Chapter 1
Lexa thinks today might be the most boring day of school she’s ever had the injustice of experiencing. Not only did her chemistry teacher surprise her class with a pop quiz during first period today, which she’s 93% sure she didn’t get an A for (She’s just not confident of her answer for the final question. Solving problems involving quantitative relationships in equations has never really been her strong point. And it’s bothered her to no end) but the rest of her day must have heard about the fun she’d had in chemistry and wanted to join in.
On her way to English, a text message from her best friend, Raven, sounded in the hall at the exact moment Mr Kane walked past. He wasted no time in confiscating Lexa’s phone, looking smug about his newest accessory.
In English, Lexa was falsely accused and sent to the principal’s office. She’d forgotten to bring her assigned novel, and had to use the ‘spare copy’ which of course of was littered with the only thing teenage boys ever seem to draw, penises. Which is why when her teacher came over to check on her progress, she had been sent out of the room; the page she was on had a pair of penises in tap shoes and top hats, with one seeming to have just twirled the other across the last paragraph on the page. An amusing artistic representation of human anatomy to some; a piece of tasteless and childish graffiti of school property to her teacher, or so Mrs Davison attempted to tell her. The twitch of her lips as Lexa huffed her way out of the room told her otherwise.
In Math, she had completely tuned out her teacher, and let’s face it, Mr Ryan was fifteen years past retirement. While he might have been a talented teacher pre-World War II; his time was clearly over, and by clearly, she of course meant clearly to everyone but him. His teaching time was so over, it had been recycled, broken down, reconstructed, and it now being shipped to the other side of the world. His talent was in furthest place from this classroom, probably. Mr Ryan had as much teaching talent as the slug she had begun watching slowly make the climb up the window closest to her desk. It was rather amazing. The slug was just so small. How does a little guy like that make it all the way up here?
It started her thinking about how long it had taken the slug to make it to the second story window of their high school, and whether the little bug knew just how incredible his journey would be. It was about then that the teacher called on her, wanting to make known that he knew she wasn’t listening and embarrass her in front of her peers, as some teachers love to do. And it worked. Lexa was frazzled, and so caught up in calculating the speed of inches per minute the slug was moving on her graph that she jumped when called upon. But it gets better. Because she was so shocked, that she jumped just high enough to cause her already unstable chair to wobble on the right angle, and tip over.
Lexa added it to the list of things that made today awful and brushed it off as best as she could. She unfolded and refolded her collar and tightened her pony tail, attempting to get a sense of control over the situation. At least today couldn’t get worse.
Wrong.
During lunch not only could she not text Raven to meet her, but she couldn’t even find her because of the chaos unfolding in the cafeteria. The freshman mistakenly sat at the football team’s table and an entire scene of too many muscles-not enough brains played out, with teachers scrambling to deescalate the situation before another human pyramid of freshman could be made, again. At least a human pyramid would be better than last week’s human table. She almost winced at the memory of the tiny little freshman being down on all fours to make a bench for the senior boys to sit on. In any case, it meant that the whole mood of the cafeteria went from casual picnic to circus ring in no time. It was going to take more than a couple of aspirin to rid her of this headache of a day.
But at least nothing had gone wrong in gym. That was something she could always count on. Lexa had always been good at her school work, but she prided herself on her sport. Track, soccer, softball, swimming. Anything to feel her muscles pulling and straining and her blood pumping. She lived for the feeling of adrenaline rushing through every inch of her body, and the scraping of air being pulled into her lungs. It was almost enough to make her forget how difficult the rest of her day had been.
Almost.
Because half way through gym, her teacher had pulled her aside and sent her back to the principal’s office. Not for insubordination, for a ‘chat’ or so the message her teacher had received said.
And now, an hour after school had officially finished, she’s finally getting to go home. She’d had to stay back because the principal needed an article from the ‘students’ perspective’ about some nonsense topic. And as school captain, he had chosen her perspective to represent that collective, because technically, she did represent them. Lexa can’t fault his logic there, but she can still be petty and moody about it, since he didn’t even try to listen to her side of the story this morning after English. The whole conversation makes Lexa uncomfortable and she barely listens, focusing on keeping her hands from nervously fidgeting with her buttons, or brushing non-existent dust from the front of her blouse.
