Cloudburst - Chapter Two
Cloudburst â an unexpected heavy downpour of rain, usually brief but with devastating consequences.
Long awaited sequel to Down Came The Rain.
An unconventional friendship blooms into something stronger and Lexa prepares to navigate a web of lies so that her parents will approve of her rebellious new girlfriend. The two girls from opposite ends of the spectrum try to find a middle ground to become an âusâ and Lexa puts all of her efforts into trying to give Clarke a better life, only to neglect the storm brewing on the horizon of her own. And then comes the cloudburstâŠ
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Theyâve been together for three and a half weeks now and Lexa wonders if sheâll ever tire of kissing Clarke.
Nothing could have ever prepared Lexa for just how soft Clarke is. Not just her soft lips moving leisurely against Lexaâs, or her soft hair between Lexaâs fingers, or the soft curves of her body melting into Lexaâs as they lie almost on top of each other on Lexaâs bed, but how soft she is in the way she makes out with Lexa, never pushing for more, as if she is content to just kiss Lexa for the rest of eternity.
Which of course, Lexa is more than happy with.
Except that sometimes, she wonders what it would be like to push Clarke down onto the bed and kiss her senseless, before stripping them both of all clothing and having her wicked way.
But Lexa doesnât think she has the kind of bravery in her that she needs to go through with that idea at all. She doesnât think that she has a wicked way.
Itâs not that Lexa doesnât want to, in fact quite the opposite. Despite never really considering herself as a particularly sexual person â she always thought that sex would be one of those things that sheâd do more to please a partner than because she had a deep desire to do it herself â sheâs really quite into the idea of getting intimate with Clarke. So into the idea, in fact, that sheâs probably touched herself more in the last three and a half weeks than she has in the previous almost seventeen years, and imagining that it is Clarkeâs hand bringing her to climax instead of her own sends her over the edge far quicker than sheâd like to admit.
The problem is that beyond her own imagination, Lexa worries that she has very little idea of what to actually do when it comes to sex. She has limited knowledge of what to do with regards to any physical aspect of her relationship with Clarke, and everything that sheâs done so far has been on pure instinct alone (a small part of her brain tries to reassure her that if instinct has gotten her this far, then why shouldnât it be able to take her all the way?), but she feels wave after wave of anxiety course through her body every time she thinks about taking it to the next step with her girlfriend.
Sheâs not scared of sex, sheâs scared of her own incompetence compared to Clarke, who has almost certainly progressed further than making out with people before. Theyâve never really discussed it, but Lexaâs heard Clarke talking about an ex-boyfriend before (some guy called Finn than she and Raven seem to hold in equal contempt) and Lexa assumes that she probably did at least something with him. Besides, Lexa thinks that Clarke doesnât seem like the kind of person to be shy about her own sex life, whether thatâs with boys or girls or both.
Regardless of Clarkeâs sexual history, the fact remains that it would be very difficult for Clarke to have less experience than Lexa, who had never so much as kissed another person before she met Clarke, and so while the idea of pushing things further is a very appealing one, it also terrifies Lexa to the core that she somehow wonât be good enough to meet Clarkeâs expectations.
And yet the soft little noises of contentment that escape Clarkeâs lips between kisses make Lexa want to move things along to the next level even more.
She detaches her lips from Clarkeâs, pulling a disappointed little whine from Clarke, who tries to chase after another kiss. She relaxes again though, when Lexaâs lips touch her cheek and start trailing a path along the sharp plane of Clarkeâs jaw, and a hand buries itself in Lexaâs curls to keep her mouth in place, letting out another gasp of pleasure as Lexaâs lips meet the skin of her neck.
With all the noises that Clarke is making, Lexa is glad that neither of her parents are home from work yet.
It spurs her on and she gets an idea in her head, a bold idea that makes her blush slightly just thinking about it, but thankfully Clarkeâs eyes are blissfully closed and the pink tinge to her cheeks goes unnoticed. Pressing a hot open mouthed kiss to Clarkeâs neck, she decides to incorporate her teeth, giving a soft little nip that elicits another gasp, at the same time as she manoeuvres their positions on the bed until Clarke is lying fully on her back on the mattress.
Lexa swings one of her legs over Clarkeâs hips to straddle the blondeâs thighs, reaching up to sweep her long hair out of her face with nimble fingers. Clarkeâs eyes blink open, pupils dark and her eyelids heavy with what Lexa thinks might be lust, and she raises a single eyebrow at Lexaâs sudden display of assertiveness.
âSo thatâs how youâre playing this game, huh?â Clarke teases her, her hands seeking out Lexaâs hips, while her fingertips dance beneath the hem of Lexaâs top and brush the bare skin she finds just above the waistband of Lexaâs jeans.
Hoping that she comes across as way more confident than she feels, Lexa replies, âI wasnât aware this was a game.â
âItâs whatever you want it to be.â
Clarke still has the teasing smirk on her face and her hands continue to toy with the soft skin at Lexaâs hips, but Lexa knows that her words are sincere. Itâs Clarkeâs way of telling Lexa that the ball is in her court, that itâs up to her what happens next and how far they go, and that Clarke isnât going to push her to do anything that sheâs not comfortable with.
In another uncharacteristic display of boldness, Lexa answers the silent question that Clarke is asking her with each brush of her fingers against Lexaâs skin with a movement of her own. She reaches down with both hands to the bottom hem of her t-shirt and lifts it up and over her head in a swift movement, exposing her bra-covered top half to the girl beneath her.
Clarkeâs eyes widen in surprise and she lets out a little noise of wonderment.
Before she has a chance to second guess herself, Lexa nudges at the bottom of Clarkeâs own top with her hand and asks softly, âYour turn?â
Clarke pushes herself up into a seated position, causing Lexa to shuffle back a little bit so that she is now straddling Clarkeâs upper thighs instead of her hips, and reaches down to the hem of her t-shirt, pulling it up to reveal the expanse of creamy stomach that lies below. The shirt gets briefly caught around Clarkeâs head, a tangle of arms and stray bits of hair that has Clarke huffing, but just as Lexa reaches out a helpful hand to assist, Clarke triumphs over the unwanted garment and tosses it onto the floor beside Lexaâs bed.
