Chapter 1
“What do you think of this piece, Ms. Griffin?” The nauseatingly, annoying man asks the blonde headed woman beside him. The two of them were observing works of art in one of New York’s many new up and coming galleries. The thin man happened to be the art curator for this particular gallery and he has been by far the creepiest man that Clarke has had to deal with in this profession so far. Every time that she turns around or looks out of her peripheral vision, there he is; staring at her like she’s an oasis in the middle of a vast desert. For instance, the look that he is giving her now makes shivers run down her spine and not the good kind.
She puts on her best fake smile, something that she’s all to use to, and answers him politely. “It’s very classical, with a bit of some romanticism in there. I can definitely see that. It’s impressive.” Clarke expressed as she turns her head back to regard the painting in front of her. “The artist seems to be very autotelic.”
“Yes. Well, we only strive to have the best here at Weather’s.” He smirks and the action almost makes Clarke want to vomit. The blonde only nods, still gazing at the mesmerizing pieces in front of her. The artist truly is talented and in touch with their inner ‘flow’. When Clarke doesn’t say anything for several moments, the man speaks again. “Will you need a file in order to remember the name of the artist, and more importantly, the gallery?”
Clarke almost wants to roll her eyes. This is how her visits always pan out. Nothing but a bunch of power-hungry, wannabes, looking to make it big with a little help from yours truly. She turns her body once more to face him and holds a stern look on her face. She catches the slight wave of discomfort swarm over the man’s body; the scar over his upper lip almost seems to twitch. This is why she’s known as the most aggressive art critic in the city. Clarke Griffin is intimidating and most artists will come nowhere near her when she’s in their vicinity, and when they do they make damn sure to be the biggest suck up that they can be. That’s why she mostly has to deal with the curators themselves. “I’m writing it up as… inventive and confident.”
“The art or the gallery, Ms. Griffin?” She can’t help it. She does roll her eyes this time. This man is really insufferable. Her job is to shed light on prominent and growing artists in the area and people like this guy seem to always want to take the credit. Clarke has news for him. That isn’t going to happen.
“My job is to critique art, Mr. Wallace.” Her voice is strong and unwavering as she points to the work on the walls behind her. “This artist is going places and I will make sure to write about that in my next piece. Good day, sir.” Clarke replies before tightening her hold on her briefcase that’s slung over her shoulder and she walks away. ‘The nerve of some people.’ She thinks to herself on her way out the massive glass doors that enclose the area.
Before she’s even completely down the concrete steps that line the front of the building, her cell phone rings and she digs quickly in her bag to retrieve it. “Wells.” She answers with a grin. “Thank goodness. I need to vent.” His laugh is warm and familiar.
“Oh no. What has happened now?” He asks curiously from the other end of the line. “Let me guess. Yet another critique gone askew?”
“How did you ever guess?” She deadpans. “No… it wasn’t that bad. The art was beautiful. You will have to come see it soon. It was the damn, loathsome curator again.”
“Again? You’ve had to deal with this guy before?”
“Only once. He all but asked me out the first time and I politely declined.”
“Are you sure you ‘politely’ declined?” Wells asks and Clarke can practically see his grin from where he’s at across town.
“Yes.” She grunts. “Uhh… he’s such a creep. He was eyeing me throughout the whole visit… and then, he pretty much asked me to give him a good write-up. Like, what the hell? This isn’t about you. It’s about the artists.” She throws her free arm in the air dramatically.
“You sound like you could use a drink.”
“Oh, no. You’re not asking me out now too are you?” She smiles, knowing full well that Wells Jaha is going to ask her out. It’s always fun to tease him though. He is her best friend after all. Well… maybe second best? She’s not too sure anymore. It still feels weird calling him her ‘best friend’. That title has always belonged to someone else, but they never get to see each other anymore. It’s been months. Clarke shakes her head slightly, trying to rid herself of thoughts and memories that are probably long gone.
Wells scoffs over the phone. “Sorry. You’re not my type.”
“Fine then.” She grins. “But yes… I could more than use a drink. Or five.”
“Right then. The Ark in half an hour?”
“See you there.” She answers before ending the call and taking a deep breath. “God, do I need a drink.”
