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Chapter Text

"I hate these sorts of things."

"Yeah, I know. You've said so about ten times in the last two hours." Anya casts her a look from where they stand, backs against a wall, watching elegantly dressed socialites swing in and out of one another with strained smiles and tight words.

"Well it's true," Lexa slumps back a little against the wall, shifting her heavy tray into her other hand. She adds, sullenly, "They all look like they're having a miserable time anyway."

"Of course they are." Anya rolls her eyes, "don't you know anything about the Upper East Side? They all hate each other."

"So why bother having expensive parties and forcing yourselves to interact with people you don't actually like?" Lexa snaps, eyeing the glasses of champagne on her tray resentfully.

"Why are you asking me this stuff? Do I look like I belong with them?" Lexa hesitates, pretending to look her over thoughtfully and Anya grunts at her, laughter in her eyes. "Don't insult me Lexa."

"No," Her eyes flicker back to the long evening dresses and the expertly pressed tuxes. "We're about as far from their world as you can get."

"Says the prep school girl." Anya teases and nods her head at the returning waiters, "That's our cue, come on."

Lexa lets out a soft sigh, but follows the older girl out into the room. She shadows the straw coloured braid for a few seconds before Anya jerks her head to the other side of the room and she steps away, alone in the sea of diamonds and jewels. Her hands are trembling just a little, but she steels herself. She's worked these things before and just because there are a few familiar faces around doesn't mean that she will be recognised. She's just a dinner jacket and a tray of sparkling champagne to them after all and as she offers out glasses, stepping easily around the milling crowd, she feels herself start to relax. There's a certain skill to being invisible, one that she's perfected over time and she seems to manage it beautifully now, gaining barely a glance from the woman who used to teach her English and the headmistress of her school.

Just as she likes it.

She's been avoiding the group of teenagers in the corner, but there's no way she can just miss them completely unless she wants to be fired, so it's with a heavy heart that she ducks her head and starts towards the loud, laughing group. They stand together, heads thrown back in jovial conversation and she tries not to notice the twinkling accessories that drape their necks and wrists- the price of one alone could probably cover the rent of her apartment for a month. Tonight they'll put them away in velvet cushioned boxes and not retrieve them for six months and the thought makes Lexa's blood boil.

She holds the tray out to them, dropping her eyes to the floor in hopes that they won't notice her and she feels the shift in weight of her tray before she starts to move around the group.

"Hey, do I know you?"

The voice makes her startle to a stop and she freezes, eyes darting up to see the dark haired girl, in a dress that plunges at her neckline and is covered in black sparkles, who is eyeing her with curiosity.

"Uh, no, I don't think so." She tries not to stumble over her words, taking a step back from the girl who is cocking her head to the side.

"No, I think I do." Octavia Blake frowns at her and Lexa can feel the heat spreading to her cheeks as Octavia tugs on her boyfriend's arm, distracting him from his conversation "Lincoln, don't we know her?"

Lincoln turns and Lexa knows in that moment that she is done for. She wonders what the chances are that the earth will open up beneath her and sends a silent prayer to whatever deity watches over her, but nothing happens and instead Lincoln's dark eyes meet hers and widen in delighted surprise.

"Lexa! Good to see you."

"Uh, yeah you too Lincoln," She can feel all of their eyes turning to look at her, likely noticing her for the first time since she stepped up to their group. "How's it going?"

"It's good," his smile is wide and genuine and she clings to it for a minute like a life raft before he turns to his friends and gestures to her. "Hey, this is my friend Lexa Woods. We used to get the train from Brooklyn together, right Lexa?"

"We... sure did." Her words are strangled, tight and she forces herself to smile at them. Their parents sign her pay cheque .

"These are some friends of mine, Bellamy Blake," he nods to the guy with dark, floppy hair who raises his hand in greeting and then to the guy's sister, "and Octavia. Raven Reyes."

The brunette, clad in a silky purple dress, nods at her, smiling a little. "Yeah, I know you Woods. You're up to be Salutatorian right?"

"Only because you got Valedictorian." Lexa smiles a little wryly and Raven shrugs, as if the honour means nothing to her.

"Yeah, kind of a bore but it looks good on my transcript."

Lexa can only hum softly in agreement, pressing her lips together as she tries not to think about how much more time she would have had to study if she hadn't been in and out of work since she was fifteen. It's done now and Salutatorian is almost as good. Almost.

"And, that's Clarke and her boyfriend Finn." Lincoln nods across the circle to where the familiar blonde stands, arguing hotly with a dark haired boy and Lexa has to hurry her eyes away, trying not to stare.

"Well, it's good to see you guys but..." she raises her tray, desperate to get away from their company and to her relief they nod. "Maybe I'll see you around."

She knows she will, she shares almost every class with at least one of them, but there doesn't seem a lot of point in telling them that.

"Hey, wait!" The voice pulls her back around again and she sees the boy Lincoln called Finn reach forward to pluck a glass off her tray.

She turns again and none of them try to stop her.

Just a dinner jacket and a tray of drinks .

She'll happily keep it that way.

----

It's late and she's about to clock out. The party is slowly winding down and she has to get across the river to Brooklyn; her boss is kind of a jerk but Anya had pleaded her case and told the asshole not to make a seventeen year old travel after midnight in the city, so he'd grudgingly let her leave. She's just collecting her coat from the closet when she hears the slight thump from the door outside and freezes. She's no stranger to hidden make out sessions and she's pretty sure that someone was just pushed up against the wall.

For a moment she is frozen in indecision, caught in a closet the size of her bedroom as she dances between the door and the far wall, fingers reaching out hesitantly. In her coat pocket her phone buzzes and she sees her mom's name appear on the screen, asking when she will be home, so she steels herself and pushes the door open.

The hallway outside is low lit and deserted apart from the couple pressed up against the wall, as she predicted, a few paces away. Pausing to pull on her jacket, she can't help the way her eyes flicker to them, brows creasing when she sees the way that the girl is pressing against his shoulders, shoving at him. Slight squeaks and grunts reach her and she is about to dismiss them and start the gruelling walk home when she hears the girl snap, angrily.

"No, get the fuck off me!" She shoves him again, harder this time and the boy goes stumbling away. "I swear you're such a jerk when you drink!" She hisses the words and Lexa is about to leave when the boy, regaining his balance, goes veering towards her again.

Lexa's feet carry her towards them before she can stop herself and she reaches out, pushing at his shoulder hard enough to bring him to a halt.

"Hey! She's not interested."

The boy is breathing heavily and at this proximity she recognises, with a jerk of surprise, the dark, bloodshot eyes of Finn. Her gaze flickers back towards the girl and sure enough there stands Clarke Griffin, golden hair ruffled and dress creased, staring at her in surprise.

"Get out of my way." He's clearly drunk, his words slurred and stinking heavily of whiskey and she cringes away from the smell, glowering at him.

Her hands come to rest at his shoulders, jerking him to a stop when he tries to step towards Clarke again. "You don't get to treat people like this." She snaps and he growls and before she knows it his fist is flying towards her face. She staggers away, letting out a breath of angry, shocked air at the impact, her hand going up to hold her face as she peers down the corridor, bracing for another attack.

What she sees, however, is Clarke Griffin punching her boyfriend squarely in the nose with a satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She hears the blonde shout, furiously, "Stay away from me and from her, Finn, or you'll get what's coming to you."

She turns her back on him, marching the few steps towards Lexa as if the towering heels on her feet are no problem at all and squatting down beside her. Gentle fingers press against her hands and she feels them slowly eased away as blue eyes scan worriedly over her face, brows furrowing with concern.

"You're not in a great state but it's not broken." She tells her, in a voice as soft as silk and Lexa tries to nod, but the fingers shift and holding her head still, cupping her cheeks even as she sees Clarke's lips twitch upwards in a smile, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Okay, no moving. Let's get you cleaned up." She eases her upwards, helping her to her feet and a slim arm is slung around her waist. She can feel Clarke's fingers spreading like a web across her hip, hot through the thick material of her uniform and her breath catches just slightly in her throat, her eyes flickering from Clarke to her feet and back again.

Clarke leads them to a large, marble filled bathroom and she blinks as the lights flicker on and she is deposited on the closed toilet seat, watching the girl in front of her lean up in her light blue evening dress and start to rifle through a stranger's medicine cabinet.

"Huh, seems like Mrs Dwyer is on some harder painkillers than we thought," Clarke casts an amused glance over her shoulder at Lexa, but she can only blink, her head slightly fuzzy as she stares at the blonde, watching her intently. Clarke returns to her side moments later, falling to her knees and reaching up with a warm, damp washcloth to dab away the blood that has been trickling from her nose.

She is incredibly close and Lexa can smell her soft, floral perfume and count the diamonds of her necklace, following the beautiful piece down to her exposed clavicles and swallowing heavily.

"You can stop staring if you want?" Clarke's voice is gentle and teasing, but Lexa jerks back away from her regardless, her cheeks heating impossibly as she feels her breath catch in her throat.

"I'm sorry I... I just..."

"Hey, it's fine," Clarke soothes her easily, fingers running up to catch her jaw in a tender touch again for a moment, keeping her still, "I'm not going to complain about a beautiful girl watching me."

"You... you think I'm beautiful?" The question escapes her on a strangled gasp and Clarke's focused eyes don't move from where she is dabbing at her cheek.

"Of course I do, I have since the moment I met you Lexa Woods." The boldness of her reply makes Lexa feel almost faint and she struggles for a reply for a moment before Clarke beats her to it, continuing. "I don't know if you know me, I'm Clarke Griffin, I'm in your math class... and your history class."

"Yeah... yeah I know you."

How could she not? Clarke sits three rows in front of her in math and a row behind and to the left in history. She excels at the latter, but struggles with math and her friend Octavia likes to flick bits of eraser at her. Lexa wonders whether she could be considered a stalker, but really it's not her fault. One of the perks of being invisible is the ability to observe anyone around her and Clarke is the talk of the school for a reason.

"Well, now we can meet officially," Clarke pulls back a little and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, scanning her eyes over her clinically. "Nothing is broken and you'll be okay, just some bruising."

"Great, thank you." She's feeling significantly less fuzzy, her head thumping with pain and she rises to her feet carefully, stepping towards the mirror to flinch a little at her reflection, examining the bruises that are blossoming across her cheek.

