Bedroom Window

The walls in the Reyes’ den glowed muted tones of blue as Tom Hank’s face flashed across the screen. Six, teenagers in various states of laze lay strewn over deep armchairs and cozy couches of the room. Some watched the glowing screen of the television anxiously. Others, already disinterested in the movie, checked their phones absentmindedly, looking for a distraction. In the corner, his girlfriend cuddled up in his lap; Lincoln began to doze off, overtired from a long day of classes, practices and club meetings. No one said anything about the two figures noticeably absent from the room.

“We should get back.” Lexa pulled away from her girlfriend, desperate for air. She pressed her back against the cold surface of the sink, her heavy breathing echoing off the ceramic tiling in the darkened room. In spite of herself, she let her hands drop suggestively below the blonde’s waistline, her palms cupping the ample curves of Clarke’s backside.

“I am sure nobody has noticed,” Clarke claimed Lexa’s lips once more, kissing her hungrily, desperate to stretch their make-out session for as long as possible.

“Clarke,” Lexa pulled away again. “We’re going to get caught.”

Clarke kissed a trail down Lexa’s jaw, pausing when lips reached collarbone, her breath warming the patch of shoulder and neck that always elicited moans from her girlfriend. “At least this time we won't be getting caught by your father.” Clarke groaned, halting her ministrations as she remembered the scolding they’d received a week ago.

“I’m sorry baby, but you know my parent’s don’t allow locked doors.” Lexa's breath caught as a hand snaked around the front of her hip, dipping slightly below her waistline. Her heart raced wildly as the tips of Clarke's fingers grazed the delicate skin of her lower abdomen, and a thumb played suggestively at the button of her jeans.

Lexa’s hands moved from Clarke's backside to her face, cupping cheeks and pulling the smaller girl closer as she brought their lips together again. Clarke's fingers began trailing lower and lower on her waist, and suddenly the room felt like a sauna, far too hot for the layers of clothes they were still wearing.

Lexa tugged frantically at the zipper of her hoodie, discarding it without a second thought as she watched Clarke follow suit. The blonde pulled off her sweater and added it to the pile on the floor, revealing a tight tank top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Lexa gripped her around the waist, pulling until their bodies crashed together and lips pressed to lips.

Lusty and emboldened, Lexa slid her hands into the waistband of Clarke's pants, running her fingers over the lacy fabric underneath. The action earned a soft moan from her gasping girlfriend, and suddenly every touch felt electric and urgent. Clarke's eyes closed, her head tilting back as Lexa began placing kisses along her neck, forging a path to her chest with lips and teeth and tongue.

Always respectful and hesitant, Lexa slowed when she reached the apex of the valley between Clarke's breasts. She stalled, unsure of how far to push her luck until she felt Clarke grab her hand and lead it gently under the hem of her shirt. Lexa fought for breath, trying to give her brain time to catch up with the parts of her that were less inclined to think her current the situation through.

Five months into the relationship and things were heating up considerably between the two girls. In the past two weeks, however, every chance at intimacy had been interrupted by frustrated parents and irritated school officials. When an impromptu movie night was called at Raven’s, Lexa and Clarke had jumped at the opportunity, sneaking away to the solitude of the downstairs half-bath midway through the film. Soon hands and mouths were roaming desperately over flushed skin as they tried to capitalize on the moment alone.

“Guys, I know you’re in there!” An annoyed voice bellowed from the hallway; its tenor laced with desperation. Lexa knew she should care, but Clarke's hips were grinding against her thigh, and she had the blonde’s perfect ass cupped in her hands, and suddenly all thoughts of decorum and decency were lost. The person in the hallway could relieve himself in the yard for all she cared.

A moment later a fist began pounding on the door, breaking the mood entirely. “Come on; I need to pee!”

“Just a second!” Lexa gritted her teeth, unsure which she was more annoyed at, being caught or being interrupted.

The girls rearranged their clothing hastily before Clarke pulled open the door to reveal a scowling Bellamy.

“What the hell, you two?” The curly haired athlete growled at them, his hands cupped over his crotch as he shifted from foot to foot. “I almost pissed myself!”

“Sorry,” a flushed Lexa panted as she slunk out of the bathroom, Clarke in tow.

Back in the den, a sea of knowing smirks waited. The girls blushed furiously as their return aroused a cacophony of catcalls and whistles.

“You two get lost or something?” Raven asked, feigning a tone of mock innocence from the couch. “You were gone for a long time.”

“Shut up,” Lexa rolled her eyes, grabbing a nearby throw pillow and tossing it at her smug friend.

Raven cackled, swatting at the incoming decorative accessory. “I guess that’s a yes.”

Lexa sunk into a free space on one of the couches and settled into the pocket between the cushion and armrest. Clarke dropped down next to her, laying back against her girlfriend's chest. “Did we miss anything?’

Octavia grinned slyly from her spot on Lincoln’s lap. “Only the last third of the movie. Now you’ll never know how Sully ends.”

Lexa’s face turned bright red when she realized how long they’d been missing. She tried desperately to act nonchalant as she eyed the younger Blake sibling. “I’m good, O. Pretty sure I know where the plot was going.”

Clarke tried her best to hold back giggles at the embarrassed quiver in her girlfriend's voice. Lexa was a force of nature when it came to school and sports, but the mere mention of sex and physical affection turned the usually confident girl into an awkward mess. She placed a hand on Lexa’s knee, rubbing her thumb soothingly over the curve of it.

