Oily skin is a common problem that a lot of people deal with. Even if your whole face isn’t oily everyone deals with a little bit of oiliness every now and then. This guide will mostly be for helping people who have very oily or oily/combination skin but it can also be helpful to those who deal with a little bit of oil every now and then.
So first things first, how do you know if you have oily skin?
To tell if you have oily skin cleanse your face and then wait an hour or so. Don’t put anything on your skin during that time. Look at your face and hour after cleansing. If you whole face looks shiny and oily you probably have oily skin.
On the other hand if you look at your face and only certain areas of your face are shiny and oily while others might be dry or normal you probably have oily/combination skin, which is very common since people rarely have one type of skin. For people with oily/combination skin the most common place to get very oily is along the T-Zone. Which is the forehead, nose and chin as shown in the photo below.
Skin care for oily or Oily/Combination Skin
Okay so one of the most important things for taking care of your skin no matter what skin type you have is a good skin care routine. This is especially true for oily skin types because not washing your face and letting that oily sit can lead to breakouts.
Okay so the first step in in good skin care routine is cleansing your skin. You should wash your skin once or twice a day never more than that. Over washing your face can strip your skin of all the oils it needs which will cause it to over produce oily only making things worse.
When choosing a cleanser look for one for your skin type! This is super important because if you’re using a cleaner for the wrong skin type it won’t help and can even make your skin worse. Also not all cleansers work the same for everyone even people with the same skin type. Try out a few see how your skin reacts and pick the best one for you. In general oil free products are good for people prone to oiliness and this is true for cleansers to so keep an eye out for that.
If you have mostly oily skin with no dry patches then a foaming cleanser is really good getting rid of excess oil and helping to control it through out the day. However if your do have some dry patches or just more sensitive skin a foaming cleaner could be too much and strip your skin more than it should.
If you have Oily/combination skin then go for a gel cleanser which can be a little gentler than a foaming one which means it will be less harsh on any dry or sensitive areas you might have and keep them from getting worse. It is also possible you might just need two cleansers one for the oily areas of your face, and another gentler cleanser for the dry/normal areas of your face.
If you also have acne prone skin which is very common if you also have oily skin then look for a cleanser that also has
salicylic acid or a lipo hydroxy acid which will help clean our pores, prevent breakouts, and help control oil.
While face masks are not super important to use I find that using a mask once or twice a week can really help your skin. The best mask for oily/combination skin types are clay masks which will help draw out excess oil and dirt from your skin while providing your skin with some helpful minerals. Just don’t leave it on to long or it could dry you out too much. To avoid that just make sure you wash it off as soon as it fells like its started to dry on your face.
Sotoners can be a little iffy. They are good for helping to control oily but the astringent properties of them can be to harsh and can lead to overproduction of oil so it will depend. If you feel like you need a toner start off only using it a few times a week rather then every day and be aware if your face seems to be getting oilier that that means your should probably stop using it rather than use more.
There are some people who believe that oily skin types should not use moisturizer or that moisturizer will make oily skin worse but that isn’t true. Moisturizer is super important no matter what skin type you have! After your wash the oils off your face it is important to add some moister back into your skin so your skin doesn’t over compensation and produce too much oil.
Again the important thing when choosing a moisturizer is picking one for your skin type. Oil free is best. Personally I like Yes! to tomatoes daily balancing moisturizer which is relatively inexpensive.
Aloe Vera is also a good natural moisturizer for oily skin and acne prone skin. it’s not oil based and won’t be to heavy on your skin and it also has some healing properties which can help with acne .
Always wear sunscreen no mater the season or if you plan on being outside. Protecting your skin from the sun is super important. However some sunscreens can be to greasy especially for oily skin types so go for a gel based facial sunscreen which will be more matte.
Makeup tips to help control oil
Always use a primer, It might also be good to invest in an oil controlling primer which can either be used all over or on just the places you get most oily
After you apply your primer dust your face with a loose translucent powder then apply foundation and concealer, and then go over again with powder along the T Zone. This will help prevent oiliness and help your foundation last longer especially during the warmer months.
Try applying your foundation with a damp beauty blender. Using a damp beauty blender can get rid of any extra oil that might be in your foundation which will help prevent oiliness through the day.
When choosing a foundation again look for one made for your skin type. Oil free is always great. Generally liquid foundations, cream to powder foundation, and foundation sticks work well for oily skin. BB creams can work too they are just a little harder to find in a formulation that isn’t too dewy, but they do exist.
Stay away from things that say they have a “Dewy” finish this will only emphasize shine and oil for people who have issues with oiliness. Matte or satin finishes are best.
Carry oily absorbing wipes with you. Sometimes oil is just unavoidable so when it happens dab the area with an oil absorbing wipe to get rid of oil. Once you’ve gotten rid of the oil then you can go back over with a little bit of powder on your T-Zone if you feel you need to.
Make sure not to over powder! when using powder use a large fluffy brush. Only dust along the T-zone when setting your makeup and doing apply powder over top oil. Over powdering is the number one way to make your makeup look cakey which is not good
Try a makeup setting spray which can help both set your makeup and help it last longer before your face get’s oily or shiny
If you have very oily eyelids and your eye shadow tends to crease throughout the day or your eyeliner smudges then make sure you are using an eye primer before applying your eye makeup. NYX Proof it is a good inexpensive primer good for oily lids.
Petunia was at it again. Lily tried her best to
stay in the living room, working on her homework for next term, but she
couldn’t focus because Tuney kept looking over and tutting disapprovingly.
Every five seconds it seemed Petunia would let out another tut. Finally, Lily
couldn’t take it.
doing homework, Tuney.” She said, exasperated. “I don’t come distract you while
you’re working, do I?”
nothing wrong with my work, though.”
Petunia said. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a pony tail so high and tight
that Lily was surprised it wasn’t cutting off circulation to her head. “I
suppose you’re writing an essay on something ridiculous like whether or not the
Wicked Witch of the West was innocent?”
that be any different than the paper you wrote on Hamlet last term?” Lily
pointed out, lowering her quill. She was pleased to see her sister’s face
scrunch up as she thought of what Lily had said. “They’re both fictional,
right? It would only be an analysis.”
know what I meant,” Petunia spat, clearly unhappy that her insult had
looked down at her half finished essay. “Besides, I’m writing an essay on why
muggles need electricity. It’s for my Muggle Studies class.”
eyes lit up dangerously and she leapt to her feet. “Mum!” She called loudly
disappearing from the room. “Mum, Lily called me a muggle again!”
jumped to her feet too, scrambling to follow her sister. “I did not!” She
yelled, socked feet slipping on the hardwood floor of the hall.