Lexa wonders whether she should just submit some satirical cartoon like they do in newspapers where the principal has a giant nose or overflowing stomach that is pinched at his hips by a belt that works way too hard to keep his shirt tucked in, standing there, with his fingers in his ears as the students hold signs and throw paper planes scribbled with issues that he doesn’t take the time to care about. He could fix so many things if he would just listen. It’s so frustrating that it makes Lexa huff, adjusting the way her shirt is tucked into her pants and fiddle with the buttons on her blouse.
It’s been a long day. She can’t wait to get home and-
“Look, hear me out. I just want one candy bar. Just oNE!”
Lexa stops two steps short of the corner and listens to what sounds like someone thrashing their fists against the cold glass case of a vending machine. One specific vending machine to be exact, the one outside the east hall.
Lexa listens closely as the voice, all gritty and frustrated, growls and punches at the machine again.
She knows that voice.
She dreamt of that voice. But more specifically she’d hoped to never hear that voice again.
“It’s SCIENCE! I give you my dollar, and you give me the candy.”
Lexa spins the top button on her blouse and straightens her collar. There’s obviously something going on around the corner that she shouldn’t interrupt. Except there’s no other way to get out of the school without using the hallway. No other sensible way out. She could climb out any number of windows, but there’s no way she’d make it down with her book bag, and both legs intact. There’s always the cartoon way out. The nurse’s station isn’t too far from here. And there are plenty of bed sheets that could be tied together. Not that she’d ever seen it work in real life. She wasn’t really ready to risk her life on a bunch of cartoons she’d watched ten years ago.
With a sigh, she gives in and rounds the corner, her face immediately burning a deep red when she lays eyes on the blonde crouching in front of the vending machine. Anyone one else. Literally anyone would have been fine with Lexa.
“Come ON!” The girl yells again, slamming an open palm against the glass again.
Why this girl? Why her? Why today?
Lexa may have only met this girl once, but she would recognise that messy blonde hair anywhere. She remembers that dark grey hoodie and rainbow backpack. She’d only dreamt about it for the entire night last night. And even though the girl is facing away from her, she can still picture her blue eyes, how they pierced right into hers, inches from her face. You could say they didn’t have a ‘traditional’ first meeting, and you’d be right.
The universe wants to punish her. The God’s of fate are staring down, laughing at her. It has to be. There’s no other explanation for what’s happened the past two days. Some higher power, somewhere up between the stars is looking down at Lexa’s life and moving things around like a child who knows they shouldn’t touch, and yet they do. Lexa bets that whoever is responsible for this is laughing or doing it to win a bet of their own.
It’s the same higher power that tried to force Lexa into ‘school captain’ duties to show this girl around her new school today. Except when Lexa was handed the form, with her picture and name, she froze. She was still too embarrassed. She thinks she’ll probably be too embarrassed for the rest of her life. Anyone could make the same mistake that Lexa did, except no one would have made it that intensely, like Lexa did.
She can almost feel the universe laughing at her.
Whatever it is, it’s not funny. Not in the slightest.
Embarrassed past anything humanly possible, Lexa creeps forwards, trying in vain not to attract attention from this girl in front of her.
Lexa had only met her once, but that had been enough. They were both at the airport yesterday, sort of. It’s a bit harder to explain, but she pushes the memory out of her head when the blonde girl turns around and rolls her eyes.
“Look, it’s not what it looks like.” She huffs, turning back around before Lexa can reply. “I put my dollar in, I pressed the button, and nothing. It’s like some sick joke.” The girl sounds like she’d be laughing at the situation, if she didn’t have half of her arm stuck in a vending machine.
Lexa takes a step forward and frowns. Does she really not remember what happened? Because Lexa couldn’t forget her if she tried. And boy has she tried. Maybe she didn’t see her properly. She didn’t turn around for very long. It’s probably that.
Lexa grips the straps of her bag and leans her head to the side, listening to the frustrated sighs from the girl in front of her grow louder. She opens her mouth and goes for calm and confident.
“It looks like the new girl is trying to rob the vending machine in the east hallway? But I can wait to pass judgement on your predicament. I’ve had one hell of a day.” She gets calm, but the waver in her voice gives away her nerves.
“I’m not stealing. It’s this stupid machine that’s the robber.” She grunts, slapping at the machine again. “This must be one hell of a good first impression though, huh?” She doesn’t even turn around, instead opting for a twisting motion to try and loosen her upper arm.
“I’ve had worse.” And so have you, Lexa finishing her sentence in her head as thoughts of yesterday splash a deep red across her cheeks. She’s still baffled that this girl cannot remember. It’s not every day that something like that happens to Lexa. But maybe it’s common where she has come from?