“No, thank you ." Clarke appears in the mirror behind her, a hand coming to rest against her shoulder, her manicured nails stark against the black of Lexa's dinner jacket. "I mean... Finn's normally harmless, but..." Blue eyes meets hers in the mirror and her smile is strained, fear dancing behind it, "I was pretty scared then. So thank you for saving me."

"I wasn't going to just walk away." She can't tear her eyes away, tugged relentlessly into her gaze and she can feel goosebumps prickling up her arms. "Your boyfriend seems like kind of a dick."

"He is," Clarke agrees, with a sardonic twist to her voice. "And he's not my boyfriend anymore."

"Are you going to give him the memo?" She raises an eyebrow.

"When he's sober."

"Good. You deserve better than him." It escapes her, her words cluttering out over the marble countertops awkwardly and she stiffens a little, ripping her eyes down to look at her hands, clenched around the edge of the sink.

"Yeah, I think I do." The hand on her shoulder tightens and she looks up again to see that Clarke's smile has grown.

She can only nod, looking back to her own reflection and cringing when she sees the drips of red that have run down from her nose and fallen into pinpricks on her white pressed shirt. "Shit," she reaches up to touch it, but fingers grab hers to stop her movements. "My boss is going to kill me..." the realisation dawns slowly and she lets her head fall back, a groan torn from her. "Especially if he hears about the fight. I'm so fired."

"Don't worry, Finn won't spill." Clarke's voice comes from her side, reassuring and easy. "And here, I can help with the shirt. Just don't touch it okay, you're going to stain it."

Lexa's eyes fall open again and she turns, following as Clarke tugs on her hand, leading her out of the room and back down the dark hall towards the closet. Lexa realises, with a jolt, that her dress cuts low and shows off the majority of her bare back, soft, sun kissed skin and the elegant curve of her spine, the dark swirl of a tattoo peeking out from behind the sleeve and she feels her eyes widen, drinking in the sight while she still can. Clarke slips inside and Lexa lingers at the door, her eyes darting nervously down to the kitchen, watching for any familiar faces.

"Hey, come on." Clarke's fingers wrap around hers again and she yanks her through the door, into the closet, pushing the door shut behind her. Lexa's breath is caught in her throat and Clarke laughs a little at her stunned expression. "Sorry," she murmurs as she begins to browse through the coats, "didn't mean to surprise you."

"No, I was just startled." She rubs awkward fingers over the back of her neck, watching as Clarke digs in her purse for something, "I'm not used to being pulled back into the closet." The joke falls from her with surprising ease and Clarke looks at her with surprise.

"Oh yeah, I remember you were dating that girl in freshman year weren't you? You guys still together?"

"No..." Her eyes dart away, “She moved to London at the end of the year."

"Oh, that sucks, I'm sorry." Clarke grimaces in sympathy, "Here," She thrusts a bunch of notes into Lexa's hands and she struggles for a moment, mouth dropping open at the sight of so much money.

 "What- Clarke, what is this?" She holds the money gingerly, uncertainly and Clarke shrugs over her shoulder.

"Just something to cover the dry cleaning," She says, as she hangs her purse back with her coat. "I wasn't sure how much it would be, so I figured that would probably cover it."

"There's almost a hundred dollars here!" Lexa exclaims, shaking her head, "and I'm not even sure where I would find a dry cleaner in Brooklyn."

"Oh," Clarke frowns, thoughtful for a moment before her eyes brighten and she offers, carefully, "Have you got another shirt under there?" At Lexa's nod she smiles and continues. "Awesome, then you can give the dress shirt to me and I'll have it dry cleaned for you."

"Oh... you don't have to do that."

"Please, it'll be my pleasure," her eyes are so soft and inviting that Lexa's fingers inch upwards and she's tugging off her jacket before she even realises what she's doing. "Anyway," Clarke moves slowly back towards her. "It's the least I can do for my knight in shining armour."

Lexa laughs quietly at the words, shaking her head as she begins to unbutton her shirt. "Honestly, it's no big deal. I just did what anyone else would have done."

"Yeah, but you're the one who did it." Clarke raises an eyebrow, fingers going to fiddle with the necklace around her throat as she watches. Suddenly aware of her audience, Lexa pauses, her fingers stilling as her eyes dart to Clarke's, heat rushing to her cheeks.

"I, uh... could you maybe...?"

"Oh, sorry!" Pink tinges the blonde's cheeks and she turns, the skirt of her dress flying around her ankles. "So," She speaks awkwardly, "How long have you been a waiter?"

"Just a few months," Lexa resists the urge to snort at the question, "So the risk of him firing me is pretty high and I need the money."

"Do you?" Clarke sounds perplexed.

"Well, yeah." She folds the shirt over her arm, straightening out her singlet a little self consciously before slipping her arms into her jacket again. "You can look, by the way."

Clarke turns, but she makes no move to leave the room as she leans back on a coat rack. "I just figured that with you going to St. Anne's money wouldn't be an issue."

"You'd think," Lexa quirks her eyebrows, her voice dry of amusement, but she continues, "Actually I'm a scholarship student. I thought that was pretty common knowledge."

"No, actually. You seem to slip under the radar pretty well." Clarke steps towards the door, opening it and gesturing Lexa out in front of her and she can't help but wonder how many doors the girl actually opens for herself over the course of a day.

"Apart from your radar," she observes, waiting as Clarke steps out into the hallway with her before she starts walking. "You noticed me."

"I did." Is all Clarke says, but the knowing smile lingering at her lips at the warm affection in her eyes sends a rush running through Lexa. Clarke comes to a stop by the archway to the rest of the apartment and gestures. "Well, this is me."

"And that's me," She nods to where the door waits for her and glances down at the shirt still held in her hands. "Um, sorry do you want me to go and put this back in the closet for you? You really don't have to bother with it, I can figure it out."

"No," Clarke reaches out, pulling the material from her grasp, "Don't worry, I'll hide it somewhere and get it back to you on Monday."

"Alright, thanks," There's a smile on her lips, unbidden but wide, pressing her lips upwards. "It was nice talking to you Clarke Griffin."

"You too Lexa Woods," Clarke lingers, watching as her unwilling feet start the slow walk to the elevator. "Hey," she turns embarrassing quickly to meet blue eyes and a pink lip caught between a set of white teeth, trapped nervously. "I'll see you Monday?"

"See you Monday." She agrees, not even trying to school her smile and it's only once she's in the elevator that she realises she is still clutching Clarke's money in her hand.

----

"Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Clarke's head whips around, looking over at where Octavia is lounging back on the steps, ignoring the people trying to file up around her, throwing her head back to catch the last of the fall sunshine. Her hair falls in a long, complicated dark braid down her back and Clarke watches, suppressing her snigger, as Raven bends over from where she is leant against the railing to steal one of the sugared strawberries from the pot on her lap. Octavia doesn't open her eyes, but she reaches out to slap at her friend's hand.

"Hey, get your own." Her eyes flicker open again and she sits up, looking through the rails at where Clarke stands in the brick lined, ivy coated courtyard, bag clutched in hand. "Seriously Clarke, what's up with you?"

"I don't know what you mean." She holds her head high, her chin stiff but she can feel the telltale blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I'm just stood here."

"Yeah and if you were a cat your fur would be bristling." Octavia points out, ignoring the way that Raven rolls her eyes and doing nothing when the girl steals another piece of fruit.

"Give her a break O," Raven chews on the tip of the strawberry. "She's just had a break up."

"Yeah, but with fuckboy Finn," Octavia flops back against the steps again. "Good riddance.”

"Doesn't mean she can't be upset." Raven points out and goes in for another steal but Octavia is watching through cracked eyes and darts forward, grabbing at her hand and yanking her forward so that she stumbles.

"Seriously Raven, get your own damn fruit! You know I need my morning snack!"

Clarke is distracted from their antics, however, when she catches sight of a familiar head of dark hair. Lexa's locks are braided up and around her head in a detailed halo braid, with a few strands falling around her face and Clarke is momentarily dumbfounded, caught by the sight of her sharp features and pale face, eyes like spring leaves cast to the ground. She has two hands fastened around the straps of her rucksack, holding it tightly to her back and for a second Clarke thinks she will walk right by her, but Lexa's eyes dart up and she spots Clarke's over eager smile and returns it, stepping hesitantly through the students to meet her.

"Hi," Embarrassingly, she's a little breathless when she speaks and Clarke clears her throat, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. "I, um, got you your dry cleaning."

"Thank you, you really didn't have to." Lexa takes the offered bag, swinging her rucksack off one shoulder to pull it around and roll the shirt up neatly, beginning to slide it into her bag when she is jostled from behind and goes stumbling forward. A few of her books fall, hitting the floor with a thud and Clarke turns, spotting Murphy's head.

"Hey, watch where you're going asshole!"

"Miss Griffin!" Mrs Yates, their algebra professor, snaps a warning from where she's passing and Clarke opens her mouth to argue when Lexa's hand tugs on her wrist, pulling her down to the ground with her.

"It's so not worth a fight," Lexa informs her sternly, but there is an undercurrent of bemusement to her voice and Clarke scoops up the book closest to her, reading the cover with interest.

"Yeah, well I like a fight, ask anyone." She laughs softly, standing when Lexa does and handing her the final book as she swings her bag back onto her back. "Looks heavy, you take Mandarin?"

"Yeah, I like it." Lexa hugs the book close to her chest but meets her gaze steadily, shrugging.

"It looks hard," Clarke eyes the book with caution. "I can't even do French."

"It just takes a bit of work, you get used to it."

" You do," Clarke raises an eyebrow, laughing softly. "I think you're over estimating me ."

"I don't think so," Lexa tells her, softly and she can feel herself starting to blush again, biting on her lip as she smiles nervously. "Um, I have your money by the way."

Behind them, the warning bell rings and Clarke shrugs, smiling lightly. "Give it to me later?"

Lexa smiles and nods, then teases with a twinkle in her eyes. "Are you just trying to find excuses to hang out with me Clarke?"

"Maybe," she admits, openly and Lexa blinks at her, obviously surprised by her boldness and she hurries on, "Maybe I want to be your friend."

"Friend?" Lexa raises one sleek eyebrow and Clarke smiles a little, eyes flickering unabashedly up and down the girl before her.

"For now." The words are something of a promise and she turns on her heel, Lexa's gaze burning into her back as she saunters back towards where her friends wait.

