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When Clarke was five, she told her father she wanted to be an artist when she grew up, and he told her she could be. He put her drawings everywhere, and it's not special, doing that. It's what parents do. But he wasn't the only one who encouraged her; she had teachers and friends who told her she had a talent, and she believed them.
Her mother said she had talent, but she was always the practical one, who tempered praise with realism. The one who told Clarke to look before she started running, the one who reminded her of consequences. Being an artist was hard, and she might never be successful.
When she was fifteen, her father died, and she changed her mind about being an artist.
Her mother was right. She was going to be sensible.
And then, when she's eighteen, she gets pregnant, and suddenly nothing in her world aligns anymore. None of her futures seems possible at all, not with a baby.
The world narrows down to the two pink lines, and then reopens, but none of the paths are familiar. They aren't even comprehensible.
The future is a giant, gaping blank, and for the first time in her memory, she doesn't have any idea at all what she wants to do.
*
As she always does when she's in doubt, she goes to Wells.
"Couldn't even call, you missed me so much?" he teases, and she drags him into his room and shuts the door without responding. It's been months since they slept together, and no one knows about it. His parents trust them alone as much as ever. The thought nearly makes her laugh, and she thinks she might be hysterical. "What?" he asks.
"I missed my period," she says.
All the blood drains from his face. "Did you take a test or anything?" he asks.
"Two."
"Shit."
Her mouth tugs up in half a smile. "I'm glad you don't even have to ask."
"No one rushes over in a panic because they failed a pregnancy test," he says, and that sobers her.
"Yeah. So--"
"So."
They sit down on his bed, side-by-side, like usual. After a second, she puts her head in his lap, and he pets her. It's all--it's normal. This is how they comfort each other. How they deal. And she can't believe that, because nothing should be normal now.
"What do you want to do?" he asks, soft.
"I don't know."
"Keep it," he says, his voice firm, and she nearly jumps. But he continues, "Abortion. Adoption. Any other options?"
"My mom might--take it for a little while? Not adoption. Just until I'm done with school."
"We're done with school," he says. "If you keep it, I'm with you, Clarke. Every step of the way."
"We shouldn't keep it," she says, instantly, because she knows what he's saying is true, and that's somehow worse. She could sacrifice her life. She finds she doesn't even mind the thought of it. There's something--she thinks if she got rid of it, she'd always know. And she'd always wonder about the life she would have had.
But she'd wonder the same things, if she kept it. And she wouldn't just be giving up her future, the future that's been blank since the tests came back positive. It's Wells' future too. He'll give everything up too.
"Do you want to?" he asks.
"We should."
"That's not what I'm asking." His thumb strokes the base of her skull. "If it was up to me, I would keep it," he admits. "But it's up to you. And whatever you do, I'm with you."
He wouldn't lie to her about this. Not something so important. He must mean it. "I want to keep it too," she says. "Who do you think will kill us first, my dad or your mom?"
"Who are we telling first?" he asks, and she laughs.
"It's going to be--I don't even know. It's going to be so hard."
"I know. We still have time to change our minds."
"I know," she says, but she doesn't really mean it. She doesn't believe this is something they can change their minds about. They're not like that.
And she feels so sure.
*
It's hard in all the ways she predicted--their parents are furious, being a pregnant teenager is difficult both physically and socially, and once that's over, they still have a baby. Clarke has a trust fund her dad left for her when he died, and that helps, gives them money to work with. She gets a job with flexible hours at a coffee shop, and Wells finds a full-time temp position that loves him, hires him to full time almost immediately, starts giving him promotions and helping put him through school. It makes her only a little jealous, but--she likes the coffee shop, weirdly. A lot more than she expected. And once Lyra gets old enough to start daycare, Clarke takes on more responsibility. The owner is getting older, thinking about retirement, and she sees something in Clarke, a potential that Clarke doesn't quite understand.
It's one of the thousand ways she remembers that--she grew up rich, and not just rich, but first class. Old money. She's the kind of rich that looks down on people who live the life she lives now, the kind of rich that values education and salaried work, the kind that values small-business owners as a concept, not a reality.
It's not hard to get past the part of herself that thinks she's a failure for doing what she did, keeping the baby and working in food services; the hard part is what it does to her social circle.
