could and keep a safe and loving space alive for the people that stood by her no matter what.

“I appreciate that,” Lexa’s stress melted into a real smile as the group headed out the door.

Across the hall in an identical conference room on the fifth floor of the Polis Records building in Manhattan, Clarke Griffin, pop folk artist and the label’s token Girl Next Door that was aging rapidly, sat in a similarly disappointing meeting riddled with plummeting metrics.

“The last album was pretty sleepy, Clarke,” Raven Reyes, chief audio engineer and Clarke’s good friend who worked closely with her on all three albums, winced as she admitted the truth.

“They heard it and they green lit it,” Clarke shrugged. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“There’s some discussion upstairs that it might be an image problem,” Marcus Kane, Clarke’s longtime manager, winced. He was a friend of her parents, had an eye on her since she was playing guitar and singing for change and on talent show stages when she was twelve, coached her to take herself seriously in her teens, and had been managing her successful career since.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Clarke scoffed. “My image is a bunch of fake bullshit that they insisted on.”

“Look, I know,” Marcus said softly with gentle and defensive hands raised. “You’re getting a little bit older and this nice girl thing they’ve shoehorned you into is becoming a little outdated. It worked when you were twenty-four. Thirty-three? Not as much.”

“So I’m boring now?” Clarke asked, arms folded across her label-picked-out peasant top that she refused twice and it kept popping up into wardrobe rotation and she finally succumbed.

“A little bit,” Raven wrinkled her nose and tried to get a sympathetic smile out, but it got stuck halfway.

“This is fucking absurd. I told you I didn’t want to be some goody goody girl next door and that this wouldn’t age and it would bite me in the ass, but no! The execs know best!” Clarke threw her hands up and let them fall with a slap on the table. “I didn’t even want to make this last album! I wanted to actually grow and change and use my real talents to make something exciting with a little rock and some soul and they said no.”

“The soul thing you were trying to do didn’t really fit-”

“It didn’t fit my stupid, false image they created,” Clarke snapped and cut Marcus off. “I know.”

Clarke had more talent than she knew what to do with, but the label only let her make folk and pop folk tracks because of her looks, which she wasn’t allowed to change without their consent. She was fit, she was blonde, she had big blue eyes and a hometown in New England paired with a four octave range, a lifetime of training, impeccable stage presence, no fear, and clever lyrics. 

She also had chronically sick parents that required constant medical attention that she was the sole provider for, so she let the label tell her who she needed to be in order to keep cashing the checks that paid for their care. As long as she kept her mouth shut and wrote the songs they wanted, her nice girl image was believable.

“Marketing is going to come up with a new plan for you by next week,” Marcus sighed after a heavy lull swept around the room. “But they feel like they need to see something from you.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Clarke huffed. She thumbed at her bottled water and didn’t bother to keep her scowls and pissed off facial expressions in check.

“I don’t know for sure. They told me they’ll have more details soon after the team works on it. Your sales are down, your streams are down, your social metrics are down, so they need something new, something different, and exciting.”

“That’s suspiciously vague,” Clarke eyed him cautiously.

“Something that will make people look at you differently,” Marcus tried.

“Should I dye my hair black?” Clarke joked with the flavor of sass that reminded him too much of her teenage years.

“I wouldn’t,” Marcus shook his head softly. “They sent this. They said you have to show up and be seen tonight. Go through wardrobe on your way out. They have your attire,” he tacked on and slid the Mountain Men party invite across the table.

“These assholes?” Clarke gasped when she read the guest of honor. “Marcus.”

“I know,” he tried not to laugh at her frank attitude. “They’re insufferable, but they throw a great party and everyone’s going. You could afford to end up in a few photos giving the illusion that you’re having fun.”

“But not too much, right?” Clarke shot him a knowing wink alluding back to so many marketing conversations about her keeping her antics under control when she was in public. “We wouldn’t want anyone to think I had a personality or anything too racy like that.”

“Clarke,” Marcus sighed and rubbed the tension headache she’d been giving him for over twenty years from between his eyes. His hair was all gray now, his face held so many more wrinkles and smile lines, and his posture stopped much more than it used to, but everything between them always felt the same.

“Are you going?” Clarke turned to Raven.

“I have to. The production I did on their last album paid off my condo,” Raven replied with a knowing shrug. 

“Try to have a nice weekend, alright?” Marcus pushed a smile through. “We’ll see what they have for you next week.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Clarke lied through a sarcastic grin as she shoved her paperwork and invite into her bag and yanked the conference room door open with force.

She came face to face with a disgruntled Lexa Woods in the hallway.

“If it isn’t Polis Records’ favorite Nice Girl!” Lexa joked in that playground taunting voice she was so good at.

“How was your meeting? Are you already done with another album using the same five chords?” Clarke snapped back.

“Oh, I leaned two more,” Lexa sarcastically wagged her eyebrows at Clarke. “You about to churn out another dozen tracks about your hometown? Where are you from again? Anywhere, USA? Population upper middle class white women?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, spun on her heel and tossed a middle finger over her shoulder as she stomped towards the elevator.

“See you on the roof later!” Lexa called after Clarke and waved her party invite over her head.

“Hopefully not!” Clarke called back just before the elevator doors closed between them.

“So nice,” Lexa joked to Anya beside her who snorted out a laugh.

The Grounders and Clarke Griffin had been running into one another in hallways and at events for years. Coincidentally, their practice spaces on the label’s studio floor were side by side. Outside of subtle, and in many cases not so subtle, barbs and childish insults, they never really said much to one another. 