âIf Iâd known you were going to be seeing me like this, I would have worn my nice bra,â Clarke quips.
Her words bring Lexaâs attention to the fact that Clarke has just taken off her top for Lexa and holy shit, what a sight it is. Lexaâs eyes widen as she takes in the sheer amount of skin that Clarke has just exposed for her, covered only by a plain navy bra that despite Clarkeâs words, Lexa thinks is actually very nice indeed. Itâs maybe a size too small (Lexa guesses that getting a decently fitted bra isnât too high up on the agenda when youâre homeless) but Lexa quickly decides that if thereâs one fault that a bra can get away with having then this is definitely it. Clarkeâs breasts are bigger than Lexaâs own and they strain against the dark fabric that contains them, and itâs all Lexa can do to not drool at the sight of them.
Her hands itch to reach out and touch them, but the feminist within Lexa rears her head and sends a shameful blush across her face. She knows that Clarke is her girlfriend and if anybody is allowed to look at her topless with hunger and desire itâs her, but Lexa forcefully drags her gaze away from Clarkeâs chest, feeling guilty for objectifying the beautiful girl beneath her.
As if sensing the internal struggle in Lexaâs mind, Clarke lays a reassuring hand on Lexaâs thigh and says, âItâs okay, I wouldnât have taken it off if I didnât want you to look at them.â
Lexa hesitantly lets her eyes drop back down to Clarkeâs breasts and she gapes at them for a few long moments. Trying not to behave like a drooling teenage boy (but okay, she finally understands the obsession that men seem to have with boobs because wow), Lexaâs eyes stray further down, across the soft skin of Clarkeâs stomach. It turns out to be a bad idea too because when her gaze reaches the waistband of Clarkeâs jeans she finds herself wondering what might lie beyond that too.
As Lexa blushes furiously at this latest train of thought, Clarke reaches up to tuck a loose strand of Lexaâs hair behind her ear, a knowing smile on her face.
âYouâre so gay.â
âIâm so gay,â Lexa concedes, even as she slides a nervous hand up Clarkeâs torso until it hovers over a clothed breast, and though she is barely making contact with it, her brain somehow still manages to short-circuit and her hand forgets what it is doing.
Clarke laughs softly under her breath and reaches up with one of her own hands to cover Lexaâs, encouraging her to apply a bit more pressure until her palm is full of soft flesh.
There is only one word that Lexa is coherent enough to gasp out.
âWow.â
She finds herself briefly wondering whether removing somebody elseâs bra is any harder than taking off her own, whether the angles and the distractions created by the proximity of a half-naked girl make what should be a simple flick of a clasp into a monstrous challenge.
And then she internally berates herself for being presumptuous enough to assume that she might get the opportunity to find out.
âStop overthinking everything,â Clarke whispers, reaching up a hand to caress Lexaâs cheek, and then pulling her back down for another heated kiss.
Itâs a little easier to fondle Clarkeâs breasts when sheâs got Clarkeâs kisses to distract her because the brain space that would otherwise be spent worrying that sheâs doing it wrong is too busy marvelling at the way that Clarkeâs kisses somehow seem infinitely better than they were just a couple of minutes ago, which Lexa didnât think was possible. She thinks it might have something to do with the two items of clothing that now lay discarded somewhere else in the bedroom, or perhaps the way that Clarke arches her back ever so slightly, pushing her chest up further into Lexaâs exploratory hand.
It happens subconsciously, but the second time that Clarke moves her body to give Lexa better access, Lexaâs hips move with her, and the seam of her crotch rubs against Clarkeâs lower belly as she does so. The action does two things; it elicits another little moan from the girl beneath her, but it also alerts Lexa to just how turned on she is.
She removes her hand from Clarkeâs breast, letting it drop slightly to her ribcage, and nuzzles her face into the blonde curls that cover Clarkeâs neck, hoping that Clarke wonât notice how red sheâs just turned in embarrassment at the unintentional movement of her hips.
But instead of picking up on Lexaâs desperation and laughing at her for it, Clarkeâs hands seek out Lexaâs hips and give her a reassuring little squeeze, encouraging Lexa to move once more.
âYeah?â Clarke asks breathily.
âMm hmm,â Lexa nods as she leans down for another kiss in an attempt to distract Clarke from the way that she once again grinds against Clarkeâs hips.
Clarkeâs hands drop slightly so that they are resting over Lexaâs denim covered butt, grasping a cheek in each hand and giving a gentle squeeze as she urges Lexa to roll her hips again, which is counterintuitive to Lexaâs own personal mission to try and ignore the growing ache between her legs. She kisses Clarke messily - a casual flick of the tongue here, an urgent nip of the teeth there â drawing out gasp after moan from Clarke until Lexa knows that she canât be the only one going out of her mind with pleasure.
âYouâre so beautiful,â Lexa whispers between kisses.
Thereâs truth to Lexaâs words but itâs not exactly what she wants to say. What she wants to say is something about how good Clarke is making her feel, how enjoyable her kisses are and how every encouraging squeeze of Clarkeâs hands sends another little rush of arousal to the area between Lexaâs thighs. But all of these ways that Clarke is making her feel like sheâs floating high above the world are the exact reasons why she canât verbalise any of it; itâs all far too overwhelming in the most incredible of ways that Lexa doesnât want to ruin it with words, even if she were able to form a coherent sentence.
She grinds her hips down again and is reminded of just how wet she is. Embarassingly so. Sheâs almost glad that sheâs still got her jeans on because sheâs certain that her underwear must be ruined and is grateful for that extra layer that hides from Clarke just how aroused she is.
Clarke pulls away slightly and then immediately dives into Lexaâs neck, assaulting the skin there with fresh kisses that both tickle and burn. Lexa gasps at the briefest scrape of Clarkeâs teeth and circles her hips once more, wondering momentarily just how far this is going to escalate.
