Five
The third time Lexa saw the blonde with no name, the blonde acknowledged Lexa’s presence without tearing her attention away from her book in hand. Lexa didn’t know what she did wrong this time. She followed Raven’s advice.
(Or so she thought)
“You’re unbelievable, relentless, determined.” Clarke observed not bothering to identify Lexa. “Of course I plead leave me alone, and here you are anyways. Why am I not surprised?” She was tired of constantly avoiding Lexa’s social advances. Lexa emotionally drained her.
“Victory stands on the back of sacrifice.” Lexa smugly winked at blondie in typical fashion. She mentally kicked herself. “Way to go Lex,” she thought.
“Are you always this smug?” Clarke found herself genuinely curious. How could a person be so full of themselves? So cocky and egotistical? Confident? She only knew one single other individual like that, and that was Raven Reyes. Unlike Lexa however, Raven controlled herself.
“Not always,” Lexa replied, voice almost softer.
“Then why are you like this with me?”
“I don’t know. I just am,” Lexa answered blandly void of hesitation. It was the truth. “It just happens.” Lexa’s cheeks threatened to burn red. She was embarrassed at her stupid response. “It leaves my mouth before I can stop it.”
Clarke didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to. Lexa’s usual smug, sassy, smart-ass, total ass self slightly wavered. In this moment, she was honest, candid, and her voice became softer, somewhat absent of confidence and egotistical edge.
Clarke analyzed the woman in front of her, her eyes scanning Lexa’s green orbs for unspoken lies, but she discovered none. She did find faint tones of red hidden from the morning light, but visible in the darkened corner if you knew what to look for.
Lexa inched the cup labeled, Blondie, closer to the blonde, her fingers nearly brushing Clarke’s knuckles. Her heart was on the verge of flat-lining. It was this very moment, Lexa solidified her interest in furthering her acquainted relationship with the blonde.
(She honestly couldn’t why she wanted to right now. Lexa, simply put, had transformed into a complete mess).
“Please take this coffee of peace?”
“No.” Clarke was more amazed--- no not amazed--- caught off guard by the strenuous effort the brunette was clearly putting into regular conversation: regal civil-ness.
This morning, Lexa Woods marginally wavered from the path Clarke had originally placed the brunette on. Maybe Lexa was different. Maybe she would prove Clarke wrong and be nothing like Niylah or an egotistical, overconfident dick. Maybe Raven’s stake held merit: turn a new leaf and reopen yourself to the world. Clarke didn’t know. She didn’t know what to make of Lexa Woods.
There were four definite facts Clarke knew:
- She was one ginormous, humongous, complete utter mess.
- Lexa Woods represented the epitome of trouble and danger. She literally had big red flashing warning lights posted around her for the entire planet to see from miles and miles away. Clarke wanted nothing to do with her. The brunette possessed the wholly spirit of playgirl aka fuckboy and evident traits of stubborn and single-minded.
- Her life was currently up in the air, nebulous. It could swing an entire one-eighty degrees in true bipolar fashion. She honestly didn’t know what to expect any more similar to how she could no longer predict Lexa’s intentions, or behaviors.
- Why was she making this list in the first place? It isn’t like she didn’t already know these things.
“You know, I’m just going to keep buying you coffee until you take it,” Lexa stated factually like a know-it-all. “Meaning I won’t stop, can’t stop, and I don’t want to stop all day every day?” She smirked, confidence reborn in full force.
Clarke lifted her own label-less cup to her mouth concentrating on the taste of her favorite drink rather than the irritation bubbling in the pits of her stomach anew.
Conceal, don’t feel. Conceal, don’t feel.
Ignore her.
Ignore her voice.
Focus Clarke.
It didn’t work. She groaned somehow slamming her cup down as lightly, but as dramatically as she could. “How can you switch from near normal to an infuriating pain-in-the-ass in a split second? I cannot understand.” Her chair slid backwards hard.
“It takes an ass to know one,” Lexa drawled. Her counter was childish, but she couldn’t contain it. She had to say it.
