Bellamy POV of One Deep Breath, One Big Step, please and thank you! <3 Happy holidays, Chash!
Original fic here!
If Bellamy had to define his relationship with Clarke Griffin in three words, it would be would be with these: he knows better. He thinks that when he first sees her with the Sig-Kaps, who don’t like him, and when he starts talking to her, and when he realizes she’s a freshman and not just a junior he hadn’t met yet. The whole night, he’s reminding himself that he’s smarter than this, and he absolutely should not be letting himself be mildly charmed by a drunk eighteen-year-old. He’s done with hooking up, after all, done with coming to these things to get laid. So if he could just enjoy talking to Clarke without noticing the mole on her lip and the cut of her top, he’d actually be in good shape. Friendship. Friendship would be good.
But he likes her, and he knows better. He certainly knows better than to be friendly when she finds him at the coffee shop, but not being friendly feels unthinkable. She looks more her age in the light of day, a nervous freshman who’s still figuring out where she belongs. So he ignores the rational voice that’s telling him Clarke is a rich sorority girl who’s going to lose all interest in him as soon as she settles in at Ark and asks, “So, did you pledge?”
“Sigma Kappa Upsilon?”
“Yeah.” She bites her lip, watching him. “You know Anya, right?”
He has no idea why that would be a significant question, but there’s no reason to lie. “Kind of. Not very well. She seems cool.”
“Yeah, I like her.”
They lapse back into silence, a second opportunity for him to not encourage the friendship, to stop getting to know her. If they sit here awkwardly long enough, she’ll definitely give up.
Instead, he asks, “So, how’s your first semester aside from the sorority? I assume you have classes.”
“No, it’s all Greek life, all the time. Just like in Sydney White,” she adds, with a smirk, and he feels his stomach sink.
This isn’t going to turn out well for him.