âI canât believe how lucky I am,â Clarke murmurs just below Lexaâs ear, her warm breath sending a shiver of pleasure down Lexaâs spine. âI canât believe I get to call you mine. That I get to be the one to kiss you like this.â
Thereâs something about Clarkeâs words â itâs not even what Lexa would count as dirty talk, but itâs still turning her on like hell. She rolls her hips once more and Clarke responds, lifting her own slightly in a way that presses the seam at the crotch of Lexaâs jeans right against her clit through her underwear, and she feels everything building at once. The burning arousal between her legs intensifies tenfold, and she knows itâs coming sooner than she would like, and she knows she should stop for just a moment and cool down, but Clarkeâs hands, and Clarkeâs lips, and Clarkeâs everything, andâŠ
âClarke, I â oh!â
And then it crashes over her, the kind of mind-numbing pleasure that sheâs only even been given by her own touch before, and it is so unexpected that all Lexa can do is cling to Clarke as she comes down, letting the blonde press kisses to her flushed neck and run tender hands up and down Lexaâs bare back.
âOh my god, I am so sorry,â Lexa stutters out as soon as she has regained her senses enough to comprehend exactly what just happened and to form words.
âDonât apologise,â Clarke soothes her, and though her voice is low and throaty and just really damn sexy, Lexa is filled with far too much shame to be able to appreciate it. âThat was hot.â
âBut I didnât mean to,â Lexa continues, her eyes beginning to prickle with tears. âWe were just kissing and ⊠and then you were just there and before I knew itâŠâ
âShhh,â Clarke hushes her, wrapping her arms around Lexa to pull her into a tight embrace, their almost bare chests pressing tightly against each other. âThereâs nothing wrong with what just happened.â
âBut I should have warned you, or something. It just ⊠it happened so unexpectedly.â
One of Clarkeâs hands finds its way to the back of Lexaâs head, stroking the wild curls there in an attempt to soothe her. She shushes Lexa softly, keeping her arms wrapped around Lexaâs back to keep them as close as humanly possible.
As she tries to concentrate on the deep in and out of her own lungs in an attempt to calm herself down, Lexa canât help but replay the previous moments over and over in her mind. She doesnât really understand how it crept up on her so unexpectedly. Whenever sheâs touched herself before, itâs always been a slow build kind of thing. Unpractised hands exploring and learning her own body in the darkness of her own bedroom, quiet little gasps as she discovers something that she likes, tentative touches that gradually get bolder as she works herself towards that peak.
Itâs never taken her by surprise before.
Itâs not like Lexa gets herself off all the time (Lexaâs still ashamed enough of the fact that she does it at all that itâs not a particularly regular thing) but sheâs done it enough to know what kind of stimulation she likes. She knows that she does need stimulation in certain places, which is partly why sheâs so confused. Perhaps she was so caught up in everything, too busy with kisses, too distracted by the softness and fullness of Clarkeâs breast in her hand, to notice that the way that her hips were moving against Clarkeâs was providing her with friction in all the right places until it was too late to stop it.
âI can hear you thinking again,â Clarke says softly into Lexaâs ear.
Lifting her head from where it rests on Clarkeâs shoulder, Lexa tentatively asks, âYou really donât mind that I ⊠you know ⊠on you?â
âOf course not,â Clarke scoffs, as if itâs a stupid question. âLike I said, it was hot. And the fact that it happened accidentally, that your body had that reaction so suddenly to what was happening that you didnât even have time to fully anticipate it, makes it kind of even hotter. Lexa, I want to make you feel like that again. I want to touch you and I want to taste you and I want to make you feel that good over and over again until you believe that youâre worthy of being made to feel like that. And it doesnât have to be now, or even this week, or anytime soon at all, but as long as youâre comfortable with it, I want you to do all those things to me too.â
Lexa doesnât know what to do with that last offer. Still in recovery from her own unexpected orgasm, her brain really doesnât know how to comprehend the idea of being the one to gift Clarke with that kind of pleasure.
Her throat dry and scratchy, Lexa croaks out, âI want to make you feel like that too.â She hesitates for a couple of seconds to gather a bit of rational thought, and then adds, âProbably not now, because we donât have long until my mom gets home from work, but soon. I promise.â
Clarke responds with a kiss, nothing like the hungry kisses they were exchanging mere minutes ago, but a sweet lingering kiss that fills Lexaâs heart with so much affection that it starts to overflow, her tear ducts once again prickling with the threat of incoming tears. She blinks them back just in time for Clarke to pull away from the kiss and speak.
âWe have all the time in the world.â
And for the second time, Lexa wonders if sheâs in love with Clarke, or whether the warm feeling in her chest is because sheâs still completely blissed out from her unexpected climax on her girlfriendâs thigh.
Lexaâs mom arrives home from work forty minutes later to find the two girls curled up together on the couch watching cartoons. Upon hearing the front door slam shut, followed by footsteps that gradually get louder as they make their way through the house and into the living room, Lexa lifts her head from where it has been resting in Clarkeâs lap.
âHey mom.â
âHello, Lexa,â her mother replies, draping her suit jacket over the back of one of the armchairs and setting her bag down on the floor by the door. âHello, Clarke. Are you staying for dinner tonight?â
Before Clarke can inevitably protest and come up with and excuse to leave before dinner is served, Lexa speaks up hurriedly, âIf thatâs not too much trouble.â
âFantastic,â beams Lexaâs mom. âIâll go and start the food now. How does spaghetti bolognese sound?â
âThat sounds lovely,â Clarke answers.
But the politeness is obviously feigned, and barely a second after Lexaâs mother has left the room in the direction of the kitchen, Clarkeâs smile drops into a scowl and she pokes Lexa just below her ribs with a pointy index finger.
âI stayed for dinner on Monday,â she says angrily. âI canât let your mom feed me again.â
âOf course you can,â Lexa replies calmly. âShe wouldnât have offered if she didnât mind. And if she knew the truth sheâd offer to feed you every day and let you sleep in the spare room, no questions asked.â
Lexa leans her head down on Clarkeâs shoulder and reaches out with lazy fingers to take her girlfriendâs hand. Clarke jolts at the contact and then relaxes into it slightly, though she remains noticeably tense.