Clarke mentally crossed number four off her list of the things she knew. “Then you’re the queen of all pain-in-the-asses and the ultimate asshat.” She raised her voice. “What is your problem? Seriously?” She got up pushing her chair in a tad-bit softer than earlier. “I can’t, not today. Do not follow me, do not talk to me, leave me alone.”
“Sorry Rae, that thing called trust is going to have to wait,” she thought.
Lexa could only watch the blonde leave the coffee shop speechless.
♨♨♨
Lexa sat in her office chair contemplating her long list of woes. She didn’t go to Dropship Brews this morning instead sending Anya, who begrudgingly agreed, on a coffee run some time ago. She didn’t want to see the blonde after yesterday’s incident. Honestly, she didn’t want to unintentionally provoke Blondie further.
Lexa admitted, the blonde angry was becoming an increasingly fearful sight.
She sighed to herself.
On a day like this, the office would be ideally productive, extremely successful. The gala plans would be completed in a month’s span, however at her current rate, she wouldn’t complete it for another two months with a particular someone on her mind.
(Talk about cutting it close)
She had to get her shit together. She opened a document on her desktop.
The fundraising gala plan so far:
- Only six of the twelve divisions of Trikru Industries would auction off custom varieties of creations ranging from cars to collectibles to miscellaneous products [Titus vetoed her proposal for all twelve divisions]. Currently, three of the six divisions supplied limited edition sports car models. The other two Anya had texted her about withdrew due to errors in calculations and design flaws.
- She wanted Dropship Brews to cater at her event.
(She really needed to start designing invitations and compiling a guest list).
- She was far behind in the planning progress [as Titus has routinely reminded her].
- The gala would be held in her company’s personal display garage large enough to hold the massive number of attendees. Modifications could be made to accommodate layout plans, theme, et cetera et cetera so on and so forth.
She tapped her fingers against her desk, staring at her Rolex watching every tick of the hand. Today, time was losing the race against the rabbit.
Titus,
I have planned for Dropship Brews to cater our event. I believe this company will facilitate the creation of a casual atmosphere for our guests to mingle and explore our newest models. I don’t want the gala to seem like it’s some rich person’s over-decorated, over-decked out scene. I want it to be like a real car show like that showroom I saw in Tokyo. Casual and high tech… and also you know… kind of like Tony Stark’s Iron Man display room and stuff, but that’s just me J
Now that I think of it, can we please model it after Tony Stark? Titus I will love you forever and ever and never neglect my duties forever.
Thank you,
Lexa Woods
Trikru Industries
Lexa hit the send button. Planning events were so boring.
Minutes later, her thoughts drifted a sudden to her disastrous one night-stand. She realized now any attempts to purge Blondie from her memory were futile. Evidence being she had imagined the stranger was Blondie the entire time. She cringed. The blonde stranger was from Blondie’s party.
The blonde had her questioning her life, her desires, her conscious. She could do friendship yes, but internally she’d be dying a torturous, slow death.
(As if she wasn’t already)
She checked her watch once more. What was taking Anya so long?
Lexa reclined her chair, leaning back slumping into the soft padding, shutting her eyes to darkness.
Her door buzzed open, the disengagement of the locks filling the still silent air infused with her fathomless state of sleep.
“So I figured you wanted a Nightblood in addition, a toastie… I’m assuming you didn’t eat breakfast,” interrupted Anya, mindlessly entering the office unaware of her friend’s sacked out position at her desk. “And I didn’t bother coming home last night because I’m sure you and your sexual hunger kept all of our neighbors up into the AM. I am just glad that for once in my life, I got a night’s worth of recharged sleep… a rare come by these days.” She cocked her head drumming her brain in second thought. “Scratch that. My entire life living in your company. But on top of that, ya gotta hand it to Reyes… She sure knows how to run an awesome coffee shop.”
Anya’s movement stilled. “Lex, are you okay?”
“Oh god,” moaned the sleeping Lexa. “Mmmmm… So good. Fuck.”
Anya covered her mouth, muffling her eruptive laughter from detonating. She’s plainly dreaming about a certain someone [hint Clarke], she soundlessly mused. I told you so Lex. You’re whipped. She slid the hot beverage across the desk, flinging the small brown bag in the direction of the chair. Hard. Time to wake up Commander Horny.
