Bellarke dancing au?
Clarke smiled to herself as the DJ blended the slow song into a faster one, and watched Raven take Wells’ hand and convince him to stay on the dance floor. She had told Wells Raven would have gone to prom with him, but he’d been too chicken to ask. So Clarke agreed to be his date, but only on the condition that he ask Raven to dance at least once in the first hour. With her mission accomplished she snagged a plate of brownies from the snack table and headed to one of the small tables on the edge of the dance floor to sit down.
She was considering just taking off her shoes and leaning into the whole wallflower thing when someone spoke up from behind her. “Not dancing, princess?”
Clarke did a double take, because Bellamy Blake was at prom. “Just taking a break,” she said.
Bellamy pushed off the wall and stole a brownie from her plate. “I figured this would be your scene,” he said, and tipped his head out to where the rest of their classmates were writhing around.
Clarke peered up at him and noted the tie underneath his leather jacket. “I mostly just came so Wells would,” she admitted. This was surreal— Bellamy Blake was at prom, casually striking up a conversation with her, like they were friends who chatted at dances instead of complete strangers. She quickly ran through what she knew about him, but it wasn’t much. Rumors, mostly, although she was reasonably sure he really had tried to quit school last year to get a full-time job, since Roan had said some kid with a fake ID had shown up at his bar, begging to be hired. “What brings you here?” she asked.
Bellamy shrugged and then sank into a chair next to her, pinching off the corner of another brownie. “Keeping an eye on O,” he said, and Clarke followed his gaze to where his sister was grinding on Lincoln.
Clarke bit back a smile. “Lincoln’s good people,” she assured him, and Bellamy pressed his lips together in annoyance.
“How do you even know him? He’s not part of your crowd,” Bellamy grumped.
Clarke broke off a piece of the same brownie and popped it into her mouth. The plate was now sitting halfway between them, which felt oddly intimate. “How do you even know who my crowd is?” she asked, and Bellamy made a noncommittal noise. “We’ve taken the same art classes all four years. He looks more intimidating than he actually is,” she soothed. It felt weird to reassure the school bad boy that Lincoln, of all people, wasn’t dangerous. Lincoln spent his summers teaching crafts at a summer camp; Bellamy Blake had a goddamn motorcycle.
Another slow song started, and Bellamy watched everyone dance for the first few lines, and then he turned and held out his hand. Clarke looked at him blankly, and he raised his eyebrows. “Come on, princess— let’s dance,” he said.
Clarke found herself slipping her hand into his and letting him tow her out to the dance floor. People were sending them shocked looks, but Bellamy didn’t seem to mind and honestly, neither did she. He settled his hands on her waist and she draped her arms around his neck. His tie was a little askew, and up close he smelled like leather and motor oil.
Feeling bold, Clarke wrapped one of the curls at the nape of his neck around her finger, and his eyes fluttered shut. Then he smiled down at her, crooked and adorable, and her brain had just a few seconds to process that she was dancing with Bellamy Blake and enjoying it before he glanced around. “Let’s get out of here,” he said suddenly.
“Just you and me. Let’s go,” he said, and his hands flexed against her waist.
“What about Octavia?”
“You said yourself Lincoln is fine. Your date is busy, and what else are you going to do?”
Clarke once again found herself taking his hand and letting him pull her along. “Where are we going?” she asked, even though she hadn’t actually said yes yet.
Bellamy nodded to Mr. Pike and opened the doors to the soft spring breeze. “Where do you want to go?” he said, and they drew to a stop at his motorcycle. Bellamy handed her a helmet and she stood there stupidly, wondering if she was really about to ditch prom with a guy on a motorcycle. But then she looked at him and knew, deep in her bones, that she could trust him.
“The old water tower,” she said, making her decision. “I bet you can see for miles up there.”
Bellamy smiled and something ignited inside of her. She climbed onto the bike behind him, her dress hiked up around her knees, and wrapped her arms around his chest. “Ready, princess?” he asked over his shoulder and kicked the engine to life.
Clarke took one last look at the school, at the doors behind which her friends were dancing and laughing. Then she looked back at Bellamy and that smile. “Ready,” she confirmed.