“Although, that vending machine probably just wanted to be taken out to dinner first, before you put your entire arm up that shoot there.” Lexa almost fumbles her words, but feels a little proud when she makes it through her comment stutterless, taking a step forward again, but eyeing the exit.
“Hilarious.” The girl’s tone implies it’s the furthest thing from hilarious. “And for the record. I’ll have you know that all the girls I’ve dated have been more than satisfied.”
This time the girl does turn around. If only to wink and look Lexa up and down quickly. But she’s just as quickly turned back to the machine, allowing Lexa to squash the wriggling feeling in her stomach without scrutiny. She’s dated girls. Good to know. The circus performer riding around in Lexa’s stomach does a backflip and starts dancing. She has hope.
When the new girl starts shaking her arm in such a way that Lexa thinks it’s making it worse, she moves forward, trying to stop her before she goes all 127 Hours on her arm.
“I’m sure.” Lexa goads, taking another step around the new girl. “But as school captain, I’m going to have to warn you that such displays of public affection aren’t tolerated at our school.”
This time the girl does laugh. It’s loud and it’s wonderful and it fills Lexa’s stomach with that same feeling of adrenaline that she gets before a big race. From this close, Lexa can see the corners of her eyes crinkle, and watch as they shimmer with laughter. She takes another step forward, until she’s leaning on the side of the machine, looking down at this ridiculous situation. She can’t help but let her lips twitch into a small smile.
This would be an awful time to catch feelings, she tries to convince herself. She barely even knows this girl, and yet, she doesn’t feel anything but excited at the prospect of something new. Excited just to hear her laugh again, or another witty response or anything else to let Lexa know something else about her. It’s safe to say that Lexa doesn’t try to convince herself very much. Or at all.
“Well, school captain.” The girl draws the words out, using her free arm to make one-handed inverted commas, “It would be un-captainly of you to just stand there any let one of your subjects suffer, would it not.” She raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response. She knows she’s right. But she also knows it’s a challenge.
“I suppose…” Lexa draws out, looking up at the exit, and then back towards the machine. And what’s the harm? She obviously doesn’t remember Lexa at all. And she’s right, she should help her. She should crouch down next to her and sooth the red mark visible on her trapped arm and comfort her. Lexa should let her know it’ll be okay.
Yep. There’s nothing that could go wrong in this situation. Or at least, that’s what Lexa tells herself.
“You know, I have a friend who is way better with machines than I am. Next time you want to pick a fight with a vending machine, I’ll give you her number.” Lexa teases, crouching down next to the girl. Her book bag is forgotten and she leans forward, trying to get a better look at how stuck her arm really is. Conclusion – it’s royally stuck. King Arthur couldn’t get her arm out of there.
“Next time? No way. I never lose…I don’t!” The girl argues when Lexa rolls her eyes. “I’ll have you know that they called me Griffin at my old school. Because I’m brave. And strong.” Lexa doesn’t miss the little wink that is thrown her way. She also doesn’t miss the way it makes her heart sort of flip-flop in her chest.
“Because you’re brave? Or because it’s your name, Clarke Griffin.” There’s an extra hint of ‘gotcha’ in Lexa’s words. She’d been given a brief from the enrolments office about a new student. As part of her ‘captainly duties’, Lexa was supposed to show her around. It’s not that she’d never found the time, although she was busy with her visits to the principal’s office and the lunchtime shenanigans. It’s more that she wasn’t ready to relive her embarrassment just yet. And so she’d convinced herself that someone else could help this girl around the school. Because look at her. This girl could get anyone she wanted to do anything. Lexa, sitting here, crouching over her trying to get her arm unstuck, is evidence of that.
“A happy coincidence.” Clarke shrugs, looking back down at her arm. “So, school captain. Are you going to help a girl out, or are you just here because you want my textbooks?”
Lexa takes a moment to think about it, pursing her lips as she takes in Clarke’s predicament. “I’m literally sitting next to you, trying to see how in the world you got your arm so stuck, and you want to know if I’m going to help?” There’s a pause as Lexa thinks of something to get another laugh from Clarke, or just a smile. “But now that you mention it, I am in the market for a new novel for English.” Lexa thinks about her morning class and frowns. Not that she’ll ever forget her book again.
“Ha ha.” Clarke teases, using her free hand to shove Lexa.
