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She can’t do it.
Clarke picks the remnants of her purple polish off her thumbnail, reminding herself of that sentence over and over again. Her friends refuse to let it die, though. They’ve been plaguing her for over half an hour now (maybe because they’re so sick of her going on and on about how much she likes him.)
"You act like it’s easy." Clarke shakes her head, getting thoroughly annoyed now at their persistent encouragement across from her.
"It is easy." Raven leans back against the padded red booth, exasperating like she’s getting just as annoyed with Clarke. "It literally could not be any more simple. Ask him out."
Clarke glances across the bar to where Bellamy is standing, leaning over the counter. His bright smile outshines everything else in the place. He’s laughing at something Murphy has said, completely engrossed in the conversation. His cheek freckles are more obvious under the light of the wall sconces beside him and his dark locks are flopping over his eyebrows, curling around his ears untamed.
Clarke’s stomach swoops.
She snaps her eyes away, the fear of being so bold too terrifying to even consider. "No way."
"Clarke, come on!" Harper is practically buzzing beside Raven, her entire body hopping like she’s sitting on something hot. "You’ve liked him for what, almost a year now?"
Clarke purses her lips, shifting her eyes across to Bellamy again. He’s nursing a bottle of beer between his hands, the sleeves of his navy shirt folded up to his elbows. It shows off his impressive forearms, the rest of his muscles hidden by his work clothes.
Like he can sense it, he locks eyes with her over Murphy’s shoulder and his smirk widens, rolling his eyes playfully like Murphy is talking shit again. Clarke automatically smiles back, unable to help herself. He’s blissfully unaware of how she feels (thank God) and besides that, he just sees her as a friend.
"What would be the point in making a complete fool out of myself?" Clarke straightens, taking a sip from her glass of gin. The noise and bustle of the bar suddenly seems worlds away, her attention focused on the two girls in front of her.
"How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way?" Raven’s voice is getting higher, the way it does when she’s trying to convince someone that her opinion is a matter of fact.
"Because he doesn’t." Clarke drops her head against the back of her neck, practically groaning with irritation now. "He’s Bellamy. And I’m…me."
It’s true. He’s too out of her league. A college professor, the smartest person Clarke knows, loyal to a fault, kind, generous and too fucking beautiful for this Earth. They’ve been friends for years, ever since Clarke was introduced to him at Raven’s birthday party. Murphy had brought Bellamy along to the party, gave a kiss to his girlfriend for turning 21 and then introduced his dark-haired greek God of a friend to everyone. The rest is history - Bellamy has been part of the group ever since.
"Babe." Harper’s hand comes to rest on Clarke's across the table. "Stop selling yourself short. You’re amazing."
Clarke winds a stray piece of her blonde hair around her finger, toying with the idea of ever asking Bellamy out on an actual date. There’s so much at risk here - the biggest thing being their friendship, the next thing being Clarke’s pride.
She didn’t realise she was into him until one day last year - he didn’t show up at Grounders for their usual after work drinks on Friday and Clarke immediately missed his presence. Hell, if she’s honest, she was outright waiting for him to show up. The night never seemed to get interesting until he was nestled in beside her in their usual booth, smelling of pine and oak and Bellamy.
He’d complain about how many papers he had to grade this weekend and she’d tell him about how many paintings sold out of the gallery that day. They’d then get into a heated debate about their theories on Lost, which was still only being aired weekly at the time, which would then lead onto the inevitable conversation about the best movies of all time. Bellamy always favoured more history based genres (typical of a History major) while Clarke was unashamed to lean towards romance.
Bellamy would then joke about Monty’s PDA with Harper and Clarke would watch the way Bellamy’s eyes cracked at the corners and how his nose scrunched when he laughed.
After that, they’d usually all have had enough to drink for the deeper conversations to come about. Bellamy would tell her stories from his childhood and Clarke would open up to him about her fears of never amounting to anything in her career.