//
“Oh, by the way…” Wells utters after taking a sip of his wine as he and Clarke sit to having dinner at their favorite place in the city. The Ark. Dinner hadn’t originally been on the menu, but once they had arrived and started to see all of the mouth-watering dishes being led out by waiters and waitresses, they decided that they could eat. “Did that girl ever call you?”
Of course he would ask after Clarke had just popped a scallop into her mouth. Clarke rolls her eyes and begins to chew so that she can answer her friend. She honestly should think about trying something else when she comes to eat here, but their seared scallops are to die for. It’s what she’s always gotten. She’s not about to change now. “What girl?”
“I don’t recall her name.” Wells replies with a look that crosses over his face and Clarke can tell that he’s trying to reflect back onto one of their past conversations. “The one that worked for ‘The Times’.”
“Ahh…” Clarke responds just before taking a drink of her wine. “The one about the job?” Wells nods as he chews on a bite of his salad. “She did. I was going to tell you. I’m still in the running it seems. They asked me to just be patient.”
“That’s wonderful, Clarke.” He expresses with a soft smile and reaches over to place his hand over hers on the table before pulling back to continue eating. “Do you know how many other candidates there are?”
“No idea.”
“Are you nervous? I mean, ‘The Times’… shit. This is a big deal, Clarke. So many opportunities for you.”
“Well, I wasn’t.” Clarke answers his question and rolls her eyes simultaneously. “Thanks for that.”
“Sorry.” He grins. Before Wells can ask her anything else or make her even more nervous about this huge job opportunity, her cell phone beeps with a new message.
“Do you care if I check this?”
“Go ahead.”
She grabs her phone out of her bag on the ground beside her chair and unlocks it to see that she has a voicemail. “Huh.”
“What is it?”
“I have a new voicemail, but there’s no missed call. The number doesn’t look familiar.” Clarke stares at her phone for the longest as if she’s trying to remember the number. She doesn’t.
“Well, listen to it, dumbass.” Wells smiles and Clarke is quick to shoot him a glare before clicking onto the message and holding the phone up to her ear.
Her heart starts to beat erratically when she hears a familiar voice in the message.
“Hey. It’s Lexa. Clarke, it’s been months, huh? Well, uhh… I can’t wait to talk to you. I’m in Chicago staying at the Langham hotel. I guess – umm… you can call me. Four in the morning or whatever. We need to talk. Bye.” The phone clicks, indicating the end of the message.
Clarke’s heart still hasn’t stopped it’s incessant thumping in her chest. It’s been too long since she’s heard Lexa’s voice. She didn’t realize just how badly she missed her until this moment. Clarke noticed how frantic Lexa’s voicemail sounded. It’s like her friend desperately needed to talk to her. But about what?
She must be smiling goofily, because Wells stares at her with a puzzled look. “Who was that? Oh, please tell me that it was that new guy you’ve been seeing. He’s gorgeous.”
“You can have him.” She laughs. “We only went on one date and it was atrocious.”
“Send me his number.” Wells snickers. “For real though, who was that from?”
“Oh. It was Lexa. Lexa Woods.” Clarke feels as if she hasn’t spoken that name in so long. She still gets a sensation of warmth throughout her body saying it.
“Wait. Your Lexa?”
She nods her head. “She isn’t mine. She’s my best friend.” Wells throws his hand over his chest dramatically, feigning hurt over Clarke’s words. Clarke rolls her eyes, because Wells knows how much Lexa means to her. She doesn’t have to explain. “She sounded very urgent.”
Wells hums into his glass of wine, taking in the different emotions that seem to be taking over his blonde friend in front of him. Clarke doesn’t notice the inquisitive looks that he gives her. “Remind me of her.” He tells her, although he doesn’t need any reminder. He only wants to see the way that Clarke lights up when she talks about her. She’s always told him that she and Lexa were just friends. Best friends, really, and even though they were together intimately for a few weeks in the beginning, Clarke got restless. She wasn’t used to being tied down to one person. They agreed to be friends; little did they know that they would become the best.
Clarke sighs and picks up her glass to drink what was left of her wine before getting the waiter’s attention to come refill her glass. “Umm… sophomore year at NYU, we had this insanely salacious month or so…”
“Insanely salacious?” Wells grins, interrupting her story and Clarke glares at him. “I’m sorry. Continue please.”