And maybe Lexa is not expecting the push or maybe Clarke pushes too hard, whatever the case, Lexa over adjusts to the feeling, swaying backwards and falling into Clarke. She ends up pushing Clarke backwards too, twisting her arm into a completely uncomfortable position, and landing on top of her. At this point Lexa really hopes this is all some horrible dream and that she is not lying actually lying on top of this girl. This really pretty girl that she doesn’t know. And now will probably never get the chance to know because she’s sure she’s coming off as a weirdo.
“Umm.” Clarke stares down at Lexa, who is face first in her stomach, she keeps her lips pressed together, fighting a smile. “That’s not exactly what I imagined your ‘help’ would be.” Clarke moves, trying to get a better angle for her arm and winces. It wipes the almost smile off her face in half a second.
Lexa is sure she is almost dead. Dying from embarrassment must be the next step from here, right? She’s convinced her face is about to burst into flames, because she feels so hot that she’s starting to sweat. Once was enough, but twice. Twice? Really? Fate is being extra cruel today. She stays there, ready to be taken away. She won’t fight it; anywhere must be better than here.
But reality hits and she realises no poof of black smoke is going to make this better.
For a second, Lexa stops wishing to evaporate and looks up. Clarke’s so close that she can see the way her chest rises and falls unevenly, and the little freckles on her nose. Clarke smells like vanilla and warm Sunday mornings and the comfort that Lexa could only dream about. She can’t help but stare.
She blinks, because it’s a lot to take in, especially when the girl is in front of her, inches from her face, smiling curiously at Lexa, who must resemble something of a stunned mullet. She wonders if this girl is experiencing the same thing. Because if she is, she is coping a lot better than Lexa is.
Clarke must feel it too, she just must, because her tongue flicks over her lips as she dips her head to stare down at Lexa. As if by reflex as Lexa’s eyes dip to her lips, eyes wide and shocked. She feels her body inch closer out of habit, and then stops. She has some self-control. She catches Clarke’s eye and blushes again, harder this time, if that’s even possible.
But Clarke is smirking.
Lexa, who is in denial that she is still in complete control of the situation, does not let herself think about how it’s almost too cute the way that Clarke smirks down at her as if to say ‘comfortable, are we?’ She’s sure Clarke is about to open her mouth and tease Lexa about something. Except then her expression changes, and Lexa sees the hint of a memory float behind her eyes. She blinks twice, quickly, and then pulls her eyebrows together.
“Do I – do I know you from somewhere?”
It comes with another wince when Clarke moves to sit up, supporting her weight on one arm and turning her other a little, jostling it inside the machine.
Lexa’s heart drops. She’s hurt. Clarke is hurt and it’s her fault; she’s making it worse with every second she’s here. But she can’t move. Her legs have gone, or are on strike; at the very least they aren’t responding to her brain. There doesn’t seem to be a message that can override this position that she’s gotten herself into. How many times has she dreamt about being in the lap of a pretty girl? Except this is not quite how she expected to get here.
And she’s still staring at this girl, who thinks she’s a stranger. But worse than that, she’s in her lap, and her arm is caught and she is so warm that Lexa doesn’t want to move, even though she knows she should. Her brain floats around thoughts of everything and nothing all at once.
Clarke is staring at her.
There was a question. Wasn’t there?
What was the question?
“I-um, well.” Lexa is never lost for words. She wrote five different copies of her school captain election speech, and memorised all five of them, just to cover all of her opponent’s possible arguments thoroughly. She always writes extra messages inside birthday cards, filling the space she’s given by hallmark with personalised messages, a fact she is secretly proud of. She knows some of her friends google what to write in cards, but she loves creating it herself. She once debated with the cafeteria to change their spring menu to use more local produce when she was in middle school because she’d heard her parents talking about farmers doing it tough (turns out the farmers they were talking about weren’t in their town, specifically. But it doesn’t mean she didn’t win). She even spoke at her grandfather’s funeral, when guests were asked to stand up and share their favourite memories. She was seven, and didn’t really know what was happening, but if everyone else could talk about her Pop-pop, then so could she. Lexa was never lost for words.
Until now. This girl has her literally falling, and it’s completely changing the organised, labelled, and categorised workings of Lexa’s mind.
How is she going to explain where they know each other from? A dozen scenarios run through her head and not even one let’s Lexa come off as a normal person. Couldn’t be worse than getting caught with your hand in a vending machine, right? Right?