They had something special, a connection that could never be matched. They just got each other. The conversation flowed easily and Bellamy was beyond a shadow of a doubt, Clarke’s favourite person to talk to.
So of course, she was the one to ask where he was that Friday night and when Murphy said he had a date, Clarke felt like her stomach turned itself inside out.
A date?
Bellamy hadn’t dated anyone since Echo, which seemed like a lifetime ago. Yet, there he was - off with someone else. Clarke didn’t even know he had been interested in dating again. She tried to tell herself that she was just tired from work, not up for being out, feeling a little under the weather - she justified her excuse to leave early that night in a million different ways but really, she was jealous.
That’s when she realised this thing between her and Bellamy was actually a thing - and it was evidently one sided.
Even though himself and Gina never actually amounted to anything except for a couple of dates over a two week period, Clarke couldn’t drop her discovery. She was into Bellamy - and something like that couldn’t be unlearned.
"Look, Murphy’s gone to the bathroom and Monty’s talking to Miller at the bar - it’s the perfect time, go ask him!" Raven practically dives across the table to shove Clarke out of the booth.
"Now?" Clarke hisses.
"Yes, now!" Raven hurries her. "Just go, don’t even think about it."
"You’ve waited long enough!" Harper smiles excitedly at her, both of Clarke’s friends too enthusiastic over this project. God, why did she tell them?
Two pairs of hands usher Clarke out of the booth and she straightens herself, smoothing down her jeans out of nervous habit. Suddenly, her black tank top feels too tight and she half considers untucking it from her jeans. Her belt is digging into her belly button to top it all off - she is seriously regretting her wardrobe choice tonight. Everything is too tight - or maybe that's just her chest.
God, what is she doing?
Bellamy spots her coming when she’s only taken a few steps and she can’t exactly turn around now. He smiles assuredly at her and Clarke tries to mirror it, except she knows her face is alight with nerves. She can’t seriously be considering this? Finally asking out the man she’s been pining after for almost a year now?
She has spent that time running excuses in her mind, promising herself that it’s a terrible idea and nothing good could ever come out of telling him. He’s never given her any indication that he’s into her and as far as he knows, they’re just good friends.
She arrives in front of him far too quickly, no idea what to say at all. She gapes at him like a fish out of water but he doesn’t seem to sense her awkwardness.
"Murphy is trying to tell me why Independence Day is the best 90’s movie," Bellamy says, completely oblivious to the electricity buzzing inside Clarke’s chest right now.
"Well, that’s a lie." Clarke blows out a breath, leaning against the bar like she’s only over here to order another drink. "Titanic is the obvious choice."
"You would pick a soppy love story." Bellamy rolls his eyes at her in much the same way as he did with Murphy. She elbows him and he lets out a chuckle.
"It’s more than just romance, you know."
"Oh I know, you made me watch it like a million times," Bellamy quips, earning him another prod.
Clarke glances over at Raven and Harper, who are staring at her wide eyed across the room with massive smiles on their faces - like she’s achieving some great accomplishment and they’re proud of her. Raven makes a gesture with her hands, like she’s encouraging a baby deer to return to it’s mother and Clarke looks away quickly in case Bellamy notices the back and forth.
"So, uh, I was thinking about Nyko’s." Clarke swallows the lump in her throat, wincing at how pathetically she’s starting off.
Bellamy makes a face, like he doesn’t know why she’s saying such a random thing. "Yeah," he laughs. "I think about Nyko’s too, sometimes. The pasta is good."
"No," Clarke sighs, frustrated. "I mean…"
"What can I get you?"
Clarke looks up to see the barman waiting expectantly on the other side.
"Oh, uh, rum and coke," she says in a hurry, not wanting to ruin her train of thought. The barman nods, grabbing a glass and getting to work on her order.
"Aren’t you drinking gin?" Bellamy smiles, eyes narrowed.
Damn it. The blush rises to Clarke’s face immediately. Why is she being so awkward? This is not going well.