“You’re so tig—“
“Aghhhh.” Lexa awoke, startled Anya’s morning shenanigans caused by the unhinged energy offered by Raven’s RocketFuel, and the weird weight lobbed at her stomach. Her eyes blinked open to the blurring light of her office. Once. Twice. Three times. She checked her watch, forty-five minutes had passed. “What the fuck Ahn.”
“Lex, Lex, Lex.” Anya looked at the brunette, donning an evil wry grin. “Some dream you had,” she chuckled. “I take it that last night—“
Lexa’s face reddened. Crap. What did she hear? “—was your plan from the start wasn’t it?” she sleepily grumbled in defeat. The world was coming to full circle. “You knew didn’t you? This entire time… That’s why— That’s why you had no qualms about suggesting I hook up with a stranger. You knew it’s ineffectiveness.” She cursed for having a genius friend (well a genius in advice and observation).
““Oh god. Mmmmmm… So good. Fuck”” Anya imitated. “Nerd. Of course I did. I’m your sister. I know these things. They’re written on the wall in solid fine black print. Painstakingly clear. Admit it already Lex. You like her… a lot. That is what you’re feeling. You’re experiencing a boner, the standard celebrity crush (but not a celeb and a wee bit increased intensity, the next level of a celeb crush… ish. What about her has captured your impossible heart?”
“Blondie… I’m guessing you know her name don’t you,” Lexa began as she reached for her drink. “You and Raven made quite a point never referring to Blondie by her name. I’m not stupid.”
Anya smugly smiled, sitting on the brunette’s desk. “Duh nerd. It isn’t rocket science.”
“Help a bro out and tell me her name?” Lexa put on her best puppy dog face. “Is our sisterly bond important to you?”
Anya wickedly grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?” she teased. Raven was confident Clarke would reveal her name to Lexa very soon. “And don’t pull that sisterly bond shit with me.” She stared at her sister eyes imploring Lexa for information about her newfound crush. “It’s her choice to choose when she’ll properly introduce herself to you okay?”
“You won’t tell me,” Lexa whined. She took a long sip of semi-cooled black liquid. She felt the dirty-blonde’s gaze bore into her, ushering her to continue. “I don’t know Ahn. I barely know anything about her, yet… I find myself drawn to her. Captivated. She hasn’t even said anything only telling me to leave her alone. All I know is that she likes to read, is addicted to the Nightblood, hates my guts (with rightful reason), and she is a goddess.” She frowned at her verbal admission. “It’s weird Ahn. This is uncharted territory for me. I mean—“
“—-shut up Lex, you’re rambling. Answer this single question: do you like her?” Anya couldn’t wait to tell Raven. Her insides were teeming ludicrous volumes of excitement and euphoria.
“I feel like punching the dick-slut who fucking plunged a knife into her heart.” Lexa sighed. “Is that adequate enough?”
“It’s a start, but seriously, if you want the girl, you’re going to have to say these things to her; pour your heart out.”
“Well I did give a random blonde seven orgasms last night replacing her with Blondie.” It was Lexa’s turn to smirk. “It’s a good thing you didn’t come home last night because I’m sure you would’ve been kept awake until sunrise.”
Anya groaned in exasperation. Her dear sister sincerely needed her kind, generous assistance. Lexa couldn’t even verbally say aloud that she liked Clarke. It was a good thing her and Raven had concocted a plan to meddle. Their dirty little secret. “Other important things Lex. Focus on important things. Where are we on the gala?”
Lexa shuffled through several files on her desk. “Well I still have to ask Raven if she’ll cater the event, and put finishing touches on the invitations.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Lexa stared blankly at Anya.
“The guest list? The floorplans? Entertainment?”
Lexa continued to stare blankly at her sister.
“Really Lex?”
Lexa nodded.
“What are we going to do with you?”
“Ahn, relax, I was fucking with you. I sent my ideas to Titus already.”
“Asshat.”
“Love you too Ahn.”