âWeâve been through this before,â Clarke says softly, as if she is worried that Lexaâs mom might overhear their conversation from the other room. âWeâre not coming clean to your mom. We donât need to. Everything is fine as it is.â
âIn which case you need to accept that we will be feeding you a couple of times each week,â Lexa argues back. âI have dinner with you at Bellamyâs sometimes so itâs no big deal.â
âI know,â sighs Clarke. âI just ⊠I donât want you to think that Iâm only with you for your money.â
Lexa actually snorts when she hears the sheer preposterousness of Clarkeâs words, and she lifts her head up and uses one of her fingers to tilt Clarkeâs chin until they are face to face.
âDo you honestly believe I could ever think that?â
âWell, noâŠâ Clarke admits, hanging her head in shame.
âExactly,â says Lexa, giving Clarke a warm smile. âI really care about you, Clarke, and that means that I care that youâre eating well and that you have somewhere to sleep but it also means that I really hope you care about me too.â
âI do,â Clarke insists.
âAnd I know that,â Lexa continues. âI know that if you were only interested in me for my money then you would have taken the two hundred dollars I tried to give you back when we first met and scarpered. But for some reason youâre still here. I trust you and I want the best for you.â
Itâs Clarkeâs turn to cuddle up into Lexa, pressing herself into the brunetteâs side and giving Lexaâs fingers a grateful squeeze where they sit interlaced on Clarkeâs lap.
âI donât know what I did to deserve you,â she mumbles.
âClarkeâŠâ
âNo, listen,â Clarke continues. âWhen I lost my dad and then my mom grew distant and I lost everything and all my hope for a future, I thought that Iâd never be happy again. And of course Iâm happy with my friends, or at least they help me forget to be sad, but then I met you and ⊠and I donât think Iâve been this happy since before my dad died.â
Lexa feels a lump form in her throat and it takes a lot of effort to keep herself together in front of Clarke. She feels a rush of affection for the girl leaning against her side, and though sheâs obviously heard all about Clarkeâs past, and seen the defensive walls that Clarke puts up to protect herself from further pain, it only really hits Lexa now just what her girlfriend has been through â loss, grief and suffering, crippling loneliness â despite which Clarke is still making an effort to try and rebuild her life again.
Thinking aloud, Lexa muses, âHave you thought about getting in contact with your mom again?â
Clarke jolts up, no longer soft and affectionate, but with a dark scowl on her face.
âWhy would I -? Lexa, she killed my dad.â
âShe didnât kill âŠâ Lexa trails off, the glare on Clarkeâs face telling her that she needs to know better than to try and speak as if she knows more about Clarkeâs parental situation than Clarke does. âClarke, itâs been three years. Sheâs probably worried about you.â
âSheâs probably forgotten I exist. Which is good, because I donât care about her anymore either.â
Lexa can see it written all over Clarkeâs face that itâs a lie, but she decides not to point that out for Clarkeâs sake. She has a point that sheâs trying to get across here and the less agitated Clarke is, the better reception Lexaâs words will get.
âOf course she cares about you, Clarke. Youâre her daughter. I know that you lost your dad and that was a terrible, terrible thing, but she lost her husband. She lost the love of her life, and that will have been hard for her. And yes, I know there arenât any excuses for neglecting you like she did but people arenât themselves when theyâre grieving.â
âSpeaking from experience, are you?â Clarke scorns. âWhat, did your goldfish die when you were younger, or something? Did you bury it in your back garden and hold a little funeral for it?â
Lexa slumps back against the cushions of the sofa. She knows itâs a touchy subject, but Clarke has been showing so much enthusiasm for getting her life back on track recently that Lexa had been hoping that she would at least be receptive to the idea of speaking to her mom again.
After a minute of not saying anything, the only sound in the room being the bright music and slapstick sound effects coming from the cartoons on the television, Clarke says in a much softer voice. âIâm sorry, I shouldnât have snapped.â
âNo, youâre right. I canât even begin to imagine what it must be like to have lost your father. I just donât like to see you hurting.â
âIâm hurting a hell of a lot less than I would be if I was still around my mom,â Clarke says with a shrug. âAnyway, Iâve got you now. Youâre my family. You and Raven and the Blakes and all my other friends. I donât need parents.â
Though sheâs entirely unsatisfied with both the way the conversation panned out and Clarkeâs attitude towards reconnecting with her mother, Lexa decides to let the subject drop.
Except that she doesnât really.
She doesnât bring it up as forwardly as the first time, learning from experience that Clarke a) doesnât like to be told what to do and b) will shut down a conversation about her mother as soon as it starts. But Lexa decides that sheâs going to subtly inject the idea into a conversation every so often in the hope that keeping Clarkeâs mom close to the front of her girlfriendâs mind might guilt her into taking some initiative and making the first move into getting back into contact with her mom.
Clarke, as observant and quick-witted as she is, sees right through Lexa.
âNo,â she says adamantly, when Lexa mentions Clarkeâs mom for the third time in two days, while the two are out for a weekend brunch at a quiet little cafe not too far from Bellamy and Ravenâs apartment. âI see what youâre doing. Sheâs out of my life and itâs for the best, Lexa, and the sooner you can understand that the better.â
âIâm not asking you to move back in with her,â Lexa sighs. âI just think it would be nice if you maybe at least let her know that youâre still alive.â
Clarke wipes at her mouth with a napkin and pushes her chair back from the table, getting up to her feet.
âThis conversation is over. Iâm going to the bathroom and when I get back weâre talking about something else, okay?â
Lexa nods apologetically and watches as Clarke walks over to the bathroom on the other side of the restaurant.
But Clarke has left her phone on the table, and with the previous conversation not yet pushed from her mind, the temptation to reach over and take it in Clarkeâs absence is too strong, and Lexa knows that she shouldnât, she really shouldnât...
