Chapter Text
Clarke hates group projects.
Well, rather she hates relying on other people for a grade. Not that she doesn’t like people, it’s just that if she’s going to be graded on something, she’d rather get a bad grade for something she did instead of for something that isn’t even her fault. It’s not her fault some people don’t seem to care enough. She needs to do well in all her classes considering she’s on the pre-med track. With two semesters already finished, she’s finding it a little harder to breathe when she realizes her every single grade matters if she wants to get into a good medical school when she’s finished with her four years here.
Speaking of being pre-med, Clarke doesn’t understand why she has to take stupid classes such as a foreign language class. Which is where she finds herself right now. It’s only three weeks into the class and Clarke can barely put a full sentence together in French, but her professor’s already talking about a semester-long group project that’s worth a pretty large chunk of their grade. She should’ve taken something more reasonable like Spanish (not that she knows much of it anyway, but she’s sure Raven could help her had she enrolled in that course) but at the time french sounded intriguing and maybe worth her time.
“Do we get to choose our partners?” A boy in the back asks rather loudly when the professor finishes handing out the guidelines and explaining them.
Their professor smiles and shakes his head. “Sorry Matthew, you don’t. I’ve already pre-assigned your partners for this project.”
Great, so not only does Clarke have to rely on someone else, but she also has to anxiously depend on them all semester. She inwardly groans, wondering why she hadn’t looked this professor up on Rate My Professor before deciding to enroll in this class.
She taps her fingers absentmindedly against her notebook as her professor begins to list off the pairs. The blonde prays that whoever she’s paired up with has a brain and is at least willing to put effort into this project.
“Clarke Griffin and Alexandria Woods.”
Clarke’s eyes snap up and wander across the room, trying to find this Alexandria Woods. What she finds is green eyes gazing at her from four desks away. She’s pretty, Clarke notes. Not that it has anything to do with the project; she’s just observing. The girl has long brown hair swept up in a loose ponytail and soft facial features. She’s dressed in black shorts and a white top that reads Georgetown Soccer across the middle of her shirt in dark blue. Clarke resists raising an eyebrow because she’s not sure how to feel that she’s been paired up with an athlete.
Alexandria offers a slight smile which Clarke does her best to return, but she’s already thinking of all the ways she’s going to have to possibly make up for the shit that this girl will definitely not do because she’s currently in season.
(Clarke only knows this because her childhood friend Octavia Blake is a freshmen on the team.)
“All right, for the last ten minutes of class I’ll let you meet with your partners to exchange emails and numbers and get to know each other a little,” the professor announces once he’s read off all the names on his list.
Once again Clarke turns her head to look at her partner and is just about to ask whether she should go over to her, but Alexandria’s already gathering her things just as the kid sitting next to Clarke leaves his desk. She awkwardly waits as the brunette makes her way towards her, easily sliding into the now empty seat next to Clarke.
“Hey,” Clarke says.
“Hello,” Alexandria replies, giving her another small smile. “You’re Octavia’s friend, right?”
Furrowing her eyebrows in slight confusion, Clarke nods slowly. “Yeah, how did you know?”
“I’ve seen you guys wandering around campus,” she explains. “And I believe she’s brought you up once or twice. You two know each other from home, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I’ve known her and her brother since I was a kid.”
Clarke smiles slightly at the thought of her, Octavia and Bellamy back home before college. Bellamy, a year older than Clarke, was off at Columbia, on his way to being an engineer now, but it was nice having Octavia, only a year younger, here. It felt like home wasn’t so far away.
The brunette notices the way Clarke’s eyes brighten and her smile becomes more genuine and grows a softer smile. “Octavia’s a great girl, a good player too. You can call me Lexa, by the way,” she adds. “Alexandria’s just my full name.”
“Well it’s nice to meet you Lexa,” Clarke says, trying to get the feel of this girl. She figures she can just ask Octavia later since they probably spend lots of time together.
“You too Clarke,” Lexa nods. “I would like to do well with this project, I hope you do too.”
“I feel the same,” the blonde replies immediately, feeling so much more relieved. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
As they hand off phones to exchange numbers, Clarke notices the way Lexa presents herself. Her sentences sound so eloquent and almost formal. she poses her body with purpose, as if there’s nothing in the world she can’t do. Clarke finds herself strangely entranced by it all.