Both she and Wells knew it would be hard to have a kid, and it would be a while before either of them had time to date. But Clarke had honestly thought, well--she'd still be pretty young. She's twenty-two when Lyra starts pre-school, and twenty-four when she feels ready to start dating herself. And she discovers quickly that she doesn't have anything in common with the people she used to think of as her peers, all of whom are two years out of college and not only have no interest in interacting with a four-year-old in a parental capacity, but can't even quite comprehend it. The ones who want kids at that age already have them, and even those are babies. And they're in relationships, if not married.
The only person who really gets what Clarke is going through is Wells, and while she's grateful for him, grateful on levels she can't even comprehend, she'd like someone--hers.
It feels selfish, sometimes.
When she's twenty-five, two things happen that seem monumental, like they're going to change her life. And she guesses they both do, but--not how she wants them to.
First, she meets Lexa, who's the kind of person Clarke thinks she might have been, if she hadn't had Lyra. She's a lawyer, not a doctor, but she's smart and successful, all sharp lines and competence. She feels like a glimpse into an alternate universe, and Clarke likes her, except--she has no interest in Lyra at all. At first, Clarke tells herself that Lexa just wants to get to know her, wants to see if the two of them work before she gets involved with the rest of Clarke's messy life. It's easy to tell herself that because Lexa knows about her daughter, that's enough. She wants Clarke, and they'll work everything else out later, once they've settled into the relationship.
The second thing is Eileen deciding to retire, and offering to sell Clarke the coffee shop. She and Wells spend a few weeks running numbers, making sure they can afford it, that it's worth it to afford it, and she's giddy when she realizes they can and they probably should.
It's not the life she dreamed of when she was a kid, but she doesn't want that life anymore anyway. She likes what she does. It feels like everything is finally coming together, her family, her work, her love life.
"You really want that?" Lexa asks, when she tells her.
It's not the reaction Clarke was hoping for. She called Lexa because she wanted to celebrate the next step in her life, and Lexa looks like she said she was going in for invasive elective surgery.
"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"
"Well, your--Wells," she says, with the same dubious expression. "He finished his degree, didn't he?"
Clarke brightens with pride. "Yeah."
"I assumed he would take the child and you could get on with your life."
The brightness goes out of her, like Lexa threw cold water on it. It sounds like her last few conversations with her mother, this expectation that what Clarke is doing now is some kind of--pause. A footnote, easily forgotten.
She thought Lexa understood. She thought she was waiting to get to know Clarke's life, not waiting for it to change.
"This is my life," she says. "This is me, getting on with it. Wells and Lyra--they're my life, Lexa. I'm never planning to be done with them. And I like this job," she can't help adding. "I'm good at it, and it makes me happy."
She'd always heard communication was important to relationships, but she'd never noticed how much she and Lexa weren't saying to each other. It had been nice to have a break from thinking about all her complications, to just be Clarke again.
But being Clarke--Lyra is a part of that. Lyra's a huge part of that. She always assumed they'd start talking about her, some day.
"You don't have any greater aspirations?" Lexa asks. "You could do so much, Clarke."
"I am," she says. "I'm--I don't have the kind of aspirations you're talking about. I don't dream of leaving my daughter behind, Lexa. If you don't want her in your life, you don't want me in your life."
Lexa regards her coolly for a long minute, and finally says, "I'm sorry I misunderstood."
"Yeah," says Clarke. "Me too."
To her relief, Lyra is asleep when she gets home, and Wells is still up. She curls into his side on the couch, not crying, but feeling profoundly tired. He never met Lexa, in the two months they were dating. It's hard to coordinate; she doesn't meet most of his dates either, because she's watching the kid when he's out and vice versa. But he hasn't had a relationship, and she should have noticed that too.
"Doesn't look like you had much of a celebration," he observes, soft.
"She broke up with me."
"Why?"
"I guess she thought once you finished school, you were going to take Lyra and I was going to become a doctor. That--this was just a phase."
"I didn't know you were dating your mom," he says, and she laughs.
"Yeah. Good thing we broke up."
He rubs her shoulder. "Yeah. Good thing."
*
It's pretty easy to forget about her love life after that. She doesn't really do it on purpose, but she's busy. She's rehauling the coffee shop with some of her remaining trust fund, replacing old equipment, redoing the decor, making it hers. And once that's done, she has a new business to deal with, all kinds of challenges to overcome, skills to learn, accounts to manage.