“Give us a break, Octavia. Between school and Lexa’s dad’s rules, it’s been a nightmare trying to get a moment alone. You can’t blame us for taking advantage of an excellent opportunity.”

“I can’t,” Octavia agreed, smirking up at Lincoln. “It was the same way when Lincoln and I started dating.”

Lexa cocked her head to the side curiously, “I don’t remember your mom having a problem with you two dating.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “My mom was all right with it. Bellamy was the one who freaked out. Every time Lincoln came over, he’d insist on hanging around and cockblocking us.”

“Jesus, Octavia!” Bellamy reappeared as if on cue. “Please, never use those words about you and your boyfriend.”

“Oh my g-d, Bellamy!” Octavia sat up on Lincoln’s lap, glaring daggers at her brother. “Would you please stop acting like your my priest! My boyfriend and I have sex. It’s fine. You’ll survive.”

Lincoln wrapped his burly arms around Octavia, pulling her tight to his barrel chest. “Babe, you’re going to get me killed. Let’s not torture your easily provoked brother, ok?”

Bellamy scowled. “Yeah, let’s not.”

“Ugh!” Octavia argued, settling back onto Lincoln’s lap, despite her brother’s disapproval. “Bellamy runs through women like he’s sacking Troy, but you don’t see me insisting on being the third wheel.”

Lincoln looked sympathetically at the senior Blake. “In all fairness,” he bit his lip. “I’d probably act the same way if I had a little sister.”

“Traitor!” Octavia punched him in the arm. “Such a double standard!”

“It is,” he agreed. “But, then again it’s not the worst thing in the world to have a brother who cares about you.”

“True indeed,” Clarke cut in, hoping to end the argument.

A moment later, Jasper and Monty wandered in from the kitchen, dragging a chilled case of Blue Moon with them. With the tension finally eased, the conversation turned to the swim team and the upcoming State Tournament. The fervor grew until Lincoln and Bellamy were locked, toe to toe, in a battle of one-upmanship, each boy insisting that he would end the competition with more victories under his belt.

“Hey,” Clarke smiled, looking up at Lexa as their friend argued in the background.

“Hey yourself,” Lexa smiled. She glanced affectionately down at the blonde, her lazy smile a little lopsided from the beer.

“You know if nobody’s paying attention we could…”

“Hey, weirdos!”

Lexa flinched as a pillow flew past her face. She scowled at Raven, who grinned back, sipping her long neck smugly. “Stop making googly eyes at each other and come play with us.”

“Play what?” Clarke sat up, detangling herself from Lexa's arms, and eliciting a grumble at the loss of her body warmth.

“Truth or dare,” Raven offered. “You game?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I am if Lexa is. Babe?” She looked at the girl behind her expectantly.

Lexa rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Raven raised her hands triumphantly, cracked open another beer. She settled into her recliner, flipping the bottle cap onto the coffee table with her thumb. “Who’s up?”

Crickets could be heard as the unwilling friends looked between one another, silently debating who would be the sacrificial lamb. Finally, Monty sighed, leaning back against the couch from his seat on the floor.

“Ok, I"ll take one for the team.”

Raven’s smile grew even wider. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he chuckled. “Do your worst, Raven.”

“You think about Harper McGuire when you beat your meat, don’t you?”

Monty’s eyes grew wide for a split second. He regained his composure almost immediately, shrugged, and feigning indifference. “Honestly? Yeah.”

“I’ll pass that along to her.” Raven grinned wickedly, winking at her friend as he took a swig from his beer and stared at her contemptuously.

“Noted,” Monty huffed, shaking his head. He glanced over at Jasper.

“Ok, bro. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Jasper chuckled, wincing as he swallowed a too big mouthful of beer.

“I dare you to show us the tattoo you got last summer.”

Jasper coughed, nearly choking on the drink as he fought back laughter. When he'd finished hacking he groaned, his head lolling back as he accepted his fate. The skinny young man stood, unbuckling his belt buckle and pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to expose his backside. A personified cupcake with wide, cartoonish eyes grinned at the crowd from his left butt cheek, giving them an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“No fucking way!” Bellamy murmured, leaning in and examining the image a little closer. “What on earth made you think that was a good idea?”

“White rum and a tattoo artist who was way too pretty for me,” Jasper smirked, remembering the weekend he’d gotten the absurd image etched into his skin. “I got it after that surf invitational that Alana Blanchard was guest judging. She called me a ‘cupcake ass’ after she watched me wipe out on some super tiny wave.” Jasper narrowed his eyes, staring earnestly at his friends. “Best compliment ever.”

“Lincoln cracking up into fits of hysterical laughter. “I think you might have misinterpreted that one, buddy.”

Jasper shrugged. “Anything Alana Blanchard says to me is a compliment.”

Jasper hiked his pants back above his waist and buckled them. He snatched his beer off the table, finishing it in one quick drag. “Who’s next?”

The gangly boy extended an arm, his index finger pointing accusatorially around the room. “I choose,” he turned in a circle until he was eye to eye with Clarke. “You. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Clarke swallowed a hard lump as she prepared herself for the ribbing she was surely about to receive.

Jasper smiled contemptuously. “Tell us, Clarke, how is Lexa in bed?”

Clarke cringed. It wasn’t that the question bothered her, but she knew it would be humiliating for Lexa. She felt the body behind her stiffen.

