Bedroom Window

Prompt: Hey I love you're writing!!! I was thinking you could write a story where Clarke and Lexa are in high school and live next door to each other, and one night Lexa accidentally sees Clarke changing through her bedroom windows! Thanks!!!!!

The summer had gone rogue, running roughshod over June and July, and strangling the whole of mid-Atlantic in the chokehold of a terrible and relentless humidity.  By August, those who had waited patiently for the season to raise the white flag of surrender found their hopes dashed, as the temperatures climbed even higher, and the brutal heat wave gave every indication that it intended to poke its ass into September.  In Martin’s Addition, Md., the thick, oppressive heat sent most people scrambling off to air-conditioned rooms, and dark, cold basements, desperate to find relief from the weather.  However, as a new school year loomed sullen and ominous on the horizon, the village’s younger residents clung desperately to the last vestiges of their liberty, braving the stifling heat to squeeze the final precious ounces of freedom from their summer.  All of them, save one.

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On Raymond St., in the yellow house with the wrap around porch, Lexa sat in her second-story bedroom, feet dangling out of her bay window; box fans blowing in at her from either side.  She had spent her morning, like all mornings that summer, deep in one of the assigned readings for her upcoming AP classes.  Between that and the internship that Lexa had finished a week ago, the rising Senior's summer had been less than relaxing.  Most days, she watched out her window as people she knew from school headed off to go swimming, see movies, and engage in hundreds of other summer activities that were vastly more entertaining than her own.  Lexa sighed, reminding herself that, while not a thrill ride of fun, her summer had been productive, had been purposeful, hadn’t been wasted on living in the moment.  Still, as she watched friends drive down her street in a car loaded with beach towels, she couldn’t help but close her eyes and imagine how good it would be to feel to have the sun on her face, the sand in between her toes, and clean, cold water against her skin.

The daydream so consumed Lexa, that she failed to notice the metallic clunking of the large, white moving van until it was halfway down her street.  It groaned as the breaks were applied, announcing its arrival with a loud thudding that gave the distinct impression of improperly secured cargo.

Lexa peered down at the vehicle curiously.  Moving van’s were a rare sight in her neighborhood, the last one having arrived almost two years ago when Mr. Wilson, the gentleman who had lived in the gray house for nearly seven decades, had passed away in his sleep.  The home had been passed to his eldest daughter, an expatriate who lived in France, and no-one had occupied it since.  

Lexa leaned against the window, watching for signs of life from the moving van, anxious to know who would be taking up residence next door.  She waited with baited breath as the driver’s side door opened, and a pair of legs swung out, dangling just above the pavement.  A moment later a mover in a blue jumpsuit hopped out of the van, and Lexa frowned disappointedly.

“Alexandra!”  Lexa was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of her father’s voice bellowing from somewhere downstairs.  “Can you come down here for a minute?”

Happy for the distraction she swung her legs back inside, tossing her book aside haphazardly and bounding into the hallway.  Lexa descended the stairs two at a time.  She jumped over the last few, and landing with a thud on the dark, wood floor below, wandering through the living room, looking for the source of the voice.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in here sweetheart!”  She followed the sound of her father’s thundering, brassy, tenor toward the kitchen, where he sat nursing a cup of coffee, his face buried in the sports section of the Washington Post.  “What’s up Poppa?”

Lexa couldn’t see his face but she knew, behind the newspaper, her father was grinning at the way she’d addressed him.  In many ways, he was deeply old-fashioned, a career Air Force officer, who preferred Poppa to Dad, and insisted that Lexa’s friends address him formally as General, rather than Mr. Woods.  He was a no-nonsense parent who believed in discipline, hard work, being a team player and spending time with family.  His rules were fair, but firm and Lexa’s childhood had been filled with non-negotiables; curfews, bedtimes, chores, and mandatory volunteer work.

Despite his gruff exterior thought, George Mitchell Woods was a marshmallow when it came to his daughter.  He was her biggest cheerleader and had been wrapped around her little finger from the moment she’d been born.  Indeed, she’d never actually given him a reason not to be.  Lexa was a model daughter, a standout athlete, and a straight-A student.  At least, very nearly a straight-A student, chemistry be damned.  She was class president, a member of the national honors society, and had lettered in three varsity sports.   She was also, somewhat remarkably, astoundingly obedient for a teenager.  She had never broken curfew, cut class, or skipped school.  Lexa could count on one hand the number of times she’d been in trouble in her life.  As her father so proudly liked to brag, she’d been hard enough on herself during those few occasions that he’d never had to punish her.

The only time Lexa had genuinely worried about disappointing her father was when she’d come out to her parents in her sophomore year.  Despite her fears about his reaction, George had been remarkably unfazed as he stared at her thoughtfully, moments after the revelation.

“So…”  He'd paused, shifting in his seat, and looking at her quizzically.  “Does this mean I don’t have to worry about you with boys?”

She’d nodded at him, and he pursed his lips, taking another moment before banging his fist on the kitchen counter emphatically.  “Outstanding!”

And that had been that.  Two months later, the General had dawned an Air Force Retiree cap and a T-shirt that said “Proud of my gay daughter,” and insisted that he and Lexa march with the veteran’s in the D.C. Pride parade.  It had been incredibly enjoyable, and tremendously humiliating all at the same time.