♨♨♨
The fourth time Lexa saw the blonde with no name, Lexa’s warm, but cocky eyes greeted the blonde’s increasingly weaker, dejected, lost all hope blue eyes as the blonde trudged towards her usual corner table.
“Morning beautiful,” Lexa smirked. “Off to a good start today?” she laughed. Blondie appeared as if she rolled out of bed, overly exerted, and minimal hygienic fuss ghosted. Her hair matched tangled yarn, her clothes bordered rags.
“By all means take a seat. Be my guest.” Clarke averted her gaze incautiously tossing her tote atop the steel table, resounding an intended thud dispatching tremors across the metallic surface. She seated herself opposite of the brunette, turtling her tote in search of her daily novel.
(Lexa bet the book was good ol’ Nic).
Clarke ignored the brunette, hand excavating her novel The Longest Ride from her mess. She finished True Believer. Lexie and Jeremy ended up together (of course they did). He rushed back to Boone Creek tracking Lexie down and pouring his heart out to her. She in turn, professed her lies and feelings for him. Clarke was a sucker for fairytale endings… too bad Niylah wasn’t her happy ending.
Before she could stop herself, Clarke bookmarked her page, concluding to heed Raven’s pleas to trust her blah blah blah. She put her book onto the table with a mini-smack. “Morning,” Clarke decided she could at least call Lexa by her first name, “Lexa.” She had to try.
Not Ms. Woods. Lexa. Lexa, not Ms. Woods. Lexa was full on beaming now, a giddiness pooling in her stomach causing butterflies to churn her insides. Progress. “You called me Lexa,” she announced like an idiot stating the obvious. She wanted to smack herself. “Since when were we on first name basis? I don’t even know your name.”
“If you cannot see the book in my hand, then you’re an idiot. Obviously I want to be left alone in peace. I only greeted you because it’s the proper mannered practice of recognizing someone you know.” Clarke further ignored Lexa’s extra attempt to slide the Nightblood offering in her direction. “It’s so simple.”
“And no I am not taking the coffee. Keep it.” Clarke didn’t bother a spare glance at the brunette. She picked up her book again surmising based on the brunette’s dumbfounded stupor, supplementary interaction equaled pointless.
Lexa stared back at the blonde, her eyes silently pleading for acceptance.
“I don’t understand what your problem is and why you are so damn persistent, but please all I ask is you give me space.” There she was civil and normal wasn’t she? “You’re welcome to join me at this table, but please let me read in peace. That is all I ask.”
The blonde totally dodged Lexa’s request. “On one condition.” Lexa’s eyes mischievously glinted.
“And what is that?”
“I get your name.” If she had to give Blondie her space, so be it. For a fucking name, a single word, the sacrifice was well worth it.
“No thank you,” Clarke said purposefully making an exaggerated effort to drink from her own label-less cup of coffee, waving Lexa off. “Good-bye Lexa, and you’re welcome to sit with me in silence.”
Lexa tried not to look offended as if she didn’t just offer a trade that would cause her to give up pursing the blonde. “What? Don’t you want me to stop bothering you?”
“You’re just going to shout my name from every damn rooftop, and I clearly do not want that. Can’t you understand that?”
“Everyone already notices you. You’re above average. You’re naturally beautiful in every aspect. Who wouldn’t notice you?”
Clarke remained silent.
“Only a dumb idiot wouldn’t notice you. And I wouldn’t tell a soul your name. I’m not that type of person.” Lexa placed the usual cup of coffee on the table for the blonde. “Someone like me would have the decency to know respect and how to respect your boundaries. I would be a complete idiot if I didn’t.”
Clarke said nothing.
(She had no idea how to respond to Lexa)
“See you around then blondie,” she called over her shoulder as she left for work. She felt her poker face failing her, her façade crumbling apart, her dejected expression on full display for the entire world to see.
(Lexa was grateful her back was to the blonde)
Clarke stared at Lexa’s apology coffee left on the table before finally resuming her book.