Neither of them could remember why they didn’t like each other, but every time they interacted, they fought about everything. Typically they only saw each other at label parties and industry events, so their bickering usually found its way in front of an audience. There wasn’t enough substance to it to call it a feud and no real fuel to call it a fight, but it was a well known fact that Clarke and Lexa couldn’t stand each other.

“After you finish up practice for the day, wardrobe has your clothes for tonight,” Indra gave Lexa a warning look. “Wear what they picked. No freestyling please.”

“Fine,” Lexa sighed in disdain as she trudged behind her bandmates to the elevator. 

***

“Hey! You made it!” Raven shouted over the thundering beats when Clarke popped up beside her at the party that evening.

The roof of Polis Records was huge, flat, well lit, and a place to be seen. They threw parties all year long up there and transformed it every time with high budget decorations, bars, killer sound systems and lighting to be photographed in. The three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of New York City was both famous and incredible. Tonight, the lights of Manhattan all around them added to the party lights and wild decor the dance music begged for.

“Against my will, but mostly unscathed,” Clarke sighed through a face that said it all. Raven was alone at a high top table on the fringe of the crowd waiting for Clarke with two drinks. 

“Cute dress!” Raven nodded down at Clarke’s white, flowy sundress.

“Not mine. Not my choice,” Clarke sighed as Raven handed her a vodka soda. “I had three choices and this was the best one.”

“At least the image they picked for you is cute and not complicated. It could be much worse,” Raven grimaced and nodded towards a group of famous house DJs on the label nearby with masks and costumes on.

“I suppose this sundress on a warm night in New York does beat all that spandex,” Clarke chuckled and almost let herself relax when her phone lit up.

“How are your folks?” Raven asked quietly with sympathetic urgency. 

“Mom’s home from the hospital. She’s okay,” Clarke replied through a tight, forced, stressed, fake smile as she read the text messages coming in from her parents’ caregivers. “Dad’s probably headed back in any day now.”

“Shit, dude. I’m sorry,” Raven muttered.

“It’s okay,” Clarke lied. “They’re actually doing better than they have been. I’m hoping to get out to see them in a week or two. I’m disappointed with all this shit with my last record for all of the obvious reasons, but my first two albums paid for their care, and I was hoping this one would set them up for a while, but apparently it sucks!” Clarke huffed as she dug through her purse for a vape pen. 

“Come on, Clarke. It doesn’t suck. It just wasn’t as good as the other two,” Raven tried.

“It kinda sucks,” Clarke replied through a wince. 

“What is it they want from you again? Something new and exciting?” Raven called back to their meeting.

“Whatever the fuck ‘looking at me differerntly’ means,” Clarke scoffed. She didn’t find a cigarette or a vape, but a joint instead. “Who’s here? Are we being ourselves and openly smoking at this thing tonight or what?” 

“Somehow I don’t think that’s the ‘something’ they’re looking for from you,” Raven cautioned.

At the bar not far behind them, Lexa and Anya grabbed their first round.

“I don’t know what the fuck it means, but apparently they’re trying to shake my image up by taking my black clothes away and putting me in white, which is dangerous,” Lexa shrugged with a glass of red wine in each hand and gestured to her white tube top the label sent her out in under a black leather jacket. “Thanks for coming with me by the way. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it. I love free booze and a room full of hot people,” Anya grinned and ran her eyes over the crowd. “I’ll tune out the music. Did anyone give you any more hints about what’s coming?”

“You know they’re always coming up with stupid stuff for me cause I’m the front woman and people think I’m sexy. I’m willing to do it for all of you three so we can keep the band going,” Lexa raised one of her glasses and clinked it against Anya’s. 

“I wish they’d just let us make cool and real music and not this canned pop rock,” Anya agreed. “Nothing is sexier than the power of real, raw, rock music.”

“Maybe to you,” Lexa chuckled. “You’re a drummer. I play the piano and they make me play rhythm guitar because apparently it’s hotter.”

“As your best friend and not in a weird I-want-to-blur-the-lines way, but very much in a I-see-where-the-label-is-coming-from way, you are a very hot guitarist and front woman,” Anya offered up.

“Thank you. I know you are incapable of telling lies, so it always means a lot coming from you,” Lexa let a little laugh out.

“They let you do a few piano things on the second album,” Anya kept on as they wove through the crowd to find somewhere to relax out of the way.

“Yeah, and it sold!” Lexa laughed as she took a gulp from one of her glasses.

“Wine, huh?” Anya nodded down at Lexa’s hands.

“I have a lot of work to do this weekend and I don’t want to get too fucked up,” Lexa shrugged. “So if anyone offers me any drugs or hard liquor, make sure I say no.”

“Can do,” Anya nodded firmly. “Hey! There’s Raven!” Anya held a drink up and nodded Raven’s way.

“No! Don’t!” Lexa hissed. She knew instantly who was on the other side of the telltale blonde curls at the table.

Clarke turned around to see who Raven was smiling at and met eyes with Lexa. Her whole face dropped before twisting into a furious scowl.

“She’s with Clarke,” Lexa sighed as her shoulders drooped in disdain.

“Faaantastic,” Clarke bit her lip and shook her head as The Grounders girls approached.

“Get over it already, Clarke,” Raven brushed it off. “This is a stupid work party and they’re our work friends.”

“Maybe they’re your work friends,” Clarke side-eyed her. “They’re not my friends.”

“I’m one of the highest paid audio engineers in house,” Raven said through a cheeky grin. “Everybody putting out work is my friend. I get paid whether your albums sell or not.”

“Must be nice,” Clarke gave her a look.

“Reyes! What’s good?” Anya leaned in to kiss Raven’s cheek with the fluid charisma of a born rockstar.

“How’s it going?” Raven nodded politely at them both.