George folded the top half of his paper down and peered at Lexa through his reading glasses.  “Did you happen to notice the moving van pull up next door?”  Lexa nodded at him, pulling his cup of coffee towards her, and taking a sip.  George sighed and set his paper on the counter, his neatly trimmed mustache twitching.  “So, I assume that means that you already know what your mother is planning.”

Lexa grimaced.  “Dear, g-d, not again!  Can’t she just bring them a casserole like a typical, neighborhood busy-body?”

George chuckled at her reaction, enjoying the fact that he and his daughter had complimentary sensibilities when it came to such things.  Their personalities were similar in that way, social when they wanted to be, but preferring a wide berth.  “Sorry sweetheart, but as long as your mother needs votes for village council, she’s going to remain Chevy Chase’s one-woman welcome wagon.”

Lexa groaned, sliding the cup of coffee back to her father.  “Can I get out of this by saying that I have to go study at the library?”

George narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow, looking at her sternly.  “Negative.  Besides, it won’t be that bad.  Apparently, the new people have a daughter your age.  I’m sure you two will find something to talk about.”

With that, George picked up his newspaper, snapping it open and burying his face once more.  “Dismissed!”

Lexa rolled her eyes at him and spun her heels, heading for the stairs.  Just as she reached to the banister, her father cleared his throat.

“One more thing sweetie…  I know you’re going to hate this, but your mother made it very clear that she wants you and me to dress up for this dinner.  That means a blazer and slacks for me and a dress for you.”

The momentary silence that met this final revelation was followed, seconds later, by the sound of feet stomping up the staircase.  George shook his head, grinning as he listened to Lexa groaning all the back to her bedroom.  “Yep.  Knew she’d hate that.”

Lexa ground her teeth together in frustration, gazing into the full-length mirror, and struggling in vain to adjusted the outfit that her mother had insisted that she wear.  It wasn’t so much a hatred of dresses that had put Lexa on edge.  Dresses she was fine with, given the right occasion and the freedom to pick something that suited her tastes.  The dresses that her mother picked for her, however, offend all of Lexa’s sensibilities regarding personal style.  They were conservative, bland, and almost always came in the shade or print that looked the most ridiculous against her complexion.  To Lexa’s even more significant dismay, her mother had insisted that she complete this particular ensemble with a pastel cardigan that made her look like she was heading to a sock-hop.  Lexa adjusted the outfit again, smiling as she imagined slipping back into her cutoff shorts and a tank top, slipping out the window, and sneaking off to see her friends before her mother was any the wiser.

The sound of a ringing doorbell brought Lexa back to reality.  She took a final glance in the mirror and shook her head, accepting that there was no improving on the outfit, but confident that no one whose opinion she valued would ever see her in it.  With that, she turned and exited her room.  She took a deep breath as she made her way downstairs, calming her nerves for the long night of awkward small talk that lay ahead.

The minute she entered the living room, Lexa’s mother descended on her.

“There you are!  I was just coming to get you.  Sweetie, I want to introduce you to Jake and Abby Griffin, our new neighbors.”

June extended an open palm to the two people on the couch, and then back to Lexa.

“Jake, Abby, this is my daughter, Alexandra.”

Lexa smiled politely at the slightly dazed couple in front of her.  She couldn’t blame them for feeling overwhelmed.  June Woods was a notorious force of nature, a social steamroller who never seemed to understand other people's need to ease into unfamiliar social settings.  It was hard for most people to keep up with that level of extroversion.  Lexa took a step toward the couple on the couch and extended her hand.

“You can just call me Lexa.”  

“Ugh!” June rolled her eyes at her daughter, looking over to their neighbors and shrugging.

“Kids, am I right?  You spend months before they’re born picking out a strong, sensible name for them, and as soon as they can talk, they want to be called something else.”

June laughed at her joke in the slightly forced way she often did when she was putting on a show for people.  When it was genuine, Lexa loved her mothers laugh.  It was rich and full of an irreverent energy that only radiated from her when her guard was down.  This laugh though, Lexa hated.  It was the byproduct of always being “on,” always performing and keeping up appearances, and it set Lexa’s teeth on edge.

The man on the couch stood, pushing his slightly shaggy hair out of his face and smiling as he grabbed Lexa’s outstretched arm with a strong, firm grip.

“Lexa it is,” he said with a wink.  “I’m Jake.”

His wife stepped forward a moment later, taking Lexa’s now empty hand and shaking it vigorously.  “And I’m Abby.  I'm very pleased to meet you, Lexa.”

Abby’s face was soft and calm, her smile warm and genuine, and Lexa couldn’t help but feel at ease in her presence.  Perhaps, she thought, the evening might not be so bad.

June took a seat on the couch across from them and patted the seat next to her, signaling Lexa to sit.  “Now, where did your father run off to?”

A moment later, June’s question was answered as George entered the room, hands raised in a mock surrender.

“Relax, June-bug. I’m right here.”  He dropped his hands.  “I was just showing The Griffin’s daughter where our bathroom is.”

Lexa grinned as her father adjusted the stiff Navy blazer that her mother had forced him into wear.  She winked at him as he made his way over to them, trying not to smirk too much.  George, who didn’t miss a thing, leaned over as he took a seat in the old, leather armchair next to Lexa.

“Nice sweater,” he whispered, and Lexa frowned, shooting him a dirty look before anyone had a chance to notice. A moment later Lexa was pulled into the conversation, as her mother offered her up as a tour guide for The Griffin’s daughter.  