“Once you’ve exchanged information you’re free to go!” The professor calls out from his desk.
“There you go,” Clarke says, handing Lexa her phone back. “We should meet sometime this week and figure out a plan?”
Lexa nods, giving Clarke her phone back as well. “I have practice right after this class and I’ll be in Virginia this weekend for a set of games, but I will make sure to text you so we can plan it all out.”
“Yeah sure,” the blonde nods, picking up her backpack as Lexa stands. She follows suit and slings her bag onto her shoulder.
“I’ll see you around Clarke,” she promises, offering a small smile and a nod before making her way out of the room and off to practice, Clarke assumes.
As Clarke makes her way out of the room, she figures perhaps this group project won’t be so bad at all with someone like Lexa.
“YES LEXA!” She hears behind her as the ball swishes as it collides with the back of the net.
The forward merely smiles, jogging back to the middle of the field as the other team on the field switches out with the team that was on the outside, waiting to be rotated in. Practice is her favorite part of the day. Although it’s still September and the humidity is something she could live without, she loves the smell of grass and the sound of her cleats hitting the ball as she moves forward. There’s nothing else she’d rather be doing right now, not in this moment. This is all she thinks about for the time being.
“Getting that hat trick this weekend, Lexa?” Echo asks, smirking from her position on the field.
“Maybe,” Lexa only shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears.
“She’s done it before!” Another teammate points out, grinning widely at the younger girl.
The forward simply rolls her eyes good naturedly at the two of them and doesn’t bother responding as the ball is put back in play. All that matters is the ball, her teammates and the goal.
Her teammates weren’t wrong, really. Lexa simply has a knack for finding the back of the net, such as a forward should. If anyone were to ask her, she’d just say she’s doing her job, that she’s doing what she loves and wants to do what’s best for the team. Anyone with eyes can tell Lexa’s better than most forwards, and Georgetown did a good job of recruiting her. As only a sophomore, she’s already on track to being the team’s leading goal scorer in the program’s history. Last season, she was named to the Big East Freshman Team as well as awarded Big East freshman of the year, leading the team in not only goals, but also assists. She found herself a spot on the starting XI, starting and playing almost every minute of all 20 games, the only freshman to do so last season.
So in short, Lexa is kind of a big deal. A natural goal scorer and a natural leader despite being one of the youngest on the team.
Not that Lexa would ever admit to any of this. She’s much too humble.
She heads another one into the top corner of the goal, the ball barely skimming the goalkeeper’s fingers. As she finds her footing on the ground, their coach claps his hands together.
“Alright, let’s call it a day. Cool down and roll out,” he tells them.
The team herds over to their belongings, each of the girls sitting down by her own bag. Lexa sits in front of her bag, “Georgetown Soccer” embroidered on the front pocket with #12 below. As she begins to take off her gear, her mind begins to wander and somehow she ends up thinking about french class and Clarke.
Clarke.
So maybe Lexa already knew her name before they’d been paired up together. Maybe she’d known exactly what Clarke looked like, and that she sat right next to the window, four seats away from her.
It’s not Lexa’s fault she noticed the cute blonde on the first day of class.
(She totally doesn’t have a crush on Clarke, by the way. She doesn’t even know her at all. She’s just cute, that’s all.)
Your beautiful flame of pulchritude
Doth dizzy me high
(She’s allowed to appreciate Clarke Griffin’s attractiveness. It’s a normal human thing.)
“Hey Woods, you there?”
Lexa blinks out of her daze, finding none other than the small defender Octavia Blake. The freshmen is perched on her roller, in the midst of rolling out her calf. She’s looking at Lexa curiously, as if she’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.
The forward shakes her head just to be safe.
“Yes, I’m fine Octavia,” she responds, ducking her head so Octavia doesn’t see the way her cheeks slightly flushed despite already being pink from the heat and the exercise.
“Okay,” Octavia says slowly. “You just zoned out a little bit.”
“Probably daydreaming about all the goals she’s going to score,” someone teases from behind Lexa.
The sophomore rolls her eyes, turning to face whoever spoke. “ Dream is a compass that shows only one aspired direction - success, success and more success. ”
“Oh how we love your poetry,” a senior laughs as she passes by, giving Lexa a soft pat on the head. “Who was that one from?”