She wouldn't have time for a relationship, even if she wanted one. And she doesn't. She's happy. If Wells found someone, maybe she'd start looking again, just because she'd be lonely. But while he goes on dates every now and then, it's never more than one or two. Sometimes she feels like an asshole for being happy about it, but--she'd be happy if he found someone good, too. And it's not like either of them is miserable. They have a good life. They don't need romance. Romance is a bonus. She's honestly not even thinking about it.
And then, right in the middle of not thinking about it, Bellamy happens.
He comes in to the coffee shop on a Sunday afternoon in mid-September, looking like he walked out of a catalog. He's wearing a soft gray sweater and worn jeans, with a red scarf looped around his neck. His curly black hair is artfully mussed, his black glasses are slightly crooked on his nose, and there's a scar above his lip that feels like the start of a conversation.
"Hi," says Clarke, too bright and cheerful. It's a step beyond her standard customer-service voice, and she winces internally. But her smile doesn't falter. She's good at this. "What can I get you?"
He looks up at the board, thoughtful. "Uh, medium pumpkin spice latte? With soy milk. And--something less sweet?"
"How complicated?"
He pulls his eyes off the board to look at her. He has nice eyes too, brown and clear behind his glasses. "Sorry?"
"I mean, if you want unsweet, anything black is good. Plain coffee is the bitterest thing I've got. But if you want something fancier--"
"Oh. Uh--I like milk?"
"Hard to go wrong with a latte," she says. "I recommend the dark roast. If you get it without any flavor shots, it's not sweet, and it's nice for fall."
"Then a large one of those, yeah. And, uh--" He turns his attention to the pastries. "Two croissants."
"Can I get a name for the drinks?"
"Bellamy."
She gives him another bright smile. "Anything else?"
"Nope."
She rings him up, he gives her his card, and the transaction ends. She doesn't watch him because he's hot--although he is--she watches him because it's pretty quiet and she doesn't have much else to do. And he is a little bit fascinating. She might not do art as a career, but she still does it as a hobby, and he has the kind of bone structure that makes her fingers itch for a pencil. Just sitting at his table, reading a book, he looks like he's posing for her.
A pretty girl shows up right as Fox calls his drinks, and Clarke looks away when she bumps her shoulder against his. It's stupid, to feel disappointed that some random guy she'll never see again has a girlfriend, but--she is, a little bit. It would be nice, to be able to imagine something happening. She hasn't thought about anyone like that in a while, and it was exciting, while it lasted.
She's pointedly not paying attention to him, so it's a surprise when he comes up to the counter and clears his throat.
"Is everything okay with the order?" she asks. He definitely has unsatisfied customer written all over his place.
"Is this soy?"
"Shit, no," she says, feeling the blood drain from her face. "I put soy for the pumpkin latte but not yours. I'm so sorry. Did you want soy?"
His expression clears a little; apparently her contrition is convincing. "Yeah, I needed soy."
"I'm so sorry. And for swearing," she adds, belatedly. "I try not to do that in front of the customers. Give me a second, I'll make you a new one and refund--"
"You don't have to refund it," he says. "Just with soy would be great."
"Yeah, one sec."
She makes the drink herself, to make sure it's done right, and doesn't let herself glance at him leaning on the counter. It shouldn't be possible, she thinks, for someone to look so good all the time. Life is not a photo shoot.
"I really am sorry," she says, sliding him the drink.
"I probably forgot to mention it," he grants. "Thanks."
"Enjoy," she says, and feels a little better when he takes a sip and smiles. It's still embarrassing that she screwed up the hot guy's order, but she's fairly confident he didn't say he wanted soy, so it wasn't really her fault.
And he was cute. That was exciting. It's nice, thinking people are attractive again. She doesn't want to do anything about it, but--eye candy is always appreciated.
He holds the door for his girlfriend when they leave, and surprises her by glancing over his shoulder at her. She smiles, and he nods, formal, and leaves.
Nice. That's what it was. Nice.
*
Left to her own devices, Clarke isn't an early riser. But she's capable of waking up early if she has to, and even kind of prefers it. She just doesn't have the discipline, all on her own.