“Lexa, you should show The Griffin’s daughter around town.  I’m sure…”

June turned back to Abby.  “I’m so sorry, what was your daughter’s name again?  It was something a bit different, wasn’t it; something sort of, masculine?”

Lexa held her breath, realizing that her mother’s comment had sounded a bit insensitive.  To her credit, Abby only smiled.

“It's Clarke.”

June nodded.  “I’m sure there has to be a story behind that name.”

Jake started laughing and put a hand on Abby’s shoulder.  “There is, but poor Abby hates when I tell it.”

His wife shot him an annoyed glance, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Only because you took advantage of me when I was dropped up on painkillers after labor.”

She turned to June. “Jake told me that he wanted to name our daughter Clarke because it had been his favorite grandmother’s maiden name.  Two weeks later I find out that her maiden name was Seaver.”  

June cocked an eyebrow.  “So where did Clarke come from?”

Jake started laughing again, “It was the last name of my favorite hockey player growing up.”

The mention of sports had George sitting up in his chair, finally interested in the conversation.  “Jake, you’re not talking about Bobby Clarke, are you?”

Jake nodded, desperately trying to stifle his giggles as Abby elbowed him in the side.  “Best two-way forward of all time!”

George smiled contentedly and settled back in his chair.  “Well, I’ll be damned.”  He looked over at Lexa.  “Maybe I should have named you Lemieux.”

June rolled her eyes.  “Don’t even start.”  She looked back at Abby, apologetically.  “Not that Clarke is a bad name.  I like it.  It’s very…”

“Unique?”

Lexa’s head turned in the direction of the new voice.  As soon as her eyes locked on its owner, every thought in her head vanished.  Lexa felt her jaw slacken and stomach drop as she took in the vision in front of her. Standing in the living room doorway was, perhaps, the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen in real life.  The girl was a bit shorter than Lexa, with smooth, clear skin, and cheeks that glowed with a natural blush.  She had a round face and a button nose that looked too perfect to be real, and her chin was adorably dimpled.  Golden hair rolled over her shoulders in waves, held in place by two strands that were pulled away at her ears and tied back.  The girl grinned, flashing a row of pearly, white teeth and a smile that lit up her face, making Lexa notice the tiny mole just above the left corner of her mouth.  Most of all though, Lexa could stop staring at her eyes.  They were the bluest she’d ever seen; clear and bright, the color of sapphires.  Before she realized what she was doing Lexa had sprung to her feet.

“Hi!”

June smiled at her daughter, looking back to the blonde a moment later.  “Well, there you are!  Lexa, this is Clarke, The Griffin’s daughter.”

Clarke smile shyly, waving her hand in Lexa’s direction.  “Nice to meet you.”

  Overwhelmed and awkward, Lexa could only smile back at her, dumbstruck.  She tried desperately to think of something to say, but nothing came to her.  Finally, she settled on trying to be helpful.

“Can I, um…. Can I take that for you?  You’re jacket I mean.  I can hang it up if you’re hot.”

Clarke pulled hesitantly on the jean jacket she was wearing over her dress.  “No, that’s fine.  I’m a little cold.”  The statement seemed crazy to Lexa, considering how warm it had been the past few weeks, but then again, she did remember her mother mentioning that the Griffins had moved from San Diego.  Perhaps it was much hotter there, and the girl was adjusting.  Lexa sat back in her chair, determined to regain her composure.  Out of the corner of his eye, George stared skeptically at his daughter, a knowing look on his face.

Clarke crossed the room and took a seat next to her father, who patted her knee reassuringly.  “Hey, there kiddo.  I was just telling everyone how you got your name.”  Clark smiled, rolling her eyes at her father.

“The old Bobby Clarke story, eh?”  She smiled at the group, looking around, her eyes meeting Lexa’s for just a moment.  It was only a fraction of a second, but Lexa’s heart still skipped a beat.

Later that night, after blissfully being allowed to slipping back into shorts and a t-shirt, Lexa stood in the kitchen with her father, drying dishes as he finished scrubbing them.  It was a small, seemingly unimportant task, but one they always did together.  As much as Lexa groaned about completing the chore each night, it was something she secretly enjoyed, a guaranteed moment of alone time for the two of them.  It was during the nightly dishwashing that many of their most important conversations had happened, and Lexa had a feeling that tonight would be no different.

“So…” George hesitate.  “I think somebody might have a bit of a crush.”

Lexa’s head snapped up, and her cheeks flushed.  “What? No!”

Her father smiled and continued to stare at the dish he was scrubbing.  “Could have fooled me.  You spent all night talking that Griffin girl’s ear off.”

Lexa felt her stomach drop.  “I didn’t talk too much, did I?”

George grinned like a Cheshire cat, turning his head to look at Lexa.  “I thought so.  You can’t get anything past your old man.”  He winked, handing her the now pristine dish, and grabbing the next one from the dirty pile.

“Looks like you’ve got a thing for blondes.”

Lexa rolled her eyes and kept her gaze fixed on the dish she was drying.

“I don’t have a thing.”  She emphasized the last word, drawing it out.  “I just think she’s pretty.  That’s all.”

George nodded.  “Well, you’re not wrong about that.  She seemed like a very lovely young lady.”

He paused, setting the dish down in the water, and turning to his daughter, a serious look overtaking his features.  “Lexa?”