"It’s for Raven," she covers, glancing across the bar again to the girl herself. She’s looking less confident in Clarke this time, a wince thick on her expression. Clarke needs to get back on track - she’s already knee deep in this now and she’s determined to see it through.
"Anyway." Clarke turns the conversation back. She shrugs, eyes focused on the coaster in front of her. "I was thinking we should go."
"Go where?" Bellamy asks, lost now after being interrupted.
"To Nyko’s." Clarke swallows. "Tomorrow night."
She can feel Bellamy’s presence beside her, feel the hum of nervous energy buzzing all around her. He seems to be unaffected.
"Yeah, sounds good."
Clarke snaps her head up, meeting his rich brown eyes dead on. She’s pretty sure her heart has tripped and restarted.
"Really?" she smiles, butterflies alight in her stomach. He’s agreeing to a date with her?
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. "Yeah? I love that place."
Clarke tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the smile stuck on her face like a permanent condition. This is really happening. She doesn’t know why she was so nervous before, maybe she misread everything - maybe he’s into her just as much as she’s into him. The excitement washes over her in quick waves, again and again until she can barely breathe.
"Great." She's beaming.
"Cool." He shakes his curls out with his fingers, lightly squeezing her shoulder on his way around. "Text me with times. I’ll see you there."
She watches him make his way over to the pool table, confidence pouring out of him in buckets. Nothing seems to faze him, not even a date is enough to make him nervous. Clarke is so excited, she might scream. She feels like a kid in high school again, her emotions running ragged.
"He said yes?" Raven is by her side in two seconds flat, Harper on the other side squealing quietly.
"Yeah," Clarke laughs, jittery. "It was easy." A sinking feeling comes over her then. "Too easy."
"Don’t even second guess this, Clarke," Raven warns. "Come on! You’ve just scored a date with Bellamy Blake. You’ve dreamed of this day for the last year."
"He didn’t offer to pick me up or anything, though," Clarke bites her bottom lip, a little doubtful now. "He just said he’d see me there."
"It’s the 21st century now, babe," Harper reminds her. "Maybe that’s just how the dating scene is going lately."
Clarke nods, although she can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Maybe she’s just too wrapped up in expectations from her soppy love movies, from her romance novels that line her shelves. Maybe she shouldn’t worry about the details as much and just be happy that he agreed to this at all.
"You so owe us a drink when this gets you laid," Raven teases.
Clarke exhales a breath, smiling now again because fuck it, no matter what, she has a date with Bellamy Blake tomorrow night - and nothing can quell that excitement.
Clarke chooses a red lip and a matching dress, purposely picked because of how much of her cleavage is showing. She wants to impress Bellamy tonight and has butterflies swirling in her stomach because of it.
She arrives to Nyko’s 20 minutes early and has nothing to do but play with her nerves while she waits. There’s no hesitation in downing a glass of wine in that time space and a fresh one has arrived on the table by the time Bellamy is walking through the door.
Clarke gives him a wide grin as he approaches, looking amazing in a white button down shirt and a navy pair of slacks. His dark hair looks a hot mess on his head, so fundamentally Bellamy that Clarke can’t help but stare.
"Hi," she manages to say in an even tone.
"Hey." He smirks at her, eyeing the table with interest before he sits down. "Are they getting us a bigger table when the others arrive?"
Clarke is sure her heart has dropped itself into a gaping hole in the floor below her.
"What?"
"Well, there’s six more of us," Bellamy reminds Clarke with a smile, like that’s the point she’s missing.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
He doesn’t realise this is a date.
The realisation crushes down around Clarke though, the information trying it's best to settle in her head. She can barely believe this. God, how could she have been so stupid? It’s why he agreed to it so easily, why he took every aspect of it so casually. Clarke’s stomach has tightened and she grips the edge of the table, heart pounding.
"Clarke?"
