"Octavia?"
"Hey!"
"Thank God, I-"
"Sorry to disappoint, but I can't get to the phone right now. Leave me a message and I might call you b-"
Clarke angrily punched the end call button. The last thing she needed was for neither of her friends to pick up the phone when she was stranded in the middle of a fancy club with no sign of her date anywhere. The evening had started out so promising, too.
She hadn't been in the big city for long, but long enough to catch the eye of a few decent (or so she thought) guys. The first one she went out with turned out to be not as interesting as she thought he was, and constantly tried to impress her with his family's socialite status. That didn't do much for Clarke at all, considering where she came from. The second wasn't quite as awful, and although he was very handsome, they just didn't click as Clarke thought they should have.
When Finn asked her out and seemed devoid of the lackluster qualities displayed by previous dates, she decided that third time was the charm. He kept in touch with her throughout the week, sending her cute good morning messages and things to make her smile. Finn even made reservations for them at a new fancy restaurant ("Oh, Clarke, you'll love it. It has this wonderful artistic vibe," he had said).
Clarke showed up right on time, beaming and ready to kill in a navy blue dress with a peter pan collar. It accentuated her curves, and as her roommate Raven had so eloquently put it, "Someone better call the fire brigade, 'cuz your body's on fire!" (sizzling noise included) As dorky as it was, it really gave Clarke that final push to meet her mysterious new beaux at the restaurant.
So there she was, sitting in the middle of an obnoxiously fancy restaurant by herself, looking more desperate by the minute. Clarke had been pretending not to notice the inquisitive glances thrown her way, but it was getting mighty hard with the sheer overwhelming number of them. When the waiter reappeared (for the third time) Clarke decided to leave with what little dignity she had managed to preserve of herself (it sure didn't feel like there was much). She thanked the waiter rather cordially, and let herself out into the brisk night air.
It was colder than when she left, if she remembered correctly. Octavia had offered her her jacket, but Clarke had laughed her off, saying "It's not like I'm gonna be outside at all tonight."
She didn't realize how wrong she would be.
Clarke weaved effortlessly in and out of the crowd flowing through the condensed sidewalk, trying to look as if she had somewhere to be, rather than standing outside of the restaurant she had gotten stood up at. If there was one thing she had learned while she was in New York, it was how to navigate sidewalks with poise and precision. It seemed like a silly practice until the situation had actually happened to you. Clarke had gotten swept away once or twice and even spilled her coffee on Bellamy-
Bellamy! Clarke's sour mood improved a little when she remembered her friend's handsome older brother. Unfortunately, his personality didn't seem to match his looks. Granted, she had spilled coffee on him, but it was a total accident (Finding out later that day that the man she had spilled her latte on was her roomie's older brother was a bit of a shock and a total embarrassment, to say the least).
She saw him quite a bit, considering his sister was her roommate. She had learned his schedule (unintentionally. Okay, not really) and if she remembered correctly, he would be off shift by now...
Clarke frantically dug through her purse, grinning triumphantly when she pulled out her phone. She searched through her contacts for that one number she had gotten "just in case of emergency" from Octavia.
Her fingers hovered over the call button, unsure of his reaction. He wasn't too fond of her, but if she called in a favor, like the one time she brought Octavia home from a party before she left with some loser when she was abhorrently wasted...he might tolerate it. It's not like she had anyone else to call. Clarke only knew a select few people from work and her roommates. She didn't even have her colleaugues' numbers.
Bellamy it was.
She pressed the phone to her ear, and the repetitious ringing did nothing to soothe Clarke's flaring anxiety over the situation.
"Hello?" A gruff voice answered. Clarke could have almost sighed in relief, and she hadn't even asked for his help yet. But at least he'd picked up.
"Hey," she began nervously. "This is Clarke and-"
He cut her off. "What happened? Is O okay?" he sounded frantic, desperate. His tone had changed faster than Clarke thought was possible.
"No, no, Octavia's okay..."
"Then why are you calling?" Gruff Bellamy was back.
"I kind of need a ride and 'tavia and Raven won't answer their phones?"
She could hear him sigh through the phone, and picture him running his hand over his face exasperatedly. "...Fine. Where are you?"
Clarke furrowed her eyebrows. "What, really? No ultimatum or anything?"
"Do you want me to come get you or not?" he deadpanned.
"Yeah, yeah! Thank you so much Bellam-" She heard a faint click, and squinted at her phone screen. He just hung up on her.
***
Stupid little princess, Bellamy groaned to himself, fumbling around his apartment to find his car keys. The last thing he expected was to get a call from her tonight, no matter how welcome it was to hear her voice.
He remembered meeting her at the lunch rush in the middle of the street. How could he not? She basically poured her venti iced chai tea latte down his nice dress shirt. But when he looked up to berate the offender, he couldn't help but tone it down quite a bit. She looked so disoriented, but you could see the wonder in her eyes. It was like she was new to the city and her surroundings, and was drinking everything in. It was a wonderful aesthetic, and he thought about it (her) the rest of the day. It was nice to see that kind of unbridled optimism on someone's face. It hadn't been on his in a long time.
It turned out that Clarke was indeed new to the city. When his sister had asked him to help move her roommate in, he had no idea it would be the coffee-spilling blonde from before. Although he played it off rather well and stayed aloof, he was glad he had found her again. Bellamy wished he was an artist just so he could capture the expression and emotion she constantly displayed. It wasn't even about the big things. Forget about the big city, nothing was better than Clarke ranting over why the book was better than the movie. Why she won that hand of cards. When she began to talk about something she really loved. It was riveting, and Bellamy couldn't get enough of it, which is why Octavia started giving him a limit on how much time he could spend at their apartment.