♨♨♨
Clarke sat on the couch her long, fixed stare settled on the busy streets below the apartment. She had concluded today was the day. Today was the day that she would pick up a brush and paint her emotions on the canvas before her. And to clarify, she wanted to release herself letting herself succumb to her pain, heartbreak, and struggles post-Niylah. She crossed her fingers that this would allow her to finally come to terms with past events and edge forward to a healthier mental state of mind.
Art has always acted as another outlet for her emotions in addition to writing. Clarke hesitantly rested her brush on the blank canvas, and slowly closed her eyes as she accepted the immediate darkness encompassing her.
Focus.
Heartbreak. Fear. Sadness. She was suddenly a little girl cowering in the smallest corner of the white walled room with nowhere to remain obscure. She hugged her knees tight to her chest as if they were her only form of sanctum from what resided outside the room. Clarke shuttered at the very sight of the door as she watched the handle rattle like the rattle of a rattle snake. She acknowledged sooner or later she had to open it, but the question stood at when. When would she build up the courage to let the thing in?
She felt the insatiable burn in her eyes, in her hands. She took it as an omen, a sign that things could only get better from here because here--- here Clarke was at her worst. The gods were telling her to open the door, but feet were solid stones fighting to stay rooted to the floor.
Her hand moved effortlessly across the canvas forming uneven quick striking lines of black.
Clarke willed her feet to lift from the ground. She clenched her teeth together her top jaw grinding against her lower jaw in frustration. She fisted her hands, her nails digging into her skin cutting through skin. One step… two step… three step… … … closer …
Her arms were shaking, trembling to every footfall echoing from the walls of the room. She hesitantly moved her right arm upwards towards the door, but abruptly stopped halfway as she re-evaluated if she truly wanted to do this.
The lines became unsure, incomplete, unsymmetrical.
Clarke deeply swallowed, her opening once more and shutting closed again. It was now or never.
Her hand rested atop the cool metal handle, the ice burn kissing her skin. She was ready.
(Or so she thought)
When Raven walked through her apartment door, she definitely was not expecting to encounter a painted canvas of mostly black covered with a beautiful light hue of colors, and a passed out blonde sprawled on the couch. Clarke hadn’t touched a brush in months, and she had no intention to pick up a brush or pencil again.
The modern abstract vibed such dark detailed auroras of struggle, abandonment, and emotional turmoil. Raven could understand Clarke’s internal battle from just the articulate sudden brisk strokes of her friend’s hand.
Uncertainty of the path she would travel post-Niylah.
The thought of the perfect picture she had painted now shattered.
Questioning if she would survive.
But then there were the added light hues of green and blue, the colors of rebirth, honesty, and evaluation. These lines were smoother, softer, delicate, and refined.
Raven sighed and smiled to herself. Because she had watched Clarke paint all these years, the blonde’s paintings were an open book to Raven. They were pages of Clarke’s life and everything in between.
And right now, Clarke was on the right path, but Raven knew her best friend was still suffering.
Raven walked into the kitchen in search of food. When she opened the refrigerator, she saw a small post it note: Tell Lexa Woods to LEAVE me ALONE xoxo Clarke.
Raven needed to seriously talk to Lexa.
♨♨♨
The fifth time Lexa saw the blonde with no name, she didn’t initiate conversation at all. She admired from afar because she was really willing to do anything for the blonde’s name even if it meant heeding her wishes without getting a name.
Here, Lexa found herself, seated in the furthest, darkest, secluded corner in Dropship Brews awaiting blondie’s estimated timely arrival. She was patiently waiting to see what the blonde was wearing, how her hair was for the day, what mood the woman was in, what beverage she ordered from the menu.
(Lexa vigorously denied this was stalking. She already placed a Nightblood at the blonde’s usual table… not creepy at all… and she somehow seated herself in Clarke’s regular table).
She took a long sip from her iced green tea latte, her teeth successfully catching an ice cube to chew on. Her eyes were glued to the entrance door. Any moment, the blonde would walk in.
Clarke strode into Dropship Brews tired and exhausted. She could’ve sworn she had fought a strenuous war these past few weeks. She had dinner with her mother, started planning a showcase in her gallery to sell new pieces of art, and composed several pieces of self-inspired canvases in Raven’s living room.