“John Tiong Chunghoo,” Lexa informs her, sliding on her running shoes.
Octavia raises her eyebrows. “Are you an English major?”
The senior snorts. “She should be.”
Lexa only rolls her eyes, ignoring the way her teammates endearingly tease her about her fascination with poetry.
There’s nothing wrong with it, really. In fact, Lexa’s surprised more people aren’t just as fascinated as she is. She loves everything about poets and poems and the beautiful ways feelings and thoughts are able to be conveyed in words. She could spends hours reading poetry, reading about how people have felt, the things others would never understand. How beautiful and intricately woven the words can be put down to paper to create something so powerful, so intriguing.
It’s so consuming that sometimes, poetry just slips out of her.
“We’re just teasing Lex,” Echo says as Lexa stands.
“I know,” she nods, then scrunches her nose. “I’m still not a fan of that nickname. Lexa is already a nickname, you know.”
“One day you’ll just be L.”
“No thank you,” Lexa huffs, feeling all sweaty and gross and in need of nothing more than a shower.
Clarke flops down onto the couch in her and Raven’s apartment. It’s small and a little cramped, but Clarke finds it pretty homey. She’s really soaking in the home feeling now as she lets out a sigh and closes her eyes, letting herself relax into the seat of the couch. There’s so much homework waiting for her at her desk, but she doesn’t even want to think about it right now. She just wants to enjoy this moment of peace and quiet and nothingness for a few more minutes.
Silence only lasts so long in this household.
“CLARKE IS THAT YOU?”
“No,” the blonde grunts into the couch. “I’m not home.”
She hears skipping (maybe stomping because Raven’s boots are just so fucking loud) from the hallway coming closer and knows Raven is quickly approaching her. Clarke keeps her eyes closed and her head in the couch, hoping Raven will leave her alone.
It’s hopeless.
“I knew I heard the door!” Raven says - mainly to herself - as she approaches. She slaps Clarke’s thigh, eliciting a grunt from her. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Because you haven’t,” Clarke points out. “I was on campus all day, genius.”
She sighs, shifting on the couch so she can look at Raven. The girl’s looking at her with hands on her hips and her signature slight smirk that seems to be permanently etched onto her face. Her hands her covered in black and Clarke can only wonder what the mechanic’s been up to all afternoon.
“I know it’s been so lonely without you,” Raven says rather dramatically, throwing her hands up in the air.
Clarke rolls her eyes, used to her roommate’s antics by now. “Did you cook something for dinner?”
Raven’s eyes widen as her hands drop. “Um, about that...I thought you were bringing home take out?”
“Raven!” The blonde sighs, sitting up now. “Octavia’s coming over for dinner, remember? You said you were going to cook?”
“Oh shit,” the other girl mumbles, shaking her head. “Oops?”
“Dammit,” Clarke mutters, glaring at her half-heartedly. “Let me just call Octavia and tell her to bring some take out. You’re paying her back,” she instructs.
“Yes mom,” Raven sticks her tongue out at her.
Clarke wonders how she’s ended up with such a childish roommate, and how she willingly agreed to buy an apartment with her a year later. Deep down she knows the answer. She knows how Raven was so friendly and easy-going, and that was exactly what Clarke had needed. Moving away to college only months after her dad passed away, Raven never pushed her to talk about it. She never asked Clarke questions, and when Clarke would cry in the middle of the night Raven would only hold her or stand in front of her bed with a bottle of alcohol to drown her sorrows and numb them for awhile.
Because the thing about Raven is she understands pain. She knows what it’s like to lose people, what it’s like to feel alone and what it’s like to be too scared to feel anything. In her nineteen years Clarke knows she’s seen and experienced things no girl should have to face alone, and Clarke wishes she could help Raven unsee those things. Georgetown was Raven’s ticket out, so she took it and ran.
It was like she and Clarke found each other at the perfect time. Raven’s practically family to her now, and she knows even though she rolls her eyes and has to sometimes mother Raven when it comes to her life decisions, she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
“Octavia this food is so good,” Raven praises as she shoves another forkful of chinese takeout into her mouth.
The freshman gives Raven a strange look before replying, “You realize I didn’t cook it, right? I went to the place down the street.”
The only reply is a satisfied groan from Raven as she continues to eat. Octavia eyes her warily then turns to Clarke seated next to Raven. “Your roommate’s weird.”