Lexa opens her mouth to try and prays for the best.
“I-
“Girls? Is everything alright?”
She jumps, bumping her head into Clarke’s nose and recoils.
“Wow.” Clarke mumbles, gripping at her nose tightly.
“Sorry!”
She isn’t making this any better.
Mrs Marks is standing six feet from them, and is staring, open mouthed at the two of them. This day just won’t quit.
“Lexa, care to explain why you’re on top of our newest student?”
Clarke shuffles her weight so that she’s sitting up, supporting herself against the machine, using her good arm to press harder against the throbbing red bump on her nose. She clears her throat.
“Yeah, Lexa.” She smiles wickedly as her tongue curves around her name, “Care to explain why you’re on top of our newest student?” Clarke echoes, grinning.
Lexa backtracks immediately.
“Mrs Marks, I was just telling Clarke that stealing candy from the machines is not an acceptable pastime at our school.” Lexa crawls backwards, glancing down at Clarke’s lips once more before she stands up. She clasps her hands behind her back and stands tall. “I thought I’d try to help get her arm out, while explaining how vending machines work.”
“From on top of my lap?” Clarke chimes in, pulling a playful smile at Lexa as she makes the situation that much more uncomfortable.
“Miss Griffin is right. Straddling other students is not the proper way for a school captain to be acting in the halls. Regardless of the time of day.” Mrs Marks crosses her arms and frowns.
“Yeah, Lexa.” Clarke answers, her tone similar to that of the way a child would tease their friend.
“And you, Miss Griffin. Perhaps you will need to learn how to behave properly at our school. A detention should see to that.”
“What?”
“Sorry Clarke, that’s just how things are run here.” Lexa grins, flexing her hands behind her back. Victory feels good.
“A detention. For both of you.” Mrs Marks clarifies.
Lexa almost falls back down onto Clarke. What has she done to deserve this? Her brain scrambles to explain the situation. If Mrs Marks new the whole situation then she’d take it back. There’s no way she could get in trouble for trying to help someone. Even if she innocently landed on their lap. She just needs to understand, that’s all.
“But Miss, I’ve never had a detention. I’m not sure you understand fully what is going on. I’m confident that if you just-”
“Are you saying I’m not smart enough to understand?” There’s a challenge in her voice that Lexa knows well. She’s never had Mrs Marks as a teacher, but she’s heard stories. And she’s never heard a story she liked. The way she stares down at Lexa makes her believe that the stories were true. It makes her grip at her hands even tighter. She has a strange urge to step towards Clarke, in front of her almost.
Lexa bites at her lip, “No Ma’am, I just meant-”
“Enough. It’s time for you to be on your way.” Mrs Marks nods at Clarke. “I’ll deal with this situation now.”
“Yes Miss.” Lexa mumbles through gritted teeth. She picks up her book bag and swings it over both shoulders, gripping the straps on her chest tightly as she walks away, frustrated. She takes one look back at Clarke who looks like she’s just won the major prize at the carnival and shakes her head. What was she thinking?
“And Lexa?” Mrs Marks calls over her shoulder, already dialling a number on her phone, hopefully to maintenance. “Detention, tomorrow afternoon.”
Lexa nods and walks away silently. Coach is going to kill her for missing practice.
-
At home, Lexa empties her backpack. She takes each book out one by one, standing them up in the exact order they have always been in. She lies her textbooks on the edge of her desk, in the same order she always does. She slips her feet out of her sneakers, nudging them with her toes until they lie neatly beside her bedroom door, ready for tomorrow.
Lexa walks over to her mirror, fumbling to undo her top button. It’s crazy how freeing that one little thing is for her, especially after a day like today. She closes her eyes and looks up, breathing in deeply. She holds her breath, trying to let go of everything she can’t control and then breathes out. She does it again, and again, and again, until there’s the hint of relaxation behind her silence.
It’s broken by her mother, calling for her from downstairs. Lexa does up her button and takes one last look at her tired self in the mirror before going downstairs.
They share the usual ‘how was school’ conversation that they always do, with Lexa sharing the bare minimum and her mother pressing her for answers. It ends the same way as it always does, Lexa not giving any details, and her mother, giving up.
Her mother tells her to shower and be ready for dinner. And tonight, Lexa doesn’t fight it. She doesn’t have the energy, even though she’d rather just collapse right here on the floor and sleep for the next week.