Her father waited until she reluctantly met his gaze.  “Listen, you’ve never shown any interest in anyone, romantically…”

He cleared his throat, and took a breath, determined to make it through the conversation he was trying to have.

“And I don’t know what the playbook is for this dynamic.” He gestured back and forth between them. “But, since we’re on the subject, should we maybe have… You know, 'the talk?'”

He peered at her expectantly, watching her eyes grow a little wider as realization set in.  Lexa turned a furious shade of red and stared at her feet.

“Um… They covered most of that stuff in school.  Well, I guess not everything, but…  I mean, I have the internet and everything, so I think I’m…”

Thankfully, George cut her off before the conversation could become any more awkward.

“Ok. Ok. Ok.  I’m, glad to know you’re covered.”

An awkward silence settled over the kitchen, as the two of them returned to their task.  None-the-less, the gears in Lexa’s head were turning frantically, and she began wondering if, just maybe, they ought to have "the talk" anyway.  Her father wasn’t an open book, and it worried her that she might be passing up a golden opportunity.  Cautiously, she looked over at him, clearing her throat softly.

“Just out of curiosity, if we did have…” She swallowed nervously.   “If we did have 'the talk,' what would you say?”

George paused for a beat, returning to scrubbing the dish as he looked back at her.  “Well… given the circumstances, I guess I would tell you the same thing that my father told me.”  

Lexa nodded.  “Which is?”

George finally stopped scrubbing, looking at her sternly, and furrowing his brow.

“My father told me that before I made any decisions about doing something with a girl, or to a girl, I should stop and ask myself, 'if I have a daughter someday, will I be proud to tell her about this?' That advice hasn’t failed me yet.”

Lexa smiled at him, and George returned to the dirty dishes, finishing the last one, and looking at her intently when he handed it off.

“He also told me that if I ever treated a woman disrespectfully, he’d come kick in my teeth.  Roger?”

Lexa nodded.

The next two weeks passed with the expediency of a New Orleans funeral procession. Lexa spent most of her days camped in her bedroom, or sitting on the porch, desperately trying to make it through her remaining assignments.  Each one inspired all the passion and fever of a power point presentation.  She was determined to finish the reading before mid-August; determined to get out of the house, determined to enjoy the last few weeks of summer with her friends.

Thankfully, the slow going, miserable task was now punctuated by occasional visits from Clarke.  Every time Lexa saw her walking across the driveway, her skin would tingle, and her heart would race.  Soon, she found herself anticipating Clarke’s visits with such enthusiasm, that concentrating on her work became a near impossibility.  It didn’t help that they seemed to have so much in common.  They read books by the same authors, enjoyed the same television programs, and liked the same foods.  Most important they both loved music, or more accurately, Lexa liked music, and Clarke had a mental back catalog of artists and songs that extended over many decades and into every genre.  She could give dissertations on any musical subject, from the influence of Lebanese guitar on surf-rock to the importance of Robert Johnson to Blues.  Lexa enjoyed listening to Clarke rattle on about songs, artists, and bands.  It was the only thing that made her days tolerable.

It was early, on a Monday morning, when Lexa finally finished her last assignment.  As soon as she had closed her book, she grabbed her phone and sent out a mass text, alert her friends that she was finally free.  To her great pleasure, Lincoln and Raven both texted back immediately, insisting that Clarke join them on a trip to the beach.  Lexa felt as though she was floating on a cloud, as she flitted around the room gathering her beach gear, and shoving it in her backpack.  She sprinted into the hallway, running for the back stairs and taking them two at a time as she made her way down to the kitchen, where her parents sat having breakfast.  Lexa dashed past them, grabbing a piece of toast and nearly making it out of the room before her father’s voice stopped her.

“Now, wait for just one-minute ma’am!  I don’t believe you gave your mother and I a good morning.”

Lexa froze, groaning as she turned on her heels and marched back into the kitchen.  “Sorry!  I finally finished my work, and I’m just anxious to get out of the house.”

Her father folded down his paper and raised an eyebrow at her.  “And ‘out of the house’ means where exactly?”  George waggled his fingers, making air quotes.

Lexa shifted her weight from one foot to another, nervous to tell her father, lest he put the kibosh on her plans.  She looked at him bashfully and bit her lip.  “Sandy Point State Park?”

George folded his arms across his chest.  “Sandy Point, eh?  I don’t know Lexa, that’s an hour away from here.  Who are you going with?”

“Lincoln and Raven.”

Lexa’s father looked at her skeptically, pursing his lips and grumbling under his breath.  He turned to his wife.  “What do you think June-bug?”

Lexa’s mother took a sip of her coffee, her eyes on her plate as she spread jam over half an English muffin.  “Oh, it’s fine George.  Go have fun sweetie, just make sure you wear sunscreen.”

Lexa smiled triumphantly, nodding her affirmation.  She turned to leave again but halted when her mother called to her.

“One more thing, Alexandra.  I was talking to Clarke's mom the other day, and she seemed worried about Clarke meeting people.  Apparently, there were some problems at her last school with…”  

She paused for a moment, taking a bite of her breakfast.  “...bullying.  I want you to invite her to go with you.  Introduce her to your friends.”

Lexa nodded, thankful that her mother’s condition had been something pleasant.  She’d be happy to invite Clarke.

A few moments later Lexa was standing in front of The Griffin's front door with her finger on the bell.  She waited for an answer and smiled when she spied a familiar face making its way toward her through the glass.