Petunia was already in
the kitchen, pointing an accusatory finger out the door. “She did so! I asked
her what she was writing and she said a muggle like me wouldn’t understand!”
Petunia scrunched her face up even more to appear as if she were crying.
Lily rushed into the
room, looking at her mother pleadingly. Mrs. Evans was a tall thin woman with
graying red hair. She placed a hand on Petunia’s shoulder and turned to Lily.
“We’ve talked about this, Lily. It upsets your sister when you call her that.”
“But I didn’t.” Lily insisted. “I only told her
I was writing an essay for my Muggle Studies class.”
Petunia loudly sniffed,
drawing their mother’s attention again. “You hear that, Mum? She studies us
like we’re the freaks.”
“Oh, that is rubbish,”
Lily said defensively. “She’s just milking it now. I didn’t do anything.”
“You always take her
side!” Petunia whined.
“Because I’m usually
right!” Lily said.
Mrs. Evans cleared her
throat. “That’s enough, both of you. It’s the holidays, why can’t you both just
Lily wanted to point out
that the summer holidays were nearly over, but she held her tongue. Instead she
said, “I was only trying to do my homework. Tuney kept interrupting me.”
“I was in the living room first.” Petunia argued. “Lily came in
there to bother me.”
“I did not!”
“Enough!” Mrs. Evans
cried, her hands flying to her temples. She always got terrible headaches when
Lily came home from Hogwarts due to all of the yelling. “Lily, can’t you work
in your room? That seems the easiest solution, as we’ve only got the one telly
in the house.”
No, Lily wanted to say, I
will not work in another room.
But she stormed out of the kitchen without a word. She bypassed the living room
all together and grabbed her sweater by the door.
Her mother followed her
worriedly. “Lily, where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Out.” Lily
shoved one of her dad’s old work boots onto her foot and then the other.
“Dear, it’s dangerous to
go walking alone this late. I won’t have it.”
“It’s a good thing I
won’t be walking then,” Lily said, wrenching the door open. “I’ll be
Request: The reader has the power to control minds, but she doesn’t know how to control them. One day, she accidentally made all of the Avengers think that they were in love with her, so they try to fight for her affection. In the end, she breaks the connection, and they all have an awkward conversation in the end.
Thanks so much for requesting this awesome idea disneylandequalssecondhome, I hope you like it! I tried to make it light and fun, but finding gifs for these one-shots is so hard.
“Look, I can’t just do it on command, I don’t know how,” you said while shrugging your shoulders. The whole team was there watching you, waiting for you to show them the powers you’ve had to hide all of your life.
“Well you’ll definitely not be able to do it with that attitude,” Steve joked, but only earned a glare from you. Your attitude was fine, four hours ago. Tony and Bruce refused to let you leave the training room until you showed some kind of sign as to how your mutation worked. You were hungry, annoyed, and just about ready to tear everyone’s head off.
“Can’t we just do this another day? I’m not really feeling it today.” Truth is, you never really felt comfortable with your powers. You were able to manipulate people’s thoughts, control minds in a sense. It came in handy sometimes, when you could actually get it to work. You didn’t know how to control it, but when you really needed it, your mutation seemed to disappear. Which was a pain in the ass.
Tony was staring at you intently, willing you to do something. He was probably just as bored as you were.
“No, you’re not leaving until you do something.” Bruce answered, crossing his arms in mock disappointment. You groaned, throwing yourself on the ground and curling up in a fetal position. You aggressively rubbed your face, trying to activate something in your brain. But nothing seemed to work.
Suddenly, the wind got knocked out of you, and you watched as all of the Avengers turned towards you. They seemed frozen, but that only lasted a second before they all blinked and looked around, obviously confused.
“Y/n, what’re you doing on the ground? Are you hurt?” Pietro rushed over to you and helped you up, but ended up carrying you in the process.
“I can handle this.” Steve grabbed you out of Pietro’s hands and glared at him, before looking back at you with a weird look in his eye. Like the way Clint looks at Natasha when he thinks no one’s looking.
“Guys back away, y/n can walk you know.” Natasha stepped in, eyeing Steve until he reluctantly put you down. “You can walk, right? I’d be more than happy to help you to the living room or something if you needed it.”
It was like a war had broken out between gods of business, actual gods, trained killers and a really old man. Everyone started yelling around you, pointing fingers with disgust and making you flinch with their facial expressions. You watched as Tony gave Clint the bird, but was returned with a long string of obscenities you knew you’d have nightmares about. The best part of it all was that they were fighting over you.
“You like wearing tights, how do you expect y/n to be attracted to someone who wears fucking tights.”
“It’s easier to believe that than to think y/n would be interested in someone who basically quotes Shakespeare. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Even Tony knows the next line should be ‘because you’re so damn hot,’ not any of that thou art lovely shit. We can barely understand what you’re trying to say half the time!”
“Rogers does have a point, and you’d think after sixty five years without any stimulus he wouldn’t be able to have a point, so it’s quite impressive actually.”
“What’re you tiny Misgardians yelling about? The only thing I am able to hear is additional proof that all of you are much too simple minded for y/n’s affections.”
“Look who’s calling us tiny. A giant hammer… Compensating much over there Thor?”
“Whatever Legolas, you have no room to talk. Don’t even get me started on the Kim Possible theories.” Banner’s eyes went back and forth between Clint and Natasha, and you were surprised that you didn’t notice the resemblance to the animated characters before.
“Guys,” you started, sensing that this was going to get a lot worse very soon.
“Whatever, you oversized green bean.”
“You want a fight pretty boy, or do you need to put your hair up first?”
You watched in horror as the group unraveled in front of you. Clint was shrugging off his jacket, and Bruce was cracking his knuckles. The others weren’t faring any better; across the room Natasha was about to pounce on Tony, and you could hear Steve loudly defending the forties. From the looks of things, some necks were going to be snapped in the next few seconds if you didn’t do something.
“Guys!” You yelled, putting one hand on both Bruce and Clint’s chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, it felt like something was trying to slowly crush your skull and you could barely hold in your gasp of pain. When you opened your eyes again, everyone was looking around, confused.
“Oh thank god that’s over with,” you breathed out, letting your hands drop.
“D-Did you just fuck with our minds, y/n?” Natasha asked, a slight blush rising to her cheeks.
“Look, y/n, you’re a great person, and we all respect you so much, but-”
“I mean, we’d never fight over you. That wasn’t meant to be rude, you’re beautiful and have so many positive attributes-”
“You’re just digging yourself a deeper grave. I get it, now go get me food before I make you do it. And Tony, get me a new car too while you’re at it.”