-
The shower probably isn’t the best place to be thinking about Clarke, but it’s not as though she does it on purpose, and it’s not as though she can help it. Ever since yesterday, it seems that the entire world is making her whole life centre around this new girl. It’s unfair beyond reason. Lexa didn’t ask to be stuck with a beautiful blonde shadow (not that she’s in a hurry to get rid of her either, there are worse people to be stuck with). Not to mention that her future seems to be likely to consist of the girl as well, starting with detention tomorrow afternoon.
Lexa steps into the bathroom and closes the door. She leans against the wall as she reaches a hand into the shower, turning the taps to adjusts the water, letting the flow of water rush over her fingers. She twists and turns her hand so that the water splashes between her fingers and watches as tiny droplets chase each other over her skin. It’s relaxing, and she hates to admit that her mother might be right, but maybe a shower will do her some good. Maybe a shower is exactly what she needs.
She strips down and steps into the water, letting its warmth envelope her like a blanket. The water pours down, pours over Lexa. It drips down her sides and glides down her legs. It fades the thoughts in her mind until everything is dull and foggy, like the glass around her. Lexa turns to fact the water, stepping into the stream and tilting her head up. The hot, steamy water pattering onto her face calms her and she wishes the feeling could last forever. Her lips part as she inhales deeply and feels the thick humid air fill her lungs.
It’s been a long day.
Lexa closes her eyes and listens to the sound of the water splashing about her. She steps backwards and leans against the cool tiles. All the little things that bothered her today leave her mind. All the things she honestly doesn’t care about; the book, her phone, the article, they’re all gone. It’s the water. It swirls her mind as though she’s standing under an everlasting waterfall. Lexa wishes it could last forever.
It’s not surprising, then, that the one thought that stays is Clarke. And their real first impression floats its way back into Lexa’s mind.
-
Lexa couldn’t be more excited. In fact, she doesn’t remember ever being so excited to see someone. Then again, her best friend has never gone away for the ENTIRE summer before. Parts of it, sure, but the whole thing? Never. They promised each other in elementary school they’d never be a part for that long. They’ve been through it all; school dances, sleepovers, birthdays, learning to ride bikes, first tea parties, lunchtime arguments, first tool boxes, learning to fix bikes, driving lessons, shopping trips, periods, camping trips, and so much more. She’d even stuck around while Raven got her ass handed to her by her parents when they decided it would be a fantastic idea to bleach Raven’s hair for the summer before senior year. All of the west coast girls are doing it, Raven had assured her. To be honest, Lexa thought Raven looked better as a brunette, but if Raven is happy, so is Lexa. So a few months earlier, Lexa had waved her new blonde friend away in this very spot, tears streaming silently down her face. It might have just been the summer, but for Lexa and Raven, it was an eternity.
And now, here she is, so many years later, about to start their senior year and she’s waiting at the airport for her best friend. Excited doesn’t even cover it.
She should have made a sign. She was going to, it would have been cute. But Raven had assured her that if she saw a sign she’d turn around and hop straight back on the plane. Lexa had laughed, she knows for a fact that Raven’s parents would never let her stay away from school; ‘a good education is important, young lady’. It’s something Lexa would hear Raven’s parents say all the time.
But Lexa had heard the warning in her voice and decided against the sign. For the sake of their friendship.
And so here she is, at the airport, barely able to stop herself from jumping up and down as she sees the flight land through the enormous glass windows. She’s literally minutes away from hugging her best friend. Something she’s dreamt about for months. She wriggles around in her uncomfortable blue chair, flicking pages in a magazine she’s already read twice, while staring out the windows. She can barely take the wait anymore.
When the doors finally open and passengers start walking through the crowds of loved ones, Lexa feels like she’s already waited 84 years for this moment. She springs up out of her chair, throwing the magazine carelessly behind her for one reason. She spots a blonde at the back, her beanie pulled down low over her forehead, looking down at the phone in her hand.
She’s back.
Lexa doesn’t hesitate.
She runs.
Lexa weaves her way through the crowd until she’s just feet away from her friend. Her grin stretches from ear to ear as she pauses, and takes a second to giggle to herself. For someone so good with machines, Raven has never really mastered the inner workings of the iPhone.
“Raven!” Lexa calls out as she starts running again, with every intention of flinging herself into Raven’s arms.
Except the girl looks up.
It’s not Raven.
