May we always meet again

Chapter 1

Clarke's POV

Annoyed, I groaned. I didn't want to go there, but if I didn't, I knew they'd talk about me, and I certainly didn't feel like it. Maybe I should ask Finn? But is it really a good idea to ask my ex to come to my reunion? No, that was too crazy, even for me.

2 weeks. I still had 2 fucking weeks to confirm or cancel. Full of fervor, I rolled my eyes. I would have loved to never stop again. I sat at my kitchen table and took a deep breath before sighing and letting the air escape my lungs again. I would have loved to slam my fist into a wall, but something told me the wall would win the fight and I didn't want to have to explain the injury to the hospital or my insurance company. 

Instead, I turned to my yearbook in front of me and opened it. Just thinking about that time sent a cold shiver down my spine. I flipped through it until I came to the class photos and the individual portraits and saw a younger version of myself with pimples, bangs, braces, glasses and about 20kg more on the ribs. I know, cliché says hello, somehow only the braids and the self-knitted sweater were missing, but fortunately I hated knitting. Who knows where it would have led otherwise... Just one row above my own photo you could see Bellamy Blake, class president and most popular boy of the school and the one who had made my life hell. He had put me in my locker every now and then, hiding my clothes when I showered after PE, which led to me not doing it anymore, which didn't exactly help my popularity, as I'm sure you can imagine... Whenever Bellamy could, he had laughed at me and paraded me around, and his people around Murphy, CP, and Miller, joined in, egging people on to do the same. The anger in me rose and I let it grow, at least a little, but not big enough that it became a forest fire.

"Clarke, you're not 16 anymore, you're grown up, well at least a little, soon to be a doctor and successful, what do you care what happened so many years ago?" I knew the answer, I shouldn't care, I should *stand* over it, but I didn't, maybe I didn't want to. Maybe I wanted to prove it to myself that I was so much more by now than I was then.

As soon as I was out of high school, the stress became 80% less, despite studying. I started torturing myself at the gym, adjusted my diet, started yoga to learn how to relax, finally got a decent haircut and the braces are out too. I even went to a dermatologist, Harper McIntyre, for the pimples, it went so far that I went out to dinner with her regularly and we are now pretty good friends. After all, we knew each other for a few years as well. 

I just wanted to get as far away from my former self as possible and it worked. Of course, I still looked like me, just more athletic and feminine, with curves to match. And it had paid off. As time went on, I was asked more and more often for my number and a date and, who can blame me, I enjoyed it. The Walk of Shame happened more than once with me, even though I wasn't ashamed of it. Sometimes it was a boy from one of my classes or the one time this pretty barista from a Starbucks coffee shop. Right now I was having a friendship plus thing with Nyilah. She was a few years older than me and I could still learn a few things from her and it was enough for me at the moment. I enjoyed this uncomplicated. She would call me or I would call her, sometimes a message was enough, then we would meet to do something, which always ended the same, but what can I say, I didn't mind. I enjoyed the routine that our *relationship* had taken. Nothing binding, we could meet people outside of this F+ without it being a cheat. It was a bit more than just a friendship for me at first, but the longer it went on, the more I realized I didn't need more. 

A few years ago I was in a relationship, his name was Finn and I didn't want anything more permanent for the time being. We had broken up amicably and were still able to deal with each other normally when we saw each other. There was no bad blood. Probably because it was clear to both of us from the beginning that it was not the great love. Affection? yes. Feelings? Definitely. But love? I doubt it. There had always been something missing, what it was exactly I didn't know, he probably didn't either, but in the end it didn't matter.