Working in the coffee shop and being something of a control freak, she tends to start early and stay late, and she likes it that way. Her technical, posted shift is five-thirty a.m. to two p.m., with a half-hour break for lunch, but since she neither gets an hourly salary or answers to anyone else, she feels no need to leave if there's still more work to do.
Besides, Lyra has after-school stuff until four anyway, so she doesn't really have much reason to leave before then most days. She doesn't have anything else going on, anyway.
Still, she likes working the opening shift. She has a few die-hard regulars with weird hours who come in as soon as she unlocks the door, but it's mostly pretty quiet until seven-thirty or eight, when the pre-work rush starts. She has time to make sure the closing shift cleaned up well enough the previous night and that everything is in order for the rest of the day, and once that's done, she gets to just sketch at the counter and relax.
Maybe it's weird, that hanging out at work relaxes her, but she's not going to question it. She likes early mornings in the shop.
She likes them even once Bellamy becomes a semi-regular.
The first time he comes by in the morning, it's just over a week after their last encounter. Not that Clarke was counting or anything, but--he was memorable. She always remembers messing up orders, and he was hot on top of that, so of course she knows all the details.
It's around six-fifty when he comes in, so she's done with all of her opening checks and has settled in with her sketchbook. She hears the door and looks up, and the sight of him makes her aware that her hair is coming out of its bun a little and she spilled some coffee on her left breast, because of course she did. He's wearing a pale blue dress shirt with a red tie and khaki slacks, and he still looks like he's being paid to do it.
She can't do anything about her sorry state of being, so she just stands and gives him a smile. "Good morning, what can I get you?"
She has a board full of custom drinks, all of which she's pretty proud of, and Bellamy takes his time studying it critically, like the whole thing requires intense scrutiny.
"Can I get the Mother of Dragons with--do you do almond milk?"
"Just soy."
"Then soy, yeah."
"What size?"
"Large."
"Anything else?"
He makes a face at the baked goods. "How's the cherry-bran muffin?"
"I've heard it's good," she says, and he raises his eyebrows. "I'm not really a bran person," she admits. "But it's my best friend's favorite. It's not too sweet," she adds, thinking of his request last time.
"Then, yeah, one of those, thanks."
"Cool," she says. He hangs around at the counter while she makes his drink, and she tries to figure out something to say, but can't come up with anything. She can't even tell if he remembers her.
He's the one who asks, "What were you writing?"
"Drawing. Just sketching."
"Your boss doesn't mind?"
She flashes him a smile. "I am my boss."
"Oh."
She finishes his drink and hands it over. "So, yeah. I'm keeping an eye on it to make sure it doesn't interfere with my work."
He gives her half a smile. "As long as you're aware of the situation." He raises his drink in salute. "Thanks."
"Have a good day," she says, mostly out of lack of other response, and he's gone.
After that, he starts coming in once or twice a week, always ordering something different. After three weeks, she starts stocking almond milk, and his expression when she mentions it now warms her down to her toes, despite her firm reminders to herself that he is a stranger. With a girlfriend.
After a month and a half, she says, "So, what are you looking for?"
It's six-thirty; he's started drinking his coffee in one of the big chairs in the corner instead of getting it to go, which Clarke has to approve of. Just because he has a girlfriend doesn't mean he can't be eye candy.
"What?" he asks.
"You never order the same thing. So are you trying all our drinks out of curiosity, or do you not like any of the ones you've had?"
She assumes he must like something, or he wouldn't keep coming back. But most people settle into a routine. Even if they don't get the exact same thing every day, they tend to have a few different favorites they switch between. Bellamy's never gotten the same drink twice, in a month and a half.
He blinks at her, and then rubs the back of his neck. "I'm lactose intolerant," he finally says.
"I figured, yeah."
"A lot of the time when drinks are made with regular milk, they don't taste the same when you replace it with almond or soy, so--"
"So you're methodically testing all my drinks to see if any of them taste good with almond milk?"
"They taste fine," he protests. "I just haven't found the right one yet."
She has to smile. "So, you're telling me I should design some new drinks made specifically with almond milk?"
"If you're going to buy it," he says, with a shrug.
"So, do you drink milk?" she asks. He cocks his head. "How do you know the milk is the issue? Maybe all my stuff just tastes slightly bad."
He snorts. "So, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here and you think you're getting too much credit?"