Eilidh was flustered and sweating as she tumbles out of the car at BBC studios, her breath hitching briefly in her throat as she threw her heavy work bag over her shoulder. This all felt terribly familiar. The flight, the imminent sense of expectation, the anxiety, the busy London streets whipping past. It all reeked of before… of Harry. It made her feel sick, confused and erratic, the worst possible emotions for such a big job.
She took a deep breath and set her mouth in a grim line as she marched towards the entrance of the studios, willing herself to calm and focus. This was potentially one of the biggest jobs of her career, and she was determined not to crack.
“Hi, I’m Eilidh McLean”, she introduced herself crisply to the bored-looking security guard, who nodded in recognition and lazily wrote her out a backstage pass. She waited, tapping her foot impatiently, and then snatched it with a terse smile, holding it to the LED pass code before letting herself inside.
Backstage was relatively calm, and it made her sigh in relief when she looked at her watch, noting that she still had about four hours until they were live. She wandered uncertainly until a woman approached her, smiling and introducing herself, before taking Eilidh to meet the guests that would appear on the show that night, whose hair she was expected to style.
The makeup room was small and cramped, but Eilidh was used to that and she smiled faintly as she assessed it, noting the great lighting and mirrors, heaving down her heavy bag on one of the vanities. The woman in charge then lead her through another door, to The Green Room, where the five guests were waiting.
Eilidh smiled politely as she was introduced, and they all amiably waved back and greeted her in a friendly manner. Four of them were young, good-looking actors and singers that she recognised, and then her breath came up short when her eyes landed on the fifth.
“Hi, I’m James”, the rotund, jolly man, with kind eyes introduced himself affably, reaching forward to shake Eilidh’s hand earnestly.
“Hello”, Eilidh gulped, forcing herself to smile back. It was James Corden, revered host, writer and comedian…Harry’s friend.
He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort as he sat back down and leafed through a newspaper, and Eilidh was relieved when she felt it appropriate to excuse herself, get back to the hair and make-up room.
Her mind spun as she sat down heavily in a chair, raking her fingers roughly through her hair. He obviously didn’t recognise her, and she felt relieved, before a stab of humiliation hit her when she remembered The Brits, the terrible publicity that had ensued. The hiding, the pain, the ache in her chest that had prevailed for months as she grieved, alone, with nobody but her parents and Alex to turn to. And then; that night he had turned up at her door, looking older, and leaner, more desolate somehow, like his playful innocence had been duly interrupted, and altered forever.
She had felt too weak to refuse his company, and her heart physically hurt when she thought about how much fun they had had that night. How the music had taken them away from all the hurt, all the bullshit that had dogged them since the beginning of their relationship.
Eilidh had woken up that morning in the hotel, and stared, hard, intently as if committing him to memory as he slept. Their relationship running like a montage in her mind, as she closed her eyes over the tears that fell, hoping, that one day she would mercifully forget. But how could she possibly? The awakening of what felt like her soul in Leeds, those first few meetings and the uncertainty back then, always brought together by their physical relationship. It wasn’t just sex; it was a closeness and intimacy that made them solid, connected…or so she’d thought. She remembered the conversation with Rudy in Ashton Lane, the fact that Rudy, of all people had so selflessly encouraged her to go to him, to take a risk, make the leap. The liberation she felt as they fell in love in Oz, like she was free, a new chapter beginning in her life.
Then came the difficulties, his need for attention something that she wasn’t used to and ill-equipped to cope with. The needier he was, the colder she was capable of becoming. The breaks however, always, always reminding her how much she loved him, needed him, coveted him.
Then Rudy. The major complication that tugged at her heart, a constant battle in her mind between her past and her future. Harry’s beautiful view of the world and the excitement her brought to her life, constantly warring with the anchorage and comfort that Rudy brought her. Her guilt that he loved her so much making her over-compensate, spend almost too much time with him, confusing herself and him in the process.
The humiliating horror story which was The Brits, the relentless press attention afterwards, photographers camping in her parents yard. The text she tapped out to him through the near-hysterical tears that she choked on, proclaiming her innocence, begging him to listen, to her, to them. How could he think that she would do that…
All these thoughts ran through her mind as she stared at him that morning, watching his chest gently rise and fall, taking in the sweep of his eyelashes over his wide, high cheekbones, her eyes lovingly caressing the planes of his face. His full, cherry-red lips relaxed in a pout as he slept. There were changes in him that she was loathe to notice, but she couldn’t hide from them. The way that even in sleep, his face was permanently set in a frown, a crease between his eyes. Fine,tiny spidery lines around his mouth as if his jaw had been clenched a lot. It was her that had done this to him. Aged him, changed him.
She refused to do it anymore.
It was this that made her creep stealthily to the door that morning, and gulping back sobs, leave him there alone, sleeping, unaware. Her eyes tearing from his image as painfully as if she was being ripped in half, irrevocably broken, altered.
She would never get over him,she accepted that. She knew he would be angry, and in an odd paradox, this comforted her. She felt it when she turned from the car park that morning, on instinct, hairs rising on the back of her neck. Meeting his eyes that; even from so far away, looked flat and black with hurt.
His anger would help him, she constantly told herself, like a mantra. If he hated her, then he wouldn’t love her any more. Then he could move on, without her; without the pain she had unwittingly brought him.
These memories came to Eilidh unwillingly as she sat on a make-up chair, her elbows on her knees as she pressed her eyelids, hard, almost painfully, wishing she could erase the memories.
“Hello”, a soft voice interrupted her, and she nearly jumped out her skin with fright.
Mortified when she saw it was James, watching her with concern, intent. “Oh, hello”, she mumbled, quickly turning away and pretending to rake through her tote bag of brushes and combs.
“Are you alright?”, James’ tone was hesitant, but full of kindness, and to Eilidh’s embarrassment it struck her heart and made her eyes fill up beyond the point of return.
She turned slowly to look at the man, who stood, hands in his pocket, his expression creased with concern.
He noted her full eyes, and closed the adjoining door surreptitiously behind him, taking a seat opposite her.
“Eilidh, right?”, he checked, watching her closely.
She nodded, sniffing hard, willing herself to hold it together.
“What’s up,Eilidh? What’s making you cry, babe?”
Eilidh pressed her lips together, her eyes never leaving James’, thankful that they didn’t overflow.
“You,er…”, Eilidh sought for words in her addled brain, her hands shaking. It might as well have been Harry here in the room with her, her nerves were so shot. Memories that she had blocked out flooding her mind like a dam had been broken. “You remind me of someone”, she finally confessed, in a whisper, finally dropping her eyes to her lap.