“Clarke! Insert cordial greeting that’s appropriately nice even though you hate us. I’m going to lean in and politely greet you in case someone is taking my picture right now! Do you consent?” Anya raised a brow at Clarke.

“I consent,” Clarke huffed out a laugh. “You get in trouble for sexual harassment again?”

“Just covering my ass,” Anya winked and gave Clarke a polite hug.

“I’m not gonna hug you,” Lexa smirked.

“Good,” Clarke bit back and turned to give Lexa an annoyed glare.

“What’s your problem?” Lexa scoffed through a laugh and straightened up her back as she set both glasses of wine on Raven and Clarke’s table.

“What’s yours?” Clarke mirrored Lexa’s body language. “You’re up my ass about something everytime I talk to you.”

“You’re a totally aggressive bitch every time I talk to you!” Lexa cocked her head at Clarke.

“Heads up!” A shout came quickly from the dancefloor behind them followed by a pair of stumbling young guys crashing into the high top tables from behind. Lexa’s pair of red wines found their way all over the front of Clarke’s white sundress. 

Clarke took a slow breath in and let it out very carefully. Her stiff shoulders, gritted teeth and clenched fists absorbed most of her rage.

“Of fucking course,” Clarke rolled her jaw and tried to force out a fake smile. The flashes of multiple phones capturing her with a drink with a joint clenched between two of her fingers, wine all over her, and Lexa Woods beside her holding back laughter were blinding.

Years of training allowed Clarke to react as little as possible.

“Clarke! Oh my god!” Raven gasped with wide eyes and her hands over her mouth.

“So I’m gonna leave,” Clarke said frankly before sucking down the last of her drink and slamming it on the table. “But first? I’m gonna hug you,” she tacked on with a devious grin and pulled Lexa in for a tight hug. She pressed their chests together as hard as she could and imprinted her wine stains all over Lexa’s crisp white top.

“Hey!” Lexa yelped. “What the hell!”

“I’m gonna lean in and politely tell you to go fuck yourself,” Clarke said lowly through a sickly sweet fake grin as the flashbulbs continued to capture the moment unfolding between them.

“Go fuck myself?” Lexa’s grin was real this time and every photo caught it. “Why? Are you too scared to do it?”

Clarke glanced back at Lexa with a slightly impressed raised brow at the taunt. She gripped the lapel of Lexa’s leather jacket and brought her in close to make sure she could hear her over the loud music.

“Oh honey,” Clarke paused, let go of Lexa’s jacket, and gave her a patronizing pat on the shoulder. “You couldn’t handle it.”

“What?” Lexa spat out through a confused chuckle.

“What do you think, Raven? Are they looking at me differently now?” Clarke called over her shoulder to Raven. She and Anya were both trying to decide if they should get involved or take cover.

Lexa perked up at the turn of phrase, but couldn’t get any words out.

“Probably not what they meant!” Raven bit back a laugh at Clarke’s back as she tromped out of the party. 

The subway ride to Clarke’s place from Polis Records was short. 

She was thankful for New Yorkers’ patented ability to ignore one another as she worked to ignore the wine stains all over her dress until she got through her apartment door and peeled it off. She tossed it onto her kitchen table that barely sat two covered with her parents’ medical bills, pulled a beer from the fridge and sat down beside her ruined wardrobe and mounting debt to finally exhale.

Her apartment was small. 

She’d been in the tiny studio for all of her life in New York. She had a little table she ate at and a cramped kitchen she hardly used that was in the same single room as her bed. She didn’t have a couch. She could barely turn around in her bathroom. Her collection of music and all of her guitars lived in her practice space in the Polis tower where they were safe. 

Clarke didn’t own much and she didn’t need much to be happy, which was the lie she told herself because she couldn't remember the last time she actually was happy. 

Finally alone in the stillness of her place with Hell’s Kitchen’s comforting sounds filtering in through the open window, she let the mounting tears of frustration and aggravation and stress and disappointment she’d been fighting all day come crashing through. 

***

Lexa woke with a start and a mild hangover early the next morning to her phone ringing. 

“What?” Lexa murmured. 

“Dude, have you seen instagram yet?” It was Anya. It sounded like she was out somewhere and Lexa wondered if she’d gone to sleep yet.

“I just woke up,” Lexa croaked. She sat up slowly and winced as she rubbed her eyes. 

Lexa lived in Brooklyn in a spacious one bedroom with natural light, hardwood floors and high ceilings. It wasn’t luxurious by any means. Most of her neighbors were couples with jobs in finance. Some had young kids. She minded her business and liked living away from the bustle of Manhattan even if it meant she had an hour-long commute to the studio.

She’d been there for years and had made the place her own. She had a neighbor who watered her plants when she was on tour, shelves of books and kept a high end electric keyboard at home and her Steinway at the label.

“Yo, go look right now,” Anya chuckled and Lexa could feel the accompanying smirk through the line. 

“I don’t like your tone,” Lexa sighed and put the phone on speaker so she could see the screen.

“Looks like you may have accidentally walked backwards into ‘something that will make them look at you differently,’ buddy,” Anya laughed over the background noise of city traffic.

“Son of a bitch,” Lexa muttered as she scrolled through TMZ’s carousel of photos of her and Clarke covered in wine. The way the photos were caught and stitched together made it look like they were laughing and having a great time together.

“Woof, huh?” Anya asked.

“What do I do?” Lexa froze. She hated this part of it. She just wanted to make music with her friends and take care of them and go on tour and not worry about who she got her picture taken with.

“Fuckin’ media magic, man. Even I’m convinced you two are having fun in these,” Anya laughed and let it turn into a loud sigh. “And I know more than anyone about how much you can’t stand each other.”