"Or you're incredibly picky." She considers. "But you're right, I've never tried any of them with soy or almond milk. Do you like almond milk better or is the taste closer to regular milk?"
"I like it better. Soy milk always tastes a little grainy to me."
She gets the almond milk out again and starts making another drink, the same one he ordered. Bellamy watches, curious. "What? I want to see what I think of it."
"This is going to be a thing for you now, isn't it?" he asks, taking a sip of his own coffee.
"Yup. I didn't realize I was neglecting part of my target demographic. I'm definitely going to work on this. Any tips?"
"Just remember it tastes different," he says, and she rolls her eyes. "It's not like any of the flavors are bad, but--you probably want to change your portions a bit. I don't know. I'm not a coffee scientist."
"So what are you?" she asks, curious. Now that she's talking to him, she might as well get some information.
"Oh, uh, teacher."
"Where?"
"Arkdale? It's a high school."
"Cool," she says, weirdly relieved that he's not at the elementary school. She doesn't think she could handle going to parent-teacher night and running into him unexpectedly. He's hard enough to deal with when she's prepared for him. "What subject?"
"World history."
She nods, and takes a sip of her drink. To her, drinks made with soy or almond milk taste a little funny as a matter of course, and it always just felt--right. The same way veggie burgers taste worse than hamburgers. They're a knock-off; they're not supposed to be as good.
"I'm going to work on this," she tells Bellamy, and finds he's smiling a little.
"Uh huh," he says. "Keep me posted."
*
After that, he starts coming in after school some days, and that's when Clarke starts getting nervous, because that's getting to be a lot of him, and because Lyra is sometimes around in the afternoons. But, as she reminds herself every time she sees him, he has a girlfriend. So it doesn't matter if he sees Wells and Lyra; they're not flirting, nothing is going to happen, and he's not going to care that she has a kid.
And even if they were flirting, she'd want him to know about Lyra. She's done with people who like her until they find out the truth about her life.
Honestly, what's probably actually happening is that they're becoming--friendly. Not friends, but he's a regular who chats with her, and since she asked about his ordering habits, he's also started giving her feedback on her drinks, in the form of teasing that--
God, it feels like flirting. But it's not. Obviously it's not. He has a girlfriend, and she has a kid.
It's not like the kid is even around that much; when she doesn't have after-school obligations, she and Wells will stop by for a drink and a snack, usually about once a week. They're clearly familiar with her, but honestly, it's not even particularly obvious that she's Clarke's daughter; she has to tell people, most of the time. It's one of those things that makes her stomach lurch; her daughter is black, and she'll never understand that part of her life. Not like Wells does. Not like she wishes she could.
So, yeah. It's completely irrational, that she gets nervous every time Bellamy's in the store when Lyra is. There are a thousand reasons it doesn't matter. And, really, she wouldn't even mind if he knew.
She still nearly has a heart attack, the first time she sees them talking. It's two days after Christmas, so Lyra is out of school, and Wells dropped her off around ten to hang out for the day. He works from home, so it's easier for him if he doesn't watch her all the time. And Lyra likes the coffee shop. She'll sit on the couch and read or draw, and the other baristas will come hang out with her during slow periods. Not that Clarke doesn't, but, per Lyra, she sees Clarke all the time; the other baristas are way more exciting.
Bellamy comes in around just after one and orders lunch, and Clarke breathes a sigh of relief that Lyra's nowhere near her. And then she goes to the back to do books, just so she won't stress about their current proximity.
After about half an hour, Sterling sticks his head in. "One of the regulars is asking Lyra about her book," he says. "I don't know if you want to stop it."
Even though she's sure it's Bellamy, she's still not really prepared for the reality of it, for Bellamy sitting next to her daughter on the couch with a soft smile she's never seen before on his face. The burst of longing is so sharp she actually tears up. No one has ever looked at Lyra like that but her and Wells, and it's Bellamy.
Lyra is focused on her book, flipping through to show Bellamy her favorite pictures, so she doesn't notice when Clarke gets to them, but he does. The look he gives her is harder to read, a wry little smile, but she figures it out when he interrupts Lyra, all gentle concern. "That's really cool," he tells her. "But I wanted to check--do you know where your grownup is?"