“Clarke, you don’t have to answer that.” Lexa glared furiously at Jasper, looking ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.

Lex-” Clarke sighed.

“That’s an asshole question, Jasper.” The blonde felt Lexa clench her fist.

“It’s ok,” Clarke reassured her. She cleared her throat, staring at the onlookers.

“Lexa and I haven’t had sex, Jasper. Not that it's any of your concern.”

As soon as Clarke had finished speaking, the crowd burst into a symphony of oohs and awes, much to the chagrin of the embarrassed couple. Jasper’s eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead, his mouth dropping open.

“What? You can’t be serious!” he began. “With the way you two are all over each other?”

Lexa’s face was bright red. “Shut up, Jasper!”

Raven tossed a pillow at the scruffy boy, holding back her laughter. “Jasper, knock it off. Clarke's and Lexa’s sex life is none of your business.”

“Ok, ok!” He held up his hands in protest.

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded.

Clarke flexed her jaw, trying not to feel deeply uncomfortable in the aftermath of the conversation. She waited until the laughter had died down before turning to Bellamy. “Truth or dare?”

"Dare."

"I dare you to take out your teeth again."

“So,” Lexa cleared her throat, fidgeting anxiously in the passenger’s seat of Clarke’s Nissan.

“So,” Clarke stole a glance at Lexa and drummed her fingers nervously against the steering wheel.

“Should we talk about what Jasper said back there?” Lexa offered, her hands running through her hair.

“Yeah.” The car rolled to a stop at a traffic stop, the red lights casting an eerie glow against the night sky. “That cupcake tattoo is pretty disturbing.”

Lexa laughed, fiddled with the house keys in her pocket.

“I meant the thing about us,” Lexa paused. “And sex,” she added quickly, spitting the words out so fast that Clarke barely heard her.

“What?”

“Sex. Do we need to talk about it?”

“Maybe?” The light turned green, and Clarke pressed on her gas pedal a bit too forcefully, jerking her back in her seat.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Kind of,” Clarke shrugged, earning a weak smile from Lexa, who continued to play with the keys in her pocket. “I guess I was just hoping it would come up in a way that was more organic.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, Lexa,” the artist sighed, “I think that we should talk about it.” She turned onto their street, slowing as she eased the car into her driveway. “Let’s just…”

Clarke turned off the car, taking a deep breath before she looked over at her girlfriend. “Before we talk, do you mind if I take the night to think about what I want to say. Is that okay?”

Lexa smiled. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Perfect.” Clarke leaned over, pressing a delicate kiss to Lexa’s soft, full lips. “Sleep tight, babe. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Lexa nodded. “You too.”

Without looking back, Lexa made her way out of the car, desperately trying not to think about how good Clarke’s hips had felt pressed into hers, or why questions about their sex life were making her so anxious.

Days started early in the Woods’ household, where, at the General's insistence, the whole family observed a 5:00 A.M. wake-up. George's gruff, booming voice was Lexa's alarm clock, announcing Reveille each morning as he marched past her door, his heavy-footed strides carrying him down the hallway to the kitchen stairs.

“Bodies up! Beds made! Ten minutes!”

Lexa’s eyes snapped open the second the gravelly voice penetrated the quiet sanctity of her room. The abrupt wake-up call never failed to send her flying out of bed in a panic, and as Lexa bolted upright, she tripped, tangled in the mess of sheets that always seemed to wind themselves around her legs in the night.

Bewildered and off balance, the brunette stumbled, crashing into the floor ass over teakettle, her heart pounded as though the house was under attack. When she finally gathered her bearings, she sprang into action, flailing out of the offending bedding and struggling to her feet.

Lexa began flying through her morning ritual with the speed of a cruise missile. She made the bed perfectly, hospital corners folded at precise forty-five-degree angles, the sheets pulled tight enough to deflect quarters. With five minutes to spare, Lexa pulled on her warmups, tying back her hair as she dashed to the bathroom.

Face scrubbed, teeth brushed, and swim bag in tow, the hurried girl sprinted down the back stairs into the kitchen, coming to an abrupt stop when she spotted her father at the table, eyeing his watch, unimpressed.

"Ten minutes, fifty-six seconds." George gazed up at his daughter, his face a mix of grave seriousness and disappointment."

But," Lexa started.

"But nothing, Alexandra. Do you think I'm doing this for fun?"

She smirked, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. "Well, I'm sure not."

George frowned, his brow furrowing. "Sass me all you like, young lady. We'll see who's laughing come indoc week at the Academy."

Lexa sighed. "Papa, I haven't even gotten in yet."

The silver-haired ex-general nodded. He picked his newspaper off the table, simultaneously reaching for a still steaming cup of coffee next to him. "Don't worry about that. It's only February; schools are still making their decisions."

He held the paper upright, disappearing behind its pages, the steam that rose off his coffee the only trace of him. "For now, you just work on getting that morning routine down faster."
When she was sure he wasn't looking, Lexa rolled her eyes, allowing herself a moment to stew over the inflexible and unrelenting regimen. The general had always run a tight ship when it came to morning routines, but the ten-minute deadline was a recent addition; an over-the-top implementation designed to prepare her for life at her father's alma mater.

Lexa crossed the kitchen silently, happy to let her stubborn father have the last word. She pulled a box of cereal from the cupboards, shaking a mound of frosted, shredded wheat into a bowl as she grabbed a hanging coffee mug of its hook.