James stared, perturbed for a minute, before realisation dawned on him, and he slapped his hand to his forehead with a groan.
“Eilidh…Scottish,,,hairdresser…”, James ticked them off on his fingers, and Eilidh raised her head to him, her eyes wry. “You’re Harry’s. Of course you are. You’re Harry’s Eilidh”.
Eilidh inhaled sharply at that particular description and shook her head at the ground again.
“I can’t believe I didn’t click”, James’ tone was empathetic as he watched her, his eyes curious now, as he took her in.
Eilidh shook her head. “We’ve never met”, she clarified. “How could you know who I was? I just…know how close you are…it knocked me for six a bit, I suppose”, Eilidh raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Unexpected”, she clarified, by way of explanation.
“Of course”, James nodded vigorously. “Of course it’s gotta be…wierd…”.
“I haven’t been down in London…since”, Eilidh stuttered, running her fingers through her hair again. Her tears had managed to subside, thankfully.
James nodded. “I get it”, he said simply, and as Eilidh smiled wanly at the man, she really felt like he did.
Harry huffed as he stared out of his window, tapping his fingers on the sill impatiently. Turning to survey his bedroom, which was more or less empty, the wardrobe door swinging wide, revealing it’s cavernous interior.
He and the other four boys were due to leave for tour the very next evening, and Harry was anxious for the tour to get underway. The rehearsals had brought him to life a bit, and he felt that old familiar spike of fire in his belly when he took in the massive stages that had been especially built for them.
It was bigger this time, a stadium tour, and longer than the last. He would be on the road for more or less ten months, with very few breaks in between. And the breaks, well… Harry let his eyes wander around his bedroom in the white house momentarily. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to come back there, to his house. He imagined he would spend his down time at his Mum’s, or in LA.
“Hello?”, he heard Gemma call from down stairs, and he let his mouth crook up into a small grin.
He trotted down stairs, raising his eyebrows with a smile as he took in his sister, standing in the middle of his kitchen, her eyes on her phone. Her hair was various shades of blue and purple, her shoes clumpy and platform, the jewellery adorning her hands clinking against her phone. In the months that had passed, Gemma had truly found her place in London, and he was delighted to see her happy again. Her self-conscious shyness had melted away, and he was relieved to note that her friends were down to earth, good people. She was always busy, and instead of this making him feel left out, he was glad of it.
He let his eyes wander around the light, airy, open-plan kitchen that opened out onto a patio and smiled at the thought of her watching the house for him. She would have fun here;it was a fun house, one that had always given him happy memories. His smile faltered as he remembered the bad, Eilidh’s presence still like a ghost that wandered his halls, and reminded himself why he was leaving. Tour. The boys. Work. Fun. Maybe even…girls? The thought still made Harry feel heavy and wrong, and he shook his head at the thought.
“Alright duck”, Gemma finally looked up with a grin. “Sorry I’m late”.
“S’alright, chick”, Harry replied easily, climbing up on one of the stools that sat on the kicthen island.
Their eyes met for a bit and they smiled, not needing to speak. They were going to miss each other.
“So, where first?”, Gemma climbed up on the stool opposite him and leant forward on her elbows, looking him in the eye.
Harry grinned. “South America tomorrow. Brazil, Sao Paolo…”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “It’s a tough life”, she teased and Harry quirked his eyebrows in response, his eyes laughing.
“Thanks for watching this place”, he offered, and Gemma shook her head.
“Thank you for trusting me with it”, she replied honestly. It was a far cry from the cramped flat she shared with her friends, and she knew she was in for a bitching summer.
“Well, there isn’t much I don’t trust you with”, he replied, looking straight at her, prompting a smile from her fine features.
“I think you need this tour, H”, Gemma said softly to her brother, watching the way his eyes dipped to the counter, his frown that had become another part of his face, the working muscle in his jaw. “Just to get away for a bit, you know? Get away and…get over her”.
Harry stared at the counter top, a smart comment rising to his lips which he bit back with difficulty, knowing that Gemma had his best interests at heart, knowing she knew him better than anyone, knowing how he suffered. He finally lifted his eyes to hers with difficulty and nodded, stiffly. “Yeah, well”, he dismissed, standing, giving clear indication that their conversation was over.
“Anyway”, he exhaled as Gemma stood also, to stand in front of him. He dug, deep in his pockets before producing his keys, which he handed to her with a forced smile. “Here ya go. Try not to burn the place down”.
Gemma grinned, delighted and pulled her little brother in for a hug. He was so much taller than her, she marvelled, her hands struggling to reach his wide, broad shoulders as he stooped to embrace her. “I’ll miss ya, H”, she whispered into his soft jumper and he nodded, squeezing her lightly and lifting her off the floor for a second.
“Miss ya too, Gem”, he set her down on her feet again, and turned to the fridge, hauling it open and examining it’s contents.
“What are ya up to tonight, anyway?”, Gemma called as she wandered through to the living room, shrugging off her jacket and her rucksack. “Last night in the big smoke? Big plans?”
Harry cracked open a bottle of beer with a hiss and moved to lean in the doorway as he drank deeply. “Not really”, he replied finally. “Gonna go to Groucho later, then maybe Chiltern. But first, Nick and I are gonna go down to Jonathan Ross, see Corden. He’s on the show tonight”.
“Five minutes, guys”, the same woman who had shown Eilidh around earlier popped her head round the door, and Eilidh smiled in response, putting the final touches on James’ hair.
“Thanks for listening to me earlier”, she said conspiratorally to him in a low voice, and he grinned in response.
“Don’t be daft”, he waved her off, eyeing her fondly. “It’s tough this love business”, he mused, raising his eyebrows as he thought about it. “No idea how I got Jules”, he said in wonder, talking about his lovely young wife, with whome he had two kids.
“Going home to tell her never to leave you?”, Eilidh teased, covering his face with her hand as she lightly misted his hair with hairspray.
“Beg, Eilidh”, James replied darkly, making her laugh. “I’m gonna beg her not to leave me”.
In just three hours the two had become firm friends, and Eilidh no longer felt muddles or upset, but let the young mans easy-going, hilarious sense of humour wash over her and capture her. She didn’t reveal much about Harry, and James was careful not to mention it again, knowing that it would be odd for her and difficult to divulge to one of Harry’s friends. Instead he made her laugh almost hysterically, and took her mind off the task in hand. Her fingers took over her mind and she did her job well as James sat beside her and teased and chatted, the men and the crew all throroughly happy with how everyone looked when she was done.