It's the phrasing that gets her as much as the sentiment--Bellamy was worried that she'd wandered away from someone, wanted to make sure she wasn't lost, but he's also not making assumptions about whom she's with. Clarke knows their family is completely traditional, in the sense that Lyra lives with her mother and father, but it doesn't feel like that, and she loves that he didn't assume she was with her mom or her dad.
"Present," Clarke says, and her voice doesn't shake. "Bellamy, this is my daughter, Lyra."
"I was just telling him about my book," Lyra says. "I wasn't going to go with him."
Clarke smiles, sits down on her other side. "I know. He wasn't trying to take you, he just wanted to make sure I knew where you were."
"Oh," says Lyra.
"His name's Bellamy, he's a friend of mine."
She lets herself look at Bellamy, and any surprise he was feeling is off his face now. He's smiling again, still so warm. "Nice to meet you, Lyra."
"Nice to meet you," she says, automatic.
"She hangs out more on when she's on break, like you do," Clarke tells him.
"It's the cool place to be." He gives her a somewhat sheepish smile. "Sorry they dragged you out to make sure I wasn't a kidnapper."
"I didn't really want to do payroll anyway. But yeah, you don't have to worry. She's very supervised."
He seems to be thinking it over, but then says, "It's good that you own the place. I used to bring my sister to work with me, but I got fired once my boss found out."
"What a jerk," she says, instead of following up on any of the threads he gave her about his life. She's got time.
"Yeah, it's almost like he didn't want his employees distracted on the clock," Bellamy teases.
"He didn't have to fire you."
"Yeah, he was a jerk for unrelated reasons."
"Mom, can I get hot chocolate?" Lyra asks, and immediately adds, "Sorry for interrupting. But I finished my chapter, so--"
"Yeah, that's fine. Small, okay?"
"If it's small, can I have whipped cream?"
"Deal."
Lyra slides off the couch and goes over to the counter, putting in her order with Sterling and then going behind the counter so she can put the whipped cream on herself once it's done. She knows the drill.
"How old is she?" Bellamy asks. He's still watching her too.
"Turning eight in February."
He considers the information. "Can I ask how old you are, or is that rude?"
"I just turned twenty-seven."
"Just?"
"Two weeks ago."
"Happy belated birthday." He considers. "Did you get pregnant on prom night?"
She laughs, surprised. "Close."
"Just wanted to check the cliche levels."
"Good sleuthing."
"So she's in second grade?"
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"Elmwood."
"That's where me and my sister went."
She wets her lips, but it feels right to say, "Thanks for not being weird."
"My mom had me when she was seventeen, I'm used to it," he says. "And you seem like a better parent than she was, so--"
She can't help laughing. "Based on the last ten minutes?"
"You have your whole staff looking out for her. She's smart and talks to people and knows she's safe here. That's more than lots of kids get."
Clarke doesn't get a lot of people validating her parenting; no one says she's bad, but they don't really say she's good, either. It's the kind of thing she assumes her mother would do, if her mother didn't disagree with her entire life. It makes her throat close up a little, hearing Bellamy's easy assessment of her competence.
"We're doing our best," she manages.
"Is her dad still around?"
"Yeah. My best friend." She has to smile, rueful. "We slept together twice in high school, to see what it was like. Twice. And we ended up with a kid."
"But you kept her."
"Yeah. It was--I don't know. Sometimes I still feel like it was stupid. Not because--I'd never give her up. Not for anything. But I feel like there should be some sort of biological lock that keeps you from getting pregnant before you can legally drink."
"If not longer," he agrees. "It's, uh--yeah, teaching high school, it's fucking scary. Thinking about what my mom went through."
She smiles. "Do you tell her that?"
"She died when I was nineteen, so--"
"Shit, I'm sorry."
He shrugs. "Not to be a dick, but--it kind of improved my life."
She wants to ask, but Lyra comes back and wedges herself between them again. Whipped cream is spilling out of her mug and dripping down onto her hands, because when she applies her own whipped cream, she really makes it count.
"Don't touch your book until your hands are clean," Clarke says, and Lyra huffs.
"I know, Mom," she says. "You can look at it if you want," she adds to Bellamy.
"Where were you?" he asks, picking up the book and flipping through the pages.
"Chapter four."
"Huh. It sounded pretty good. You want me to read it aloud?"
"If you want," she says, magnanimous, and Clarke clears out before he can start. For her own sanity.