“What can I say? We were practically still teenagers.” Clarke shrugs. “And she’s drop dead gorgeous.” She adds and doesn’t miss the knowing look that her friend across from her gives her. “Anyway, I think that I broke her heart. When I ended things.”
“And why did you end things again?”
“I wasn’t the type to stay with one person.”
“Do you regret it? Wells asks and he’s not entirely sure if he will even get an answer. Clarke has always been very secretive about her love life.
Without any hesitation in her voice she answers him. “Yes.” Wells almost chokes on his food and Clarke eyes him up and down.
“What?” His tone still shocked from her admission. This is the first that he’s hearing of this. It’s been years since Clarke and Lexa were together intimately, but they’ve stayed the best of friends. He doesn’t know how Clarke has done it.
“I think that I always kind of regretted it, but it wasn’t until the last few times that I’ve gotten to see her that I desperately regretting doing it.”
“What did she say?”
“Then?”
“Yes. Then and when you told her that you regretted it.”
“Well, then she told me that the ‘thing that made her want to cry is she was losing the best friend that she ever had.’ I cried for maybe the third time in my entire life, kissed her, and we’ve been best friends ever since. I told her that I wasn’t going anywhere in that department. It was weird at first, but it got better. And as for me telling her that I regretted it, I didn’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“I haven’t told her that I regretted breaking things off with her.”
“And why the hell not?” Wells asks, his voice a little louder than deemed necessary in their present location.
“It was years ago, Wells. I can assure you that she doesn’t feel that way about me anymore.”
“You’ll never know until you say something.” He replies and gets a shrug of shoulders from his annoying, blonde friend.
Clarke lets out a dreamy sigh, staring off into space and thinking about what could have been. Could she actually grow up the courage to tell Lexa what she really felt for her? Or was it too late? Did she need to just keep it bottled up inside and remain friends? “We’ve seen each other through everything.” She’s still in a trance, in her own little private world. Wells can tell. It’s almost as if she doesn’t know that she’s speaking out loud, but he listens because that’s what good friends do. “Losing jobs, losing parents, losing lovers.” Clarke sighs yet again. “We’ve travelled all over. The best times of my life. Drinking and talking, even if it’s just over the phone or on Skype.”
“This is so moving.” Wells teases her, but he mostly is serious. He’s never seen Clarke look this way. “Are you kindred spirits?”
Clarke sputters out a laugh. “Hell no. Lexa is nothing like me. She’s like you actually.” Wells hums as he reaches over and sticks a fork in one of Clarke’s scallops before eating it. This earns him a glare, but Clarke says nothing about it. “I remember this one night in Nashville like six years ago. She takes a razor out of her overnight bag…cuts her finger.” She’s leaning forward, getting excited and nostalgic as she remembers the night so vividly. “She takes my hand and does the same to me.”
“Oh, God. I’m going to be sick.” Wells jokes.
Clarke ignores him. “She says, ‘Swear… when we’re twenty-eight, if we’ve never married, we marry each other.’” Clarke chuckles. “We never talked about that again. I have no idea what made me think of that. I guess I think about that night every time that I think of Lexa.”
Wells takes yet another sip of his wine, that the waiter had just filled. “You’ll be twenty-eight in like three weeks, right?” Clarke’s looks up to meet his deep brown eyes with a look of confusion written all over her face. “How old is she?”
The blonde across from him sits there for a moment, going over what her friend had just asked. A timid chuckle falls from her lips. “You think?” She asks, sarcastically.
“Hey.” Wells smiles, throwing his hands up in faux surrender. “You said that she sounded urgent on the voicemail.” The small smile falls from her face, and turns quickly into a perplexed frown. Wells words are flying through her mind at the speed of light. It’s all too much. It’s giving her a migraine. He picks his glass back up and chuckles at how nervous Clarke seems now that he’s put the thoughts into her head.
“No.” Clarke practically whispers. It’s so quiet that Wells barely catches it.
“Cheers.” He says as he tips his wine glass back. Clarke does the same before signaling the waiter again.