When she looks up, Bellamy looks like he’s analysing her - like he’s trying to read what’s wrong. She must be gone pale, the panic obvious on her face. What the hell is she gonna say? She can’t tell him the truth or she’ll look like an absolute fool.
"Raven got delayed at work, she said she’ll try to make it soon. And Harper isn’t feeling well."
Her voice is as weak as her excuse.
"Oh." Bellamy raises his eyebrows, seemingly unfazed by this as he picks up his menu. "What about the guys?"
Clarke shrugs, avoiding his eyes completely now as she picks up her own menu. She glances at the food listed there, not really taking anything in. They could be serving human babies for all she knows.
"I’ll give them a call." Bellamy reaches into his pocket for his phone.
"No!" Clarke says loudly, causing a few pairs of eyes to glance in their direction.
Bellamy furrows his brow, freezing mid-action.
"I just mean..." Clarke sits a little straighter, ordering herself to regain composure and control. "I’m sure they’ll be here soon."
"Okay," Bellamy recedes, wary. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Clarke gives him a forced smile. "Just hungry."
"We can go ahead and order if you like?" he offers. "If we wait for the others, you might die of hunger before they get here."
That's for sure.
She gives him a tight lipped smile in response to his joke and goes back to scanning the menu. Now that the panic of covering her ass is over, the feeling of rejection is settling in. Here she is, dressed up to the nines, excited over the fact that Bellamy agreed to a date with her. Instead, he’s turned up expecting a group meal.
Okay, technically he hasn’t rejected her, per se. He just doesn't know that it's a date. Still, it’s not a nice feeling.
When the waiter takes their order and Clarke has slugged back her glass of wine, she realises they’re sitting in silence. To be honest, Clarke can't even remember what she ordered. Her head is still spinning, trying to quell how embarrassed she feels and accept that this was the most ridiculous idea she's ever had.
When she finally looks up, Bellamy is already staring at her. He looks so incredible - he is so incredible. God, how could she be such an idiot as to think that he'd ever be into someone like her?
"You look nice," he comments, a soft smile on his face.
Heat rises to Clarke’s cheeks, probably matching the colour of her dress exactly.
"You too," she says awkwardly.
It’s true. He’s clean shaven and his eyes are bright, looking more gorgeous than should be allowed. She can smell his aftershave across the table and it makes her want to get closer to him, draws her in like a predator trap. Her eyes drift from his broad shoulders down his muscular arms, decorated with a brown leather watch around his wrist that he only wears on special occasions.
Conversation goes back and forth once their food comes, Bellamy initiating most of it. He seems to create topics out of thin air. The thing is, if Clarke wasn’t so wrapped up in her own sinking feelings of despair, she’d be able to match him word for word. Now, she just wants this night to be over. She's mumbling answers at him, only speaking the bare amount necessary.
God, wait until the girls hear what happened. They’ll cover her, pretend that they were meant to be coming and forgot to pass the message on to the boys - anything to save her ass from looking pathetic in Bellamy’s eyes. They’ll be gutted for Clarke, especially since they knew how excited she was for this. They even called her earlier, pepped her up over the phone. God, she's so embarrassed.
"But that’s probably not going to happen now that he's been reelected. What do you think?" Bellamy’s voice cuts in through her thoughts.
Clarke’s eyes snap into focus. "Sorry, what?"
The look in Bellamy’s eyes shifts to concern. "Clarke, are you okay?"
Her mouth remains tightly closed, unsure how to answer that question. Lucky for her, Bellamy continues despite her silence.
"You’ve been quiet all night, barely touched your food."
Clarke shifts her gaze down to her pasta, which has just been pushed around her bowl with her fork. She sighs, not really having it in her to make excuses anymore. She can’t concentrate on anything else only this awful feeling in her chest and she needs to clear the air, admit what she thought this was. Maybe it's that last glass of wine but she figures it's now or never.
Still, the prospect of actually admitting it to him is daunting. She doesn’t want what they have to change, doesn’t want to ruin this forever. Not to mention how mortifying this is.