Sparing a quick glance to the bathroom door to check that Clarke isnât returning yet, Lexa reaches across the table and swipes Clarkeâs phone up. She unlocks it swiftly â so quickly in fact that she doesnât even let herself smile at the fact that Clarkeâs passcode means that Lexa has to type out her own name into the number pad on the cracked screen to gain access to the phone â and immediately opens up Clarkeâs contacts, her teeth anxiously nibbling at her own lower lip as she races to complete her mission before Clarke gets back.
Thereâs a moment of panic when it takes Lexa far too long to find the phone number that sheâs looking for (because Clarke doesnât have her momâs number under anything normal like Mom or even the slightly less affectionate Abby) and she worries that maybe Clarke actually is heartless enough to have removed all trace of her mother from her life, but when Lexa scrolls down the list of contacts in Clarkeâs phone and spots a number listed under the name Supreme Bitch, Lexa thinks sheâs probably hit the jackpot.
She quickly sends the number to herself, and then goes about hastily removing all evidence from Clarkeâs phone.
Lexa has barely had time to place Clarkeâs phone back down on the table in its original position when Clarke emerges from the bathroom, wiping her wet hands on the front of her jeans and completely oblivious to the way that Lexa has completely violated not only her privacy, but also her desire to stay out of contact with her mother.
Lexa manages to cleanse her conscience, at least for a few days, by telling herself that if she hasnât yet called the new number in her phone (which she has saved under a false name so as not to arouse suspicion in the unlikely circumstance that Clarke should find herself looking through Lexaâs contacts) then she has no reason to feel guilty for betraying her girlfriendâs trust.
But with each day that passes, Lexaâs phone gets heavier and heavier in her pocket, until finally, when Clarke complains for the second day in a row that she couldnât afford lunch, Lexa realises that she has the power to maybe help turn Clarkeâs life back around.
The problem is that in order to do that, she needs to do something that could make Clarke hate Lexa forever.
Sheâs in the middle of doing her homework on a Wednesday night when it finally happens, meticulously combing through a literature essay that she needs to turn in the following morning. Her phone sits on top of a pile of books a couple of feet away, just out of reach (from what Lexa understands, Clarke is currently being beaten by Raven and Octavia on Mario Kart on the other side of the city and though the pouty snapchats she keeps receiving from her girlfriend are cute, they are a distraction that Lexaâs near perfect GPA canât afford), but Lexa still canât concentrate. Itâs like the phone is taunting her from where it lies just in her peripheral vision, never quite out of sight in a constant reminder of the number within that she could be calling.
In a split second, Lexa has snatched up her phone, unlocked it, and opened up the contact information for Clarkeâs mom. The number glares up at her from the screen, and her thumb twitches towards the call icon. Thatâs all it would take, just a little more movement from her thumb and thenâŠ
Oh shit.
Lexa didnât mean to actually dial the number, in fact she had every intention of turning off her phone and tossing it onto the bed behind her in the hope that being out of sight completely would also remove it from Lexaâs mind, but an accidental twitch of her thumb at exactly the wrong moment means that she hears the dial-up tone coming through the speaker of her phone, and one petrifying word stares up at her from the screen.
Calling.
The phone rings three times â five long seconds that feel like hours as Lexa stares at the screen in a panic and her mind flails around uselessly â before it is answered on the other end of the call.
âHello?â
Itâs a womanâs voice, and though Lexa has no way of knowing that sheâs taken the right number from Clarkeâs phone, she would hazard a guess that the voice probably does belong to an older woman and not one of Clarkeâs friends.
âHello,â Lexa says, her hand trembling as she raises the phone to her ear and speaks into it, âis this Abby Griffin?â
âYes, speaking.â
Lexa exhales slowly, closing her eyes for a couple of seconds to gain a little bit of composure, then continues with her call.
âHello Mrs Griffin. I ⊠Iâm just calling about your daughter.â
Thereâs a moment of silence on the line, then Abbyâs voice comes back, this time with a nervous edge that wasnât there before.
âClarke? Is she okay? Sheâs not hurt is she?â Another pause, and then, âOh my, has she been arrested?â
âDonât worry, sheâs fine,â Lexa is quick to assure Abby.
âOh, thank goodness!â Abby breathes a sigh of relief. âYou had me worried for a second.â
âClarke is perfectly safe, I can promise you that.â
Sounding much calmer after Lexaâs reassurances, Abby asks, âMay I ask who is calling?â
âMy name is Lexa. Iâm ClarkeâsâŠâ
Lexa trails off, realising that telling Abby that sheâs dating Clarke might not be the best idea. Clarke has never really spoken much about her sexuality and though Lexa gets the impression that itâs not, nor has it ever been, a particularly big deal to Clarke, she doesnât know if she ever took the opportunity to come out to her parents before her fatherâs death. She definitely knows itâs not fair for her to out Clarke to her own mother.
(She tries to ignore the fact that itâs not really fair for her to be talking to Clarkeâs mother at all.)
âIâm a friend of your daughterâs,â Lexa says, settling for a toned down version of the truth. âI ⊠Iâm so sorry, I spent ages planning what I was going to say to you and itâs all gone straight out of my head in the moment.â
âDoes she want to see me?â Abby asks, and Lexaâs insides sink at the glimmer of hope she can hear in her voice, even through the speaker of the phone.
âNot exactly,â Lexa chooses her words carefully, afraid of damaging an already broken relationship even further. âShe ⊠sheâs still hurting a lot after what happened and sheâs trying to act tough and pretend that she doesnât care anymore but I think it would do her some good to have you back in her life again, even if itâs just small steps to start with.â
Abby gives a hum of agreement, and then says carefully, âI know that I wasnât the best mother to Clarke. I canât begin to imagine what it must have been like for her. I ⊠I wasnât myself after Jake died but I should have been there for her.â
Abbyâs words do a little to settle the guilty unease that has been bubbling away inside Lexa, reassured that even if she is doing the wrong thing by speaking to Clarkeâs mom behind her back, sheâs at least learned that Abby understands where she went wrong.