Breakfast in hand, she took a seat across from George, the silence between them punctuated only by the sound of crunching cereal and carefully sipped coffee. The lull in conversation allowed Lexa's mind to wander, her thoughts wasting no time in turning to Clarke and the conversation they'd agreed to have. The athlete felt her stomach doing flips as she re-hashed the bullet points of everything she planned to say, all of them supported by carefully constructed arguments that she'd agonized over, long into the night.

Tossing and turning in bed the night before, Lexa had decided the best course of action was to be completely honest with Clarke. After all, at the rate they were moving, her ineptitude was bound to become evident sooner rather than later. She swallowed nervously, cursing herself for not having been forthright from the get-go.

Before Clarke, Lexa's romantic conquests had been limited to a few drunken encounters at parties and a brief soccer camp romance over her Sophomore summer. The small handful of make out sessions and romantic non-starters didn't amount to much in the way of expertise, and when it came to sex, Lexa was painfully aware of her lack of experience.

On the other hand, it had already come up in conversation that she was Clarke's first serious girlfriend. Given that fact, Lexa weighed the odds to be pretty good that Clarke was just as inexperienced. She only hoped that the beautiful, blonde artist was also similarly willing and curious.

The sound of George folding his paper interrupted Lexa's chain of thought. She glanced up, meeting her father's inquisitive gaze with tentative apprehension.

"Everything, ok?"

"You're awfully quiet this morning," George offered.

Lexa shrugged. "Sorry. I've got something on my mind."

George pursed his lips, setting his paper down on the table. "I don't suppose this thing has to do with, Clarke Griffin, does it?" He bowed his head, shooting her a knowing glance.

"Sort of," Lexa offered sheepishly. She stared back at George over the table, debating whether or not she should open up to him.

On the one hand, her father had always been a considerate and insightful sounding board for her concerns. On the other, when it came to matters of physical intimacy, their conversation tended to skate around the periphery of things, implying but never directly addressing the subject. None the less, her father managed to be a source of sage wisdom in times of personal crisis. Lexa steeled her resolve, determined to elicit her dad’s always practical advice, no matter how embarrassing it would be for the both of them.

"Papa, how long did you and mom wait before…” she paused. "What I mean is, how long were you dating before things got serious?"

George gave her a quizzical look, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Serious how?"

"Serious like," Lexa stirred her cereal with her spoon, desperate to avoid her father's gaze. “Thinking about getting closer."

George eyed her skeptically. “Closer to what?"

She groaned. “You know,” she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to finish the statement. “To being together.” She bit her lip, her embarrassment at an all-time high. “Physically.”

Lexa stared at her father, her skin flushing as she blushed a deep crimson. This display was nothing compared to George, whose eyes had grown enormous, his face white as a sheet.

“How...” Lexa’s blush grew deeper as she attempted to ask the question again. “How long did you and Mom date before you, um...” She swallowed hard, trying not to lose her never. “Before you took the next step?”

George looked as though someone had just held a gun to his head; eyes wide, pupils dilated and fixed, face stony. Lexa wasn’t sure how long they sat there in silence, but it felt like an eternity before he finally sputtered out a response.

“Well..” His voice cracked, and he coughed, clearing his throat dramatically. “Alexandra, I don’t think that that’s appropriate…”

The angry wail of a car horn blared outside, cutting the tension in the room with its insistent blasts. George’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, his face betraying great relief.

“Sounds like Lincoln’s here. Better not keep him waiting, or you’ll be late.”

Suddenly, George was on his feet, grabbing his paper and coffee as he headed towards the living room. Lexa grabbed her backpack and swim bag, throwing her her bowl into the sink as she darted after him.

“Wait, Dad…”

George strode briskly through the living room and foyer, veering past the front door as he took a sharp right, headed for his office.

“Honey, you’re going to be late.”

“But, you didn’t answer my question.”

The General stopped just shy of his office doors, his shoulders falling. He turned, the muscles of his jaw flexing as he stared frustratedly at his daughter. Finally, he sighed, resigned to the knowledge that she wouldn’t be satisfied without some semblance of an answer. George looked at his daughter sternly, his mustache twitching from side to side.

“Our wedding night; we waited until then.”

With that, he turned, disappeared through the sliding doors of his office before Lexa could protest. A moment later, the car horn blared again, giving Lexa no choice but to abandon the conversation altogether. She sprang out the front door and dashing down the porch steps. An annoyed Bellamy glared at her, his body draped over Lincoln’s as he leaned on the horn of his friend’s Black Jeep Wrangler.

“Took you long enough, Woods!”

Lexa rolled her eyes at the tall, curly-haired boy as he stepped down from the vehicle and folded the passenger seat forward for her, giving her room to climb in. She hoisted herself into the back, settling behind Lincoln who smiled at her apologetically.

“I’m sorry guys; I was trying to talk to my dad.”

“Ignore him, Lex. He’s been in a terrible mood all morning.”

Lexa frowned. “And why is that?”

“Because…”

“Because” Bellamy cut Lincoln off immediately. “We have a mandatory team meeting this morning. Coach Radley said that anyone who comes late gets benched Saturday. If I get benched, I miss State. If I miss State, then the coach from Michigan doesn’t see me race. If the coach from Michigan doesn’t see me race, then I don’t get a scholarship. If I don’t get a scholarship, then I end up working for my Uncle’s plumbing business to save money for school.” He paused and shot them a dirty look. “And if I get stuck working a plumbing with Uncle Joe, then I’m making it my mission to ensure that you’re both stuck there with me.”