No matter how much he protested, Octavia knew why he was there so much, and was adamant about it not happening.
"Bell," she would sigh. "Clarke is really oblivious to a lot of things, and you deserve better than someone who doesn't appreciate you."
At this point, Bellamy didn't care. He tried to do as Octavia asked, and stay away, stay unattached, but it just wasn't working. He knew Clarke didn't think of him like that, or at least hadn't thought to think about him like that, but there was no way he was giving up. He hadn't wanted anything-anyone-this much, ever. It was a new feeling, and entirely welcome, in his book. He didn't often have anchors, other than Octavia, and he hoped this one would stay.
He finally found his keys tossed haphazardly near the fish bowl, and rushed out the door. He didn't know why she needed him or what happened, but she called him. And that had to mean something.
***
Clarke waited (rather impatiently) in front of a less busy store, trying to somewhat blend in. She tried her best to cultivate some lie to tell Bellamy so she wouldn't seem like quite so big of a loser, but nothing seemed plausible enough. Why else would she be out at this time, by herself? It just seemed odd and out of place. She didn't know how to hide this from him, so she began to brace herself for the inevitable when her roommate's hot older brother arrived: ultimate embarrassment.
Clarke busied herself with searching through her clutch (which looked a little silly, but she was running out of options) and that's the way Bellamy found her. She felt a tap on the shoulder and whirled around only to find the main object of her anxiety meeting her face to face.
"Hi," she shuffled her feet on the sidewalk nervously. "Thank you Bell, it means a lot-I just-"
He gave her a semi-strange look when she called him Bell, but he was still quick to grab her hand and tug her off toward the direction of his car. "Come on, Princess. You can explain on the way."
She reveled in the feeling of her hand in his, her small (slightly ink stained) hands engulfed in his large, calloused ones. As much time as she spent trying to rinse it off, the ink just wouldn't lift. She decided it was the lesser of the two evils when she had moved on to fix her hair, as she didn't have time for both. Clarke began to grow embarrassed again, but almost as if he could sense her unease, Bellamy began to rub his thumb along her hand. It was soothing, but he surely must be doing it absentmindedly, she thought. A big brother complex.
Bellamy opened the car door for her, and she couldn't help but smile. He was more of a gentleman than her date had ever been...why couldn't she have gone out with him? She sighed inwardly, cursing her apparently lackluster taste in men. The only comfort was that he was Octavia's older brother, and he didn't even like her. It really wasn't a comfort at all, but it helped her feel a bit less awful about the situation at hand.
He clambered in the car, taking his sweet time, as if he hadn't anyplace to be. This surprised Clarke greatly, because what handsome man in their late 20's doesn't have someplace to be on a Friday night in New York City? She must've luckily caught him in a good mood, and not in the middle of anything important. Like a date, she thought sourly.
Bellamy turned to her. "So, Princess? Gonna explain why you were alone out here on a Friday night and I had to come pick you up?" He looked a little exasperated, which was more like the Bellamy Clarke knew.
She cast her glance downward, cheeks turning red. "I got stood up."
"What?" He let out a cutting laugh. "You've got to be kidding me."
Clarke looked at him defensively. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Bellamy ran his hand over his face and sighed. "I didn't mean it like that. I just can't believe you got stood up. You."
She must've looked puzzled, for he continued. "You're a princess. Princesses don't get stood up. They get their prince and their happy ending."
She laughed bitterly. "Looks like my prince was actually a frog."
"Maybe you don't need a prince," he said suddenly. Hopefully. But maybe she was imagining things.
"What would I need, then?"
"Maybe you need a knight?" He looked down at his lap, not daring to meet her eyes. This frustrated Clarke, for she had always found she was good at reading facial expressions, especially with the help of eyes. She was walking into this blind. She wanted to test the waters, of course she did, but what if he didn't feel the same? What if he was just teasing her?
The thought alone absolutely deflated her. Despite the nagging of her brain to stop where she was before she ruined things, Clarke soldiered on. "A knight?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," Bellamy ran his hand through his hair, then placed it on the armrest. "Not to save you, because let's face it, you can save yourself, Clarke. But maybe someone to look out for you, to always have your back. To be your sidekick. If that makes sense," he added hastily.
She put her hand over his. "I think I'd like a knight."
He looked up at her, wonder crossing his face. She'd never seen Bellamy's face light up like that, it gave her warm tingles all over when she realized she was the cause of it. Maybe he didn't hate her. Maybe...
"Clarke?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I'd like a job application." Her heart swelled with these words, and a crooked grin appeared on Bellamy's face. Although it had a teasing tone to it, she could sense the earnesty of his words.
Clarke leaned forward, drawn closer as if Bellamy had a magnetic pull. In a way, she supposed, he sort of did. She never could stay away when he was around. Clarke never put it together till now. She would always linger in the kitchen when he made omelettes for Octavia, ask him how his day was when she passed him in the living room, and let him pick the movie on movie night. She never realized how much of an impact he had on her life by just existing. When she realized it, it was like the feeling increased tenfold.
"I think I can pull some strings so you can start right away," Clarke said, tapping his nose.
He laughed, pulling back to take the steering wheel. "I'll hold you to it, Princess."
***
Neither Raven or Octavia were surprised when the two came tumbling into the apartment later that night, laughing and pausing to kiss at every given opportunity. Octavia didn't know whether they were drunk or intoxicated with each other, but at the moment, she didn't care.
As bad as she felt about ignoring Clarke's calls earlier, the end result was so worth it.