Us (Bellarke Fanfic)

[chapter thirty eight - bellamy]

For this past week, the only thing I've been thinking about is Clarke. 

I visited Murphy, only to find him with Emori. They were curled up on the couch, watching some sci-fi drama on TV. 

And I still thought about Clarke. 

In history class, we've been working through the Renaissance unit, which would normally peak my interest. But now, whenever our teacher puts photos on the board for us to look at... all I can think about is how goddamn gorgeous Clarke would look in those dresses. 

It's not like being with Clarke makes it any better - when I see her, my heart skips involuntarily and whatever I was thinking about disappears from my thoughts in a flash. 

Part of me thinks she knows it.

Today, I can't think about Clarke. Because thinking about Clarke would mean forgetting about the pans on the stove, or the food in the oven, or whatever else I have on my list to prepare for the party we're throwing tonight. 

It's harder, considering Octavia isn't part of the planning process - Clarke and I finally decided to follow through on our plans to throw her a party. Lincoln is keeping her at his place for the day while we set up, and everyone will be here to surprise her for dinner. 

Luckily Clarke has stayed out of my way, meaning it's easier to concentrate on the food. I decided to stick to pizza, since there were some frozen ones in the freezer and I don't really trust myself right now. I'm also making garlic bread, which is something Octavia has been obsessing over recently. 

I've decided to go back to the basics and make cupcakes, since those ended up being a big hit last time. But that requires focus, which means no more thinking about Clarke.

I stare at the stove for a moment, a nagging feeling telling me I'm forgetting something. The garlic bread is done. The pizza is on the bottom rack in the oven, the cupcakes on the top. What am I missing? 

Frosting. Of course. 

I return to the fridge and grab the milk, setting it on the counter while I get the icing sugar from the pantry cupboard. The vanilla extract is already on the counter, along with the mixer I used for the batter. Normally I would do something like this by hand, but that might not be the best option. I'd probably forget I was stirring and start doing something else.

I scoop the icing sugar into the bowl, which is still a little wet from the rinse I gave it when I put the cupcakes in the oven. I measure out the vanilla, adding that next. 

Then two hands slide around my waist, and the measuring spoon tumbles from my hand into the batter. 

"Hey," Clarke says, ducking under my arm to stand in front of me. "What are you making?"

"I- The icing," I stutter, my stomach doing the annoying fluttery thing I've become so accustomed to. She's wearing another one of my shirts. 

"Great," she says cheerfully. "You can teach me, like you promised."

"But..."

"How much powder stuff did you put in? Is that vanilla? It smells like vanilla. Then again, you smell like vanilla, so that doesn't say much about what it is."

I shake my head slightly, trying to snap out of my trance. It's just Clarke. And you're Bellamy Blake. You don't get flustered. 

"Alright," I agree. "But wash your hands first. And put your hair up so it doesn't get in the way."

"Yes sir," she says, stepping away from the counter do to as I asked. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I have nothing to be nervous about. She's already my girlfriend.