Lincoln stared at his friend skeptically, his brow furrowed. “Bellamy, Coach Radley isn’t going to bench one of his best swimmers going into the tournament. He just said that to scare the Freshmen. Besides, we’re still thirty minutes ahead of schedule. You're being ridiculous.”

Bellamy tapped his watch anxiously. “I’m not taking any chances. Now, can you please start driving? I don’t want us to get stuck in morning traffic.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes and shifted the Wrangler into gear, backing out of the driveway and onto the street. Silence settled over the passengers as the Jeep rolled down the picturesque suburban streets, the picket fences and neatly manicured lawns occluded by the early morning fog. In the back seat, Lexa’s mind began to wander to her planned summit with Clarke, and the long list of well-rationalized points she’d spent hours crafting. She’d felt so confident about her position the night before, but the more she thought about things, the lest justified her arguments seemed to her. Disheartened, she shifted uncomfortably, eyeing the two boys in the front of the vehicle and wondering if the good-natured ribbing her friends’ were sure to give her was worth crowdsourcing her concerns in pursuit of advice.

“Guys?”

“Hmm?” Bellamy grunted from the front, peering over his shoulder at the disheveled mop of loose curls in his peripherals.

“Do you guys think that four months into a relationship is too soon to sleep with someone?”

Lincoln rolled to a stop at the next set of lights and peered into his rear view mirror, catching Lexa’s reflection. “Is this about last night, Lex?”

She avoided her fiend’s gave, nervously chewing her bottom lip. “Yeah, I guess.”

Lincoln waited for Lexa to offer a more detailed explanation. When she issued none, he decided a bit of gentle encouragement was merited. “You don’t have to be embarrassed you know. There’s nothing wrong with taking things slow.”

“Nothing wrong except the blue balls Woods is probably sporting,” Bellamy chimed in, smirking devilishly as he nudged Lincoln to let him know the light had changed.

“You’re not helping, Bro.” Lincoln furrowed his brow at the smug looking boy in his passenger's seat as the Jeep began to move again.

Bellamy smirked all the wider, wiggling his eyebrows at Lexa as he turned to face her. “What’s the big deal anyway, Woods? I mean, it’s not like you have to worry about getting Clarke pregnant. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never had sex before.”

In the back seat, Lexa screwed her eyes shut tight, fighting to get out the words that were dancing treacherously on the tip of her tongue.

“The thing is, that’s not exactly the case.”

Bellamy looked at her skeptically. “How’s that? I mean unless you know something about Biology that I don’t.”

“No, the other thing.” Lexa bounced her knee nervously, waiting for the boys to catch on.

The Jeep screeched in protest as a startled Lincoln hit the brakes a bit too forcefully, grinding them to a stop at an approaching red light.

“Whoa!” Bellamy lurched forward, catching himself on the front console. “Jesus, watch it, man!”

Shaking off the shock of Lexa’s statement, Lincoln frowned in Bellamy’s general direction before turning his attention toward the shy girl crouched in the back, as anxious for advice as she was embarrassed to be asking for it.

“Wait, are you saying this would be your first…”

“My first time, yeah.” Lexa stared at her feet, unable to make eye contact. She felt her face flush, sure that she was glowing bright red.

Lincoln stared at her, his face still a mix of shock and disbelief. “But… What about last year at Nat Turner’s New Year’s thing? You and Lauren Cho disappeared upstairs for like two hours. I thought…”

“No,” Lexa sighed. “We just made out for a long time. It was headed in that direction, but she was drunk, and I didn’t feel right about it.”

“Ashley Rodrigues at Ben Dillon’s kegger?”

“Nope.”

“What about that girl at your soccer camp?”

“We were so busy with training that we never had time. The furthest we ever got was third base.”

“I mean, isn’t that pretty much sex for lesbians?” Bellamy finally chimed. “What do you consider sex between two girls anyway? I mean, is it hand stuff, or mouth stuff, or just all of your clothes being off?”

“Dude!” Lincoln elbowed Bellamy in the side just hard enough to get his point across. “Not ok.”

“I hate that question,” Lexa groaned, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, “but to be honest, I’m not sure I know the answer either.”

Lincoln peered back at his frustrated friend, staring at her her sullen fade in his rearview. “Lexa, I think it’s more about intimacy than anything. Do you feel like you’ve been as intimate as you can be with a girl?”

She shook her head.

“Well, then you haven’t had sex yet.”

Lexa sighed, running her hand through her hair nervously as she waited to for her always thoughtful friend to offer more advice.

“Your first time should be with someone you care about and trust, the time frame on that is whatever you feel comfortable with, honestly. Just use your best judgment.”

She nodded, mulling over his words. “Is it ok if I ask how long you and Octavia waited?”

“Whoa! Ok, this I don’t need to hear.” Bellamy frowned, covering his ears in disgust.

Lincoln shook his head at the freckled faced body in his passenger's seat, perplexed as to how one person could be so characteristically old souled one moment and so single-mindedly juvenile the next.

“Ignore him,” Lincoln slowed the car as they approached the line of other vehicles waiting to pull into the school parking lot. “Bellamy prefers to think of Octavia as a sweet, virginal angel.”