“Right”, Eilidh finished his hair with a flourish, spinning him round on his chair so he could examine himself in the mirror. “You’re done”.
“Good God, I’m David Beckham”, James marvelled in the mirror as Eilidh laughed. “You,woman, are a miracle worker”.
“Yeah,yeah”, Eilidh giggled, pushing him towards the door. “Off you go. Have a good one”.
“Stick around after, yeah?”, James looked at her in the eye earnestly. “We should go get a drink before you have to go”.
Eilidh nodded easily and helped him shrug into his jacket. “Sure. Now go! You’re late!”
“Lads!”, the great Jonathan Ross held out his hands in pleasure as Harry and Nick approached him, both breaking out in warm grins as they embraced him and shook his hand. “I didn’t even know you were coming”, Jonathan enthused, clapping Harry on the back and keeping his arm loosely round his shoulders. He cringed a bit, looking out into the studio audience from where they were positioned at the side of the stage. “You know, fellas, this might be a bit of a nightmare, we are a sell-out tonight”.
“S’alright”, Harry quickly interjected. “We can just watch from here. I don’t really want the world to know I’m here, to be honest”, and Jonathan nodded understandingly. Harry felt wound tight, and he couldn’t quite explain why, as he eyed his surroundings. Maybe it was the impending long journey the next day, maybe it was the mention of Eilidh earlier by Gemma, but he was on edge somehow. And well and truly not in the mood for being recognised.
Jonathan left them there, in the shadows by the side of the stage soon after, and one of the crew brought them a beer each.
“You alright, mate?”, Nick asked Harry curiously, as the show was about to start. His best freind was noticeably fidgedty and seemed tense.
“Yeah”, Harry assured him, downing his beer as the familiar music came on announcing the beginning of the show. “I’m fine. Just gonna nip to the loo,alright?”
Nick nodded as Harry turned and dipped into the shadows behind the stage.
Harry rubbed the back of his head as he walked through the maze of corridors in the BBC studios, years of doing prime time television letting him know exactly where to go. He dipped through the Green Room, which was now empty, and into the small hair and makeup area which he knew held a small bathroom. There were other, larger ones elsewhere, but again, he wanted to avoid being recognised.
He sighed as he looked around the room, smiling faintly to himself as he looked around. All over the walls were black framed photographs of famous people, himself included. He grinned as he leant forward to examine a particularly young one of the five boys on the sofa with Jonathan, then another of him, in the very chair he leaned against, having his hair blow-dried by Lou. He sighed heavily at the memories, hardly recognising himself in the pictures, his innocence and sense of adventure seemingly lost.
He frowned and rubbed his brow, making a silent vow to himself as he looked at his former self. This tour, this year, he would regain that zest for life, if it was the last thing he did. He set his mouth determinedly as he looked at his own, much younger, open, laughing face;head thrown back, not a care in the world.
Eilidh stubbed out he cigarette and hauled herself to her feet, adjusting her jeans and kicking her feet further into her Doc Martins. She stretched, rolling her neck and feeling the tension dissipate there. For a day that had started out so badly, she was so glad she had come to do this job, so grateful that she had met James.
She pushed back inside the fire exit that she had come out of and back into the labyrinth of rooms at the studios, digging her hands deep in her pockets as she wandered back to her room, the little haven where she had worked all day.
The door was ajar, and almost instantaneously, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
The air crackled around her as she stood there, the pads of her fingers pressed lightly to the door, but somehow too afraid to push. Finally, she made herself push the door open silently. It made no sound as it revealed the room.
It was unmistakeably him, and Eilidh felt electricity buzz in her ears as she watched him for one long, almost never-ending moment. He stood even taller than she remembered, his hair longer and curlier than ever, almost skimming his shoulders. His back muscles rolled as he shrugged his shoulders, rolling his neck back on them, a move she had seen him do hundreds, maybe thousands of times before. She watched, as if mesmerised as he lifted one of his arms to the back of his head, scrubbing at his hair as he leaned in closer to peer at whatever he saw on the wall. He stood pigeon-toed, and if she hadn’t been so shocked she would have laughed. Even from the back, where she couldn’t see his face, she could see how much he had changed in just a few short months, could see how much he had grown up.
Taking a silent step backwards, Eilidh let the door fall closed in front of her with a ghostly whoosh. Her fingers pressed against her lips, her breath ragged with the pain of it, she turned, and ran away, back down the hall she had come from.
Harry rubbed the back of his head, absently, the hairs there still standing on end to his vague exasperation.
He heard what he thought was movement by the door, and whirled, quickly around to see the door swinging, and a flash of a Doc Martin boot.
Harry’s eyes narrowed, that flash of black boot triggering something in his memory that he desperately tried to suppress. He slowly walked towards the door, his heart beginning to gallop, his chest tightening as he thought of her, painfully.
Harry steeled himself against the door, before opening it, purposefully, with a bang. He strode into the hallway and looked desperately left, and then right, his brow furrowing deeply as his head began to swim in disappointment.
Harry was on a mission now, as Chiltern Firehouse roared around him. He ordered doubles, and shots, and held onto James as the older man had him bent double with laughter. He determinedly repressed his experience earlier, doggedly focusing on his friends, trying his hardest to forget her. He felt pathetic that he had thought it was her, his love so deep he now imagined her.
“Mate, mate”, James spluttered around his pint, controlling his laughter as Nick stood up to go to the bar, leaving the two remaining men in a booth. “Look, I may be way off the mark here…but I have to tell you something”.
Harry cocked his eyebrow, still smirking as he took a long, deep drink. “Hmm?”
“I met Eilidh tonight”.
James knew as soon as he had uttered the words that they had been a mistake. Harry’s eyes bugged, and he shook his head, sure he had heard James wrong in the packed club.
“What?”, Harry’s voice was dangerously low as he stared James in the eye, his stomach plummeting at the mere sound of her name.
“Mate”, James put his pint down and took a deep breath, to explain. “She was the hair and make-up girl on the show. I didn’t…I didn’t even click who she was until she told me, mate”.
Harry stared, past James, over his shoulder into nothing. He thought of earlier, he was so sure he could feel her in that room, so sure that the shoes he saw so briefly were hers. At least his instincts were right, it dawned on him as his mind raced. The thought of her there, in the same building, the same room, as him sent his skin ablaze with fire as he tried his hardest to process what James was saying, as the other man watched him carefully.
“She seemed upset mate”, James explained, carefully, watching Harry’s reactions closely, who still stared off into space. “She…I dunno, it’s hard for her, being down here in London without you I think. I told her to wait around! And maybe we could all go for a drink, but she…she disappeared”.