Raven absolutely loved them. She said they really touched the hearts of the viewers connecting with their emotions. They were vibing pieces… Whatever that meant to Raven.
Clarke went straight to the barista skipping the line. She was forever grateful her best friend owned the most-successful, very popular coffee shop. She got her drinks free of charge and only had to tell the barista her order, not the cashier. It also helped that the barista’s knew Clarke’s orders by heart, and could identify which drink she wanted based on her mood alone. However, almost always, Clarke craved the Nightblood.
Today, the shop was busier than usual. Clarke glanced at her coveted corner to check if no one took her table. She didn’t have the energy to complain when she saw Lexa already seated “reading” a book.
Lexa looked up from her book, The Best of Me. She had purposefully bought the mass-market paperback yesterday at Barnes & Noble so that she could fall into the blonde’s good graces once more. Then again, was she ever in Blondie’s good graces? “Good Morning beautiful,” she greeted, winking at the blonde.
“So you do read,” Clarke stated in nonchalance masking her surprise. Lexa held a Nicholas Sparks novel in her hands. Lexa almost seemed normal. She placed her nameless cup on the table. “Great choice by the way. Nicholas Sparks is an amazing author.” She sat down across from the brunette.
Lexa smiled. “I do read, yes, like everyone else in the entire planet earth. However, similar to less of the planet’s population, it’s actually one of many hobbies I truly enjoy.”
Clarke pulled out Safe Haven from her tote bag ignoring Lexa altogether.
“I love Stephen King, George RR. Martin, Marvel Comics, DC Comics, scouring bookshelves for hours in a great bid to discover a hidden gem that’s been hiding from my gaze.” Lexa moved one of the two coffees near her closer to the blonde.
She found herself rambling. “And green tea lattes are my favorite. I like them iced because despite the unhealthy con of ice chewing, I love it nevertheless. And ---“ she glanced at the blonde across from her. Lexa was being blatantly ignored. “What’s with you?”
Clarke gripped her book tighter. Here, she thought today the karma gods granted her a day to read in peace in her favorite coffee shop in the entire universe. “Has anyone ever taught you to be quiet?”
“Why yes, of course. It’s an essential definition to understand and use,’ Lexa stated as if it were obvious.
“I’m telling you to shut up.”
Lexa smiled. “Whatever you say Princess.”
(Clarke hates the name Princess)
“Do you ever feel like your looping around the same track over, and over, and over again? You must be plain stupid if you aren’t because you’ve literally been on the same track for a while now. I’m getting tired of telling you to leave me alone… and today, today I sincerely tried to coexist with your presence, but you are an incessant asshat who doesn’t know when to stop talking and let me read in peace.”
“No, no I do not. Enlighten me.” Lexa actually wanted to understand Blondie.
“You’re an idiot,” Clarke gasped in exasperation. “You’re giving attention to someone who doesn’t want your annoying attention, someone who wants to be left alone to read in tranquility. But you. You IGNORE my simple requests; the persistent lot you are.”
“Okay, and?” Lexa chuckled.
“Ughhh.” Clarke huffed. “Enjoy your book Lexa, I’m leaving.”
“I really ought to confide in Reyes,” Lexa thought as she once again, watched the blonde storm off.
♨♨♨
“Raven….” Clarke began, “Tell Lexa Woods to leave me the fuck alone. I want to read in peace, in silence. I don’t want to be rudely interrupted, or have my space intruded by an unwanted guest.”
“You burst into my office and that is the first thing you say to me your dear, bestest of the bestest friends,” Raven mocked. “Not a hello Raven, how was your day? Or a hey lord of all geniuses, what’s up?”
Clarke’s gaze shifted to her feet. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do. I feel like Lexa is constantly breathing down my neck smothering me in her presence. I find myself exploding at every word that leaves her mouth. She’s as cocky and arrogant as she was before!” She collapsed onto the couch. “I only wish to be left alone… is that too much to ask?!”
“Clarke,” Raven waited until Clarke looked into her eyes, “Do you trust me?”
Clarke remained silent.
“It’s going to be a storm before there’s calm, so trust me.”
“Isn’t it the opposite way around?”
