#killianofneverland

He scratches the back of his neck with his free hand, “I guess I owe you a thank-you.”

“It’s my job.”

“Still. Thanks.” He says, looking away from her. 

She just looks at him for a minute, her head tilted as she takes him in, and he fights the urge to squirm under her gaze. “You should get out of the water for a little bit. You probably swallowed some and got some up your nose, and it can make you feel sick.”

“I’m fine--” he starts to protest, but she just rolls her eyes.

“Who are you trying to impress?” She asks, smirking. “There’s no one out here.”

She’s right, he realizes, when he looks around him to see that there’s really no one else in the lake, save for a few younger kids near the shore tossing a ball back and forth.

“I wasn’t trying to impress anyone,” he scoffs. 

“Then you should get out of the water. Probably for an hour,” she advises, and he tries to tear his eyes away from the birthmark above her lips. 

“Don’t you have some lifeguarding to do?” He snaps, embarrassed that she had to rescue him in the first place and even more embarrassed that she was standing there looking at him like she knows something he doesn’t.

“I’m guarding your life,” she says, smiling, and he squirms a little more. “Well, whatever. Suit yourself...” she trails off expectantly.

“Bellamy,” he provides.

“Bellamy. Suit yourself,” she says, smirking at him again, and before he can say anything else she’s swimming away, her strides long and graceful. He tries not to watch her as she goes, and stops himself from staring at her by thinking that if he didn’t die from drowning by paddleboard, he’s pretty sure she could drown him and make it look like an accident.

.

.

Later that night, Bellamy heads to the small general store at the resort to pick up some firewood and some matches. He and Octavia are planning to cook over the fire, and apparently he’s O’s errand boy this evening, despite his protests.

“I almost drowned, O.”

“You didn’t drown, you big baby. You’re fine. Fine enough to walk five minutes to get some supplies,” she says, glaring at him.

So, here he is, wandering in the small store, trying and failing not to notice the blonde girl working at the counter. 

“Are you following me?” She asks when the only other customer in the store walks out the door, leaving Bellamy and her alone. “This is all very suspicious.”

Bellamy narrows his eyes at her before approaching the counter. “Where do you keep the matches?”

“Aisle ten,” she says dryly, and he can’t fight the quick upturn of his lips. The store is barely big enough for two aisles, let alone ten.

“How did you get so lucky to lifeguard and work here?” He wonders out loud.

“This is what happens when your parents own a resort and bully you into coming back every summer. I get to do all the thankless jobs!” She tells him brightly, clearly being sarcastic. “The matches are over there by the lighter fluid,” she says after a beat.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, walking towards the spot she pointed out. He glances back at her when he finds the matches, only to find her already looking at him, though she glances away quickly when he meets her eyes.

“Clarke,” she says, and he looks at her in surprise. “I’m Clarke.”

They’re both quiet for a few more minutes until he finds all the supplies he’s looking for and brings them up to the counter to pay for them. Clarke begins to ring him up, and his eyes linger on her mouth a little too long when she starts asking him about his trip.

“How’s the camping going?”

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, “It’s fine. I’m here with my sister. She’s trying to be all outdoorsy to impress this guy she likes.” He scowls, and Clarke laughs. “It’s fun though, we don’t get to spend a lot of time together now that she’s in college.”

Clarke meets his eyes and smiles softly, “You must care about her a lot. That’s nice,” she says softly, and starts bagging up his items. “You’re a nice guy, Bellamy Blake.”

His brow furrows, “How did you--”

“I may have looked up your registration in our files,” she mumbles, cheeks bright red. “Don’t look at me,” she says, glaring.

The smile that stretches across his face is bright. “Who’s suspicious now?” He teases, and when she laughs with him and his heart flips over in his chest at the sound, he knows he’s in serious trouble.

.

.

Bellamy goes for a walk a couple nights later, and it’s absolutely not because he hopes that he’ll run into Clarke as she sun sets. Absolutely not.

She’s just a girl, a pretty girl, but he knows there’s nothing that could ever come of it -- he’s only here for one more day, and she seems way out of his league. Plus, he’s pretty sure she thinks he’s an idiot.

To be fair, he hasn’t handled himself well any of the times he’s talked to her. He doesn’t know what his problem is, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to dwell on it too much. He keeps seeing her all around the resort, and practically trips over his own feet every single time. He feels like a teenager, and even Octavia has noticed, teasing him for hours on end about his crush on Clarke.

“I talked to Clarke, and she told me she goes to school at VCU. That’s only a half hour from home, Bell!”

“Girls like her don’t date guys like me. It’s fine.”

“You’re being stupid,” Octavia chastises, and Bellamy frowns at her.

On his walk, he ends up by the lake, admiring the reflection of the sunset. There’s only a few people down there, one or two having a small bonfire in the sand, and he takes a deep breath of the crisp night air. 

“This is bordering on stalking, you know,” a now familiar voice speaks up, and when he turns to see her, he’s already smiling, not able to hold it back anymore.

“I’m starting to think you’re the one stalking me,” he says, and he doesn’t recognize the low, raspy pitch to his voice, but he swears he sees her eyes darken, and he thinks there’s a good chance he’s going to spontaneously combust.

“When are you leaving?” She asks, and she drifts a little closer, their arms brushing. He shivers.

“Tomorrow. Probably in the afternoon.”

“You should come to the store in the morning and get some breakfast with me,” she says nonchalantly.

“Why does that sound more like a demand than a request?” He teases, his hand almost twitching as he fights off the urge to brush a stray tendril of her hair back behind her ear. 

She shrugs, “Up to you, Bellamy Blake,” she says, and something about the way she says his name makes him shudder.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he tells her, and his eyes close involuntarily when she smiles and leans forward, brushing her lips against the corner of his mouth. Not quite a kiss, no, but enough to make him want to grab her and pull her closer. She smells like campfire smoke and sunshine.

.

.

He meets her for breakfast, but they spend more time talking then they do eating, and when he and Octavia leave, it’s with Clarke’s number programmed in his phone, and the sight of her smiling face as she laughs at something he said when she forced him to take a selfie with her as his lockscreen. 

“So you don’t forget about me,” she said when she stole his phone.

Pretty sure that’s not possible, he thought, but he didn’t say it out loud at the time.

When he and Octavia get home later that night, he gets a text from Clarke informing him that when she gets back to school in the fall, he’s taking her out to dinner. 

She’s bossy.

He kind of likes it.