“I have to go”, Harry stood up abruptly and James looked pained and grabbed his hand.
“Noooo,mate! No, look I’m sorry for bringing it up mate…”.
“It’s alright”, Harry waved his hand in front of his face as he walked away, colliding with a table and cringing, as he stumbled, half-blind, out into the street.
Harry pulled his jacket around him as he walked, quickly, his hands jammed in his pocket, his face inexplicably furious. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry, so upset at the thought of her so close to him.
She knew, he realised as he walked, despair settling over him like a cloud as he thought about earlier, all the tiny pieces of his mind clicking into place. She saw me, knew I was there, and still didn’t want to see me, to talk to me.
Harry bit his lip until he tasted blood, his veins fizzing with simultaneous fury and pain at his realisation.
Determinedly, he put his head down, and walked like a battering ram into the night. Already longing for South America, for friends, and beaches, fun and drinking. For a place without the memories and the agony that London now held.
Eilidh sat, despondent at Heathrow, her beanie pulled low on her forehead, her eyes glassy as she stared off into space.
For the first time in a long time, she felt clarity rather than pain, as she recalled seeing Harry, despite it only being but a glimpse. She let her mind longingly run over the memory, deliciously, the sight of him, even though it was only his back, a thing of love for her. She thought about all the little things, the way he stood, the way he scrubbed at his hair, all the little things that she knew and knew well, that made him hers.
Then she thought about the differences; the height, the slight stoop, the longer hair and legs. She remembered again the lines around his mouth as he slept, the frown.
Eilidh sighed heavily as she sat there, tears beginning to roll, unchecked down her face as the realisation dawned on her. Their love was gone, done, and she simply had to let go and move on. She remembered the determination she had felt that night in Stirling, and tried desperately to hold on to some of that resolve.
She swiped angrily at her tears as her phone began to ring, shocking her out of her Reverie. She answered it without looking.
“Hellooo”, Rudy’s drawl was tentative. “Y’alright?”
“Hiya”, Eilidh sniffed, and tried desperately to hold on to her emotions. Rudy’s voice sent immediate warmth shooting through her, there was that anchor again, that all too familiar comfort that she so desperately craved.
“Are you ok?”, Rudy asked, sharply. He stood, alone, in the middle of his flat, transferring his weight from foot to foot with nerves. He had arrived home from work much earlier and found a terse message from her saying she had to go to London for work, and she would be back late that night. It being a Friday, for the first time since she had moved in with him, Rudy felt the lure of the liquor cabinet. Without her, he felt vaguely helpless. He was already worried about her taking off and staying at her own flat the night before, and this latest development had him on edge.
In a way he was just waiting;waiting on the day that all that they had built between them, however fragile, would be smashed to bits; and she would realise that she didn’t need him any more.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine”, Eilidh fought desperately to keep her voice under control, the series of epiphanies she had endured that day making her suddenly exhausted. “I’m at the airport”.
“How was it?”, Rudy’s voice was guarded as he paced in the flat, one arm folded over his bare chest.
Eilidh nodded for a moment, before realising that he couldn’t see her. “It was good”, she confirmed. “Rudy?”
“Can I come back to yours tonight? To…ours?”, she said the words tentatively, it feeling alien on her tongue.
Rudy stood still suddenly, gulping as he raked his hand over his face, trying to find his voice.
“Yeah, of course you can, Eil”, he made his voice as even as possible, though his heart had began to race, “You know you don’t have to ask that”.
“I’ll be home in a couple of hours”, Eilidh said softly, her mind already soothed at the thought of their haven, where she was so safe and loved.
“Alright, darlin”, Rudy replied softly, sensing her vulnerability, but also a shift.
Rudy started when he heard the front door open, and watched her as she came in, greeting him with a smile as she shrugged off her jacket.
“Alright”, Rudy croaked, rubbing his thighs with his hands. He felt hopelessly awkward, and he cursed himself for the fact. Why was he so nervous now? He had held it together for …well, for 61 days so far. Now, though, he felt a shift, had heard it in her voice on the phone.
“Hiya”, Eilidh smiled fondly down at him as she pulled her long hair out of her ponytail, letting it fall in beachy waves around her shoulders.
“How was your trip”, Rudy stood, digging his hands down into his pockets as he watched her, the atmosphere between them thick.
“It was good”, Eilidh avoided his eyes. “I’m tired though”.
Rudy nodded, his heart sinking. “Mmmm. Well, if you wanna go to bed…”, he gestured behind him lamely to the bedroom, and Eilidh stared at him, waiting for him to look her in the eye.
“Will you come with me?”
Her words were bold and as soon as she said them, her heart thudded uncomfortably in her ears, her whole body quivering, every nerve ending standing on end with tension.
Rudy stared at her, considering her. They gazed into one another’s eyes for what felt like forever, and Rudy’s breathing came ragged through his mouth as he observed her. Her stance almost casual, her long legs crossed as she stood, one arm entwined in her mane of wavy chestnut hair. Her simple skinny jeans and vest top suddenly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His mind warred, terrified to take advantage, but so in love with her he thought he could feel his heart break.
Moving so swiftly she gasped, Rudy suddenly ducked down to press his lips to hers. His rough, calloused hand held the side of her face as Eilidh smiled through her kiss, letting her mind go blank, letting this comfort and safety wash over her. Her lower lip was folded between the gaps in his own as his hand ran up her side, gently, making her shiver in anticipation.
Rudy smoothly backed Eilidh into the desk where she sometimes worked, where he then pressed his hips into hers. Both of his hands rose to cradle either side of her face as he kissed her, slowly, torturing, their lips moulding together beautifully, Rudy’s tongue sliding along her lower lip, making her fist his t-shirt into the balls of her fists at his side.
The temperature in the room seemed to be at fever pitch, as they kissed, Rudy holding her as though she were made of glass, his heart rate through the roof, his blood pressure pounding in his ears. Everything he had ever wanted he now, inexplicably, held in his hands, and the expectation he felt from himself was overwhelming and terrifying. Still; he would have changed nothing as he held her there, her body against his so beautiful, so perfect, even better than his dreams.
Simultaneously, they both fisted one another’s tops and lifted them over their heads, tossing them to the floor. Rudy’s head swam as he took in her chaste, but sexy, black, balconette bra, slowly bending to kiss over her heart.
Eilidh watched him, feeling her own eyes fill with tears at the tender way he held her and touched her.