But it’s too late, Lexa is already in the air by the time the girl who is not Raven looks up. Lexa’s smile doesn’t even have time to fade before she wraps her arms around this girl’s shoulders, feeling strong arms fold around her back too.
The girl manages through some miracle to catch Lexa, who has carelessly thrown herself a complete stranger, and for a few seconds the pair of them stay upright, stepping backwards unstably before the both of them tumble, and fall, ending up on the floor.
Lexa freezes. She doesn’t know exactly what comes next, but she knows it’s not her sitting on top of a girl she doesn’t even know.
For some reason her instincts tell her to stay still, and so she does, or maybe it’s because she can feel hundreds of eyes on her back. She did cause quite the scene.
Lexa can feel this girl’s erratic heartbeat pressed against her chest, her arms still holding Lexa tightly to her body.
It’s barely a whisper, but Lexa mumbles, “You’re not Raven.” into this girl’s neck, still making no attempts to move.
Lexa’s whole body bounces while the blonde she has crash tackled laughs.
“Am I supposed to be?”
The arms that hold Lexa so safely, loosen, and Lexa feels the girl press against her shoulders. She obliges, sitting up to see the confused face that is definitely, once again, confirmed as Not-Raven.
Lexa is still confused.
“Not Raven.” Is all she manages to stutter out, raising a hand to point down at the girl, who she has yet again established as Not Raven.
The girl nods, glancing down at her body and back at Lexa. There’s a genuine smile tickling at the corners of her lips that Lexa would think is cute, if she was capable of processing anything other than ‘Not Raven’ at this point.
The girl clears her throat, wrapping a hand around Lexa’s still pointed finger and winking. “Not Raven.” She humours her tugging it towards her own chest.
Lexa cringes. She doesn’t know why this girl is agreeing with her. She’s still sitting on her for God’s sake. Lexa squeezes her eyes shut, as if that will solve the problem.
But it doesn’t.
When Lexa opens her eyes, there are still two blue eyes grinning back at her, studying her.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that you were looking for Raven?” The girl’s lips quirk, but she doesn’t make any move to let go of Lexa’s hand. Which is good, Lexa thinks. Because she’s warm and there’s a kindness in her eyes that is almost breathtaking.
“I, um.” Lexa uses her free hand to tug her hair to the side, and lets it fall over her shoulder. She hears another soft laugh from underneath her and looks down in time to catch blue eyes trailing up her hair, lingering on her lips.
Interesting.
“Lexa?”
Lexa’s head snaps up and Actual Raven is standing two feet from her, looking more amused than ever.
“You’re Raven, I’m guessing?” The girl is still laughing, tipping her head backwards to see who has caught Lexa’s attention. Lexa looks back down at the girl she is still sitting on, who seems to be playing with her fingers, and over at Raven.
Relief floods through Lexa, because that is definitely Raven. Except she looks different. More tan maybe, but summer will do that to a person. And her hair. Lexa scrambles to find an excuse for to explain why she is straddling someone who is not Raven, in the middle of the airport.
“I thought she was you…you’re…not blonde?”
Nothing is making sense today. Nothing except the casualness that is the blonde girl’s hands letting go of Lexa’s and sliding down until they rest on Lexa’s hips. She should feel weird about this, right? A stranger, making a move on her, in the middle of the airport floor. But it just feels, right, and natural and she does it with such normalcy that Lexa doesn’t even question it. It’s dizzying, to feel such confusion and such amazement at once.
“And what? You thought you’d tackle every blonde girl that got off the same flight? Just in case.” Raven lets out a loud cackle and does nothing but shake her head. “Yes, I’m Raven,” She answers the question. “And this is my mess of a best friend.”
Another girl appears from behind Raven and takes in the situation. The new girl exchanges a look with the girl under Lexa and seems to be fighting off a smile of her own.
“You’re sitting on my cousin.”
“You’re cousin?” Lexa glances between the three of them.
“That would be me.” The blonde girl laughs, raising her eye brows at Lexa, squeezing her hands against Clarke’s hips.
“Oh, um. That makes sense.” Lexa nods.
Raven reaches a hand out to Lexa, who takes the hand and pulls herself up.
“Welcome back?” Lexa offers, as red as ever.
“Nice try.” Raven laughs, swinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her away before Lexa can even look behind her.
-
Lexa blinks, and she’s back in the shower. The steam around her not the reason for her red cheeks anymore.
After her shower was finished and she had slumped into bed, she lay there, reliving the moment over and over.
Tomorrow is going to be fun…