----

Lexa is caught by her linguistics professor at lunch and ends up wasting most of her recess talking to him about college opportunities, despite her constant insistence that she's already applied and been accepted conditionally to Yale and by the time she escapes Clarke is nowhere to be found. The next day she is late to class, barely running through the classroom door before the final bell rings and she spends her lunch break with Anya in a small deli downtown, talking about work and mutual friends over foods that she's sure would make Clarke Griffin wrinkle her nose.

"What's this girl actually like?" Anya asks around a mouthful of Cuban sandwich and Lexa sighs, resting her chin heavily in her hands as she stares down at her chicken sub.

"She's terrible," she admits at last and at Anya's cocked head, continues. "She's filthy rich, entitled, careless, basically everything I hate about the city."

"But?" The older girl prompts her expectantly and Lexa lets out a soft groan, letting her head fall into her hands.

"But she's also pretty and nice and proud and gorgeous and protective and clever and-" she breaks off to take a breath, giving Anya a look that she knows is pathetic. "Did I mention she's really hot? Like... unfairly so."

"Only two billion times this whole conversation." Anya rolls her eyes, "I don't get it, if you like her so much why don't you just date her? Seems clear she's interested."

"Because she represents everything I hate Anya!" Her voice draws attention, turning heads and she lowers the volume slightly before she continues. "And I have principles."

"Oh of course ," Anya's words are dripping in sarcasm, "I forgot you like to pass up hot girls because of principles. My bad. Totally logical choice you're making there."

"Shut up, you know I don't have the time to date anyone right now, not with things like they are." Lexa snaps, taking a bite of her sandwich as Anya clicks her tongue impatiently.

"So you don't want to date her, just fuck her?"

Lexa almost chokes on her sandwich and Anya snorts at her reaction, sliding her soda across the small table for her to drink.

"I'm serious, if she's that hot just fuck her and get it out of your system. It's clear you're dying for it."

"Okay, no ." Lexa shakes her head, "you're crazy."

"Hey, I'm older and wiser." Anya reaches over to grab her soda.

"Older is right, how are the crows feet coming, grandma?" She grins, eyes bright with mirth and Anya chucks a balled up napkin across the table at her.

"Shut your mouth, kid. I'll throw you in the fountain, don't test me." They settle into comfortable silence for a moment, both eating and flicking on their phones for a second and Lexa frowns when she hears Anya's voice, softer this time. "Hey, I know it's not really any of my business but how's your mom?"

"Still sick." Lexa doesn't look up from her phone when she speaks, eyes fixed fiercely to the screen until she hears Anya clear her throat quietly, expectant eyes rimmed with sympathy. She sighs and sets down her phone, meeting the older girl's gaze reluctantly. "What do you want me to say? The drugs get more expensive, she just gets sicker and she needs more drugs."

"Do you have enough cash?" Anya asks bluntly, voice steady but Lexa feels herself flare defensively.

"We don't need charity," She snaps, furiously.

"Don't be stupid," Anya retorts, glaring at her, "If you need money I can lend it to you."

"We don't take handouts." Lexa slams her hand down on the table, standing with the loud scrape of her chair against the cheap linoleum floor. "Keep your fucking money."

"Lexa!" Anya shouts after her, but makes no move to chase her down as she storms from the deli, letting the door slam behind her.

Anya’s words sting all the way back to school and she turns the volume up on her headphones until her music drowns them out. 

She's late getting back to school, but she has a free period so it doesn't much matter and she considers making her way to the gym but she can feel the weight of her work pressing down on her shoulders so she sets a slow pace towards the library.

The noise she hears coming from the girl's bathroom makes her pause, momentarily. She considers walking on, ignoring it, but she has little desire to sit down and start on her Latin essay, so she pushes open the door, stepping inside and frowning a little when she realises the noises are breathless, angry sobs.

"Um, hello?" She calls out into the room uncertainly, "Are you okay?"

Only one stall is locked and though the sobs immediately quiet to a muffled, hitching hiccup, she lingers outside, knocking softly against the wood.

"Hey, would you like me to fetch someone?"

There's a moment of silence, broken only by the stranger's hesitant sniffles and she considers leaving, is close to turning back to the door when there is a shifting and the click of a lock before the door swings open.

Clarke stands on the other side, cheeks splotching with red, eyeliner running but her regal air still firmly intact as she marches past Lexa as if she is barely worth a glance, striding towards the mirror in black boots that Lexa knows aren't regulation - but of course, this is Clarke Griffin , so it doesn't matter one bit - and leaning over to start powdering her nose. For a second she wants to leave, because Clarke seems every bit the upper east side bitch in this moment, but she knows a defence when she sees one, has been living with one for the last three years and so she stays, watching from a few steps away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks at last and Clarke slams her powder down on the counter so hard that it spills over the side of its little plastic case.

"Do I look like I want to talk?"

"Not particularly," Lexa admits at last, stepping slowly closer until she can lean against the counter a few paces away from the blonde, watching her carefully. "Do you want me to leave?"

"You think I care what you do?" Clarke growls it out, reaching into her bag for a makeup wipe to smooth away the smears of black beneath her eyes.

Lexa stays where she is, watching stoically as Clarke starts to reapply her eyeliner and it's only when Clarke curses for the second time, scrubbing away her hard work and beginning again, that Lexa realises she is still shivering with suppressed tears, her fingers shaking.

"Hey," she moves closer and lets her hand rise to settle on Clarke's shoulder, relaxing slightly when the blonde doesn't immediately pull away from her touch. "It's okay."

"I just... she's going to ruin my life . Why does she do this to me? Why does she insist on fucking my life over?" Clarke talks quickly, as if she can't stop and Lexa rubs her hand over her shoulder tentatively, eyeing her uncertainly.

"Who?" She asks at last and Clarke throws down her eyeliner, rubbing her palm over her forehead agitatedly.

"My mother ."

"Your mom is ruining your life?" She cocks her eyebrow, confused and sceptical but Clarke doesn't look at her as she turns and continues talking, pacing across the bathroom anxiously.

"She wants me to go to medical school, medical school ." Lexa cocks an eyebrow at her outrage, "and it's just not what I want for myself. Just because she's obsessed with being a surgeon, doesn't mean that I want to be a doctor as well. I just- I can’t even- not after-" She cuts herself off, biting down over her words furiously.

"You seemed pretty good at it when you checked me out in the Dwyer's bathroom," Lexa observes carefully, flushing at the double meaning of her words, but Clarke rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she continues to pace.

"That was different, I was just looking after my friend ."

"You didn't know me."

"I wanted to," Clarke shoots her an irritated glance and Lexa's eyebrows shoot up, treading a fine line between amused and outraged when Clarke waves her hand. "That's the difference."

"What do you want to do instead?" She asks, her earlier annoyance flaring again. "Be a socialite?"

"No." The blonde snaps, glaring at her, "I want to go to NYU and study art."

She feels a flush of shame at her assumption and softens a little."That's pretty cool," She nods, smiling despite herself. "I've seen some of your work around school. You're a brilliant artist."

"Thanks," Clarke cracks a small smile in return, "Try telling my mom that... she just demands that I'm the best all the time, but her version of the best. It’s just not who I am, not anymore at least."

"Well there's no point going to medical school if you're just going to leave after a year or so." Lexa observes, quietly, "it's a waste of time and money."

"Exactly!" Clarke throws her hands up, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "But she won't listen to me."

"You'll have to make her," Lexa crosses her arms, shrugging. "This is your life Clarke, make her sit up and notice that you can do whatever the hell you want."

"Right, you’re right.” Clarke is quiet for a minute and she pauses in her pacing, eyes fixed to the floor and flickering back and forth for a second, quick with thought before she looks up slowly, meeting Lexa's gaze with a ferocious determination that is almost frightening. "I have an idea... date me."

"Date you?" Lexa blinks at her, mouth dropping open in surprise. "That's... that’s not how girls normally ask me out, Clarke."

"Oh come on," Clarke takes a few quick steps closer to her, until she is backed up against the counter, nowhere left to escape to. "You know I'm attracted to you and I know you think I'm hot. My mother will freak out ."

"I'm not really... looking for a girlfriend right now," Lexa tells her, edging slowly out of her grip. "And we only just met!"

"We've known each other for almost a week!" Clarke counters, outraged. "Marriage proposals have happened in less time."

"Maybe in your world." Lexa raises an eyebrow, "but out in the real world we normal people take a little while longer."

"Time is of the essence! Applications are due soon!"

"I'm really not up for dating at the moment Clarke, I'm sorry." Her brows crease when she sees the bewildered outrage cross Clarke's face.

"You flirted with me." Clarke accuses her, face falling, and for the first time her confidence seems to falter. “If you didn't mean it, then... well, then that was really low Lexa."

"No, I did! I mean-" She stumbles over her words, "I mean I did flirt with you, because I do find you attractive. But I never thought anything would come of it! And I just can't handle a relationship with everything else that's going on in my life."

"Then just fake it."

"Fake it?" She echoes the words, mouth falling open in alarm. "Is this some kind of bad sitcom? No !"

"Seriously, Lexa you're perfect," Clarke drags her by the hand and pulls her over to the mirror, lacing their fingers together and Lexa tries to ignore the way that her heart thumps at the feeling of their palms pressed together. "Look at us," she demands and Lexa follows her instructions, watching her reflection beside Clarke's in the mirror. "We're a great couple," Clarke insists, a little more softly. "We've got chemistry, I find you attractive and you're perfect ."

"Yeah, you've mentioned that," Her eyes flicker uncertainly to Clarke's in the mirror, "But I’m not sure it’s a compliment."

"You're a girl," Clarke points out and she can't help but cut in.

"Ah yes. Ideal."

"You're a smartass ," Clarke continues, slapping at her arm. There is a playful smile on her lips and Lexa has to force her eyes away from it. "You're from Brooklyn and you have a like... edgy, outsider vibe going on."

"Edgy?" Lexa repeats, skeptically. "I have a 4.8 GPA and a perfect record."

"Yeah but my mother doesn't know that." Clarke points out smoothly and turns, their hands still interlocked, to look at her. "Will you do this for me? Just a dinner or two. You'll be doing me a huge favor."

Lexa considers, watching the girl and feeling the heat of her hand, the swell in her heart when she hears Clarke laughs. Where's the downside, really ? "Fine." She concedes and Clarke lets out a squeal of joy, throwing her hands around her neck and dragging her in for a stilted, unwilling hug before pulling back to say, her voice sternly somber.