“What the hell is this caption? They’re saying that we were there together? And that I spilled all over her?” Lexa squawked as she squinted at the screen. “That’s not even what happened!” 

“Dude, you know they love to stir shit up,” Anya shrugged on the other end of the line.

“What the fuck!” Lexa shouted. As they spoke, a comment from Clarke popped up below the caption.

“What?” Anya asked.

“She just commented ‘@Lexawoods looks like you’re just as clumsy as your lyrics!’” Lexa gasped.

“Oh-ho-ho no she didn’t!” Anya burst out laughing. “Damn, that little cottagecore biddy’s got some balls.”

“I’m writing back,” Lexa huffed.

“Do not get in trouble, Lexa. They’re already pissed at us,” Anya warned.

“I’ll give them something to be pissed about,” Lexa grumbled as she typed back ‘Must’ve just tripped over one of your low blows.’

“Be cool, Lex. Don’t take it too far,” Anya tried again. “I know you two love to fight, but keep it off the internet.”

“It’s harmless,” Lexa sighed. “What are they gonna do?”

Over the East River and across the city, Clarke sat in her bed with a cup of coffee, a stack of bills for her parents’ care that were no longer ignorable, and her phone in her hand staring at the photos of her and Lexa popping up all over the place. 

Sometimes she was able to comment a dig first, sometimes Lexa beat her to it.

She jumped when her phone rang in her hands and yanked her out of the trance of her social media blackhole.

“What are you doing?” Raven asked flatly before Clarke could even say hello.

“Hi, good morning, I’m fine, thanks. How are you?” Clarke said dryly.

“I”m at work right now and marketing and the C suite are all buzzing about you and Lexa on the internet,” Raven followed up quickly in a hushed voice.

“So?” Clarke huffed.

“I can’t tell if it’s good buzzing or bad buzzing,” Raven went on. “It’s weird in here.”

“Alright?” Clarke shrugged, then silently scowled at the total on the monthly invoice for her parents’ full time in-home nurses.

“Maybe dial it back just a tiny bit,” Raven cautioned in a hushed high pitched voice. “Not sure if you’re reading all the other comments?”

“I don’t do that,” Clarke spat out before taking a sip of her coffee.

“So it kind of looks like you two are flirting?” Raven’s wince was audible. “And the fans are eating it up. I’m not saying the execs are totally into it? But it doesn’t exactly sound like they’re not into it?”

Clarke’s phone chimed and she pulled back to look at the screen. 

“I just got a meeting invite with Ali from brand management upstairs first thing Monday morning,” Clarke said slowly.

“Oh boy,” Raven muttered through gritted teeth. “She’s the TOP of brand management. She’s where all your image shit you hate comes down from. She creates all of the personas. She creates the fake worlds and the scenarios. She hands out the fake lives you all have. She creates the artists here. It all comes down from her.”

“Son of a bitch,” Clarke whined and dropped her head back on her pillows.

***

Monday morning came too quickly.

Clarke paced in the lobby of the executive floor waiting for her meeting. She seldom went up there. There were so many middle managers and errand runners and messengers from upstairs that dealt with smaller acts like hers on the label that she never had the need. She couldn't remember the last time she was on the executive floor and she forgot how much more white and spotless and glamorous and chic it was than the rest of the building.

Being called upstairs was either a really bad thing or a really good thing, and there wasn’t much in recent history to lead Clarke to believe she was in for any really good news.

Right around her fourth different anxiety spiral as she ran through the potential reasons she was on the executive floor and the corresponding fallout it would cause in her life, the elevator opened with its well known soft double ding.

Lexa was in the elevator by herself.

“Are you lost?” Clarke stood up straight and folded her arms over her chest.

“I have a meeting with Ali at ten,” Lexa shook her head and held back a nervous laugh.

“What? No you don’t,” Clarke furrowed her brow and leaned away from Lexa in confusion. 

“Are you checking my schedule now?” Lexa huffed through a chuckle. 

“I have a meeting with Ali at ten,” Clarke puzzled. 

After a hefty beat of silence filled with studying one another for the lie or the prank of the cue this wasn’t real, they both pulled out their phones to double check in tandem.

“This has to be a mistake,” Lexa scratched her forehead as they compared their screens and confirmed that they were both scheduled for the same meeting with one of the most indemand executives on the label. 

“I don’t think these people make mistakes,” Clarke whispered and glared at Lexa.

“There they are!” Ali exclaimed as she threw open the huge double doors to the executive suite with gusto. Her hair and makeup were pristine. She had a posture so rigid those who knew her joked she was a robot. Her shoulder pads were famously wide in the industry. Everything she said boomed like it was being delivered on a broadway stage. She walked and moved like she didn’t share the same gravity as the rest of the planet. “Instagram’s favorite little flirts!”

“What?!” Lexa and Clarke spat out together with matching horrified and confused faces. 

“Come on, ladies! Let’s get started! We’re wasting time and time is money and wasting money is bad business!” Ali gave a flourish with one hand above her head as she spun and stalked back through the doors as dramatically as she’d entered. 

Clarke and Lexa exchanged a panicked glance.

“Oh, after you,” Lexa broke the tension with a nervous grin and a gesture for Clarke to go first. Clarke met her with an annoyed look, but took the first steps anyway.

The executive conference rooms were so much nicer than those they were used to. Everything was plush and white with natural wood and looked brand new. The sounds and smells were different. Somehow softer and cleaner and more soothing. Even the doors opened and closed quieter. It was hard to believe they were in the same building they were so used to and spent so much time in. 