“Yeah, I’m not too sure she’s human,” Clarke teases, lightly shoving Raven with her shoulder.
“Hey watch it, Princess,” the brunette threatens before shoving another spoonful into her mouth. She looks at Octavia and mumbles, “You too kid.”
Clarke rolls her eyes. “Ignore her. Anyway, how are you adjusting?”
Octavia shrugs. “I’m good I guess. Classes are okay and soccer’s intense, but I like it.”
The smaller girl’s been playing soccer for as long as Clarke can remember. She remembers how toddler Octavia would see Bellamy in the backyard with his friends kicking a soccer ball and drop whatever she was playing with at the time to run over and join in. She remembers how Octavia would beat Bellamy and his friends, being quick on the ball at such a young age. Soccer’s in the girl’s blood and Clarke admires her for it.
“Aren’t you going to Virginia this weekend?” The blonde asks, remembering how Lexa mentioned it earlier.
“Well, I don’t know if I’m going for sure yet,” Octavia explains. “There’s twenty-five girls on the team and he can only take eighteen to twenty. I don’t find out until Thursday if I’m traveling.”
“That sucks,” Raven pipes up. “You can’t even plan your weekends then.”
“I’ve traveled for most of them,” Octavia waves it off, then raises an eyebrow back at Clarke. “Wait, how do you even know that?”
Clarke shrugs, picking at her food. “Lexa told me this morning.”
“Lexa?” Octavia asks, eyebrows raising even higher. “You’re friends with Lexa Woods?”
“Isn’t she the really hot one that’s really good?”
Clarke ignores Raven as she explains, “She’s in my French class. We’re paired up for a project this semester.”
“She’s smart,” Octavia tells her. “And like ridiculously good at soccer. Like, she’s the best in our conference and she’s only a sophomore.” She then looks at Raven with a slight smirk. “And to answer the second part of your question yes, Raven. She’s hot.”
Raven nods approvingly, wiggling her eyebrows at Clarke. “Get in there, Griffin!”
The blonde scoffs at Raven’s suggestion. “We’re literally just working on a project. I don’t even know her.”
Not that there was anything wrong with Lexa. So far she seems nice enough, and is willing to put work into their project. Also Raven isn’t wrong either. Lexa’s without a doubt attractive, but Clarke isn’t looking too deep into it. She just met the girl less than twelve hours ago, there were other things on her mind.
(She won’t admit that night the first thing she sees when she closes her eyes is green.)
Lexa’s early. Of course she’s early, she always is - for everything. She’s seated in the corner of the on campus Starbucks, waiting for the barista to call out her order. Last night she’d sent Clarke a text letting her know she was going to be leaving for Virginia Thursday afternoon, and that if she wanted to meet to discuss their project to let Lexa know when she has free time so they could arrange it.
So here she was the next day waiting for Clarke to get out of class so they could discuss their project. She hits the button on her phone to check the time (and for any missed texts from Clarke - this part she won’t admit) and figures Clarke should be leaving class right now.
“Grande mint majesty herbal tea for Lexa!” The barista calls out as she sets the drink onto the counter.
Lexa stands, leaving her belongings at the table and walking over to retrieve her drink. Just as she picks up the warm beverage, the door opens and Clarke walks in. She’s wearing tight dark wash jeans with black boots and a forest green bomber jacket over a grey t-shirt.
The brunette tries to remember how to breathe.
(She’s allowed to admire how good Clarke looks. It’s natural. That’s all.)
Clarke’s blue eyes wander the area until they fall on Lexa, who’s halfway between the counter and the table she’d saved for them. Lexa tries her best not to suck in a breath when she realizes Clarke’s looking at her and instead musters up a small smile. She nods over to the table she had been walking back to, the one with her backpack and phone left unattended and Clarke begins to make her way over, sending Lexa a smile back.
.seeing your smile..
..a spirit entered inside this poet to flesh these lines..
.. for these lines ran like blood in his body..
..and he found the key to the secret of all languages..
..that he had always wanted to unlock..
Lexa shakes her head, as if to rid the words that came across her mind. She doesn’t need poetry to spill from her lips during this encounter. She takes her seat just as the blonde approaches.
“Hey,” Clarke says, setting her backpack and books down across from Lexa. “Have you been here long?”