âHow is she?â Abby asks, before Lexa can say anything else. âHow is she really? I havenât spoken to or heard from her since she got expelled from school.â
âSheâsâŠâ Lexa considers fabricating the truth just to appease Abby and give her what she wants to hear, but she settles for being completely honest. âFrankly I think sheâs been better.â She adds quickly, âSheâs doing well though. Much better now than when I met her. Sheâs going to school regularly now and sheâs got a good network of friends. I think sheâs really trying to get her life back on track.â
âThatâs wonderful to hear,â says Abby, and Lexa can hear the relief in her voice.
âOh,â Lexa remembers, âand she wants to go to college. Not this fall, but next year. Art school.â
âCollege?â Abbyâs voice is full of surprise. âOh, wow. You know, I had all these visions of Clarke being alone out on the streets, or in prison somewhere, or ⊠something much worse.â
Or dead. Abby doesnât have to elaborate for Lexa to know exactly what she means by âsomething much worseâ. And to be honest, this is partly why she called Abby in the first place, to reassure her that her daughter is alive and well.
âYou donât have to worry,â Lexa says calmly. âSheâs doing great.â
âCan I see her?â
Lexa is taken aback by the question, and she quickly scolds herself because she should have known that Abby would want to see Clarke again and prepared a response accordingly. She knows what answer she should give â a resolute no until she gets Clarkeâs consent â but even though Abbyâs voice is slightly grainy through the speaker of Lexaâs phone, she can still hear the hope in Abbyâs words, and Lexa doesnât know whether she can be ruthless enough to outright crush that hope.
âIâm not sure thatâs a good idea,â she starts tentatively. âClarke would kill me if she even knew I was talking to you right now, let alone setting up a meeting with you.â Hearing a disappointed sigh down the phone, Lexa adds quickly, âIâm working on it though. Iâm hoping sheâll come around soon.â
âCan I at least have a number to call her on?â Abby begs. âI wonât tell her that you gave it to me. Iâll say I got it through other means.â
Lexa knows that she should probably say no, for Clarkeâs sake, but she can hear the pleading tone in Abbyâs voice and if their conversation has brought one thing to Lexaâs attention, itâs that Abby understands her mistakes and is keen to make things right with her daughter.
The only issue is that Clarke doesnât seem ready for that yet.
âI shouldnâtâŠâ Lexa starts.
âPlease, Lexa.â
Closing her eyes, Lexa lets out a heavy sigh and rests her head on the hand not holding her phone up to her ear. Itâs taking every ounce of willpower that she can muster up to say no to Abby and it kills her inside that she has to do this, but she know that itâs the right thing to do for now.
âI really shouldnât,â Lexa repeats. âIâm not sure that I can do that.â
âI just want a chance to talk to my daughter again,â Abby pleads. âI know I messed up, but sheâs my little girl and I love her andâŠâ
Interrupting Abby, Lexa says, âI know that Mrs. Griffin. I want you to have that chance too, but I canât give you Clarkeâs number without her permission, Iâm sorry. I will speak to her though. Iâll try my best to get her to open up to the idea of talking to you.â
The disappointment evident in her voice, Abby quietly says, âI understand. Thank you for calling me. Youâve put my mind at ease.â
âItâs been nice talking to you, Mrs Griffin. Goodbye.â
âGoodbye, Lexa.â
Lexa finds it even harder than before to concentrate on her homework for the rest of the night.
Lexaâs phone goes off in the middle of history class, vibrating in the pocket of the blazer that hangs over the back of her chair. Glancing around quickly to check that nobody else heard the soft buzzing sound, she retrieves it and holds it under her table, out of sight from any prying eyes, particularly those of the teacher lecturing them at the front of the classroom, should she look Lexaâs way.
Clarke Griffin Hey, you busy tonight?
Lexa glances once up to the front, then quickly taps out a reply, grateful to her past self who chose to sit in the second row from the back at the beginning of the academic year.
Lexa Woods Just the usual, homework etc.
Clarkeâs response is almost immediate.
Clarke Griffin Can I see you? Thereâs something I need to do and Iâd like it if you came with me
Lexa Woods Of course!
Lexa locks the screen of her phone, resting it on her lap beneath the table, and picks up her pen, quickly jotting down some of the notes that she missed during her brief texting interlude. But the tone of Clarkeâs messages worry Lexa and she drops her pen after only a couple of sentences, picking up the phone once again and typing out another message to her girlfriend.
Lexa Woods Is everything ok?
Clarke Griffin Iâll explain later
Lexa is not convinced. Clarke has been acting a little strangely for the last three or four days, and ever since Lexaâs phonecall with Clarkeâs mother just two days ago, and the paranoid part of Lexaâs brain has done a fantastic job in convincing her that Clarke has somehow found out about Lexaâs betrayal.
The rational part of Lexaâs brain tries to remind her that if Clarke had already found out, Lexa would definitely know about it because she would have taken it out on Lexa immediately, but that doesnât really help calm Lexaâs nerves.
Clarke is just as jumpy when Lexa meets with her after school, and Lexa can tell that thereâs something on her mind before she even reaches the bus stop, spotting her girlfriend pacing back and forth along the sidewalk at their agreed meeting point as she approaches.
âHey, whatâs up?â Lexa asks, laying a gentle hand on Clarkeâs arm when she arrives. âIs everything okay? Where are we going?â
Clarke reaches up to take the hand that Lexa is comforting her with in her own and leads Lexa over to the wall nearby that lines the sidewalk, perching on the edge of it and encouraging Lexa to sit down beside her. She intertwines their fingers and traces her thumb up and down the soft skin on the back of Lexaâs hand.
âWeâre getting a bus,â explains Clarke. âA different bus. Thereâs somewhere I need to ⊠I âŠâ
Clarke trails off with a sad little sigh and she leans into Lexaâs side, resting her head against Lexaâs.