“Lexa, hi!”  Clarke smiled and leaned against the doorframe, happy to see the brunette.  “You’re not finally done with all your AP reading, are you?”

Lexa wiggled her eyebrows, grinning from ear to ear. “I am indeed!”

She patted the beach bag that was slung over her shoulder.  “ I was just about to head to the beat with some friends.  I thought you might want to come with us.”

To Lexa’s surprise, Clarke’s face became apprehensive at the issuance of the invitation.  It wasn’t the reaction she had expected.  Clarke bit her lip, looking away for a moment before straightening up and running a hand through her hair.

“Well… My dad is painting the upstairs today.  To be honest, I should probably stick around the house and help him.”  She sighed, “I appreciate the invite though.”

Lexa nodded, a little disappointed, but not wanting to seem over eager.  “Ok.  Maybe next time then.”

Clarke smiled.  “Next time. Sounds good.”

A honking horn caught Lexa’s attention, and she turned just in time to see Lincoln’s Jeep Wrangler pull into her driveway.  She turned back to Clarke, pointing over her shoulder.

“Well, that’s my ride.”

Clarke peered over Lexa’s shoulder at the vehicle loaded with teenagers and beach gear.  “I guess I’ll see you later.  Have fun.”

“Will do.  See you later!”  Lexa turned, jogging over to her friend’s vehicle and jumping in the back.  She turned as Lincoln pulled back onto the street, waving to Clarke a final time.

Over the course of the next week, Lexa spent almost every day doing the same thing. She’d wake up early, grab breakfast, and head off with her friends.  They spent their time hiking, swimming at the city pool, or heading to the beach.  They’d barbecue in backyards, and spend their nights roasting marshmallows around fire pits.

Each day Lexa would invite Clarke to come, and each day Clarke would politely decline, excusing herself for one reason or another, and insisting she’d join them the next time.  Lexa dismissed Clarke’s reluctance as the byproduct of shyness, knowing that the girl was more than happy to hang out with her when it was just the two of them, and resolved to pull her out of her shell eventually.

On the nights Lexa wasn’t out with her friends, she’d hang out with Clarke, the two of them sharing a single pair of earbuds, as Clarke introduced her to the music she had never heard of before.  The more time they spent together, the less Lexa could deny her intense crush on the girl.  She was utterly fascinated with the charming, beautiful blonde, and had no idea why Clarke was so timid when it came to meeting new people.  Lexa couldn’t imagine there was anyone who wouldn’t enjoy spending time with her.

That Friday, Lexa, and Clarke sat together on the porch swing, rocking back and forth, and talking about the upcoming academic year.

“How are you not dying in that shirt,” Lexa chuckled, tugging at Clarke’s flannel.

“Just used to the heat I guess,” Clarke shrugged.  She smiled half-heartedly, looking at her feet, and sighing.

Lexa places a hand on her shoulder.  “Hey, you’re not nervous about school are you?”

Clarke nodded, sniffing a bit.  “It’s just hard to be going somewhere new for my last year of high school. I miss my friends, and I feel like people’s cliques are set by senior year.  What if I can’t find a new group to hang out with?”  She let out a deep sigh.  “I guess… I’m just worried I’m going to be lonely.”

Lexa smiled reassuringly at her.  “Hey, don’t worry.  You’ve already made one friend.”  She pointed at her chest, winking.  “And like I said, my friends, are all anxious to meet you.  I know you’re shy, but you shouldn’t be worried.  My friends are nice.”

Clarke smiled, placing her hand on Lexa’s thigh.  “I know, and I’m glad that I met you, Lexa.”

Lexa felt her heart race at the contact, suddenly very aware of their proximity.  Lexa had been waiting for weeks for a sign that Clarke might be interested in something other than a friendship, and as inexperienced as she was, the subtle touch seemed like sign enough.

Clarke looked down at her watch.  “I should get home.”  She squeezed Lexa’s leg and leaned over, placing a quick kiss on her cheek.  “Thanks for calming me down.”

With that, Clarke was up and skipping down the porch steps, heading back to her house.  Lexa remained on the porch swing, dumbstruck and unable to move.  Had that just happened? Lexa smiled, placing a hand on her cheek and touching the spot where Clarke’s lips had been.  Had Clarke Griffin just kissed her?

By the time Lexa made her way to her room, her whole body was buzzing with excitement.  In a daze, Lexa crossed the floor and allowed herself to drop into the cushions of her bay window, gazing outside dreamily.  Across the way, she saw Clark’s bedroom window, the curtains open, the light inside glowing orange and yellow against the night sky.  She wondered if Clarke was thinking about her too, and smiled when she saw her appear through the glass panes.

Lexa watched as Clarke took the tie out other hair, and shook her blonde mane, combing it out with her fingers.  She crossed out of the window again, returning a moment later with a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, and tossing them on her bed. Lexa was about to turn away when suddenly, Clarke’s hands moved to her pants.  She watched as Clarke unzipped them, pulling them down over her smooth, pale legs to reveal a pair of lacy pink panties.

The sight had Lexa wholly frozen in place.  She knew she shouldn't watch but, at that moment, her better angels seemed to have departed from her entirely, and she found herself unable to look away.  She gawked as Clarke turned profile side, hands moving to her shirt, her fingers snaking under the hem.  Clarke pulled the shirt up over her torso slowly, exposing her flat stomach, smooth, flawless skin, and a matching lacy bar.  Her hands moved to the clasp, unhooking it and letting it fall from her chest, allowing her ample breasts to bounce free.