“Just a few minutes,” Lexa says easily, despite knowing very well she’d arrived ten minutes early. “Go ahead and order yourself a drink.”
The blonde nods and grabs her wallet. “Great, I’ll be right back.”
Clarke returns a few minutes later, her drink quickly made for her so that she’s able to grab it before making it back to Lexa. The girl has the handout of the project guidelines in one hand and a pen in her other hand. Her notebook is open on the table to a fresh new page and she looks over the guidelines. Her hair is down today and it falls over her shoulder as she leans over to read the paper. Her lips are slightly pursed and her eyebrows and knitted together as she reads.
It’s actually kind of cute.
“So, what do you have so far?” She asks, sitting down across from the forward.
Lexa looks up and Clarke meets those green eyes she can’t seem to shake from her memory. “Well, there’s a lot of material expected for this project.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Clarke sighs. “We don’t even know half of this stuff yet. This is going to be impossible.”
“ Impossible n’est pas français. ”
Clarke almost spits out her drink as her eyebrows rise. If she’s hearing correctly, she just heard Lexa Woods speak French effortlessly. “What was that?”
The girl just offers a shrug. “The French say it all the time. It means ‘There’s no such thing as can’t,’ or, in literal word-for-word translation, ‘Impossible is not French.’”
The blonde is looking at her as if she’s grown a second head and Lexa wonders why she’s so amazed by the few words she’d spoken. Clarke’s jaw is slightly dropped and her eyes are so wide Lexa wonders if they’re the same size as quarters.
“Have you lost your words, Clarke?” She teases, quirking an eyebrow upward with the question.
The question seems to snap Clarke back to life.
(Or it could be the way Lexa said her name, maybe.)
“No, I-um,” she says, looking thoroughly confused and Lexa must admit it’s a bit amusing. “I just didn’t know you were fluent in French? Why are you taking first semester if you already know it? Why not go to a higher level or just skip the language requirement all together?”
Lexa laughs softly, shaking her head. Clarke thinks that laugh is one of the best sounds she’s ever heard. It’s so gentle and sweet, she wasn’t aware something could come out of a girl who seemed so mysterious.
“I’m not fluent. My family has been to France a few times over the summers,” she explains, putting the handout down. “I picked up a few phrases from my time there, but it’s not anything sufficient enough for me to bypass all foreign language classes.”
“Oh,” is all Clarke can say.
Lexa takes a sip of her warm tea, not even hiding the amused expression she holds knowing she’s thrown Clarke off with a few foreign words. Her eyebrows are raised in contentment and her lips are trying to hide a smug smile.
Clarke notices the smugness and finds herself only more interested in the brunette. As professional and formal as she comes across, the girl’s got a playful side. It just takes a little tugging to find it.
“Well okay big shot ,” she says easily, finally able to overcome her stuttering and stumbling. “Looks like we’ll do well on this project, then.”
“Big shot?” The brunette wonders, quirking an eyebrow as one side of her lips tilted upward.
Okay, maybe that was a little adorable.
The blonde shrugs, taking another sip of her drink. “You’re all Miss ‘I’ve Been to France’ over here,” she explains, waving her hands around for effect. “Plus, word on the street is you’re something like, ‘ridiculously good at soccer,’ I think is how Octavia put it.”
Lexa looks down into her drink, attempting to hide a bashful smile. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and Clarke suddenly finds the whole sight helplessly endearing. How could this girl go from formal and proper and in control to shy and slightly reserved so quickly?
“Octavia’s too kind,” she says with a soft laugh. “I just love what I do.”
“And apparently you’re good at it,” Clarke points out. “Octavia doesn’t go around complimenting everyone, you know.”
The forward only shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. “Perhaps you’ll have to come to a game so you can find out,” Lexa tells her with a quirk of her lips and her eyebrows to match.
There’s light in her eyes that makes the green more vibrant than Clarke’s seen before. It could be the light hitting her just right, but Clarke believes it’s something else. Something more in Lexa that she’s yet to discover.
Suddenly Clarke’s itching to reach into her backpack and grab the spare sketch pad she carries around with her. Her fingers are dying to grab the tin of pencils along with it, they know which one to choose. Every part of her being knows the best way to capture the sight in front of her: the way green shines ever so brightly, the way Lexa’s giving a ghost of a smirk, the way her eyebrows are just doing that thing that almost eggs Clarke on like a challenge.