âWhatâs wrong?â Lexa asks worriedly. âIs something the matter?â
âThree years,â Clarke says softly, her voice barely more than a whisper, and Lexa can hear a gravelly little croak to her voice that isnât usually there. âMy dad died three years ago today. I want to ⊠I need to go to his grave.â
âOh, Clarke,â Lexa sighs, dropping the hands that are linked between their thighs so that she can swing an arm around Clarkeâs shoulders and pull her into a tight embrace. Pressing a lingering kiss to Clarkeâs cheek, she continues, âI had no idea that was today.â
âYeah, well I donât really go around advertising it,â shrugs Clarke. âRaven and Octavia knew it was today. We took the day off school and went into town as a distraction. It was good of them to do that, but Iâd like it a lot if you would be the one to visit his grave with me. Iâd like to â and I know this is going to sound fucking stupid â but Iâd really like for him to âmeetâ you, so to speak.â
Clarke uses two fingers on each hand to create air quotes as she says the word âmeetâ, and Lexa smiles reassuringly at her.
âIâd like that,â she tells Clarke honestly. âI know how hard you find it to open up, but I really appreciate you offering to let me into something so personal.â
They catch a bus, a different one to the normal ones that either of them usually catch to and from school, and get off it again after just a quick fifteen minute journey. Clarke takes them down a quiet street with a few independent shops, leading Lexa by the hand into a florists on the corner, but once inside, she stops and stares around with wide eyes.
âI donât know what to get him,â she admits. âI donât know what kind of flowers he liked, or if he even liked flowers at all.â
âWhat was his favourite colour?â
âBlue.â
Lexa immediately jumps to Clarkeâs rescue, wandering around the shop knowledgeably and picking out a pretty selection of white and blue flowers, before approaching the counter and asking the florist to create a bouquet from her choices. The display that she creates for them is simple but artful, and when the price pops up in green letters on the front of the cash register, Clarke starts fumbling around in the back pocket of her jeans for some change, but Lexa quickly stops her.
âIâll get it, itâs fine,â she insists. âA gift to your father from somebody who cares about his daughter very much.â
As they leave the floristâs, bouquet in Clarkeâs hand, Clarke scuffs her shoes against the sidewalk and mumbles softly, âYou didnât have to pay for it for me. Heâs dead, you donât need to try and impress him.â
Lexa laughs under her breath at Clarkeâs little attempt to lighten the mood with a joke, then reaches out to take Clarkeâs free hand with her own.
âItâs okay. I wanted to.â
Clarke gives Lexaâs hand a grateful little squeeze and they continue on their way.
The cemetery is just a five minute walk away but they make the journey in silence. Thereâs a sombre mood hanging over them, understandably so, and though Lexa wonders whether she should be leading a conversation to distract Clarke from what day it is and where theyâre going, she figures that thatâs probably what Raven and Octavia have been doing all day, and that she might welcome the silence to be alone with her own thoughts.
âHere we are,â Clarke says as she pushes open the heavy iron gate that leads into the cemetery from the sidewalk. âHeâs over by that tree.â
Lexa follows Clarke between two rows of worn headstones until Clarke stops in front of one that is newer than those surrounding it, the polished marble not yet showing any signs of erosion and the gold inscription carved into it still as legible as it would have been the day it was installed in the graveyard.
JAKE GRIFFIN 09.26.71 â 05.10.15
âHey, Dad,â Clarke says aloud into the cemetery that is empty apart from the two girls who stand at this particular grave. âUm, I brought you some flowers.â
Clarke bends down to place the bouquet at the foot of the marble headstone, and when she straightens, she takes a step back to stand at Lexaâs side, her hand fumbling to take hold of Lexaâs once more. Thereâs a little frown on Clarkeâs face, shown in the tiny line just between her eyebrows, and a look of sad longing in her usually lively blue eyes.
âAnd I brought somebody to meet you,â Clarke continues, glancing up at Lexa for reassurance, which Lexa gives her with a little nod. Turning back to the gravestone, Clarke says, âThis is Lexa.â
âHello, Mr Griffin,â Lexa says aloud, pushing past the lump that has formed in her throat. She feels a little stupid speaking to what is essentially just a slab of shiny marble, but she knows how much this means to Clarke, how much Clarke does actually believe that her father can hear her right now, and she wants to do this as much for Clarke as she does herself. âIâm honored that Clarke brought me along today. She always speaks so highly of you.â
The little squeeze that Clarke gives her hand, almost indiscernible but not quite, tells Lexa that sheâs saying the right things.
âDad, Lexa is my girlfriend. IâŠâ Clarke pauses, closes her eyes for a couple of seconds, and then after a deep breath, opens them and continues, âIâm sorry that I never had the chance to come out to you before you ⊠well, I never had the chance to share that bit of me with you when you were still here, but I know you wouldnât care that Lexa is a girl. And ⊠and I really like her, Dad.â
Lexaâs heart canât help but melt as she hears Clarkeâs words, and she quickly reaches a hand up to wipe at the tear that forms in the corner of her eye, not wanting Clarke to see it.
Thankfully oblivious, Clarke continues, âI think youâd really like her too. Sheâs like super smart, and funny, and just a really good person.â Clarke smiles to herself, then says, âYouâd get on with her well. I can just imagine you both at family dinners, sharing jokes between you and ganging up on me.â
Hearing a soft sniffle from beside her, Lexa glances across to see Clarke wiping her own damp eyes with her free hand, slightly smudging her mascara. Lexa drops Clarkeâs hand so that she has the arm free to wrap around Clarkeâs back, fingers tightening around Clarkeâs waist.
Sensing that Clarke might be too emotional to continue, at least for the immediate future, Lexa speaks up, âYou raised a really wonderful daughter, Mr Griffin. Clarke is the most incredible person Iâve ever met and I owe part of that to you. And we both know that she can be stubborn and likes everybody to think that sheâs always strong, but I promise to be there for her when she canât be strong. I promise to look after her.â
I promise to look after her for you. Lexa doesnât say it, but itâs implied, and she knows that Clarke has picked up on it because she leans slightly into Lexaâs side and reaches a hand up to cover Lexaâs briefly on her waist.