His lips didn’t stay away from hers for too long though, as he gently tipped her head to the side with his knuckle, allowing him to trail his mouth over the long expanse of Eilidh’s throat, the fire making her gasp. His lips again met hers hastily, and Eilidh gasped as he lifted her up to place her on the desk, moving forward suddenly to push his hips between her legs, the pressure making them both moan softly. Their kisses doubled in urgency as Eilidh allowed herself to touch him, run her hands over his strong shoulders and chest. He was so…different, she thought absently, realising in the next thought that she liked it. She liked how he was wirier and shorter than Harry, although just as well built, if not more.
Eilidh let her hands roam lightly over Rudy, bringing out goosebumps on his freckly skin, before settling her hands in his hair, brushing the reddish, brown curls around his ears as she pulled him desperately closer, her body taking over as she felt him press, ever closer. Between her legs, Eilidh felt him, firm and ready as he ground his hips to hers, and she moaned again, breaking their kiss to tuck her head over his shoulder.
Rudy suddenly picked Eilidh up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he walked her backwards, until their legs met the bottom of the bed, and his strong arms supported her as he gently laid her back on to it.
For a moment, they both stared, breath coming heavy between them. Eilidh wound her hand into his hair at the side, and Rudy pushed his face into her palm, closing his eyes, loving the contact. “Eil”, his voice was ragged as he breathed her name. “Are you sure?”
Eilidh nodded mutely, before pulling his face to hers again for a deep, beautiful kiss, his tongue stroking hers strongly, his hands masterful as they raked over her. She knew Rudy; had known him for years, and it made her feel both jealous and safe when she thought about how many girls had had this same treatment. She knew she was in the hands of an expert lover, the way his hands moved over her was one of a true master.
Eilidh’s hands floated down to Rudy’s sides, her fingers probing at the rough contours of his ribs before settling on his hips. As Rudy’s tongue pushed into her mouth, Eilidh pushed down on his jeans, earning a low groan from his mouth as he pulled away to look down at her once again, this time a hint of a smirk adorning his face; a trace of the Rudy she knew; the top dog.
Encouraged and a little defiant, Eilidh reached between them and plunged her hand into his boxers to grasp his firm length. Rudy exhaled heavily, letting his chin drop down to her shoulder as he struggled to keep control. Eilidh let the skin covering his shaft slip between her fingers carefully, slowly. Finally, pushing down his jeans and boxers, watching his breath hitch as he lay, fully open to her, before tearing her jeans and knickers off in one fluid movement.
Rudy hovered, nerves getting the better of him as he hovered at her entrance. He pushed his forehead against hers, shaking his head slowly, his fear overcoming him for a second, before Eilidh brought her hand down between him to guide him, to encourage.
She kissed him deeply as he moved, their lips interrupted as he pushed slowly into her, a low, gravelly moan of satisfaction escaping from Rudy’s lips as Eilidh’s head arched against the pillow, her lips falling open in a silent scream. He was thick, and long, and seemed to swell inside her as she expanded to him; her inner walls unused to anything, it had been so long.
“God, Eilidh”, Rudy groaned into her neck, deeply, making her tighten her arms around his shoulders, the pads of her fingers pressing with need.
A soft whimper left Eilidh’s throat as he moved, her hips lifting to meet his as he bucked, as though their bodies knew already how to be together. Their lips met here and there, as their breathing came heavy, it was tough to keep kissing as Eilidh struggled to breathe. Rudy worked hard, his breath coming like gunshots as he made love to the body he had so passionately coveted for so long. Rolling in fluid movement after fluid movement, he held her jaw tight before his hand trailed down to cup her big, full breast, his lips brushing over her nipples, oh so gently.
Eilidh’s hands smoothed up Rudy’s back, looping her arms around the back of his head, forcing herself to look into his eyes, her whole body shocking with electricity when she saw the love there. Heat and pressure built quickly within her as Rudy moved expertly, before bringing his fingers down between her legs, thumbing her clit, making her gasp.
This wasn’t the love she had felt;t before; not with anyone. This was new, different, but so, so safe, so comforting.
“Ru-Rudy..baby”, Eilidh managed to gasp through her pants as she felt the heat building, felt her high hovering between them.
“Hang on, darlin”, Rudy murmured, his own legs bucking and shuddering as he pumped, bringing his hand up again, to cradle her face tenderly, kissing her lips, her eyelids, her forehead.
The pace between them increased as they both drew near their ends, Eilidh reaching down to grab his ass and push it further, deeper into her as he drove, gritting his teeth while she whimpered and moaned around him.
“Oh, Rudy”, Eilidh lost her mind all at once as she gripped at his hair. Still, above her he pumped, sweat dripping down on to her from his forehead, his face contorted, his eyes full as he fought to control himself. He bent, suddenly, to kiss her, their kisses now fumbled, clumsy, so overcome with their impending release.
Eilidh lost control completely as she felt her orgasm rocket through her, her legs around Rudy’s hips becoming rigid, then bucking as she gasped through her release, bringing herself up on her hands to choke over Rudy’s shoulder as she came.
“Ughhhh, Eilidh”, Rudy groaned into her shoulder as his muscles contracted and he spilled, deep inside her, his own body shocked at the feeling, overwhelmed to the point of muteness.
They panted together, Eilidh’s fingers combing through his hair, bringing his head down to rest between her breasts, pretending not to notice the tears that fell there, the soft hiccups that escaped his lips.
Love took so many different forms, she was dizzy with the differences.
“What happened?”, Rudy finally spoke, his voice rough with lack of use.
Eilidh started. She had been dozing, but heard him clearly through her hazy dreams.
“Nothing”, she replied, twisting her head to look over her shoulder where Rudy spooned her. “I…realised where I was supposed to be”. The realisty of her statement shocked her, and she smiled to herself at the truth of it.
“Eil”, Rudy slowly rolled her over to face him. Their bodies were still sticky, bound with love, sweat and tears.
“You can’t…”, Rudy took a deep breath. “You can’t take the piss out me, babe. If this is it darlin…I need to know…this is actually it”.
Eilidh took in his words, and nodded slowly. “This is it”, she replied thickly, her mind screaming and her heart breaking all at once as he embraced her,his arms strong and euphoric.
Most people were eager to meet their soulmate. A lot of people proudly showed off their tattoos and made countless theories about how the phrases on their wrists might come about in conversation upon meeting their soulmate.
Not Clarke though. She was a little more skeptical about the whole soulmate thing… Although that could have something to do with the words scrawled on her wrist.
You think you’re better than everyone else around you, don’t you? Watch it, Rich Bitch.
Those words were precisely why Clarke wasn’t eager to meet her soulmate and she took care to wear long shirts. The only people she had shown the words to were her best friend, Wells, and her family.