“Everyone is waiting for you,” Ali said through a sly grin as she held open the door for the two of them.

A giant table was filled with over a dozen suits they didn’t recognize. Indra and Marcus were in the mix looking down at their hands and feeling small.

“What is this?” Clarke blurted out.

“This is an effort to resurrect your dying careers,” Ali said bluntly as she closed the door behind them and pointed at two empty chairs side by side. “You both know your numbers are down and your fanbases are dwindling and specific.”

“I-” Clarke tried.

“We-” Lexa began.

“Don’t interrupt,” Ali gave a stage wince and a condescending smile. Clarke and Lexa both shrank into their seats. 

One of the reps from legal wordlessly slid two NDAs across the table at Clarke and Lexa and dropped pens with a loud clatter on top. 

“We can’t begin until you both sign those Nondisclosures. Everything that happens in this meeting stays inside of this room. You both know well enough that crossing us would be a nightmare. If you want to keep your contracts, the solution comes after you agree to keep it a secret,” Ali nodded down at the paperwork in front of them.

Lexa reached for the pen right away, but Clarke hesitated. Slowly and apprehensively, Lexa turned to catch Clarke’s glance.

The moments of stubborn eye contact made the room stand still. 

Clarke didn’t budge. 

Lexa glanced away and scowled as she picked up the pen and signed hers. 

“We're not getting any younger, Clarke!” Ali prompted impatiently. The toe of her designer heels tapped like a metronome gone rogue.

The weight of all of their stares became too much when Clarke caught Lexa’s eye again and Lexa offered up the saddest smile with a defeated one shoulder shrug and a gentle nod at the pen in front of Clarke.

“Fine,” Clarke huffed and scribbled her name, then slammed the pen down with attitude.

“Let’s begin! Branding and I have been trying to figure out what to do with you both individually for weeks now. Whether you meant to or not, you two gave us the push we needed to see that we shouldn’t deal with your metrics that are sucking out loud separately, and that there is actually a two ladies, one stone situation sitting right in front of us.”

Ali paused in her pacing at the head of the table in front of a blank screen on the wall.

Clarke and Lexa flicked sidelong glances at one another and it was almost a comfort to share the terrifying confusion. 

Ali raised a hand above her head and snapped her fingers. A collage of the TMZ instagram photos from the rooftop party popped up on the screen behind her. Clarke bit her lip and dipped her head.

“I doubt you realized it at the time because you’re impulsive and messy, but this little wine spill and bitchy retaliation hug was pure genius, Clarke,” Ali said firmly. Clarke whipped her head up.

“What?” Clarke couldn’t stop herself from blurting out. Lexa stiffened up beside her.

“Following it up with these incredibly witty insults?” Ali paused as all of the comment exchanges between Clarke and Lexa from the weekend popped up one by one with the trademark notification sound on the screen. “I didn’t know you two had it in you.”

“Had what in us?” Lexa spoke up. 

“Such incredible chemistry,” Ali replied through a smirk that unfolded over multiple agonizing seconds and spread quickly around the room to the other execs. 

“Do you want us to collaborate?” Lexa furrowed her brow. “Our styles don’t really make sense together.”

“Oh, they really don’t, which is perfect, because every young, hopeful romantic with a disposable income wants to believe that hot opposites really do attract out there in this horrible world,” Ali snapped her fingers again and the most incriminating photo of all with both of them smiling in close, Clarke’s hand gripping Lexa’s collar and Lexa’s hand instinctively reaching for Clarke’s hip popped up.

“Romantic?” Clarke spat out. She looked across the table at Marcus and Indra who had hung heads and stooped shoulders.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Ali clapped her hands and the screen changed to read ‘Summer of Clexa.’ Clarke gasped. Lexa let out a gulp that sounded louder than a symbol crash in the tense room. “We’ve put together everything for you two for the next ninety days. You’re going to pretend you’re a couple, have secretly been in love and have been keeping it a secret from the public for a while, and all of the nonsense, childish fighting between you on the internet has been an over the top effort to keep your romance private.”

“Oh my god,” Clarke whispered with a hand over her mouth.

“Roughly sixty days from now, you will release a collaborative track that is very sexy, complete with two weeks of scheduled performances, also very sexy, to get you both back in the public’s eye,” Ali began firmly. 

Lexa felt like everyone in the room could hear her sweating.

“Shake up your images, song of the summer, we’ve already spoken with our people at TikTok. We’ll get everyone excited about you both, get you doing opening acts on stages in LA and New York and Chicago together, all the right TV spots, yada yada. All the kids go crazy, they love it, they eat it up!” 

Ali grinned wider as Clarke and Lexa’s eyes opened wider at each new slide.

‘“Both of your obsessive fan bases buy all of your new boo’s old stuff too because they’re obsessed with your relationship now, which they will be, because I will be the head of your social media team and it’s going to be a perfectly calculated, curated work of art, then bing bang boom! You two are wildly popular again!” Ali slapped her hands down on the conference table for emphasis while sending an aggressive glare that was supposed to be motivational but missed the mark and landed smack in the heart of intimidation at Clarke and Lexa.

Everyone around the table flinched at the same time.

“A month later, we stage a nasty break up, you two get to go back to your normal lives, and riding the new wave of your popularity being the it couple for the summer with all of your new loyal fans, you can bounce back with your respective break up albums,” Ali rattled off quickly as the plans kept up with her on the screen. 

“That’s insane,” Clarke spat out.

“That’s showbiz, baby,” Ali bit right back.

“And if we say no?” Lexa perked up. “If we don’t want to do this?”

“Then you’re both off the label and we’re done with your dismal shit,” Ali shrugged. “Your contracts for your latest albums are up next month. This is the way to get another one.”