âThank you,â Clarke whispers softly, and Lexa knows that these words are meant for her. âThanks for coming with me. I wasnât sure if I could do it on my own.â
âOf course,â Lexa replies. âIâd do anything for you, Clarke, IâŠâ
She stops herself before she says the words, catching her tongue before it runs away from her. Perhaps itâs the emotion riding high between the two them, charged by the situation and the words that have just been spoken into the early evening air, but Lexa knows that sheâd been just about to say it to Clarke.
âItâ being those three little words.
Clarke, I love you.
Which is ridiculous, because Lexa has been waiting for the moment when it suddenly hits her how much she is in love with Clarke, and it hasnât happened yet. Unless it has, and she somehow missed it, because sheâs pretty sure in this moment that she does love ClarkeâŠ
âClarke?â
Lexa doesnât get the chance to figure out just exactly what this means because they are interrupted by a third person in the cemetery, a female voice calling out Clarkeâs name from somewhere behind them. And though the voice is almost unfamiliar to Lexa, nearly unrecognisable from the last time she heard it coming through the speaker of her phone, from the way that she can feel the way that Clarke instantly tenses at her side, as if somebody has just poured an ice cold bucket of water over her head, Lexa knows exactly who it belongs to.
âMom?â
The two of them turn around slowly in complete synchronisation, and Lexaâs eyes fall on the woman standing just inside the gated entrance to the cemetery. Lexa recognises her from a few images sheâd found in online medical journals during the quick google search she did of Abby Griffin last week when psyching herself up to make the phonecall, but this Abby looks very different to how she had looked in the professional photographs. And Lexa knows that the differences must be down to more than just some good lighting and a decent quality camera, because there are many more lines on Abbyâs face and her complexion is pale, exaggerating the dark bags under her eyes.
Perhaps losing your husband and your only daughter in quick succession makes you age much faster.
âClarke, honey, IâŠâ
Abby starts to walk towards them, but Clarke is having none of it, dropping Lexaâs hand and taking a few steps back.
âNo,â she shakes her head, her eyes shimmering with the onset of tears. âNo. Stay away from me.â
âClarkeâŠâ
âStay away from me!â Clarke repeats, raising her voice and choking over the words as the first tears spill from her eyes and cascade down her cheeks, leaving dark trails of mascara in their wake.
Spotting her chance to maybe try and make things right between mother and daughter, Lexa reaches out a hand to steady Clarke, hoping that if she can just get Clarke to calm down and look at things rationally, perhaps Clarke will be willing to have a mature conversation with her mom and takes the first steps towards fixing their broken relationship.
âClarke,â Lexa starts, âmaybe if you justâŠâ
Lexa trails off in fear as Clarke turns her attention to Lexa, the sheer anger in her glare causing Lexa to cower away and forget her own words. Thereâs something in Clarkeâs eyes that Lexa has never seen before, a dark inferno of rage that hasnât been there when Clarke has been angry with Lexa in the past.
âI bet youâre in on this, arenât you?â she shouts at Lexa. âItâs a bit of a coincidence that youâve been asking me to make up with her and then she just turns up here. Did you invite her here? Huh? Huh?â
âClarke, no, of course I didnât!â Lexa protests.
âTell me the truth, Lexa!â
Lexa sighs exasperatedly, not entirely sure why Clarke is choosing to lash out at her but trying not to get too frustrated in retaliation because she knows that Clarke is highly charged with raw emotions right now, the combination of grief along with the reminder of why she ran away from home. Abbyâs presence is certainly not going to help keep Clarke in an emotionally stable place, and though Lexa knows that she has nothing to do with Abby turning up here today, she can understand why Clarke might feel the need to lash out at her.
âClarke, look where we are!â Lexa reminds her, gesturing to the headstones that surround them. âItâs your fatherâs grave on the anniversary of his death. Has it not crossed your mind that sheâs here for the same reason that we are?â
Clarke lets out a lurching sob as tears cascade down her cheeks, a painful noise that seems to rip through Lexaâs chest and tear her heart out from inside her ribcage.
âClarke, IâŠâ
Itâs then that Lexa makes her mistake, in reaching out with one hand to touch Clarkeâs arm in what is intended to be a gesture of reassurance.
âGet off me!â Clarke shrieks, as she retracts her arm as suddenly as she would if Lexaâs hand were a red hot poker burning her skin. âI ⊠I need space.â
Before Lexa even has a chance to fully process what is going on, Clarke has stormed right past her, right past her mother, and leaves the graveyard through the same gate they entered earlier, hurrying along the sidewalk and across the road.
Realising that Clarke is not in the right mental or emotional state to be wandering parts of the city alone, let alone safely crossing roads, Lexa forces her brain to start working in a forward gear once more and rushes after Clarkeâs retreating form, stopping only momentarily on her way out of the cemetery to apologise to an equally stunned and teary-eyed Abby.
âIâm sorry, Mrs Griffin,â Lexa tells Abby as she passes Clarkeâs mother. âIâll try and get her to see some sense, I promise!â
Lexa chases after Clarke as fast as her legs will carry her, a feat which is much harder in her restrictive school uniform. Her black shoes, flimsy pumps that are open at the top, are hardly made for running, and the bag that hangs from her shoulder, heavy with schoolbooks, is an uncomfortable extra weight that swings as Lexa runs and makes chasing after Clarke just that little bit harder.
Clarkeâs headstart has her across the busy road when Lexa is barely out of the gated cemetery and itâs just Lexaâs luck that the lights at the pedestrian crossing turn red when she reaches it, and two lanes of traffic zoom past in each direction as she waits for the lights to change again. With each second that Lexa is waiting on the sidewalk, Clarke gets further away until, when the traffic finally slows to let Lexa cross the road, Clarke has vanished from sight with no indication of which way she might have gone.
âShit,â Lexa mutters, delving into the inside pocket on her school blazer and pulling out her phone. She opens the text conversation with Clarke, where the most recent messages are the ones of Clarke asking to meet Lexa after school, and composes a quick message for her girlfriend.
Lexa Woods Please donât push me away Clarke. Iâm always going to be here for you xxx
Lexa considers sending a second message, an I love you Clarke, but it doesnât quite seem right to say it for the first time over text after the day that Clarke has had.

