//
“Hey. It’s Lexa. Clarke, it’s been months, huh? Well, uhh… I can’t wait to talk to you. I’m in Chicago staying at the Langham hotel. I guess – umm… you can call me. Four in the morning or whatever. We need to talk. Bye.”
Clarke was sitting on an ottoman in the middle of the living space in her New York apartment, biting anxiously on her manicured nails, and listening to Lexa’s voicemail on repeat. Once she had gotten home from her dinner with Wells, she didn’t have the energy to change clothes. She was too hung up in her own thoughts. Clarke sat there, alone in the dark, in a pair of skinny jeans and a bra; only managing to remove her shirt before she started having her meltdown. She hadn’t yet worked up the courage to call her best friend. She has no idea why she’s so nervous to talk to Lexa.
Actually, she does.
Clarke can already feel the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. If the sound of Lexa’s voice on a message on a loop can do that to her, then she’s nervous of the buffoon that she will more than likely make herself out to be when she actually does have a conversation with her. Clarke is positive that’s she’s going to have to visit Vicky within the next few days. Her manicurist. She’s going to be pissed.
“Come on, Clarke.” The blonde headed woman says aloud, attempting to give herself a pep talk of sorts. “It’s Lexa. Your best friend. Just tell her that you want to see her and you can go from there. You have to tell her.”
She’s up now, walking around her apartment at a mildly brisk pace, clutching onto her cell phone tightly. Clarke decides that maybe she needs a pep talk from someone other than her delusional self.
CLARKE (11:23PM) – Wells! I’m freaking the fuck out!
WELLS (11:24PM) – Of course you are.
Clarke can practically hear his laughter now.
CLARKE (11:24PM) – Don’t be an ass. What do I do?
WELLS (11:25PM) – First of all, calm down. You don’t want to freak her out first thing by you having a panic attack over the phone.
WELLS (11:25PM) – Secondly, just talk to her, Clarke. Like you normally would. You’re best friends. Lexa would want you to be honest with her.
CLARKE (11:27PM) – You don’t even know her.
WELLS (11:27PM) – Oh. So she wouldn’t want you to be honest with her?
God. Clarke is such a bumbling idiot when she’s nervous. It’s weird though. She hasn’t been this nervous in like… ever. Clarke Griffin doesn’t get nervous. Especially around gorgeous women. Especially around her best friend. Especially around Lexa.
CLARKE (11:28PM) – Shit. You’re right.
WELL (11:31PM) – Of course I am.
CLARKE (11:32PM) – Ok. I can do this. Wish me luck.
WELLS (11:36PM) – Good luck, my friend.
WELLS (11:36PM) – Let me know how it goes.
CLARKE (11:37PM) – Thanks. You’re amazing.
Clarke looks away from her phone, and brings her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose, taking a shaky, deep breath in the process. She walks the short distance over to her bedroom and stands in front of the vanity mirror, searching her own blue eyes and telling herself mentally, once again, that she can do this. The two voices in her head were having a battle of wits and strategy it seemed.
One was saying, ‘Is Lexa calling about their pinky swear from that night all of those years ago?’
The other was fighting against it. ‘Of course she isn’t. That girl has completely forgotten about that stupid, insignificant moment.’
“I’m going crazy.” Clarke says aloud to herself, once again and then lets out a slightly nervous chuckle. She finally thinks ‘to hell with it’ and calls the number of the hotel, not knowing if it was Lexa’s cell phone that she had called from earlier. After two rings, the concierge answers with a polite, but firm voice.
“Good evening. Thank you for calling the Langham Hotel.”
Clarke clears her throat and begins to speak. “Yes – umm… hi. I’m – I’m calling for Alexandria Woods.” She knows that more than likely Lexa was checked in under her full name since that’s what all of her documentation states. “But since it’s so late… do you mind if I leave a message for – “
“Just one moment please.” The male voice on the other end of the line interrupts her babbling, and clearly connects her to another line because it starts ringing again and on the fourth ring, right before Clarke almost hangs up, that all too familiar voice answers.
“He – Hello?” Lexa’s voice was tired; Clarke could hear it. She hopes that she didn’t wake her up. “Hello?” Lexa answers again, and Clarke forgot that she was suppose to speak. She was too enamored by that voice. The one that she dreams about probably way too often to admit.