Lexa’s breaths were coming slowly now, her jaw dangling open, and her whole body tingling as she gazed at the nearly naked girl in the window.  For a moment, she wondered if Clarke had planned this, leaving her window open on purpose to tease her.  She continued to stare as Clarke turned again, exposing her whole back to Lexa; milky skin, perfect, round ass, straight back and…

Lexa’s eyes shot wide when she took in the sight on Clarke’s shoulder.  They shot even wider when Clarke turned to face her.

As soon as the blonde realized she had an audience, she gasped, covering her chest with her arms and sprinting out of sight.  In turn, Lexa immediately ducked, falling to her floor in a panic.

If she’d wondered whether or not Clarke had left her curtains open purposefully, her question had just been answered in the worst possible way.  Lexa’s heart pounded frantically.  Her mind raced as she began realizing how epically screwed she was.  Clarke would surely tell her parents, who would surely tell Lexa’s parents, who would surely be furious.  More importantly, Clarke would be angry.  The girl who had, moments ago, so sweetly kissed Lexa on the cheek, would probably never speak to her again.  Lexa heard a door slamming outside.  She dashed back to her window, pressing her face against the glass and watching as a now fully clothed Clarke stormed across her lawn, heading toward Lexa’s house.

The ringing doorbell sounded like an alarm going off, and Lexa’s whole body vibrated with fear as she heard the front door creaking open.  She sprinted to the front stairs just in time to listen to her mother’s voice.

“Clarke!  It's good to see you, dear.”

Everything went fuzzy, as Lexa began to hyperventilate, knowing that any minute now all hell would break loose.  She gritted her teeth, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never came.  Instead, she heard her mother laughing.”

“Go right on up honey.  Lexa's in her bedroom.”

Lexa dashed back to her room and closed the door, wiping her sweaty hands on her jean shorts, and nervously pacing back and forth as she listened to the sound of Clark’s footsteps on the stairs.  Her heart pounded as though it would beat out of her chest, and her forehead dripped sweat.  Finally, there was a knock on her door.  Lexa froze, knowing it was time to face the music.  Hesitantly, she crossed the room and reached for the knob, her hands shaking as she pulled the door open to reveal a furious Clarke, her face radiating anger.  A brief moment of silence passed before Clarke point at Lexa and spoke.

“Inside.”

Lexa nodded solemnly, backing into the room and towards her bed, as Clarke entered and closed the door behind her.  Clarke made her way over to where Lexa was standing, pressing a hand to her chest and pushing her back forcefully.

“Sit.”

Lexa let herself fall back, landing on the edge of her bed.  She stared at the furious Blonde girl and desperately tried to think of what to say.

“Clarke. I’m really…”

Clarke covered her mouth with an outstretched palm.

“Don’t say anything.”

To Lexa’s great shock, Clarke dipped her fingers into the waistband of the pants she was wearing and pulled them down, bending as she pushed the material below her knees and stepped out of it.

Lexa stammered, unsure of what was going on.  “Clarke, what are you…”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”  Clarke looked at her intently.

Clarke grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head, leaving her in only her bra and underwear.  “Isn’t this what you wanted to see?”

Clarke reached behind her and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor.  Lexa tried to look away but was immediately reprimanded.

“Look at me.”

Lexa reluctantly brought her gaze back to Clarke, swallowing a lump in her throat.  She watched as Clarke turned, revealing her perfect round ass, smooth back, and on her side, a patch of gnarled, knotted flesh that ran from her shoulder to the base of her neck and down to the bottom of her scapula.  Lexa’s stared at the giant scar, horrified.

“Clarke, what…”

Clarke snatched her clothing off the floor and began pulling them back on as fast as she could.  “Are you happy now?”

Lexa jumped up off her bed and, without thinking, began issuing apologies as fast as she could.

“Clarke, I’m so sorry!  I didn’t know!  I had no idea!”

The blond girl finished buttoning her pants and began pulling her shirt back on.  “Would it have made it ok if you did?  What the hell is wrong with you, Lexa?”

Lexa grabbed Clarke’s arm, trying to stop her as she headed for the door.  “No!  I mean, no it wouldn’t have been ok!  I know it was  wrong to watch you like that!”

“Then why did you do it?!”

Lexa stared at her feet, too ashamed to make eye contact.

“Outside when you had your hand on my leg, and then you kissed me on the cheek, I thought that maybe you were interested in me.  I thought that maybe you’d left the curtains open because you wanted me to see you.”

Clarke screwed up her face and rolled her eyes, shaking off Lexa’s hand and starring.  “I kissed you on the cheek because you were sweet.  That doesn’t mean I want you to see me naked!  It sure as hell doesn’t give you the right to watch me undress!”

Lexa swallowed hard, dreading her next question.  “Clarke, are you going to tell my parents?”

Tears were falling from Clarke’s eyes now, and she gave Lexa a seething look, wiping them away, angrily.

“Don’t worry.  I’m not going to rat you out.”  Clarke paused, looking over at the window and then back to Lexa.  “For the record, I was interested.”

Clarke crossed to the door and opened it.  “But I’m not anymore.”