Bellamy cup his hands over his ears a bit tighter, scowling at the tan boy next to him. “I hate you two right now.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes. “To answer your question, Lexa, we waited about a year.”

Considering how open Octavia was about their sex life, the news surprised Lexa. “Wow, so you guys only just…”

“Yeah,” Lincoln cut her off before the conclusion of her sentence made Bellamy’s head explode. “Just before school ended last year..”

“Why did you wait so long?”

Lincoln drummed his fingers on the wheel, staring down the long line of cars ahead of him. “Octavia was my first serious girlfriend and a year younger than me, so I didn’t want to rush things, or to rush her.”

“And she felt the same way?”

Lincoln chuckled, staring at Bellamy, who looked fit to be tied. “If anything she wanted us to move faster.”

Bellamy’s hands finally dropped. He grimaced, staring daggers at his friend. “Dude, please don’t make me punch you.”

Lincoln held up his hands defensively. “Ok! I’ll drop it. Jesus man, I was just trying to help out Lexa.” He gripped the wheel tighter in annoyance. “Why don’t you give her your two cents, Casanova, since you’re such an expert on the subject.”

For a few moments Bellamy was silent, then he spoke, his voice an exasperated monotone. “I don’t think it should be a big deal.”

“Sex isn’t a big deal?” Lincoln’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Bellamy nodded, staring out at the chaos of the busy parking lot. “Everyone makes such a big deal out of it, and they end up turning it into something it’s not,” he continued, his voice finally softening.

“Listen, all that stuff about waiting till you find the right person and making your first time special… All that does is put way too much pressure on something that’s bound to be awkward and embarrassing the first time around.” He spun his torso around, staring at Lexa seriously.

“Do you trust Clarke?”

“Of course.”

“And does she trusts you? I mean I certainly hope she does after those grand gestures you made for her.”

“I mean, I think so.”

“And do you want to have sex with her?”

Lexa shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Obviously.”

Bellamy nodded, turning back to the scene unfolding in front of the school. “Then tell her that. If she isn’t ready then fine, but you shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting to, and you shouldn’t have to pretend that you don’t.”

Lexa mulled the information over, looking at Lincoln for confirmation on whether or not she had just been given the worst advice ever issued. Surprisingly, Lincoln gave no sign that he disagreed. “Honestly, it’s not terrible advice,” he shrugged, easing on the gas as a crossing guard waved them into the student lot.

Blue eyes stared fruitlessly at the wall mounted clock in the AP Biology lab as it’s big hand ticked, agonizingly slowly, towards a quarter past eleven. I would have been an understatement to say that Clarke been distracted during her morning classes. Behind eyes that had remained fixed on chalkboard after chalkboard, Clarke had been utterly checked out, an empty vessel of a girl where a diligent student normally resided. Her hands moved, her binders filled up with pre-calculus equations, the conjugation of foreign verbs, and laboratory procedural notes, but her mind wandered. For the better part of three and a half hours, she was focused solely on the conversation that each passing minute was bringing her closer to. Clarke had been sure she had pinned down exactly how she wanted that conversation to go, but now that she was moments from having it, her confidence was beginning to falter. The idea of being open with Lexa had seemed so simple to her the night before, as she lay in bed. Now though, the idea of total honesty and the reaction it could garner was more daunting. She stared at the clock, watching the red dial spin around one final time before the bell rang and students began filling out of the classroom much to the chagrin of Mr. Carpenter, their AP Biology teacher.

“Students, don’t forget to clean your lab equipment thoroughly and store it before you leave!”

Clarke shook out the test tube she’d been washing and place it on a rack to dry, shoving the remaining equipment into a drawer haphazardly before she snatched her book bag off the floor and booked it for the cafeteria. Down one hallway and left into another, she weaved through the throng of teenage bodies, stopping every so often to issue quick hello’s to the various friend she passed. The blonde turned another corner, squeezing through the sea of people until she caught sight of the cafeteria doors. Clarke began scanning the crowd for chestnut hair and green eyes, but her efforts were cut short as she felt herself being pulled off down a side hallway and into a darkened office.

The door to the AV room shut behind her abruptly, and before she had time to process much else, warm hands were cupping her face, and soft full lips were pressed against her own. When she pulled away a second later, Lexa’s Green eyes were staring down at her, full of playfulness and exasperation.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that all morning.”

Clarke nudged her playfully, resting her back against the door as her girlfriend leaned in, her hands dropping to the blonde’s hips. “Jesus Lexa, you scared me.”

Lexa bit her lip, smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry, I just really needed to get you to myself for a minute.” she leaned in further, resting her forehead against Clarke’s. “So…”

“So,” Clarke sighed, bringing her hand to her girlfriend's face and brushing her thumb lightly over her flushed cheek.

Lexa opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it a second later, snapping it shut again. The silence hung awkwardly between them until Lexa finally let out a tiny groan. “Ugh. Why is this so hard to talk about?”

Clarke chuckled at the flustered girl hovering over her. “Because it’s sex.”

Lexa sighed in frustration. “I wish Raven hadn’t brought it up last night.”

Clarke nodded in agreement, gently tucking a loose curl behind Lexa’s ear. “Me too, but then again, we were going to have to talk about this sooner or later.”

“We were?”

Clarke tiled her skeptically. “Of course.” She searched Lexa’s face for signs of disagreement but found only curiosity. “I mean it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. Haven’t you?”

