Bloodlines

Keeping Secrets

As I lay with my limbs sprawled out in all directions, I gaze up at the tall ceiling, contemplating how on earth I'd gone from snuggled under a cosy blanket at home to lying on a cold, hard gym mat taking orders from a drill Sergeant.

"Come on, Octavia! Just one more," Clarke's irritating voice brings me back to my dismal reality.

I narrow my eyes at his ridiculously attractive, yet, annoying, face. "You said that just before!" I wail in protest, panting to try and catch my breath. "Why are you torturing me like this!"

"It's called conditioning, Octavia," he corrects me, whilst running a hand through his thick hair, saturated with sweat from overexertion. He returns his hands to their original position of holding my feet down and grins, showing me his pearly white teeth. "Anyway, quit complaining woman. One more and I'll let you rest. Scouts honour."

"Bullshit were you ever a scout!" I grumble and he chuckles in response.

Producing a noise not dissimilar to a hissing snake, I tense my stomach preparing to repeat the exercise. My muscles ache as I've never known and pain blossoms through my abdominals. I bite down on my tongue so hard, I swear I taste blood as I fight through my body's resistance to resign. Finally, my fingers reach to touch his shoulders, just as he'd taught me, and I quite literally collapse back down onto the mat with a splat.

"Well done," Clarke nods in approval, then stands to stretch his arms towards the ceiling. I manage to catch a sneaky peek of his glorious midriff when his hoodie rises up and I have to close my mouth to stop myself from drooling.

Oh lord, I'm an idiot, aren't I?

With a sigh, I spread my arms to stretch, and my muscles pop and crack in protest. My body has never been pushed this far and it is quickly reaching its limit.

Clarke bends down to offer his hand which I grab to let him pull me to my feet. He hands me a cup of cold water and a banana, which I accept gratefully. I seat myself on one of the wooden benches, nibbling hungrily on the banana.

Clarke leans against the wall in a lazy manner, with one foot remaining flat against it to keep his balance as he sips from his own cup of water. Next to the rest of the guys, Clarke Winters is undoubtedly the most attractive. Don't get me wrong the rest of the guys are very easy on the eyes but, this guy right here. He's something else. I find it difficult not to lust over him, even when he's being an asshole, which happens to be the majority of the time. It annoys me profusely because he definitely uses it to his advantage.

Glancing up quickly, he raises an eyebrow because he catches me staring at him. He gives me a devilish face that falls somewhere between a smile and a smirk, his signature look I've come to realise. Then he crushes the plastic cup in his hand, before tossing it to the floor.

Pushing himself off the wall, and with that dark piercing gaze trained on me, he grips the material of his hoodie and pulls it up and over his head. Heat spreads right through my body to my cheeks, and my heart beats rapidly against my chest as I gawk at the half-naked man in the room with me. I gasp inwardly, stealing a fleeting glance at his magnificent six-pack. In fact, there's every possibility that I actually let out a girly squeal.

Clarke chuckles, crossing his arms over his sculpted chest, he gives me 'the look' again. "Ready to go for a run?"

I nod, speechless, before even realising what he's suggesting. Honestly, I'm pretty sure I would have agreed to anything he asked of me by that point.

Since the day I pointed a gun at his best friend, Clarke has been acting differently towards me. He is still being his usual bossy self most of the time, but now it's in a playful manner. He'll tease me often, but in an endearing way. I wouldn't go as far as to say he's being nice, but his company is substantially more bearable.