Clarke pulls herself together and when she finally remembers that she’s talking to her best friend, she calms down and tries to think of something stupid to say because she and Lexa would always crack up at some of the silliest nonsense. Lexa has the best sense of humor. “Hello…” Clarke finally answers, in her most sultry voice. She is trying so hard not to laugh as she imagines the look of sheer terror that she is sure Lexa is sporting right about now. “You’ve been enrolled in the ‘Obscene Caller of the Month Club’.”
Almost immediately, Lexa giggles and that sound melts Clarke’s heart. It’s one of her favorite things in the world; that and actually seeing it happen. “Hey, beautiful.” Lexa says softly, her voice still tired from possible sleep, but Clarke can tell that she’s trying to wake herself up to talk to her now. “Oh my gosh. It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“Did ya miss me?” Clarke smiles, and she can’t help how wide it is. Lexa sounds as excited to talk to Clarke, as Clarke is to talk to her.
“So much.” Clarke can hear the smile in her voice if that’s possible. “I’ve been calling you for over a month.”
“What?” The blonde headed woman furrows her brows, causing her nose to wrinkle up in confusion. “Lex, I swear I haven’t had any missed calls from you. Have you been leaving voicemails?”
“No. This evening’s was the first.”
“You must not have wanted to talk to me too bad.” Clarke teases.
Lexa let’s out a sigh loud enough for Clarke to be able to hear on her end of the call. “You know that that’s not true. I just imagined that you were too busy.”
Clarke feels a small pang of hurt in her chest from Lexa even suggesting that. “You know that I’m never too busy for you.”
“Oh yeah?” Lexa starts to tease right back. “Where have all my voice messages and missed calls been then, huh?”
“Hey!” Clarke laughs and throws her hands up, holding her phone to her ear with her own shoulder as if Lexa can see her. “I did try to call. Several times, actually. Clearly, I had the wrong number.”
“Clearly.” Lexa retorts. “You couldn’t have gotten mine from Octavia or Bellamy?”
“I haven’t spoken to either of the Blake’s in several months, so no…”
“Is something wrong, Clarke?” Lexa sounds a little concerned, and Clarke doesn’t know whether it’s because Clarke hasn’t been speaking with any of their friends or what.
“Not really, no. Just a rough day at work.” Clarke sighs, sitting down on the edge of her bed and kicking her legs up under her.
“How many people hit on you today for the chance of a good critique?” Lexa teases and Clarke actually laughs out loud. Of course Lexa would know that that’s what happened.
“How did you know?”
Lexa is still chuckling, more than likely from Clarke’s loud outburst of laughter. “It’s you. Duh.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clarke smiles, knowing full well that her best friend cannot see her, but oh how she wishes that Lexa were right beside her on this bed.
“Umm… you’re a gorgeous woman in power.” Lexa replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world and that Clarke should be smacked down for not clearly seeing that. “Men like that.”
“Just men?”
“Maybe a few women too.” Shit. Was Lexa flirting with her or is this just how they’ve always spoken with each other? Just a couple of best friends using their own witty banter to make their conversations entertaining? God. Clarke can’t remember. She’s so stuck in her own head, worried about her feelings for Lexa… or really Lexa’s feelings for her. Lexa speaks again, breaking Clarke out of her own thoughts. Thank God. “So… are you just averaging like thirty days to return calls or what?”
Clarke shrugs with a grin. “Maybe. It’s less when it’s you.”
Lexa chuckles for a moment and there’s another moment of silence before she speaks. “Look, Clarke, I have to ask you something. Something really, really important.” Clarke feels like her heart might have just stopped, or her breathing just became quicker… she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she suddenly feels sick with nerves. “And if you turn me down… I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Wait.” Clarke almost interrupts, surprising herself in the meantime. She stands up and starts to walk around her bedroom. “If I could just tell you something first…” She takes a deep breath, well actually more than just one. She almost feels like hyperventilating, but she won’t. “Umm…this is probably going to crack you up so much. Like really crack you up.” Shit. Once again… a nervous Clarke is a babbling Clarke. “Anyways, I was thinking about you and I remembered that one crazy, insane night that we spent together in Nashville like a thousand years ago.” She spins around from where she stands in the middle of her bedroom and heads back over to her bed, not quite yet sitting down. “You probably don’t even remember it, but – “
“Are you kidding me?” Lexa’s voice is soft and low and it makes Clarke feel all sorts of things that she should definitely not be feeling for her best friend. “I think about that night all the time.”