It didn’t really hit Clarke how much of an impact the soulmate thing truly had until Wells had found his. Now she was like a third wheel. She knew that Wells took special care to make her feel included, but she absolutely hated being a burden. And she had seen just how much of a burden she was becoming, whether Wells was willing to admit it or not.
Wells was happy now, the happiest she’d seen him, and she didn’t want to do anything to diminish it.
She knew that how happy her friend was should have given her more faith in the whole soulmate system, but instead it just made her even more miserable. She wanted something like that so badly, but she knew that there was no hope of her gaining that happiness. Whoever her soulmate was, they sounded like a a real jackass. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with someone who called her a rich bitch. What had she done to deserve a soulmate like that?
The day Clarke met her soulmate was an ordinary day. She’d just been walking through the Ark, in search of her mother when suddenly a guy ran straight into her.
As she stumbled back a step, the bag the stranger had been carrying fell out of his hands, spilling its contents onto the floor.
“You think you’re better than everyone else around you, don’t you?” The guy demanded as he turned his gaze up to glare at her. “Watch it, Rich Bitch.”
Great, she had thought that her soulmate was going to be bad enough just from the words on her wrist. His behaviour was even worse. Clearly he was under the assumption that you could get away with anything with good looks.
As he frantically tried to shove everything back in the bag, Clarke demanded incredulously, “You ran into me, asshole.”
His eyes flickered up to her in recognition at those words and he looked her up and down quickly before he focused back on the task at hand.
“Now you’re just going to ignore me?” Clarke questioned loudly. “You have got to be the worst soulmate ever.”
Bellamy frowned. Of course the moment when he was so panicked and in such a rush just had to be the day that he met her. He should have seen that coming though, based off the words on his arm.
Maybe he would have guessed that she was the girl if he hadn’t been too preoccupied with the problem at hand.
“Be quiet,” he told her as he turned his gaze up to her. His voice softened a little as he told her. “Just please stop for two seconds. I need to get this cleaned up before anyone notices.”
He knew that he had said more than he should have, but he needed her to be quiet and stop drawing attention to them.
Against her better judgement, Clarke decided to give him a chance and take pity on him. She crouched down to help him, but he quickly told her to stop.
“Why? It’s just clothes,” Clarke pointed out. “Unless they’re some dead person’s clothes, why do you need to hide them so much? And please tell me that I’m not really soulmates with a murde- Oh.”
He muttered something incoherent under his breath before he grabbed the shirt out of her hands, thankfully the last item of clothing, and shoved it back into the bag.
“I’m not a murderer,” he told her in an exasperated tone.
“Then why are you trying to hide the fact that you’re carrying around kid’s clothing?” Clarke demanded.
Dammit. Bellamy really didn’t want this girl to hate him, but there was no way that he could trust her with this big of a secret without even knowing her.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Really? You can’t?” She asked. “Because unless you tell me, I’m going to start drawing attention to what’s in your bag.”
Bellamy could see it in her eyes that whoever this girl was, she was not planning on backing down.
He had to make a quick decision and, even though he hated the idea of it, he knew what his only real option was.
“Fine.” He told her angrily. “I’ll show you… But first you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone.”
There was something about the desperation in his eyes that kept her from arguing.
“Okay… I promise.”
“What? You’re suddenly not afraid that I’m dragging you away to somewhere more private so that I can murder you?” He questioned in an amused tone that was almost over-compensating too much to try to hide his nerves. “You should really be careful who you trust, Princess. Not everyone’s privileged and proper.”
“My name’s Clarke,” she told him. “Not Princess. Or Rich Bitch, for that matter… Remind me again why I should trust you?”
“Because, Clarke, I’m about to trust you with the biggest secret I have,” he told her. “Even though it really isn’t my secret to tell, I’m still trusting you because you’re so stubborn. The least you could do was show me a little trust back.”
With that said, he stopped in front of the door to his pod and gave her a pleading look before pulling the door open.
“Bellamy, did you find any?”
Bellamy. So that was his name. Good thing he was too rude to introduce himself.
Clarke timidly followed him into the room. As he quickly shut the door behind them, Clarke stared in shock. Now she understood why he’d been in such a bad mood about the clothes getting spilled.
“What are you thinking bringing people back here?” Bellamy’s mother, Aurora, demanded angrily. “Are you really risking Octavia’s life for some girl? Didn’t I raise you better than that?”
Bellamy went silent and his head ducked in shame, but Clarke had something to say.
She ripped her gaze away from the girl, who must be Octavia, to look over at Aurora as she insisted in an urgent tone, “It was my fault. He didn’t want to tell me anything, but I made him explain… I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”
Bellamy turned to look at her in surprise. He was expecting her to get all preachy about hiding an illegal second child, not to defend him and promise not to tell anyone.
Aurora pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I’m sure this girl is perfectly nice. But what were you thinking, Bellamy? We can’t know that she won’t report Octavia. And even if she does help keep our secret, we’re still making her an accessory.”
“I promise, I won’t tell anyone.” Clarke insisted.
“Welcome to being an accessory to the crime that is my life,” Octavia muttered in an annoyed tone. “I’m so glad that I can continue to stay locked in this cell instead of another one.”
Octavia was putting up a wall, but really she was intrigued. When you live your whole life only seeing two people, it was definitely exciting meeting anyone who was even potentially friendly.
“I got the clothes. No one but Clarke saw.” Bellamy insisted. “It’s fine.”
Octavia stared between her brother and Clarke for a moment as a smile spread across her lips.
She was curious, so she took a couple of steps forward before pulling the sleeve of Clarke’s shirt up to see if it made sense with the words written on her brother’s arm.
“I can’t believe the first thing you said to your new girlfriend was calling her a rich bitch,” she commented with a wide grin.
“Right. We’re leaving now.” Bellamy said immediately. “Say bye to Clarke.”
As Bellamy turned to open the door to the pod, Octavia asked curiously, “If she already knows, then can she come back?”
It would be nice to have someone around who wasn’t related to her. She could use a friend and a fresh face.
“I don’t know, O,” Bellamy told her before ushering Clarke out the door.
They began to walk and when they reached a section of hallway that was empty of people, Clarke spoke up. “I’d like to… Go back, I mean.”
Bellamy was surprised with this girl. She was anything but what he’d been expecting.
“She’d like that,” he told her. “My mom might take some convincing though.”
“You’re not the jerk I was expecting you to be,” Clarke admitted. “At least not completely.”
Bellamy let out a laugh. “Yeah and you’re not really the rich bitch I thought you were either.”