"Lexa Woods, will you be my fake girlfriend?"

"I already said yes." Lexa rolls her eyes, pushing her gently and Clarke laughs, more loudly this time, and for a second Lexa feels impossibly light. Clarke reaches to grab her bag as Lexa digs in her pockets for a second, fumbling for a folded envelope as the blonde starts towards the door. "Oh, I wanted to give you this back." The envelope is crumpled and she pushes it towards Clarke. "Your money." She explains, redundantly and Clarke shakes her head, nudging her hand away with a slight smile.

"Consider it my thanks for your favor."

"You're going to pay me for fake dating you?" Lexa stares at her, somewhere close to aghast, but Clarke doesn't seem to notice, shrugging.

"Don't think of it as payment, think of it as a gift."

"A hundred dollars worth of gift, Clarke."

Clarke just shrugs again, stepping through the door without her and saying, with a light smile, "Definitely worth the money."

The words leave a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, and as Clarke saunters away she glances down at the money in her hands and tries to ignore the part of her that says this is a mistake.

----

Chapter Text

She feels out of place from the moment she steps out of the elevator and into the Griffin home.

It's the maid that greets her at the door and leads her through into the living room to wait while she hurries away to fetch Clarke. Lexa stands, her hands deep in the pockets of her jeans and inspects the wide, open space with interest. There's a broad archway that leads into a dining room at the far end of the long room, but the living room itself is probably big enough to fit most of her apartment in. It's decorated in light creams, yellows and reds and it feels cleaner than any room Lexa has ever been in before. There are several slim, comfortable couches and a glass coffee table with magazines arranged artfully across the surface. The whole apartment is quiet. In her own home there is a constant buzz of noise, the traffic from the street outside or music from the bar at the end of the block or their neighbours passing the door and it's almost unnerving to be so surrounded by silence.

Her gaze is caught by the fireplace, all dark stone and marble and she wanders slowly towards it, taking a moment to inspect the childhood photos on the mantelpiece before her attention is drawn down to a large vase of flowers in the empty space where flames would flicker in winter. They're bright and beautiful and she lets herself reach out and run a thumb over the petal of a lily.

Thunderous footsteps racing down the stairs draw her attention and she darts away from the flowers guiltily, looking up in time to see Clarke, breathless and beaming in the doorway.

She feels immediately underdressed, but it's not a new feeling. Clarke's text had told her this was just a family brunch, nothing formal and so she'd pulled on her best jeans and a light blue shirt, a thin sweater thrown over the top to ward off the autumn chill. Clarke, however, is wearing a light dress and a pair of dark heels, her hair thrown into some complicated twist of braids that is artfully arranged to look casual. There are even fresh flowers woven between her golden strands and Lexa can't help but stare.

"What?" Clarke falters in the doorway, looking down at herself. "Is something wrong? Do I look bad?"

"No, you look..." she fumbles to find the right word, "wonderful. I just thought you said this was casual."

"It is." Clarke quirks her eyebrow, quizzically and Lexa looks pointedly down at her own outfit. "Oh don't be silly," Clarke rolls her eyes, stepping fully into the room to grab her by the hand and tug her away into the corridor again. "You look perfect."

“Your kind of perfect?” She asks wryly as she is led up the curving staircase, surrounded by more cut flowers and large landscapes. “Or the good kind?”

At the top of the staircase Clarke turns and Lexa has to come to an abrupt halt to stop from running into her. “My kind is the good kind.” She tells her and Clarke sounds so certain, so firm and resolute that Lexa’s eyes widen even as the girl turns around and continues on through the long corridors.

She follows her silently, but she takes in the many doors that sit off the corridor. She counts five before Clarke pushes one open and she can’t help but wonder what could possibly be behind them, Clarke lives with only her mother, who is barely ever home and yet their apartment is like a labyrinth.

Clarke pauses in the doorway, turning to look at her and she sees, to her surprise, a glimmer of nervousness in her eyes. “This is my room,” she tells her, quietly and Lexa nods once.

Her stare is curious when Clarke steps aside and lets her inside, roving around the room to take in everything that fills it. It isn’t a small space by any means, but it’s so filled with stuff that it feels… not small , but cosy.

The large double bed is covered in a light blue coverlet and an array of cushions and one of the bedside tables is piled high with books. Some of them- the ones at the bottom- are school books, but the rest are books on mythology and art and paperbacks with creased spines and curled pages. The bed is covered with bits of paper and a few clothes and as she steps further in she notices that the high mirror is surrounded by pictures of people that Lexa recognises from school, selfies with Octavia and Raven, their faces creased with laughter; pictures of Clarke on Bellamy’s back, her tongue out; laughing snapshots of she and her friends on vacation; even pencil sketches of friends and families.

The click of the door shutting behind her draws her eyes away and she turns to see Clarke watching her carefully, lingering near the door.

"Do you like it?" She sounds oddly vulnerable and open, and Lexa tries to put her at ease, nodding with a small smile, hand reaching out to trail across the soft coverlet as she speaks.

"Yeah, it's beautiful." Fingers brush against the fur of a small stuffed rabbit, sat against the pillows looking slightly ragged and limp and she turns, cocking an eyebrow teasingly at the blonde. "Friend of yours?"

Clarke's slight flush is almost endearing and she hurries forward, grabbing the rabbit and hugging it to her chest even as she smiles. "Hey, lay off Peter."

"Peter?" Lexa echoes, laughter in her voice and Clarke rolls her eyes, dropping the rabbit back onto the bed and following it with a slight humph, kicking up her heeled shoes onto the bed, ignoring the clothes she is crushing beneath her body.

"Quit it, my dad read me Peter Rabbit when I was a kid and I got hooked. I used to make the nanny read it to me every day, twice ."

"Twice?" She almost chokes on the word, shaking her head as she wanders closer towards the head of the bed. "Wow, you weren't kidding around."

"I never kid about rabbits, Lexa." She's so serious, so deadpan that for a second Lexa is stumped, hesitating where she stands, but Clarke's mask cracks and she giggles, patting the space beside her invitingly. " Joke . Sit down, you don't always have to stand on ceremony."

"You sure about that?" She sits regardless, perching on the edge of the bed and leaning down to tug off her boots before propping her feet up on the bed, reclining back against the multitude of cushions and turning so that she can look at Clarke.

"What do you mean?" Clarke shifts, turning so that she can lean on her elbow and look at Lexa through eyes that are so blue they remind Lexa of the pictures of tropical seas she's seen in National Geographic.

"Well your apartment is kind of like a museum," She stares at the ceiling, tracing the patterns of the intricate plasterwork and hoping that Clarke doesn't take offence.

Beside her the girl sighs and nods, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Not here though," Lexa can't resist turning again to look at her, watching the way that blue eyes flicker away before venturing up to meet hers again from under long eyelashes. Clarke is unimaginably different here, lying against her bed and murmuring childhood stories to Lexa. She is open and innocent and incredibly vulnerable, as far from the high heeled girl who strides down the corridors of St Anne's as it's possible to be, and Lexa struggles for a moment to find what to say. "This room is different, more alive than the rest of the house."

"Thanks," Clarke's smile is small but genuine and a twinkle flashes in her eye, a return to the confidence that Lexa knows when she asks, teasingly. "And what's your room like?" She wiggles her eyebrows and Lexa guffaws so loudly that it makes Clarke snort inelegantly.

"Easy there," she returns, playfully, "it's our first date. I normally wait until at least date two to take a girl to my room."

"Well I guess I'll just have to pray for a second date then," Clarke's smile is slight and coy, tweaking at the corners of her lips teasingly and Lexa is momentarily entranced, eyes fixed to the plump and roll of her pink lips before a knock on the door cracks through the room like a whip.

They both turn, startled and flushing, to see the maid sticking her head around the door. She eyes them both suspiciously, before finally settling her gaze on Clarke and saying, haughtily, "Miss Clarke, your mother is here and brunch will be served soon."

"Thank you Martha," Clarke swings her feet off the bed, standing easily and striding over to mirror to fluff at her hair.

"Should we go?" Lexa pulls on her boots again, trepidation creeping up from her stomach. Clarke shakes her head, leaning in close to the mirror to check her makeup.

"No, let her wait. I'm forever waiting for her."

It doesn't seem like the healthiest of relationships, but Lexa lets it pass anyway, shrugging and shaking her head as she settles back to sit on the bed again. Her gaze is caught by a picture on Clarke's bedside table, beside a glass of water and a small, retro style radio; caught in a frame, the image that stares out at her is bright and colourful and Lexa is momentarily captured by it. Clarke is obviously young, maybe nine or ten, and sat on a bench beside a man who has the same eyes as her. They are both laughing, caught in a candid because Clarke is pointing at her father and he has ice cream from the cone in his hands smeared against the tip of his nose. Clarke looks younger, hair braided down her back simply, in shorts and a pink shirt and there is a carefree joy in her eyes that Lexa has never seen before.

"Is this your dad?"

Clarke freezes, halfway through applying her lip gloss and slowly screws the cap back on before she paces round to her side of the bed, peering down at the picture though it is clear that she knows what Lexa is talking about.

"Yeah, that's him." Her voice is soft and quiet and when Lexa turns to look back at her she is running the ear of the rabbit between her thumb and fingers, a subconscious, comforting habit.

"What happened to him?" She speaks lowly, afraid to break the quiet between them.

"He died." She sounds curt and matter of fact and the rabbit falls back onto the bed as she stands a little straighter, staring down at Lexa with regal expectancy. "Ready? We have to scar my mother, remember?"

"Of course.”

At her bedroom door Clarke turns, holding out an expectant hand, and when their fingers twine together Lexa feels a flush run through her at the sight of Clarke's thumb curled possessively atop her own.

Abby Griffin looks Lexa up and down when she walks down the stairs beside her daughter. She stands imperiously, in heels so high that she towers over them both when they reach the bottom. Her skirt suit is all sharp edges, a dark blue that is almost feminine, but not quite, and long brown hair is curled gently to fall over her shoulders, softening the whole look just slightly.

She smiles - a small, thin affair that seems as forced as it is fake - and looks to Clarke.

"Hello, darling," there's a very faint twang in her voice, an accent that Lexa thinks could be from New England.