Swoon.
Once again, Lexa freaking Woods causes Clarke’s heart to melt in just a few simple words. “You do?” Clarke’s voice was soft now too, matching that of the other woman’s on the phone.
It almost sounded like Lexa wanted to continue talking about that particular memory and there was a pause. “But that’s not why I called.” Just as those first few words had made Clarke’s heart melt, these ones almost broke it.
“Oh.” Clarke says, trying to find the right words in her damned, lovesick mind to form an actual coherent sentence. “It’s not.” It wasn’t a question. Clarke closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in.
“I called because I met someone.” Was all that Lexa said, and Clarke may be a stupid, lovesick fool, but she’s almost positive that there was a bit of hesitancy or regret or something negative in her best friend’s tone of voice.
Clarke moves to finally take a seat back on the edge of her king-sized bed; all of a sudden the massive bed felt even lonelier. No… no. That can’t be right. Maybe Lexa doesn’t mean that she met someone someone. Maybe she just means that she met a new friend. Yeah… and she felt that she should tell Clarke.
God, Clarke. Idiot.
“Oh… That – That’s great, that’s great.” She tries to smile, or at least make it seem as if she were smiling. “I mean you haven’t really seen anybody since what’s-her-face, have you?” Clarke tries to joke. She really hopes that it came off as a joke and not a ‘I’m jealous and in love with you’ type of way.
It must have come across as a joke because Lexa chuckles for a split second before speaking again. “No. You don’t understand. I’ve – I don’t think that I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before.”
‘You don’t think?’ Clarke thinks to herself and she just wishes that she could work up the nerve to actually vocalize it to her friend.
Lexa lets out yet another nervous chuckle. Clarke is starting to think that maybe… just maybe, Lexa isn’t really that sure about this new someone. Or maybe she’s just scared to tell Clarke. “I mean… she’s all wrong for me.” Lexa tries to joke, but her voice is soft and timid.
“Sounds like you’re off to a great start.” Clarke says sarcastically, trying her damnedest again to throw out her best fake laugh that she has. She feels like she can’t sit still. She’s too fidgety, so she gets up again and paces back and forth, back and forth in the middle of her bedroom.
“She’s a junior at the University of Chicago.” Lexa continues and Clarke really just wants her to stop, her heart is broken enough as it is, but she doesn’t say anything. Lexa sounds at least a little bit excited, and she’s been through a lot in her short lifetime, so Clarke absolutely won’t ruin this moment for her.
‘It’s just a small crush.’ Clarke thinks to herself once again and she’s really starting to think that she’s going maybe just a little bit insane. This must be what being in love feels like. She’s not too sure that she ever has been before Lexa. Clarke’s always been more of a ‘hit it and quit it’ type of girl and Lexa has never judged her for it.
“She’s twenty. Her name’s Costia.”
Twenty? Holy shit. Robbing the cradle there, Lex?
“I think that you’ll love her.”
Doubt it.
“She’s beautiful… and her parents are like these billionaires. They own the Cubs and some sort of satellite empire. And you know how I’ve always been super uncomfortable around rich people.” Lexa is talking quickly. Clarke knows this to be one of her nervous ticks.
Clarke is still pacing around in circles, and feeling very dizzy all of a sudden. She feels her hand sweaty against the warmth of the cell phone in her palm. She runs a quick hand through her long, blonde locks and let’s out a sigh, but she’s sure to hold the phone away from her mouth so Lexa doesn’t hear it.
“But… they’re not really like that.” Lexa continues. “They seem to be such wonderful people, really.”
Something clicks in Clarke’s mind just then. Something that she didn’t pick up on a second ago. “So – umm… so you’ve met her parents?” Clarke brings her fingers to her mouth again and starts to bite on her already chipped nails.
Vicky is so going to kill her.