With that, Clarke exited the room.  Lexa listened as she ran down the stairs and out the front door.  A moment later Clarke appeared in her bedroom window again, collapsing in tears as she reached over and closed the blinds, blocking herself from Lexa’s view.

On the last Friday, before school Started, Lexa sat at the breakfast table with her father, sullenly poking at her half-eaten cereal.  Her father peered at her over the edge of his paper, his eyes narrowed, his mustache twitching.  Finally, he folded his paper down, setting it on the table and turning to his Lexa.  “Ok, what’s wrong?”

Lexa looked up at him.  “What?  Oh… Nothing.”

George pursed his lips, grumbling.  “Well, It’s obviously something.  I know that face you’re making.  That’s your guilty face. You know you’re going to break down and tell me sooner or later, so you might as well just come out with it.”

Lexa sighed, pushing her now soggy cereal around in the bowl and squirming in her seat.  “I’m worried that you’ll be disappointed if I tell you.”

George nodded, staring at his daughter seriously, and taking a deep breath.  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”

Lexa nodded, continuing to push her serial around as she attempted to gather enough courage to admit what she’d done.  Ultimately, she lost her nerve, resolving to tell her father, but omit specific details.

“I sort of screwed thing up with Clarke.”

George crossed his arms over his chest, his voice becoming stern.  “I was wondering why she hadn’t been over all week.  How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad I guess.  She caught me… Well, I guess invading her privacy is the best way to put it.”

Her father nodded.  “Did you apologize?”

Lexa nodded.

“Did you apologized because you're sorry, or because you got caught?”

Lexa considered her father’s words carefully.  “I think I apologized because she caught me, but I am sorry.  I don’t think it helped that I asked her if she was going to tell you and mom.”

“But she didn’t?”

Lexa nodded her head.

George gripped his chin between his index finger and thumb and hummed as he pondered the information he’d just been given.  Finally, he cleared his throat, gave Lexa a serious look and leaning in toward her.

“Well, it seems to me that what Clarke is angry about is that you didn’t own up to what you did.  I mean sure, she caught you, but other than that you more or less got away with it.”  George leaned in and narrowed his eyes.  “And don’t think it hasn’t occurred to me that there is more to this story then just you invading someone’s privacy.”

Lexa blushed and looked down at the table, avoiding her father’s gaze.  “There is.”

George grabbed his coffee and rose from the table, putting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

"Honey, I’m gonna tell you the same thing I tell my airmen.  Most people will choose to do the right thing when the whole world is watching them.  Honorable people choose to do the right thing, even when no-one is watching them, and the most honorable people admit to their mistakes, even when no-one is around to see when they make them.  You understand?”

Lexa nodded, and George smiled, tucking his paper under his arm and heading out of the kitchen, his voice echoing down the hallway as he walked towards his office.  “Don’t think this means that you don’t have to tell me what you did, eventually!”

Lexa trembled, gripping the sign in her hand tighter as she watched her father’s car pull up in front of the house.  George stepped out of the lovingly maintained Jeep Wagoneer, shutting the door forcefully and stalking up the lawn toward her, his face red, his jaw clenched.  He stopped a foot from Lexa, put his hands on his hips.

“Funny story.  You’ve never been one to embarrass your parents, so when I got a call from Mrs. Blake telling me that you were half naked on our lawn, holding up a sign about being a peeping Tom, I insisted that it had to be someone else’s kid.  Ten minutes later, your mother calls me in a panic, screaming at me that you’re on our front walk, publicly humiliating yourself and that you refuse to come inside.  Now, I just left work to drive here in peak hour traffic, so I suggest that you explain to me what's going on before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you into that house!”

Lexa swallowed hard.  Half naked was a little harsh, she thought, as she gazed down at the sports bra and boy shorts she was wearing.  It was probably more then she wore at the beach.  “Dad, I can explain.”

“WELL, YOU BETTER START!  I SWEAR, IF…”  George stopped yelling when his eyes fell on the sign Lexa was holding, finally reading what it said.  There, on the white poster board in large, black letters Lexa had written two sentences.  “I watched my neighbor changing through her bedroom window.  I am a dishonorable creep.”  George looked up at his daughter, frowning.  “So that’s what happened between you and Clarke?”

Lexa nodded.

George continued to stare at her, unclenching his jaw, and calming a bit.  “And this your way of punishing yourself?”

Lexa nodded again.

George crossed his arms and sighed.  “You know this isn’t what I had in mind when I told you to own up to your mistakes.”

Lexa relaxed her grip on the sign, hoping that her father wouldn’t blow up again.  “I thought it was only fair that I feel as embarrassed as I made her feel.”

George twitched his mustache back and forth, pursing his lips.  “Well, given the circumstances, I can’t say I disagree.”  He gritted his teeth as a passing car honked at the sight on the lawn.  “How long have you been out here?”

“Since noon.”

George nodded, glancing at his watch and noting that the time was now half-past five.  “Well, carry on then.”  With that, he turned and walked onto the porch, leaving Lexa to suffer on the lawn.

“Wait… So you want me to stay out here?”

“Only seems fair,” George called over his shoulder, opening the front door and disappearing into the house.

Three and a half hours later, George Woods stood on the porch of his home, drinking a beer, and watching as another passing car honked at his daughter.  He shook his head, leaning over to the man next to him.  “Serves her right.”

Jake Griffin took a swig of his beer, and laughed, patting his neighbor on the back.  “Oh come on George, I think she’s learned her lesson by now.”