"Mother," Clarke leans forward and places a Hollywood style kiss against her mother's cheek, backing away quickly to stand beside Lexa again. She is slightly taller in her heels and when her hand comes to rest on the small of Lexa's back she almost does a double take, blinking when she is nudged forwards. "This is Lexa, my girlfriend."

Abby's brows quirk, just briefly and she enquires, lightly, "Girlfriend?"

"Yes," Clarke squares her shoulders, head held high, clearly ready for battle but Abby just eyes them both for a moment before smiling wanly and holding out a hand in Lexa's direction.

"I see. It’s nice to meet you, Lexa." There's an amused glint in her eyes and her manicured nails press against Lexa's skin when her hand clasps around Lexa's; it doesn't hurt but Lexa is startled by the feeling and her eyes dart up to meet Abby's.

"You too, Mrs Griffin."

"Please, Abby." She steps back, looking to the side and holding out a hand invitingly to someone. "This is Marcus Kane, my partner."

"Her boyfriend," Clarke inputs, bluntly as a man emerges from the closet, smiling at them openly and taking the hand that Abby has outstretched.

Abby shoots her an irritated glance and Lexa watches from the corner of her eye as Clarke crosses her arms with a slight huff. Marcus doesn't seem bothered however and for a moment Lexa wonders if he is simply an idiot who didn't pick up on Clarke's blatant dislike for him, but she catches sight of his amused eyes as he speaks. "Good to see you too, Clarke."

They stand there quietly, waiting for a moment, before Abby gestures towards the rest of the apartment with a polite smile. "Shall we? I've been informed that brunch will be served momentarily."

Marcus and Abby precede them and she feels the breath rush out of her body when they turn away. A hand clasps hers and when she turns Clarke's face is set with determination.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" She mutters, quietly as Clarke begins to lead her through the apartment.

Clarke's eyes flicker to hers and she raises an eyebrow, "When do I ever?"

----

Her mother seems to have brought her A-game today.

Clarke stirs her spoon around the combination of yogurt and berries in her crystal bowl, pushing the morsels of food back and forth until the yogurt is pink and the berries are nothing more than a crushed mess. She watches resentfully from the other side of Lexa as her mother spoons fruit into her own bowl, piercing pieces of pineapple and peach with a silver fork as Lexa picks at her parfait anxiously.

"And you're going to college, Lexa?" Abby asks, smoothly and Clarke notices Lexa swallow nervously, hands reaching out for her glass of water.

"Yes, I'm actually hoping to go to Yale." Clarke tries not to seem too surprised, schooling her expression quickly though Abby's eyes dart to her rapidly. "I've applied for early admittance, hopefully into one of the scholarship programmes."

" Wonderful ," Her mother gushes and Lexa shifts uncomfortably on the chair beside her, shrugging awkwardly. "And what will you study?"

"I'm hoping to major in poli  science." Lexa replies, fingers running around the rim of her glass.

"Very good," Abby seems impressed, nodding and her eyes flicker over to Clarke. "Any way that you could persuade my daughter to sort out her admissions forms? I've been asking her for weeks."

"You've had an answer," Clarke snaps, abruptly, dropping her spoon so that it rattles against the bowl loudly.

"Not one that I'll accept, dear." Abby answers mildly, smiling wanly at her but there's a fierce glint in her eyes that Clarke recognises well.

"I'm sure that Clarke will make the decision that's right for her soon enough," Lexa puts in, after a moment of tense silence. "It normally takes a while to choose, I was just lucky that I knew what I wanted from freshman year."

"Are you going to change the world, Lexa?" Marcus asks and though he's clearly well meaning, there's a patronising edge to his voice that makes Clarke bristle.

When she opens her mouth to bite back, however, Lexa cuts through her. "I'm pretty sure that everybody who goes to college wants to change the world."

"Very true.”

"Who are your parents, Lexa?" Abby cuts the fruit in her bowl into smaller pieces. "Are you new to the area? I don't think we've ever seen you at any of the society gatherings?"

"No," Lexa hesitates, "you wouldn't have. I live in Brooklyn with my mom, she works as a secretary for a small, local building firm and I waitress part time."

Abby blinks at her, clearly startled and for a moment the silence returns, blanketing them like fresh snow before her mother finally unfreezes and says, voice stilted. "I see."

Clarke can't help but smile when she cuts a glance at Lexa and sees while  her eyes downcast a satisfied smirk is lingering at the edges of her lips.

----

At the door, her mother turns to Lexa with a raised eyebrow and says, amusement lacing through her voice. "Well then Lexa, I expect we won't be seeing you again?"

"Oh, why not?" Lexa frowns, perplexed as she takes her coat from Martha, wrapping it over her arm.

"Well," Abby glances at Clarke, smiling slightly, "Clarke has made her point now."

"My point?" Her voice raises high as she echoes her mother's words, furious and outraged. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Language," Abby reprimands Clarke offhandedly, "Please, darling, you and I both know that Lexa is not really your girlfriend. You just brought her here to upset me, no offence meant Lexa."

Clarke gapes, flabbergasted by her mother's calm acknowledgement and she fumbles for her words, stuttering to try to find a way to salvage the situation when a hand slides around Clarke's waist and pulls her abruptly closer, until she is pressed against Lexa's side, flush with her body.

"Excuse me Mrs Griffin, but I happen to like your daughter very much," Lexa's eyes flicker to hers for a moment, creased with irritation. "I don't appreciate your implication that we are anything but real. We've been together for a few weeks now."

"Really, dear if you expect me to believe that-"

Her mother's voice falls flat when Lexa spins her around to press their lips together, hands tightening around her waist. Clarke gasps in surprise into the touch, before her hands snake up around Lexa's neck, touch hesitant and uncertain, the soft press to her mouth taking her breath away as a tongue brushes against her lips teasingly for a moment, before they break away, and she is immensely glad for Lexa's arm around her waist, holding her up.

Abby blinks at them, looking between them with growing alarm, and Clarke smiles in satisfaction before stepping away from Lexa, their hands still intertwined as she tugs gently. "Come on, Lex, let me show you out."

They retreat to the elevator together and it's only when the door slides shut on the frozen figure of her mother that Clarke lets out a snort of laughter, shaking her head.

"Oh god, that was genius Lexa." Leaning up onto her toes, shoes long abandoned- much to her mother’s chagrin- she presses a kiss to Lexa's cheek and the girl smiles, clearly pleased with herself. "That was brilliant, did you see her face? She's was so mad!"

"Your mother is a piece of work," Lexa raises an eyebrow as the elevator doors slide open for them and they step out into the foyer.

"Tell me about it." She slides her hand into Lexa's, pulling her to a stop before she can head for the door, lowering her voice so that the doorman can't hear. "So, do you mind doing this for a little while longer?"

"Did it seem like I minded?" Lexa smirks at her and Clarke rolls her eyes, slapping lightly at her arm.

"I can compensate you for your time, if you’re passing up on shifts or anything. And for travelling into the city.” She reassures her and Lexa stiffens, frowning.

"No, no it's fine." She laughs awkwardly, the sound forced and stilted. "I think your earlier payment covered at least two dates, anyway."

"Okay," She draws the word out uncertainly, watching Lexa with confused eyes before shrugging, "Well listen, my mom will ask around at school so as far as anyone knows we're together, okay?"

"Sounds good," Lexa pulls on her coat, digging her hands deeply into the pockets, "I should go, I have a shift that starts at one."

"Okay, I'll see you on Monday then?" At Lexa's nod she smiles and presses another kiss to her cheek, hands curling around her arm and squeezing again before she steps back, waving once as Lexa makes her way towards the door.

It's only in the elevator that she checks her phone and realises that it's not even midday yet.

----

The hairs on the back of her neck are prickling. Beneath her clammy fingers the spines of her books feel strange and slick and Lexa huddles into her locker, hoping to avoid the eyes that she can feel fixed on her. She’s not used to attention from her classmates, has happily flown under the radar for as long as she’s been going to this school, but now her uniform feels suddenly itchy and starched and she’s distinctly aware that she didn’t put on any eyeliner today.

People’s gazes have been following her all day. The moment she stepped through the wrought iron gates, only a few minutes before the bell, she felt eyes on her. In algebra Matthew Conrad had stared at her through most of the class and she’d caught Cathy Redbred actually craning her neck from the first row to gape at her during second period philosophy class. Her cheeks are pink from the attention and she bundles her books into her arms in an effort to appear invisible.

She only barely makes it to history in time, even with the clearer corridors and she’s halfway to her seat when an all too familiar voice calls out her name.

“Lexa!”

It pulls her to a stop as surely as a tether and she stumbles to a halt, lifting her head from her books to blink at Clarke owlishly. She’s managed to avoid the blonde all day, up until now, and she’s frustrated to see that Clarke looks as beautiful as ever: all sparkling eyes and ringleted hair, accompanied by the effortless confidence of someone who knows that they can have whatever they want.

Clarke is patting the space beside her, which has been suddenly and conveniently cleared. Lexa takes a moment to look at her old spot near the back of the class, but it’s now occupied by Clarke’s old desk mate and Lexa has too many eyes on her throughout the day to start picking a fight. Besides, Clarke’s desk is next to the window, so Lexa sinks reluctantly into the space.

“Hey,” Clarke leans her head against her elbow, watching Lexa as she unloads her things neatly across the desk. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“It’s barely midday,” Lexa desperately avoids her gaze, even though Clarke’s eyes on her feel distinctly different to the whispered glances that have been following her all day.

“You didn’t text me over the weekend, kind of thought you might be mad.”

Clarke doesn’t mince her words at least and Lexa’s distinctly grateful for that even as she carefully straightens her pencils.

“Not mad, just busy sorry.”

“Busy?” Lexa’s eyes are finally drawn to Clarke’s and she startles to see the blonde’s eyes fixed on her still, her voice carefully light.

“I was working,” Now that she has met Clarke’s eyes she can’t quite bring herself to look away.

“Oh, cool.” Clarke hesitates for a moment and Lexa uses the respite to drag her eyes away. She takes her pen and writes the date in the margin of her notebook. “Are you working tonight?”

She feels as if she knows what’s coming, but Lexa shakes her head quietly.

“Well…” Clarke sounds strangely nervous, “Do you want to get together tonight?”

“I have to study,” Lexa glances at her from beneath her eyelashes. It feels terribly tentative between them, as if at any moment they could shatter apart and she isn’t quite sure whether she wants it to or not.