But instead, Clarke only sips her drink as replies with, “We’ll see, Woods.”
(She’s furiously working in her sketch pad when Raven comes home all greased up and blackened from whatever she’s been working on.)
(Clarke quickly closes her sketch pad and pretends she was doing homework.)
They’re friends.
Kind of.
Not really.
Lexa doesn’t know.
They say hello to each other when they first get to their french class. Sometimes, they’ll work together on in-class partner assignments - which, by the way, is much better than the boy who Lexa worked with the first few weeks of class (he had absolutely zero clue what was happening and Lexa’ thinks he’s a freshman anyway). On days where Lexa isn’t rushing to get to practice, they both linger a little until they’re leaving the classroom at the same time and make small talk.
Clarke’s funny, Lexa decides. And she’s very intelligent. Sometimes, she’s even a bit of a smartass.
Lexa likes her. A lot.
“What’s her name?”
Lexa blinks, her thought process being broken by the sudden voice. Ink was flowing to paper without Lexa even truly processing what she was writing. It just happened , like always.
The hole in my heart is so big,
Room enough for the sky to pass through
Holding Jupiter’s hand.
I can fill it wi
The dot of the i looks more like a dashed line due to the interruption of the somewhat cocky voice behind her, but Lexa pays no mind to it. Instead she lifts her head and turns to face her older sister, who’s giving Lexa a slightly amused expression.
“What ever can I assist you with, Anya?” she asks, feigning affection and concern.
Anya only snorts, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before moving around the kitchen to the living room where Lexa’s perched herself on the couch of their small but rather well set up apartment. “The girl who’s got you constantly writing in that thing.”
Lexa scoffs, slamming her notebook shut before crossing her arms. “Poetry is not just about crushes and love, you know.”
“I know,” the older one almost groans, plopping onto the couch next to her sister as she reaches for the remote. “You never let me forget.”
Feeling somewhat satisfied with the answer, the forward gives her a cheeky smile.
“You’re not answering my question,” Anya points out, letting her long manicured nails tap along the remote.
“Who said I was writing about a girl?” Lexa argues, trying not to give her sister the satisfaction she’s looking for.
Anya only looks at her with a raised eyebrow as if to say Really ? They both know how it goes, but Lexa refuses to admit it. If there’s anyone on this earth that knows Lexa the best, it’s Anya. All the years they’ve spent sharing bedrooms and now sharing an apartment has made them undeniably close, especially the first couple of years after losing their parents.
In reality, Anya was the only family she really had left in the world. Sure they fought and quarreled like sisters do, but no matter what Anya was here. She was more than delighted that Lexa chose to attend Georgetown, committing to the soccer team her junior year. At the time Anya had just started her job in DC, but soon enough she’d been able to find a place for the two of them, insisting that Lexa live with her.
And really, Lexa kind of looked up to Anya. She’d always wanted to be like Anya when she was younger. There was just something about Anya that screamed “badass” and maybe “scary” at times, but it was all alluring.
“Lexa.”
“Anya.”
“Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Lexa insists, placing her notebook and pen on the coffee table. “Not everything is about a girl.”
“Okay fine don’t tell me,” her sister sighs dramatically, sinking into the couch. “But I’m right.”
She is. They both know she is. Anya wants to push harder, to find out who’s making Lexa extra poetic and dazed out. It’s been so long since she’s seen Lexa like this, since she’s been able to smile because of someone. The smile Anya’s noticed on Lexa’s face recently is a smile she wasn’t sure she’d see anytime soon, or ever with all the crying and the simple fragile state Lexa had been in right after things went south.
Which also makes Anya question this new flame. What will make it different than before? Will this girl hurt Lexa like the last? She feels the need to protect her younger sister as she has many times before, but Anya knows she can only do so much because once Lexa falls, she falls hard and fast. It’s so reckless, but there’s still beauty and grace in how she goes about it. As if her love itself is a poem.
She’s worried. She’s intrigued. She’s excited.
She’s Lexa’s older sister.
“Sure you are,” the forward smiles cheekily, patting Anya’s knee. “Now turn on the TV, we have to catch up on our shows.”
(Lexa’s fingers tap quietly on the couch as her mind screams the lines she hadn’t written down yet.)
I can fill it with a mountain.
I can fill it with a name.