“The only way?” Lexa asked. Her voice was small.

“The only way,” Ali repeated with a telling nod. The rest of the suits around her nodded along. “You have until 5pm today to decide. Legal is downstairs briefing Raven who will be the engineer on your tracks, and the band who will clearly have to be in the loop, right now.”

“Do we get any say in the fake relationship?” Clarke asked.

“About as much say as you get in your images now,” Ali replied.

“So, none?” Clarke sighed.

“Unless you have any productive questions, the clock is ticking on your decision making,” Ali grinned at Clarke. “Meeting adjourned, lovebirds. We’ll see you both by five,” Ali winked at the two of them and slapped her hands on the table again. Everyone got up right away.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Clarke muttered under her breath. 

“I’ll hold your hair if you hold mine,” Lexa grumbled with her. Clarke just glared at her and stormed off.

“Clarke, wait!” Lexa chased after her. Marcus and Indra got whisked away for follow ups and the two of them were the only people getting on the elevator. Every footstep and uncertain waiver in their voices echoed miserably in the executive lobby.

“What!” Clarke snapped.

“I don’t know!” Lexa huffed. “Do you think we should talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Clarke snapped back. 

“There’s A LOT to talk about!” Lexa planted her hands on her hips. 

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Clarke clenched her teeth and fought the frustrated tears pricking at the back of her eyes. “I need a fucking second!”

“Alright,” Lexa backed off and held her hands up. She didn’t say anything else.

The elevator eventually arrived. They both solemnly stepped in. Clarke hit the button for the floor of their practice rooms and leaned into the wall. Lexa folded her arms over her chest and leaned into the opposite wall as they descended down the Polis tower in uncomfortable silence staring at the floor.

Anya, Echo and Lincoln were in the hallway when the doors opened revealing Clarke and Lexa vehemently scowling and trying to get as far away from each other in the tiny cage of the elevator as possible.

Clarke didn’t say anything as she walked between all of them to her practice space and slammed the door behind her. The rest of them turned their heads in unison to Lexa who let out a big sigh.

A couple of sobs found their way past Clarke’s door in the uncomfortable silence. 

“She said she needed a minute,” Lexa said flatly with a listless shrug.

“Dude,” Anya began. She rolled her jaw and set her shoulders firmly.

“I know,” Lexa exhaled slowly.

“What the fuck?” Anya kept on.

“I know,” Lexa repeated and walked past them into their practice space. They all followed and shut the door.

“Are you okay?” Lincoln asked through a wince.

“Not even kind of,” Lexa let a shaky sigh escape as she dropped onto the ratty old couch they had against one wall. The room was packed with instruments and gear and sentimental moments from their pasts on the walls. Posters from their favorite shows and promo material for past albums acted like wallpaper. Lexa’s piano and Anya’s drums took up a lot of space on the floor. The walls were lined with racks of all of their guitars and instruments. “They said they filled you guys in?”

“They did. This is some next level shit,” Anya huffed as she flopped onto the stool behind her kit. She anxiously tapped her fingers on one of her cymbals and the familiar little rattle was almost soothing. 

“I mean, I get it,” Lexa tried. She leaned her head back and covered her eyes with her hands. “Kind of anyway. I forget sometimes that we’re not real people to them. Or anyone, really.”

“I hate to be the one to ask this, but,” Echo began hesitantly. The threeway apprehensive looks between Echo, Lincoln and Anya fell in the center of the group with hefty weight.

“Look,” Lexa sat back up and rested her elbows on her knees and finally let her spine relax for the first time that day. “I’ll do anything for you guys and for this band and you know that.”

“But, Lex,” Anya warned.

“It’s only three months,” Lexa said quickly, not sure if she was convincing them or herself. “They have to believe in us having a good career after this stunt if that many high level people put this much time into this, so I think we should do it.”

“You don’t think this is a cash grab at your expense?” Anya raised a brow.

“Oh, it definitely is that, but I think it’s both,” Lexa almost chuckled.

“It’s going to be awful,” Anya grimaced.

“SO awful,” Lexa agreed with wide eyes. 

“Do you really think you can do it?” Lincoln asked with a sympathetic smile trying to break its way through the stressed out wince trapped on his face.

“It sounds like they’re going to tell me exactly what to do every step of the way. That meeting was terrifying,” Lexa let another big breath out. “Clarke was sassing Ali.”

“Really?” Anya perked up. “Damn.”

“What?” Lexa cocked her head at her.

“I don’t know,” Anya shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe she’s a little more rock and roll than we thought.”

“Whatever you need, Lex. We’re here for you in this thing,” Lincoln said. His reassuring smile finally broke through.

“Thanks. I’m gonna give her a minute, but I have to go talk to her,” Lexa groaned through a stretch. “It only works if she says yes, too.”

On the other side of the wall, Clarke was curled up in a chair with her head dropped against the back as she tried to get the tears to stop flowing. She sat and sobbed for a good twenty minutes.

She was so angry, so stressed out, so aggravated, so upset. 

Several texts from her parents’ caregivers lit up letting her know about new treatments. New medications. New plans. 

New bills.

A gentle knock on the door startled her out of her spiral.

“It’s open,” Clarke cleared her throat and hurried to wipe her eyes. It was useless. Her running mascara sold her out.

“Hey,” Lexa opened the door cautiously and stuck her head in. 

“What do you want?” Clarke muttered.

“I know you don’t want to, but we need to talk,” Lexa said, softer this time. 

Clarke bit back a handful of snarky comments.