“That’s okay,” Clarke brightens, “So do I, want to have a study date?”

Lexa fumbles over her words, distracted by the light of Clarke’s happy smile and the softness in her eyes. “I um… I guess.”

“Come on babe,” Clarke’s hand settles over hers on the desk and Lexa’s breath stutters from her throat. “I miss you.”

“I, um…” The door swings open to reveal Mr Walding and as the class falls into an expectant, respectful hush, Lexa is only able to nod. Clarke’s fingers tighten around hers briefly, before she pulls her hand away to start writing.

---

She shouldn’t really be surprised that a study date at Clarke’s penthouse apartment consists of luxurious cushions laid out over her bed, bowls of snacks peppered across the room and two tall glasses of iced tea, the condensation gathering to drip down the outside of the glass. Clarke is already studying, laid out across the bed on her stomach, with a pillow shoved beneath her and an open book, upon which sits her phone, when the housekeeper shows Lexa in.

Clarke perks up when the door swings open, beaming at Lexa as she hitches herself further up on the bed.

“Hi! You came!”

“You asked me to,” Lexa smiles weakly, hesitating in the doorway as her eyes swing from the desk- upon which are piles of books, basically unused- and the bed. “Sorry, lacrosse took longer than usual.”

“It’s okay,” Clarke lounges across the bed, pushing her hair out of her eyes and patting the bed. “I didn’t even know you played until you mentioned practice.”

Taking her cue, Lexa pads over and toes off her shoes at the bottom of the bed, gathering a few books into her hands and setting onto the mattress uncertainly as she says. “It looks good on college applications.”

“So you don’t like it?” Clarke twirls her pen in her hands, watching her with blue eyes wide with curiosity.

“No,” Lexa glances down at her binders, blushing a little, “I like it. It’s fun and I’m good, plus it’s nice to feel involved in something at school.”

“Wow, so you’re telling me the great Lexa Woods actually has something she enjoys ?” Lexa opens her mouth to protest but when she sees Clarke’s teasing eyes and half smile, she snaps her mouth shut, gathering her hands in her lap and replying primly.

“I like things.”

“Really, like what?” Clarke rolls her eyes, “Studying?”

“Clearly more than you,” Lexa glances pointedly down to the phone placed between her pages and Clarke’s cheeks colour delightfully in response.

“I- I was looking something up.” At Lexa’s grin she relaxes just slightly, tugging on her arm to encourage her further onto the bed. “Maybe you should teach me how to study.”

“Clarke you’re not an idiot, it’s clear that you know how to study.” Lexa arches an eyebrow, settling back into the cushioned bedhead and Clarke wriggles up to join her,

“You don’t know that, I might be in great need of a tutor.”

“You get excellent grades,” Lexa opens her books in her lap, glancing down at the page of algebra questions with distaste before uncapping her pen.

“Oh god, you’re doing the algebra homework. I was hoping to pretend that wasn’t happening.” Clarke groans loudly, resting her head so carelessly against Lexa’s shoulder that Lexa hopes she doesn’t feel how she tenses up.

“The earlier we get it done the better,” Lexa fidgets with her pencil, staring at the questions intently and trying to ignore the hot tickles of Clarke’s breath against her neck.

“You know,” Clarke is still unnecessarily close to her, and her voice is suddenly low and slightly husky. “When you proposed a study date I didn’t think there would actually be any studying.” Her lips brush against Lexa’s neck and Lexa freezes beneath her, her eyes widening and her heart rabbiting in her chest.

“I don’t… that’s not why I came here.” She speaks in a rush, her cheeks hot and embarrassment curling in her stomach. “I just thought we could study together.”

Clarke pulls back to look at her and Lexa tries not to squirm under her intense gaze. Her eyes travel across Lexa’s face slowly and thoughtfully, trying to read how serious she is and what she sees must satisfy her because she finally nods.

“Okay Lex, we can study.” To Lexa’s relief she pulls away until their arms only brush when they both go to write. Clarke adds a few numbers to her sheet and then glances at Lexa from below her lashes, “but if anyone asks we made out violently.”

Lexa can’t help the grin that pulls at her lips, “Violently?”

“Mmhm,” Clarke spins her pencil again. “I fell off the bed.”

---

The housekeeper calls upstairs once Abby arrives home, but at the sight of Clarke’s pursed lips and determinedly uninterested expression, Lexa stays quiet and goes back to explaining equations to the blonde leaning against her side. When Abby appears a few minutes later, giving the door a cursory knock before pushing it open to come to a stop in the doorway, Clarke leans closer to her.

“Oh, Lexa, I didn’t know you were here.” Abby’s mask of politeness slams immediately into place, but Lexa can’t help the thrill of satisfaction she feels at the sight of shock that precedes it.

“We’re studying mom,” Clarke supplies, chin tilting up stubbornly, “What do you want?”

Abby arches an eyebrow, “Only to pop by and remind you that we have to be at the Blake’s for six thirty tonight. You should probably start to get ready.”

“You’re going out?” Lexa’s eyes dart to Clarke and she begins to swing her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll go.”

“No,” Clarke’s hand against her arm stops her and Lexa is surprised to find that her gaze is soft, “I want you to stay,” expression hardening, she turns back to her mother. “Can’t you make my excuses at the Blake’s? We go there every week, they won’t mind if I miss one.”

Abby’s lips press into a thin line, “No Clarke, that’s rude.”

“But-”

“Don’t argue with me Clarke,” Abby sneaks an anxious look at Lexa, who reaches out to take Clarke’s hand and squeeze it gently, drawing her attention back down.

“It’s okay,” Lexa tells her earnestly, “I need to get home and start on dinner anyway.” Clarke’s face falls and Lexa sees Abby’s lips draw up into a slight victorious smile from the corner of her eyes. She feels irritation curl in her belly, the only real explanation for why she leans forward and catches Clarke’s lips in a soft, tender kiss.

The blonde surrenders immediately into her embrace, fingers tightening around hers and Lexa allows herself the briefest of moments to enjoy the innocence of warm lips moving against her own, the intimate brush of cheeks and floral scent of Clarke’s perfume before finally breaking away.

She’s aware that Abby is watching them, but doesn’t tear her eyes away from Clarke as she speaks. “Have fun tonight, I’ll talk to you later.”

She slides her feet into her school shoes as Clarke seems to find her breath again, her cheeks dusted with a dusky rose.

“Text me when you get home?” Clarke calls after her as she starts out of the room and Lexa nods over her shoulder, slipping awkwardly past Abby in the door.

“See you again Mrs Griffin.”

“I’m sure I will Lexa.”

---

Chapter Text

“So, when are you going to take our girl out on a real date Woods?”

Jasper Jordan is really fucking annoying and Clarke isn’t sure why they still hang out with him. He’s been their friend since kindergarten and she remembers him being kind of cute back then, shy and nerdy, always stuck to the side of his best friend Monty. The moment they started St. Anne’s, however, and Jasper joined the brother school that shared a courtyard- St. Andrew’s- he had become a swaggering, loud mouthed jerk who sprayed bagel crumbs across the bench when he spoke. Clarke grimaces and uses a napkin to push away a few of the crumbs close to her. No wonder Maya dumped him after only two months.

Lexa shifts uncomfortably on the bench next to her and Clarke’s eyes slide over to her. Lexa’s hair is back up in a halo braid and they’re sat in the courtyard eating, taking advantage of the rare warm weather. The sun shines on strands of chestnut woven into otherwise dark braids and her eyelashes bat against her cheeks like butterfly’s wings as she stares down at the textbook open before her.

Damn, she’s so beautiful.

“Leave her alone Jasper.” Raven nudges him hard as she walks past and Jasper has to struggle to keep his spot balancing on the back of one of the benches.

“What?” Jasper glares at her, pushing floppy hair out of his eyes. “I’m just asking.”

“Yeah well no one asked you to ask.” Octavia sneers at him, clearing a space for Raven to sit beside them and Clarke picks at the quinoa in her salad anxiously. Lexa is starting to blush under all of the attention and if she wasn’t so worried about making her more uncomfortable Clarke would reach out and take her hand, if only to squeeze it in reassurance.

“Clarke is used to the best,” Finn’s voice is enough to make her want to push her meal away entirely and Clarke watches him with distaste as he saunters across the courtyard to join them, leaning against the back of the bench that Monty sits in.

“Yeah, that’s why I dumped you, asshole.” She snaps, her scowl only deepening when he grins at her. She turns her attention to Jasper. “As for you, get the hell out of my relationship. It’s none of your business.”

“Oh my god,” Jasper holds out his hands, exchanging a smirk that Finn returns lazily. “No need to yell Clarke, I just want to make sure our princess is getting everything she’s accustomed to.”

“Actually,” Lexa’s voice makes them all fall silent and Clarke turns to see her, cheeks red but eyes steely with determination. “I’m taking Clarke on a date this evening.”

“You are?” Clarke speaks before she can help it, mouth hanging open and Lexa nods, taking her hand.

“Yes. Be ready at seven.” She leans in and places a kiss to Clarke’s cheek, chastely. “I have to go talk to Mr. Roberts about the assignment. See you tonight-” Her voice falters minutely, “-babe.”

Clarke watches her disappear, a slow smile spreading across her cheeks which turns smug the moment she swings her gaze to Finn and Jasper.

“Sounds like you hit a nerve,” Finn glances at Jasper sidelong, and Clakre’s annoyance builds up in her chest. She opens her mouth to snap, but Raven beats her to the punch, glaring at Finn. 

“Sorry, when did we invite you to sit with us, asshole?” Finn rolls his eyes, but Octavia is nodding along before he can say anything. 

“We actually don’t sit with people who commit sexual assault ,” She raises her voice enough for a few people to glance over at them and Clarke sees panic flicker across Finn’s face. “So I suggest you find somewhere else to go.”

“Clarke,” Finn glances at her, impeachingly, “C’mon, you know that I was just drunk-”

“As if that means anything ,” She spits, furiously. “They’re right, get going Finn, unless you want me to report you.” She glances her fingers across her phone threateningly. “My mom knows some damn good lawyers.” 

Finn scoffs, but he stands nonetheless, glancing back to see if anyone will follow him. No one, not even Jasper, gets to their feet, and he rolls his eyes. “Fuck you guys.” 