"Clarke?" he prompts.
She sighs out a breath, tearing her eyes away from the way he’s looking at her because she can’t look at him when she says it. "The others were never supposed to be coming."
"What do you mean?" he wonders, the husk in his voice sounding louder than anything else. It’s like her senses are on fire, hypersensitive to everything. She hates what it does to her, how far gone she is for him.
"I thought..." Clarke swallows hard, her cheeks already glowing with humiliation. She restarts her sentence, forcing more confidence into her tone - confidence she definitely doesn’t feel. "When I asked you here yesterday, it was meant to be a date."
The silence that rings through the air is worse than anything else. She makes herself check Bellamy’s face, seeing the shock and surprise there. He stares at her, open mouthed and wide eyed.
Clarke wants the ground to open up and swallow her. God, what is the matter with her? Why does she have to have these stupid feelings? She might have just ruined things between her and Bellamy forever, now.
"I…" he stutters, looking like a fish out of water. "I didn’t think you saw me like that."
Clarke shrugs, petulance and defence in her demeanour because she feels vulnerable. "Well, I do."
Bellamy leans forward, elbows on the table. It looks like he’s collecting himself, gathering his thoughts. She feels like she could scream - if he’s going to shut her down or give her some line about how they’re better off as friends, she wishes he would just get on with it. Any answer would be closure right now.
His chair scrapes against the wood floor when he gets up, sudden and hurried in his movements. Clarke closes her eyes, her heart sinking inside of her because fuck, he’s leaving. That’s what being honest has done - destroyed everything between them. She curses herself, curses Raven and Harper for convincing her to do this. She'll drown them in that goddamn drink she promised them.
However, her mind goes blank when Bellamy stops in front of her side of the table. She looks up at him, barely getting a moment until he's tipping her backwards, crashing his lips against hers like he’s desperate for it. She’s taken by such surprise that she can’t even kiss him back for a second.
Then, she kicks herself back to action and opens her mouth to allow him in. The kiss fills her up, the passion washing over her in waves. Her chair is leaning back on two legs, his strong hand holding the back of it steady as he chases her taste. In all her romance novels and soppy love movies, not one moment in them compared to this one.
Bellamy’s other hand is on her jawline, caressing the skin there as he claims her mouth for his own. His lips are warm and soft against hers, but the kiss is hard - like he’s been waiting for this for as long as she has. It’s so hot and intense that Clarke almost forgets they’re in the middle of Nyko’s, surrounded by other diners enjoying their evening meal. Bellamy, for one, doesn't seem to care.
It’s over as quickly as it began, ending with Bellamy pulling her back up to a straighter position. She’s breathless, her hair windswept like she’s just been outside. She touches her lips from where he’d been, feeling the swell that he left there.
Bellamy tugs his shirt straight and takes a breath in and out before returning to his seat opposite her. She watches him with want in her eyes - desperate for an explanation, desperate for more of that.
"Okay," Bellamy exhales. "Now that we’ve both quit being idiots, let’s get on with our date."
Clarke huffs out a short laugh, the exhilaration flowing through her veins.
"You like me?" she asks dumbly. "Like that?"
He grins, a shaky confidence pouring off his features. "Guess we’ve both been blind to the obvious."
She smiles, happiness flooding her.
"So, Clarke Griffin, tell me about yourself."
She looks at him under her brows, amused at the joke. If he wants a date, he’ll get a date.
"I’ve got a better idea," she tells him, wires still sparking inside her from their kiss. "Get our coats."
"We going somewhere, Princess?" he smirks at her half crooked, the sexual tension rolling off him in waves.
Clarke matches his grin right back. "Damn right we are."
They leave Nyko's in a hurry, Bellamy's hand on her lower back and his fingers tracing the skin on her thigh during the car ride back to his place. As he lifts his hand higher, Clarke figures that she'll owe Raven and Harper that drink after all.