George looked over at his companion skeptically.  “You’re telling me you’re not upset about this?”

Jake shook his head.  “Well, Abby and I aren’t thrilled, but in all fairness your kid did choose to stand half naked on the lawn all day, admitting her wrongdoing to the world.  Seems to me like she’s genuinely sorry.”

George hummed.  “Ten more minutes.”

From her place on the lawn, Lexa could barely make out the flash of blonde heading across the driveway.  She shuffled nervously as Clarke approached, worried that she was about to be yelled at again.  Clarke strode to a stop right in front of her and crossed her arms, scowling at the half-naked girl.  “So I take it you told your parents what you did.  Was this your dad’s idea?”

Lexa shook her head.  “No.  I mean, I did tell my parents, but I came up with this on my own.  My dad’s just enforcing it.”

Clarke’s face shifted from anger to confusion.  “So you are punishing yourself?  Why would you do that?”

Lexa sighed sadly, knowing there was probably nothing she could say to make Clarke forgive her, but determined to try.

“I was trying to own up to what I did, feel as exposed as I probably made you feel.”

Clarke shook her head, a hint of a smile appeared on her face.  “Well… I can’t say that watching you get honked at all day didn’t make me feel little better.”

Lexa grimaced, thinking about all the hollering she had gotten from teenage boys as they drove by, and replaying the nasty comments people had yelled at her out of their car windows.

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun.”

Clarke nodded, taking a step forward and placed a hand on Lexa’s sign, forcing her to put it down.  “You are sorry, aren’t you?”

Lexa nodded.  “You have no idea how much.”  She tried not to tear up as she continued.  “Clarke, I know I can’t change what did, but I swear that decision isn’t a reflection of who I am, or what I think about you.  Maybe I don’t deserve a second chance, but if you give me one, I promise I’ll never betray your trust again.”

“We'll see.”  Clarke rolled her eyes and smiled, slipping off her coat and handing it to Lexa.  “Here, take this before you freeze.”

From where he stood on the porch, Jake watched the scene unfold, nudging George in the ribs.  “Looks like they’re making up.”  

George nodded, putting two fingers to his lips and whistling. When the girls looked over at him, he waved his hand, indicating that it was finally time for Lexa to come inside.

The girls made their way to the porch in silence, hesitating as they walked up to where their fathers were leaning against the railing.  Jake looked down at the two of them, chuckling.  “Should we leave you two alone so you can talk?”

Clarke nodded, and George slapped his companion on the back.  “Come on Jake; I’ve got a bottle of 30-year-old scotch inside with our name on it.”

Lexa and Clarke took a seat on the porch swing.  They rocked back and forth in silence for a few minutes, neither one sure what to say.  Lexa finally broke the silence, turning towards Clarke nervously.  “Clarke, can I ask you something?”

Clarke nodded.  “You want to know how I got the scar don’t you?”

Lexa gritted her teeth, worried that she’d crossed a line.  “Is that not ok?”

Clare shook her head.  “No, it’s fine.”  She paused, letting out a deep sigh.  “I was three.  I was sitting on the kitchen floor coloring while my mother made dinner.  Mom went to carry the pot of pasta she’d been boiling to the sink to drain it, and she tripped on one of my crayons.  Most of the water spilled on the floor, but some of it got on me.  I ended up with third-degree burns over most of my left shoulder, and some of my back.”

Clarke pulled the neck of her t-shirt down, exposing the burn scar so Lexa could see it up close.  “I usually keep it covered, but some of the girls at my last school saw it when I was changing for gym class.  After that they started teasing me, calling me burn girl.  That’s why I never took you up on any of your offers to hang out with you and your friends.  There’s no way to hide this thing in a bathing suit, and I’d rather not go through that again.”

Lexa frowned, furious that Clarke had had to put up with people teasing her about her scar.  “Clarke, those girls at you last school are jerks.  My friends would never do that to you.”

Clarke laughed bitterly.  “Well, even so, nobody wants to look at something this ugly all day.”  She pulled her t-shirt back up and sniffed.  It was only then that Lexa noticed the tears in Clark’s eyes.  Lexa leaned over to Clarke, touching the shoulder of her t-shirt lightly.  “Can I?”

Clarke nodded, looking away, and Lexa pulled the shirt down, revealing the scar again.  Lexa ghosted her fingertips against the gnarled flesh, taking in every inch of it.

“This isn’t ugly Clarke.”  

Lexa swallowed, hoping that what she was about to do wasn’t going to offend the girl next to her.  “It’s beautiful.”  Lexa leaned in slowly, placing a gentle kiss on top of the scar.  “You’re beautiful.”

Lexa pulled her shirt back up and leaned away, waiting for Clarke’s reaction.  When she looked at Clark’s again, the blonde was blushing furiously, and dabbing her eyes.  Finally, she smiled, standing and clearing her throat.

“I should probably get home.”

Lexa jumped up, taking off the jacket Clarke had lent her.  “Here, I should give this back to….”

Before Lexa could finish her sentence, she was silenced by Clarke’s soft, full lips pressing gently against her own.  When Clarke pulled back, Lexa was staring at her, wide-eyed and speechless.

“No more looking in my window, ok?  You’re sweet.  Just be sweet.”

Lexa nodded dumbly, and Clarke smiled, turning as she made her way off the porch and back over to her house.