Lexa immediately felt herself blush. “Umm. I mean…” Lexa’s eyes screwed shut in embarrassment, trying to think of what she could say that didn’t make her sound like the horny teenager that, frankly, she was.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Blushing all the more furiously, Lexa steeled her nerve, resolved to be honest with Clarke even if she died of embarrassment in the process. “Ok, to be frank, it’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

Clarke nodded, waiting for her girlfriend to continue.

“I want to be honest with you. Part of me worries that five months together isn’t long enough to be thinking about this, but another part of me isn’t that concerned about it.”

Lexa paused, clenching her jaw as she willed herself to force out the next few words. “Clarke, I want you. I want to be with you in all that ways I can be. If you aren’t there yet, then that is ok. I can wait, but I just want you to know that, whenever you’re ready, so am I.

“I’m ready.”

Lexa froze, sure she hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”

“Lexa, I want you too. I just wanted to make sure we talked about it before it ended up happening in the spur of the moment.”

“You’re ready?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Clarke stifled her laughter as she cupped Lexa’s shocked face in her hands, placing a delicate kiss on the girl’s soft pink lips. “Yeah, Babe. I’m sure.”

Lexa nodded dumbfounded. “So, should we…” She cleared her throat nervously. “When should I…”Clarke kissed her again, effectively ending her rambling. “How about we just let it happen when it feels right?”

Lexa let out a relieved breath, shaking her head, and smiling at her nervousness. She leaned in, capturing her girlfriend lips in a tender kiss. “You’re kind of amazing. Did you know that?”

Clark smirked. “I may have been told that once or twice.” With that, she pushed herself off the door. “Now, come on you. We only have fifteen minutes to eat.”

She handed Lexa her long discarded book bag and opened the door, holding it and motioning for Lexa to exit first. “After you, gorgeous.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, still grinning from ear to ear as she made her way back into the hall, hesitating just before she exited the tiny AV office to kiss her girlfriend on the cheek one last time, and add a final thought.

“You know, I’m glad that we get to be each other’s first.”

And with that, Clarke’s heart dropped into her stomach.

Lexa groaned, pushing her textbook away from her. Three hours into studying and the desk in her room was littered with too many notes to keep organized anymore. What was worse she could barely keep her mind focused on the task at hand, and who could blame her? AP Physics wasn’t nearly as engaging a subject as the girl whose bedroom window faced her own. More importantly, how was she supposed to concentrate on Coulomb’s law when, just a few hours ago, the girl next door had told her that she wanted her, in that way. Thoughts of soft skin, full breasts, and blonde hair that smelled like honeysuckle had been drifting in and out of Lexa’s head ever since the conversation in the AV closet, and try as she might to keep those thoughts respectable, they kept turning on her.

To make matters worse, Clarke Griffin wasn’t her only distraction. There was also the nagging issue of the item stashed in her desk drawer. She ran her fingers delicately over the handle, staring at it as though it contained an incendiary device that would go off if she opened it. The more Lexa focused on the drawer, the more she felt compelled to open it if only to make sure that what was hidden inside was safe from prying eyes. She pulled it towards herself carefully, sliding a few items out of the way and reaching into the back, where a white envelope sat, tucked out of sight. She picked it up, weighing the envelope thoughtfully, studying the logo in the upper left corner and the postage stamp that boldly proclaimed “Greetings from California.” Unable to help herself, Lexa turned it over, tenderly sliding a crisply folded piece of paper out from inside. She unfolded it cautiously as though she was defusing a bomb, reading it for perhaps the hundredth time.

Dear Miss Woods,

I am so excited to hear that you decided to apply to Stanford University. Having spoken to your coach multiple times over the course of this season, I would like to reiterate just once more what a good fit I think our program would be for you. I understand that you’ve expressed concerns about your ability to play at an elite college level, but let me assure you that, after the performance I witness you deliver at your regional championship, I have no similar reservations. I believe you to be an enormously talented athlete who is dedicated, hard-working, and quite frankly, fun to watch.

I spoke with Coach McKay again recently, and she informed me that there is some family pressure to make an early commitment to the Air Force Academy. While I believe USAFA to be an outstanding institution, I would venture to say that Stanford University can afford you as many, if not more opportunities to excel. We offer one of the nations most rigorous academic environments, as well as top-notch ROTC programs. Should you choose to commit to Stanford I, as your coach, will make every effort to ensure that you can balance your athletic obligations with the opportunity to participate, as fully as possible, in cadet life.

I also understand that you are an excellent student, interested in a possible future as an engineering. Stanford University is home to one of the nation’s best engineering programs, and we place great stock in the academic success of our student-athletes. As head coach of the team with the highest combined GPA in the athletic department, I can attest to this matter personally. I have already spoken to our admissions board, and while we are a competitive institution with a large application pool, they have assured me that you are an excellent candidate for matriculation. I am very confident in your ability to not only gain admission to Stanford University but to become a future leader in our program and an impact performer on our team.

My assistant coach, Trisha Davis, will be communicating with you regularly to share information about Stanford, but I would enjoy the opportunity to get to know you a little better personally. Please, feel free to call me with any questions you might have, or to schedule a campus visit. I can be reached at 650-857-0555. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best Wishes,
Juliana Aozasa
Head Coach

Lexa sighed, staring down at the letter and running her left thumb over the large, red S that adorned the page just above the signature at the bottom of the stationary. The guilt bubbled up in her chest, agitating her unease as she remembered the call she’d received from Stanford’s coach in November, the nights she’d spent filling out the school’s application in secret. From start to finish, the whole process had been an exercise in lying by omission, and to Lexa’s guilty conscience there was little difference between that and the real thing.