“Yeah.” Lexa answers softly, her tone still that way as if she thinks Clarke is going to freak out on her or something. Why the hell would she think that? Clarke hums, letting Lexa know that she heard her answer. Clarke can’t form any words or thoughts at the moment. She feels even sicker than before. “Clarke…” The way that Lexa says her name sends shivers down Clarke’s spine, and not the good kind. “We’re getting married. This Sunday.”
Silence.
More silence.
So much silence.
Clarke’s hand is on her chest and she doesn’t notice it, but her hand is gripping at the material of her shirt as if she can’t breath. As if she is trying to help her heart break free so that she doesn’t have to deal with these feelings anymore. Married? What the fuck?
“He – Hello?” Lexa’s voice is almost scared, and confused after the long, silent pause. Clarke moves to sit on her bed once more.
“Lexa… Lex – “ As she sits down on the edge, and before she can get her best friend’s name out of her mouth again, she completely misses the bed and falls to the floor with a loud thump. Clarke quickly rises up, but she’s still sitting in the floor beside her bed, one hand running through her hair repeatedly. She almost just wants to rip it all out. She can only imagine what a complete and utter fool she must look like right now. Sitting in the floor of her room in nothing but a pair of skinny jeans and her black, lacey bra, her hair a hot damn mess and she’s sure that her eye makeup is smudge, making her look like a raccoon. When Clarke speaks again, her voice is almost hectic. “Lexa. It – it’s Wednesday night. How can you possibly be getting married on Sunday?” Clarke’s voice is breathless. She realizes this, but she can’t bring herself to care now.
“Well… I mean I – it all starts tomorrow, actually.” Lexa finally speaks and Clarke wonders if she can hear the desperation in Clarke’s voice.
Please. Please don’t do this, Lex.
“It’s one of these big four-day wedding weekends that everyone’s into. It’s not really my cup of tea… but it’s what she wants.” Lexa continues.
‘What about what you want?’ Clarke thinks to herself.
“There’s like a billion people flying in from everywhere. Like New York, Cali, Taiwan, Italy… all her parent’s work partners I’m sure.” Lexa is rambling now. Clarke also knows this to be one of her nervous ticks.
“Don’t you work this weekend?” Clarke asks and immediately realizes what a dumbass question that was. “I mean… is that responsible?”
“Well, I mean… the Cubs are playing at home this weekend and my boss is letting me do a couple of profile stories on some of the rookies this year. Wait…” Lexa chuckles a bit, but she knows that Clarke isn’t joking. “What do you mean ‘is that responsible’? Taking the weekend off to get married?”
There’s yet another time of silence in their conversation. Clarke is still sitting on the floor, nibbling away at what’s left of her nails.
‘Note to self: Call Vicky in first thing in the morning.’
Clarke literally feels like she’s about to vomit. She’s racking her brain for something… anything that she can say that might sway Lexa’s thoughts.
After what feels like an eternity… an eternity of miserable, uncomfortable silence, Lexa speaks once more. “Clarke…” She breathes and the way that she sounds breaks Clarke’s heart even more if that’s possible. Clarke can’t quite put her finger on what it is though. “I’m scared.”
Clarke’s chest is heaving with her labored breaths and she feels tears in her eyes. They’re stinging and she uses the back of her hand to wipe at them and groans internally when she sees the black smudge across her hand. She feels a single tear roll down one of her cheeks and takes a deep breath trying to steady herself… trying to find anything she can to ground herself. “Maybe we should talk about this.” She finally says, her voice cracking and breaking, making her sound like a fool yet again.
“I need you.” Lexa breathes out and the shattered pieces of Clarke’s heart seem to fall to the pit of her stomach and it stings. God does it sting. All she wants to do is be sick because she knows that Lexa doesn’t mean that she actually needs her. Not in the way that Clarke needs Lexa. “If you can’t come and hold my hand… I’m never going to get through this. Please come.”
Silence.
Clarke throws her hand over her eyes, trying to hold back more tears that seem to be aching to run free.
“Please.” Lexa whispers again.
Clarke groans and this time she doesn’t care if Lexa hears her.
“Oh man… I can’t wait for you to meet her.” Her best friend comments. Clarke thinks that maybe Lexa is not only trying to pump Clarke up about this marriage, but maybe herself as well. At least… that’s what Clarke is hoping.