“Shut up Griff, that’s not the point. The point is I believe Lexa does everything she does with good intentions. She only wants to be your friend. She has… problems… with hmmm. How should I put it? Clarke, let people in. Trust me. You’ve come so far lately, don’t go back now. Lexa will not hurt you, that is the last thing she’d ever want to do. Do you trust me Clarke?”
Clarke sighed, weakly smiling at her best friend. If Raven trusted Lexa, then she would trust Raven. “Yes, I do Ray.”
“Then the next time you see Lexa, you know what to do.” Raven winked.
Clarke sat on the couch drinking her third Nightblood of the day. Call it stress drinking, instead of stress eating. She had been slumped up in Raven’s office since the Lexa encounter ruminating the past few weeks.
For starters, there were three definite events in which Lexa caught Clarke off guard:
- “Everyone already notices you. You’re above average. You’re naturally beautiful in every aspect. Who wouldn’t notice you?”
- “Only a dumb idiot wouldn’t notice you. And I wouldn’t tell a soul your name. I’m not that type of person.” Lexa placed the usual cup of coffee on the table for the blonde. “Someone like me would have the decency to know respect and how to respect your boundaries. I would be a complete idiot if I didn’t.”
- “Are you always this smug?” Clarke asks.
“Not always.”
“Then why are you like this with me?”
“I don’t know. I just am. It just happens. It leaves my mouth before I can stop it.”
These were the three definite events in which Lexa was honest, candid, and void of her usual cocky, arrogant, overconfident self. These slivers were moments in which Clarke met a different Lexa--- maybe the Lexa Raven got to know better, the Lexa Raven had grown to trust whole-heartedly.
So perhaps she was overreacting a tad-bit to the brunette. Like Clarke, perhaps Lexa had her own issues that had shaped her persona into the one she had today.
♨♨♨
The sixth time Lexa saw the blonde with no name, the two sat at their table in the back and read their respective books.
The blonde didn’t seem angry or irritated this morning, but she still never accepted Lexa’s peace cup.
“How was True Believer?” Lexa asked out of the blue after deciding how she would approach the explosive, angry blonde. “The book I saw you reading when I first met you?”
“You should read it and find out,” Clarke answered, glancing up from her book in hand. She had no energy left to fend off the brunette. Lexa had successfully worn her walls down. “No spoilers.” She carefully watched Lexa, wondering if her interest in books was real.
Lexa nodded in agreement. “Because we all know spoilers are the absolute, utmost worst.”
“I see you got the book,” Clarke observed. “Someone was eager.”
“Your opinion was important to me, so I walked to Barnes and Noble and purchased it,” admitted Lexa sheepishly casting her gaze downwards at her book, True Believer. “I feel a connection to Jeremy… like in some ways I’m him.”
Clarke softly laughed to herself. “Can’t see it.”
“Why?” Lexa was confused. “I totally am him.”
“Because you’re a prominent CEO and he’s a rising journalist. He isn’t rude or egotistical, and you are.”
Lexa was still confused. “I’m rude, but not egotistical.”
“Really?”
“Yes, it’s the outward appearance the media depicts me as.”
“Right.’
“I have a lot of confidence, so I have to deal with it somehow,” Lexa weakly defended.
“So your solution was to become a dick?” Clarke couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows.
Lexa fumbled for words. “Okay you got me there,” she finally said, looking down at her green tea latte down casted. “Can I propose a new deal?”
Clarke skeptically glanced up from her book. “What do you mean?”
“I’m going to finish this book, and tell you all the reasons why I am Jeremy,” Lexa said with a note of powerful determination. “And ultimately,” she added, “If I finish this book, I get an up-close and personal review of this book courtesy of you, the self-proclaimed book expert.” She looked up at the blonde with newfound determination.
Clarke didn’t respond.
(Internally she was smiling. She hasn’t genuinely smiled in ages).
“So, what do you say Blondie?” Lexa paused, “Deal or no deal?” She hoped the blonde would bite and take her new proposal. She also wished to respect the blonde’s privacy and anonymity.
“Fine, whatever,” Clarke said at last. “Deal.”