---

The French restaurant that Lexa chooses for their date sits in the Upper East Side, nestled between a gourmet fruit market and a jewellery store with more security than Fort Knox. Clarke has to check her driver has the right place when he pulls up outside and she hesitates, staring out of the window at the tasteful placard and doorman waiting for her. The New York traffic streams around them, the night is clear and the city buzzes, and the driver leans back.

“Do you want me to take you somewhere else, miss?”

“No,” She steadies herself, “Thank you. This should be the right place.”

The driver is not convinced. “Should I wait outside?”

“No, no.” Clarke conjures up a smile from the depths of her nerves. “It’s okay, I’m just… surprised.”

Inside the restaurant is as painfully fancy as Clarke had feared. The entryway is all gold gilding; heavy, dark mahogany; and lush ruby reds, creating a swirling cacophony of wealth that is almost stifling. Her coat is taken and she is shown hastily through to the dining room when she tells the man waiting that she is expected, that her date is waiting for her inside.

The first glance she catches of Lexa in the grand dining area makes her bite her lip against her grin. The girl looks intensely uncomfortable, tearing her way through the bread basket without putting a morsel to her lips and when the waiter swoops by to ask her something she drops the roll so quickly that it bounces from her plate and onto the table top. Lexa flushes darkly, shaking her head at the waiter as she quickly retrieves her bread. She’s wearing a light blouse, tucked into dark, pressed pants and Clarke catches a glance of slender legs and heels under the table before she is ushered close enough for Lexa to see her.

The sight is enough to make her mouth go dry.

Lexa immediately straightens up when she sees her, clasping her hands in front of her and Clarke smiles in a manner that she hopes is reassuring as she settles into the seat.

“Hi.” Lexa tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, watching as the chair is pulled out for Clarke.

“Hello,” She flashes Lexa a smile, suddenly nervous again. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

“It’s okay, I was just…” Lexa’s eyes flicker guiltily down to her bread and Clarke has to hide her smile behind her menu.

“Can I fetch you anything madam?” The waiter is hovering close by and Clarke inspects the menu, glancing at where Lexa is tentatively sipping iced water.

“Two Cosmos, thank you.”

Lexa’s gaze darts up, eyes as wide as saucers, and Clarke attempts to keep her cool as she hands the menu back and the waiter disappears.

“Clarke,” Lexa murmurs, admonishingly. “We’re under age .”

“You think they care in a place like this?” Clarke rolls her eyes, scoffing, “Please, they can’t even ask without risking insulting us.”

“But what if we get caught? We don’t look 21 Clarke,” Lexa’s brows are furrowed and she is twisting her napkin anxiously in her lap.

“I’ll take the fall, okay?” Clarke can feel her agitation rising to the surface. “Listen, we might as well have something to grease the wheels of this  fake date .”

Lexa looks wrong footed, eyes swinging down to the napkin in her lap and when she speaks again her voice is quiet. “Yeah, is this… okay? I thought it would probably be enough to convince your friends.”

“I’ll insta the hell out of it,” She promises, plucking her phone from her bag and placing it on the table beside her. “Honestly, this place is stunning Lexa. How did you get a table at such short notice?”

“Oh,” Lexa colours and Clarke tracks the blush as it creeps up her neck and into her high cheekbones. “I know a girl who works here… and I used to do some cover shifts here. A few months ago.”

Clarke blinks at her for a second, taken aback, “Really? Are you… missing work tonight?”

Lexa shifts uncomfortably in her seat, “Yes,” She admits at last, “I told my boss I was sick but…” She cracks a rueful smile that makes Clarke feel oddly uneasy and guilty. “I’m not sure how much he believed me. He’s been looking for an excuse to cut down on staff for months.”

“Oh shit,” She dips her hand into her purse to return with her wallet, “Well let me compensate you at least,” A wad of bills emerges from her wallet and she is so busy scrambling not to drop any that she doesn’t realise that Lexa’s face has just dropped.

“Clarke please don’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Clarke casts her a smile, hoping to put her at ease. “You’re giving up shifts for me, that’s not fair.”

“But it feels… wrong.” Lexa’s eyes flicker around anxiously.

“It’s not wrong! Really, it’s not a problem.” Clarke slides the pile of notes over the table, pushing it until it sits directly in front of Lexa, who stares down at it with an odd expression. “Lex, take it.”

“This is… I feel like a… a prostitute or something.” Lexa’s voice wavers and Clarke’s expression falls. She can’t help but reach out and take Lexa’s hand where it lies stiff and unmoving next to the money.

“Lexa, this isn’t that sort of payment! This is… recompense for the time you’re giving up helping me with this.”

“It still feels wrong! And this… Clarke there’s like 300 dollars here!”

“Well, you’re a cute date,” Clarke gives her a wink, tries to lighten the suddenly sour mood with a grin, but Lexa only grimaces.

“Two Cosmopolitans.” The waiter materialises, holding a silver tray aloft with their drinks and Lexa scrambles to grab the wad of notes from the table, stuffing it into her lap.

---

Their dinner is awkward and stilted. Lexa is quiet, clearly cowed by their surroundings and Clarke doesn’t miss the way that she orders the cheapest things on the menu. When Lexa excuses herself to go to the bathroom before desert, Clarke watches her go, her eyes drawn to the sight of her slender figure weaving its way through the tables, before gesturing over the waiter and slipping him her card.

He’s discreet enough that by the time Lexa comes back Clarke is sat at their cleared table, sipping her second drink and scrolling through her Instagram feed. A message from Octavia pops up as Lexa approaches.

How’s it going C?? 😉

Clarke’s gaze darts up to watch as Lexa slips quietly into her seat. The brunette meets her eyes, opens her mouth as if she wants to say something before promptly looking back down at her own phone in front of her.

Clarke purses her lips and messages back.

Amazing! xoxo

“So,” She fixes a smile to her face, turning her phone over in case Lexa sees Octavia’s reply. “Do you want dessert?”

Lexa visibly swallows, glancing around the place. “I think…” She begins awkwardly at last, “No. I mean,” Her eyes become apologetic and slightly guilty, “I think I need to go home… I’m not feeling great.”

“Really?” Clarke’s eyes widen, but one look at Lexa’s uncomfortable shifting tells her all she needs to know and she struggles for a moment not to call her out on her lie. “I mean… of course, we can go.”

She stands and gathers her phone into her purse as Lexa fumbles with her bag for a minute.

“I’ll just get the cheque,” Lexa peers around for any sign of a waiter.

“Don’t bother, I’ve taken care of it.” Clarke offers a reassuring smile, which quickly falls into exasperated confusion when Lexa frowns and protests.

“I can at least cover my share.”

“It’s fine, honestly. You only came here because of me, I can at least buy you dinner.” She can feel the tension building up in her stomach as Lexa turns in her seat, still looking for their server.

“No really, I’ll get it.”

Her temper flares and she snaps before she can stop herself. “Lexa, why are you being so difficult about this?”

“I’m not some sort of charity case, Clarke.” Lexa snaps and the fire in her eyes is almost breath taking.

“Of course you aren’t,” Her expression softens, “I just wanted to make it easier Lexa, please.” Lexa hesitates next to the table even as Clarke takes a step away, tempting her out to the entrance hall. “How about this, you can pay for the next one?”

Lexa’s face tightens for a moment, before going suddenly slack and she lets out a soft sigh, her shoulders unwinding. It’s as if the tension is pulled from her body and she is left slumped, like a puppet with no strings.

“Okay,” She agrees at last, and if she sounds a little sullen Clarke chooses to ignore it. “Next time.”

---

The dark interior of the town car is densely quiet. Clarke is shifting beside her, clearly uncomfortable and Lexa keeps her eyes fixed on the window, watching New York pass her by in a way she’s never seen before. Anything is better than trying to make conversation with the blonde right now. She’s scared that if she opens her mouth she’ll either scream or cry.

Lexa reaches up to tuck her coat closer to her body, tugging on the thick material as if it can protect her from further humiliation. The restaurant still hangs on her skin like a layer of grime and she rubs her fingers together as subtly as she can in her lap, hoping to rid herself of any residual embarrassment. She had thought that her time at St. Anne’s would have hardened her to this sort of ingrained class bias, a hangover from colonial days, but their disastrous date had left her feeling like a scullery maid dressed in her ladyship’s clothing.

Or maybe, she muses wryly to herself, the wad of notes bulging in her bag, like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

The very thought makes her stomach crawl and she flinches when Clarke tentatively breaks their silence.

“Thank you for tonight.”

She’s not thinking enough to stop herself before she responds. “Just doing my job.”

Clarke seems momentarily taken aback and there’s a flash of hurt in her eyes, “I… guess so. But I had a good time anyway.”

“Me too,” Lexa’s lie comes out forced and stilted and her eyes dart away from Clarke’s.

It’s horrendous, a thick awkwardness sitting between them and Lexa turns back to the window. This isn’t worth it anymore. The money was great and getting to spend time with a beautiful girl was just an added bonus, but this painful, forced conversation and horrible conspicuousness is enough to make her want to shrink back into insignificance. She draws in a shaky breath and fixes her eyes determinedly out of the window. Just get home, get away from Clarke and she will be able to think clearly, evaluate all of her options.

They come to a slow stop outside of Clarke’s building and Lexa slides out of the passenger side door, letting Clarke hitch along the seats and clamber out from behind her. She looks as if she’s made for the city, in her heels and dress, hair and make up still immaculate. The sidewalk seems to move beneath her, the city bending to her will and Lexa wraps her arms around herself, itching to get back to Brooklyn. She feels even more out of place than usual, in her fanciest clothes and uncomfortable heels.

“So,” Clarke smiles at her and it’s soft and genuine, despite the awkward air that still lingers around them. Lexa wishes she could ignore how beautiful Clarke looks under the light streaming in from the foyer to her apartment. “Thanks again, I did have a lovely time.”

“You did?” Lexa gives a wry smile.

“Yes,” Clarke rolls her eyes and Lexa is startled when she reaches out a hand to touch her stiff arms, easing them away from where they’re wrapped around Lexa’s waist. “It was nice to spend time with you, is that so hard to believe?”

“I… um…” She lets her arms fall at Clarke’s urging, stumbling over her words when Clarke urges her a step closer. “I suppose I was worried it was too… stuffy. It’s hard to take a girl like you on a date, you know.”