Lexa stuffed the paper back in the envelope hurriedly, tucking it out of sight as she heard the door to her room creak open.

“Hey, kiddo.”

A sheepish looking George shuffled into the room, avoiding Lexa’s gaze as though the embarrassment of that morning’s conversation was still fresh on his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, crossing over to a shelf where a lifetime’s worth of old soccer and swimming trophies sat, arranged with careful deliberation. He picked one up absentmindedly, examining the gold figurine at the top, suspected in time, mid kick.

“Lexa Woods, MVP, 2009 Chevy Chase U12 Girl’s Travel Soccer.” He read the words carefully, studying them with a twinkle in his eye. “ I was so proud of you that day. Youngest kid on the team by a year and you took home most valuable player honors.”

Lexa sighed, a little embarrassed at her father’s reverence. “Pop, all I did was win a trophy.”

George shook his head. “Received, Alexandra. You receive things you work hard for; you never win them.”

He placed the trophy back on the shelf. “Listen, Lexa. You’ve always been a hardworking, driven kid. I’ve never had to tell you to do something twice or force you to show initiative. You’ve always done those things all on your own, but lately…” For a moment her father stared at the floor, seeming to have lost his nerve. Finally, he cleared his throat and continued. “Lately, you’ve just seemed distracted.”

George finally looked up at her. He smiled and took a seat on the corner of her bed. “I know that I push you hard, but I do it because I know that I raised a woman who doesn’t crumble under pressure.

He placed a hand on top of her's and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “About what we were talking about this morning…”

Lexa’s face flushed immediately, sure that her father was about to give her the talk. She straightened quickly, trying as best she could to navigate a way out of the conversation. “Dad… I mean… You don’t have to…”

He held up a hand reassuringly. “Lexa, all I was going to say is that I know how exciting it can be to be caught up in a new relationship, but I don’t want you letting that distract you from the things you’ve worked so hard to accomplish. Right now you should just be worried about keeping your grades up so that when you get your acceptance letter from the academy, you’ll be in good standing.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand once more. Lexa felt a pang of conscience as she thought about the letter she had just stuffed back in its hiding place. She shifted uncomfortably, her palms sweating as she considered telling her father that the school they had been talking about and making plans for since she was old enough to fit into a Future Cadet t-shirt was no longer her first choice. Decided that the timing wasn't right, Lexa swallowed her guilt, forcing herself to smile back at her father.

“Papa, I haven’t even gotten in yet.”

“Don’t you worry about that, kiddo.” He winked at her. “I have a feeling you’ll be hearing back about your application sooner rather than later.”

With that he stood, straightening the wrinkles in his perfectly pressed slacks as he rose.

“Anyway, your mother and I are going to be gone this weekend. We’re heading down to Georgia early Friday to attend one of my oldest friend’s retirement ceremony, and we’re staying there through Monday so your mother can relax and I can get in a few rounds of golf.”

Lexa nodded. “Does that mean you're going to miss the state tournament?”

George nodded apologetically. “Yes, but I’ve asked coach Radley to tape your races for me.”

He put a hand on his daughter’s back, his gaze warm but serious.

“Now listen. I know I’ve been pushing you pretty hard recently, so if you need a break, I want you to take this weekend to recharge the old batteries. Go out, have fun, you can even have a few friends over so long as all of your work is done beforehand, and you clean up after everyone.”

Lexa nodded, trying not to give away her excitement at the thought of having the house to herself for a whole weekend. “Yes, sir.”

“And, Lexa…”

“Yes?”

George looked at her sternly, crossing his arms over his chest for effect. “No overnight guests. I’m trusting you here, kiddo. Can I do that?”

Lexa’s conscience kicked into overdrive. She felt guilt spilling from every pore in her body as she disingenuously swore to uphold the honor system her father had set. “Of course, Papa.”

George nodded, seemingly content at his daughter's word. “Good. Well then, I’m going to leave you too it. Study hard, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

With that he was gone, leaving Lexa to stew in a mix of guilt and delight. Torn as she was about the impulse to betray her father’s trust, she couldn’t help feeling elated at the opportunity that lay before her. Her knee shook up and down as she nervously reached for her phone and dialed one of the few numbers she knew by heart. The phone rang twice before the warm, amber tones of Clarke’s voice echoed from the other end.

“Hey, Babe. Need a study break?”

Lexa laughed. “More than you know, but that’s not what I’m calling about.”

Lexa peered through her bedroom window, waiting for her girlfriend to appear across the way. A moment later a curtain was drawn back, revealing Clarke wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old white tank top that flattered her form a bit too well. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun atop her head, a few strands falling in a perfect frame around her face.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“What’s up?”

“You’re killing me with that tank top; you know that right?”

Clark shook head, smiling mischievously. “How do you know that wasn’t my plan all along.”

“To seduce me with casual sleepwear and a tastefully disheveled top knot?”

Clark stuck her tongue out playfully. “So, what’s going on?”

Lexa inhaled sharply, determined to make herself sound as confident as possible.

“Remember what we decided when we talked at lunch?”

Clarke nodded. “Of course I do.”

“Well…” Lexa paused to steel her nerve. “How would you like to spend the night Friday?”

Leave Comments