“Come in,” Clarke relented and pointed at a second chair beside her. Lexa gently and carefully entered Clarke’s space. She’d practiced beside her for years and years, they shared a wall, but she’d never seen the inside.

There were guitars all over the walls. Clarke had piles and piles of papers and books and records and CDs all over the small space. Two comfy chairs sat huddled together against the wall, one with Clarke curled up in it with her knees to her chest. 

“Are you okay?” Lexa asked as she gingerly took up the other chair. Clarke was still crying and decided to stop hiding it.

“Are you?” Clarke gave her an incredulous look.

“Not at all,” Lexa replied quickly. “Especially since this decision on my end affects three more people who have nothing to do with it.”

“How’d they take it?” Clarke asked honestly. 

“They’re being supportive either way,” Lexa sighed. 

“Sounds nice,” Clarke sighed back. 

“Look,” Lexa paused. She folded her hands together and focused her eyes down on her fingers sliding between each other anxiously and away from Clarke’s tear stained cheeks and puffy, glassy blue eyes. “Clarke,” she tried to start again, but couldn’t get the words out.

Clarke sat beside her with her chin on her knees staring at the floor and begging the tears welling up to just stop already.

“This really, really sucks,” Lexa finally got out. Her voice got stuck on the nervous lump in her throat. “It’s not what either of us want at all, but it will get both of us to what we really do want, which is another contract for another album.”

“I wasn’t flirting with you at all,” Clarke said firmly. “I was being a bitch for real.”

“Trust me,” Lexa cracked an earnest smile. “I know.”

Clarke huffed out a single little laugh that made her welling eyes spill over.

“I’m trying to see it as a compliment to us both that they would even bother with all of this,” Lexa offered up carefully.

“I thought of that,” Clarke mumbled and wiped her eyes on the hem of her white t shirt and left trails of makeup on it. “If they didn’t want us or see the potential in all of this they would’ve just fired us rather than tie up valuable, high level marketing resources for this friggin’ charade.”

“Exactly,” Lexa caught herself smiling again. 

“We’re gonna have to do it, aren’t we?” Clarke dragged her gaze up to meet Lexa’s. She was surprised to be almost comforted by Lexa’s promising smile.

“I think we should,” Lexa shrugged. There was a whiff of optimism in her voice. 

“I suppose we’re in one of those ‘nothing left to lose’ situations,” Clarke scowled. “Other than our damn minds.”

“Do you still have one left?” Lexa raised a brow. 

“I assure you, it’s dwindling,” Clarke muttered. 

“It’s only three months, right?” Lexa said hopefully. 

“Ninety days of agony?” Clarke attempted to match Lexa’s outlook.

“That’s gonna be the title of our next album after I fake break up with you,” Lexa gently lobbed the joke into the space between them hoping they were ready for it.

“I’m annoyed that that’s so funny,” Clarke said flatly. She was too distraught to let herself laugh. “I didn’t know you were funny.”

“Oh, I’m very funny,” Lexa held her hands up in mock defense. “And I’m smart, and I’m talented, and I’m cute, and it’s all over the tabloids that I’m great in bed, so if they have you break it off, not sure what it’s gonna do to your career. You’ll look like a fool for leaving me,” Lexa kept the joke up.

“Setting me up with you is the most daring thing they’ve let me do with my boring fake life they gave me,” Clarke grumbled as she rubbed her forehead in hopes to ease some of the headache taking up permanent residency. “I’m actually starting to think this might really work out for me. I can rebound as my actual self when I dump your ass.”

“So you’re not as sweet and nice as they make you out to be?” Lexa asked with a conspiratorial grin that left the arena of taunting and teetered into something almost friendly.

“Not even kind of. I’m just a natural blonde, I’m hot, and I’m from Connecticut, so this is what they picked for me when I was twenty-four,” Clarke scoffed. “If the public thinks we’re fucking, maybe I can finally be myself.”

“I’ve been dying to get back behind a piano, so after you leave me for someone else, I can finally write all the melancholy ballads I have trapped inside,” Lexa held a hand to her chest and pretended to weep.

“I may be a total bitch, but I don’t have poor form. I don’t cheat,” Clarke held up a stern pointer finger. “Even if it’s fake.”

“Maybe now you do,” Lexa shrugged. “It’s not really up to you.”

“This is so fucked up,” Clarke whined and covered her face with her hands as more stress tears built up.

“It really, really is, but I’m in if you are,” Lexa said more sincerely. Clarke blinked a few more frustrated tears back. “Take your time, but I’ll be upstairs at five to accept,” Lexa tacked on before slowly getting out of her chair. “Hopefully I’ll see you there.”

Clarke didn’t say anything else as Lexa crossed the room and opened the door. Lexa paused briefly before closing it to give Clarke a chance to say something, but nothing came.

Lexa took a few steadying breaths on her own before opening her practice room door.

“So?” The band all sat up straight when Lexa appeared in the doorway alone. 

“We’ll find out at five,” Lexa said diplomatically. “We’ve got that show coming up next week, so let’s get to work.”

The day felt like a week.

The Grounders’ practice was an unfocused mess. Lexa missed most of her cues. She couldn’t remember lyrics that she wrote herself and had performed hundreds of times. After a few hours of trying, Anya called it and sent Echo and Lincoln home.

“Come on,” Anya said with an encouraging clap on Lexa’s shoulder. “Let’s get some air.”

“I’m sorry,” Lexa scowled and rubbed her hands over her face to shake off the stress.

It didn’t work.

“It’s alright,” Anya held the door open and nodded for Lexa to go first. 

They silently made their way through the halls to the balcony on the practice floor. A sign posted by the door declared that photography was banned on the balcony and could result in legal action if violated. Artists went out there to smoke and unwind, and some of them weren’t supposed to be caught smoking because it didn’t align with their images.