The moment of frankness seems to ease the tension between them slightly and Clarke smiles, “A girl like me? What does that mean?”

“Oh, come on,” She can’t help the quirk of her eyebrow, “girls like you… you’re used to the sort of things that I can’t give you. You know that. You’re used to the Finn’s of this world and I…” A soft, bitter laugh escapes her, “I can’t give you that.”

“I don’t need fancy dates Lexa,” Clarke frowns at her, “I told you, I enjoy spending time with you . Money doesn’t matter.”

“You only think that because you’ve always had it,” Lexa tells her quietly and Clarke’s expression clouds, her eyes search Lexa’s face and her lips purse until she pushes herself up on her toes, breaching the space between them to press their lips together.

Lexa freezes beneath her, momentarily taken aback, before her stiff body relaxes and she curls her arms around Clarke’s waist, hands resting tentatively against her curves. Clarke’s lips move and Lexa can feel the dusky pink of her lipstick rubbing off on her lips. She smells intoxicatingly of vanilla and coconut, and her hands lace around Lexa’s neck, curling into the hair at the base of her neck and tightening slightly, before she pulls away.

She’s left breathless and curious, and there is a hoarse whisper to her voice when she asks. “What was that for? Is your mom watching us?”

“Maybe it’s just because I wanted to,” Clarke counters and Lexa startles at the words, eyes widening with surprise. Clarke doesn’t seem to expect a response, darting in to give her another chaste kiss before stepping towards the door. “I should head in, take the car home.”

“Oh no I… I’m fine, really.” Lexa’s eyes slide back to the sleek, dark town car and the thought of climbing in there alone is enough to firm her resolution.

“Lexa,” Clarke’s eyes narrow, “don’t be ridiculous, take the car.”

“Really, I’d rather make my own way home. I don’t need the car.”

Just like that, the amicable, even tender air between them vanishes. 

Clarke glares at her, “You’re so stubborn! He won’t care about driving to Brooklyn and the nearest subway is five blocks away!”

“I can get home on my own Clarke,” She can feel her own temper bubbling just beneath the surface making her words short and clipped. “I have done for years, I don’t need your help.”

“Is it such a problem to accept a little generosity from time to time?” Clarke snaps, “You’re so fucking proud Lexa, I’m just offering you a safe way home.”

“I am not- ” She cuts herself off with a sharp breath, gathering her irritation and pressing it down to say, voice stilted, “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll take the subway. Goodnight Clarke.”

She turns on her heel and marches away down the sidewalk, before she can say anything that she’ll regret.

---

22:04

I don’t think we should do this anymore.

She hits send before she can chicken out and immediately shoves her phone away into her coat pocket. Fumbling with her keys, she unlocks the door to their fourth floor apartment and steps inside as quietly as she can, her heels tapping on the floor. The floor lamp is on in the corner of the living room, flooding the space with soft yellow light and she hitches off her shoes quietly, leaving them neatly by the door so that she can pad across the apartment in her bare feet. Her mom is asleep in an armchair, a book discarded in her lap and a blanket over her knees. A cold cup of coffee sits on the table beside her along with a stack of boxes containing her many, complicated prescriptions.

Lexa can’t help her soft smile at the sight and is about to move to wake her mother up when a door creaks behind her and there is the familiar patter of small feet.

She turns to see a little figure hesitating in her doorway. Her dark hair is rumpled from sleep and she’s wearing pyjamas and clutching her baby doll to her chest, wide eyes shining in the lamplight.

“Hey El,” She holds out her arms and the girl takes it as her cue to hurry across the apartment towards her. Lexa swings her up into her arms, letting Ella curl her arms around her neck and burrow into her neck. She’s getting older, but Lexa loves moments like this when she’s sleepy and soft and still feels like a baby in some ways. “What are you doing up, munchkin?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ella’s voice is muffled in her skin, her body soft and warm and Lexa shifts her into a more comfortable position in her arms. “Mommy was going to wait up for you.”

“I can tell,” She sighs softly, “I told her not to.”

“She fell asleep,” Ella cranes her neck to look at their sleeping mother, giggling into Lexa’s neck.

“You should be asleep too,” She gently lets her down, “Sorry baby, you’re getting too grown up for me to hold.”

“I’m only nine,” Ella looks affronted and Lexa laughs quietly, holding out a hand to guide her back into her bedroom.

The nightlight is on, casting a purple light around the room and Lexa helps her up into bed, tucking her baby doll and teddy bears in around her and raising the comforter until all that is left is a pale face and a shock of dark hair. She squats down beside the girl’s bed, taking in the small room, the doll’s house that used to be hers pressed up against the wall, and plucks a book out of the wicker basket beside the bed.

Ella’s eyes light up with excitement. “Are you going to read to me?”

“Only if you’re very good,” Lexa smooths her hair back from her forehead, soothing her, “And only for a few minutes. What’s mom reading to you?”

“Cinderella,” Ella nestles down into her covers, beaming with excitement at the thought of a story. “We’re at the bit where her dad goes away.”

“Really?” Lexa pulls the book from the nightstand, shaking her head, “You’ve heard this a million times Ell, don’t you want to hear something else?”

“No,” Ella pouts, clutching the doll to her chest, “I like it.”

Lexa eyes her over the top of the book, but finally acquiesces and begins to read by the dim glow of the nightlight. She only makes it through half a page before Ella interrupts.

“Lexa, you know how Cinderella gets poor?”

Lexa raises her eyes to the ceiling, “You’ve heard this story too many times,” when Ella’s expression doesn’t waver she agrees, “Yes, I know.”

“That means she doesn’t have any money for things, right?”

“Yes,” She reluctantly closes the book, sensing the impending Q&A. It’s late and she should really make the girl go to sleep, but her feet hurt from her walk from the subway and she’s filled with strange, complicated feelings that she can’t sift through. It feels good to be able to provide the simple truths a nine year old asks for.

“Does that mean we’re poor?”

She startles at the question, eyes widening in surprise and her mouth dropping open. “What? No! Why are you asking that Ella?”

“’Cause,” The little girl plays with the edge of the comforter, her brows still drawn into uncertainty. “Mommy said we didn’t have the money.”

“What for, baby?” Lexa shifts forwards, leaning against the edge of the bed. “What did mom say?”

“She was on the phone to the doctor, she made me turn the TV off.” Ella pouts a little, “Which wasn’t fair because she only talked in the living room for a minute, then she went away. She was upset when she came back and she said that sometimes people don’t have the money they need to get better.”

“I see,” Lexa draws in a shaking breath, “Well… she’s right Ella, sometimes people don’t have the money.”

“Like us?” Ella frowns and insists, even as Lexa shakes her head. “If we don’t have any money will you and mommy go away? Like the dad in the story? Will I be on my own?”

“No, no of course not. Here, budge.” She hitches Ella over in her tiny twin bed, squeezing in next to her and letting her sister nuzzle up against her side. “Listen to me, me and mom aren’t going anywhere okay?” Ella’s tiny face turns up to look at her and Lexa feels her heart clench at the trust in the big brown eyes fixed on her. She tightens her arm around her, “I’m always going to look out for you, no matter what.”

---

She steps out into the living room to find that her mom is still dozing in the armchair. Carefully, she makes her way around the small apartment, wary of waking her, and tidies away a few of the things left out on kitchen cabinets. The place is basically immaculate, her mom takes great pride in the place being neat and tidy even when it means wearing herself out and Lexa sighs softly, leaning against the counter to fish out her phone from her pocket. Her mom is still sleeping soundly, her face thin and her skin pale and Lexa eyes the pile of pills next to her.

22:08

what??? no come on lex

22:09

Is this about tonight?? because I honestly enjoyed it

22:09

Please don’t worry

22:11

Is it my friends??

22:11

I’ll tell them to back off

22:11

They’re assholes anyway

22:15

I'm really sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable lex, I really really didn't mean to, I would never want you to feel uncomfortable

22:18

Lexa please talk to me

Lexa sighs, burying her head in her hands and it’s only after a few moments of heavy contemplation that a voice draws her eyes up.

“You’re home.”

Her mom levers herself from her seat, the blanket falling around her feet, and Lexa doesn’t miss the grimace of pain on her face when she bends to collect it, folding it up and gently placing it over the back of the couch.

“I told you not to wait up.”

“I worried,” Her mom takes her cold coffee into the kitchen and gives her a soft smile, dark hair now greying with age and bags heavy under her eyes. “I’m a mom, it’s my job. I don’t like you running all over New York at all hours.”

“There’s no running,” She scoffs, shaking her head and her mom smiles again, coming to lean on the other side of the counter, closer to the living room.

“How was work?”

“Um, it was fine,” She digs in her bag, hoping it will hide the guilt on her face and passes the wad of cash to her mom. “Here.”

“Lexa-” Her mom’s face crumples, pulling into taut, anxious lines. “No, you’ve already given me too much. I don’t even like you working this much, let alone working to give me the money.”

“You need it,” Lexa shakes her head, “I don’t want it, take it.”

“No.” Her mom pushes the money back towards her and it sits between them, at an impasse. They both stare at it and it’s in this moment that Lexa is reminded of their similarities. “I don’t want you working all of these jobs Lexa. You need to focus on school.”

“You need more money.” She says, bluntly and her mom visibly flinches back at the accusation. “Ell heard you on the phone.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Her mom shakes her head. “That’s my problem.”

“I’m your daughter,” She steps away from the counter, touching her mom’s arm as she passes. “It’s my job to worry.”

---

In her tiny closet of a room, with the bed pushed against one wall and the desk against the other, barely any space to breathe, let alone move, she sits on the bed and stares at her phone. Clarke has been silent since her last message and Lexa’s eyes flicker between her closed bedroom door and the bright screen in her hands, aching with indecision.

22:34

I don’t belong in your world.

22:35

what’s that supposed to mean???

She steals herself and curses the fact that her fingers are trembling. It would be so easy to just give it up now, but Clarke pays her three times more than any waitressing job would and the thought of her mom’s ever rising medical bills makes her heart hurt.

“It’s not going to get any better,” Her mom had said, softly, just minutes ago and Lexa’s eyes fill at the memory of her shaking voice. “You can’t keep looking after me forever.”

She can damn well try.

22:36

I’m sorry, I’m just worried I’m not doing a good enough job.

22:36

I think I freaked out a bit.

22:37

you’re doing an amazing job, stop worrying!! 😊