Clarke had one of the images in question, and she was at one end of the patio with a cigarette in one hand and a vape pen in the other, whispering frantically to Raven and looking like hell from all of the crying. Lexa panicked and took a step towards Clarke, but Anya gently gripped her by the forearm and pulled her in the other direction.

“Not yet,” Anya said around a cigarette and brought Lexa to the other end of the patio. “Look, Lex. I know this is a new atomic bomb of info, and I know you really want us all to get another album contract, but are you going to be able to do this and focus and make music and all that? We have a show next week! We have gigs and appearances all summer! This is going to be a huge time commitment and it’s going to eat your focus alive if you let it.”

“I know,” Lexa huffed and tried to relax her shoulders.  “It might take a second, but as long as I can stay in the headspace that it’s just work, I think I’ll be fine. It’s work, it’s fake, it’s just tasks to get done. I’m just shaken up still. I’ll be okay soon.”

“Don’t shut me out of this thing, alright?” Anya warned as she lit her smoke. 

“I still don’t know if she’s going to agree to do it,” Lexa huffed and took hold of the railing to stretch her stiff back and shoulders. The late spring sunshine felt warm on her skin. “The waiting and the uncertainty is what’s really killing me.”

“Looks like the wait might be over, Buddy,” Anya nodded her head up over Lexa’s shoulder. 

Clarke approached with purpose and Raven hurried behind her.

“Lexa?” Clarke tapped her on the shoulder. 

“Yes?” Lexa turned slowly to face her.

“I have a few conditions,” Clarke took one more drag of her cigarette, then squished it out in a nearby ashtray. Lexa raised her brows for Clarke to continue. “You have the whole band to support you and I’m a solo artist and I don’t think that’s very fair, so I get Raven around a lot to advocate for me since she’s producing our tracks and is in the loop.”

“Nice,” Anya sent Raven a flirty wink.

“Shit, are you two sleeping together again?” Clarke flicked irked eyes back and forth between Anya and Raven, then took another anxious hit from her pen. 

“What do you mean ‘again?’” Anya asked smugly.

“Only sometimes,” Raven shrugged and reached for Anya’s cigarette. “It’s not a thing and it won’t be a problem.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Clarke huffed.

“Raven’s in your corner, got it,” Lexa waved a hand to get the two of them to stop. “What else?”

“After we fake split, we leave each other alone. Unless they absolutely make us, no dragging each other, none of our shitty, petty fighting we do now. When we’re done, let’s be totally done,” Clarke replied with intention. 

“I can do that,” Lexa agreed with an impressed nod. “Can you?”

“I think it would be good business,” Clarke exhaled slowly. “If that’s out of our hands, then that’s that on that, but I think we should fight for that if they have other plans.”

“I agree. Anything else?” Lexa encouraged Clarke to go on.

“If you accidentally fall in love with me for real, don’t tell me,” Clarke straightened up with her hands on her hips.

“Who’s to say you’re not going to accidentally fall in love with me?” Lexa stood up taller and took an intimidating step towards Clarke to mirror her stance. “I’m secretly sweet and thoughtful and charming as hell.”

“I’m secretly slutty and interesting and absolutely fucking nuts,” Clarke raised a pressing brow. 

“Ooo, suburban sugar, good girl spice, and everything nice?” Lexa taunted with a confident grin.

“The stuff that unrequited love songs by PG13 rockstars are made of,” Clarke taunted back. “I know your type too well. Don’t fall in love with me. If you do? You can’t tell me about it.”

“I find your terms acceptable,” Lexa tried not to laugh. 

Clarke held her hand out to shake. Lexa’s eyes dropped down and just stared at it for a moment. After a few beats,she gripped Clarke’s hand in a sturdy shake. Clarke pulled out her phone and dialed.

“Marcus? It’s me,” Clarke snapped. “Call Ali. We’re on our way up,” she tacked on and hung up as she stalked off to the door. “You coming?” she tossed a tired look over her shoulder at Lexa.

“They told us they’d see us at five!” Lexa protested.

“She said we had until five to decide,” Clarke barked back. “We decided. Have you forgotten that I’m impulsive and messy? Let’s go.”

Lexa looked to Raven and Anya for help. They both had nothing.

“Might as well get it over with,” Anya chuckled with a reluctant shrug. 

They stood silently in the elevator pressed into their respective sides the same way they came down the elevator hours earlier. Lexa stared at the ceiling. Clarke thumbed the makeup stains on her shirt. Eventually, the doors opened to reveal Ali grinning maniacally in the lobby.

“I heard you were on your way up!” Ali boomed. “I decided to come meet you myself! Follow me to your exciting new futures!” Ali floated down the hall back to the conference room where it all began. Clarke and Lexa trudged along behind her. 

The legal jargon was deafening. The signing away of their real lives went on for over an hour. Clarke looked like she might start crying again at any moment and Lexa looked like she might throw up the whole time.

When the last signature on the last form was dated and final, Ali clapped her hands together.

“You’re both dismissed! I suggest you go enjoy your last night as single women for a while!” Ali presented one of her sinister grins before waving them out the door.

The elevator ride back down felt somehow less awkward. There was a strange comfort in the quiet of their mutual misery. Neither of them said anything as they unlocked their practice room doors side by side to get their things. They walked in tandem silence to the front door.

The routine walk to the subway felt heavy. 

Lexa turned left to head to her platform and Clarke turned right. They both paused after the first few steps away in opposite directions. They both stopped and turned back around.

“Well?” Lexa tried a tiny dose of optimism. “See you tomorrow?”