*
"So, who was the guy?" Wells asks. Bellamy was still reading to Lyra when he came by to pick her up, so Clarke's been expecting the question.
Somehow, she still doesn't feel ready for it. "Bellamy. He's one of our regulars. He's a teacher, so I guess he probably likes kids."
"Uh huh."
"He thought she was lost," Clarke says, unable to keep a smile off her face. It's probably goofy too. Her life is terrible. "So he was just checking to see where her adult was."
"And?"
"And he's cute and kind of a dick and I like him a lot," she admits. "But he's got a girlfriend, so whatever."
He raises his eyebrows. "Really?"
"You did see him, right? Of course he's taken."
"I saw him," Wells says. "I saw him hanging out with our kid and making heart eyes at you. I'm not saying he can't have a girlfriend, but--I bet you five bucks he doesn't."
"She came in with him the first day I met him."
"When was that?"
"A few months ago. September."
He thinks this over and just says, "Make sure you tell him we're not a thing. I bet he wants to know."
"Even if he's single, he probably doesn't--" she starts, but she can't help remembering the way it felt, seeing Bellamy leaning in towards Lyra, listening to her. His interest seemed genuine, and it's a new feeling for Clarke, seeing someone she's attracted to with her daughter. She tends to try to keep Lyra away from people until she's sure about them.
The only reason she hadn't wanted him to meet her daughter was that she didn't want him to treat her differently, and he hasn't given any indication his opinion of her has changed, except for the better.
"He was really good with her, wasn't he?" she asks, and Wells squeezes her shoulders.
"Yeah, looked like it."
*
"I've got a surprise for you."
It's six-twenty-seven, and Bellamy looks vaguely homicidal. Clarke can't really blame him; the first day back from vacation probably sucks even more for teachers than it does for students. Clarke's kind of glad to be getting back to their regular routine; she likes seeing more of Lyra, but it's always a little stressful too. Between her and Wells, they have enough flexibility to always watch her, but--well, school is easier. Clarke likes routines.
Bellamy, though. Bellamy probably misses vacation.
"If it doesn't have caffeine in it, I'm not interested."
"It has caffeine in it. I came up with a new drink. Almond-milk-based."
He perks up at that. "Yeah?"
"Yup. Tea latte. It's got--"
And just like that he's grumpy again. "Tea is gross."
"Tea is gross?"
"Yeah."
"How can you say that?"
"It is."
"That's like saying you don't like animation!"
He blinks at her. "Wait, how?"
"It's not like tea is this homogeneous mass," she says. "Okay, so you don't like black tea. There's still herbal tea, green tea. And even--what kind of tea have you even had? There are so many kinds, you're limiting yourself if you just dismiss it all as gross."
"And yet somehow, it's all gross," he says. The corners of his mouth are twitching up, though. "You still haven't sold me on the animation comparison, by the way."
"It's like saying you don't like animation because you thought Frozen was overrated. There's all sorts of other animation out there. You're going to miss out if you write them all off as kid stuff or whatever. Just like you're missing out on tea."
"Wow. Is this something you have to argue about a lot? That was really fully-formed, as a defense."
"No, I just had to watch Frozen last night and I hate it."
He laughs. If nothing else, he looks a lot less grumpy. "Yeah, okay, fair enough." He drums his fingers on the counter. "Lyra starting school today?"
"Yup."
"She sounds like she likes it."
"Yeah, she's a total overachiever, as expected." He raises his eyebrows, and she grins. "Wells and I knew we were going to have a nerdy kid, just because of genetics. Although she's definitely the wrong kind of nerd."
"There are wrong kinds?"
"I was an art nerd, Wells was a science nerd. We all love reading, so there's that, but Lyra's really interested in cars, and we weren't prepared for that."
"I should introduce her to my best friend," he says, absent, and then blushes bright red. "Uh, not that--my friend Raven is a mechanic, she runs an auto shop. So, you know. Hands-on experience. If she's ever looking for that." He rubs the back of his neck. "Not trying to--be weird. Just--"
"Yea, she'd love that," Clarke says, and he ducks his head, smiles.
"I'll keep that in mind."
He still looks embarrassed, so she takes pity on him and steers the subject back to the matter at hand. "So, you're some sort of tea-hater. Does that mean you don't want to try my awesome new drink? Because you're my guinea pig here. I don't know what kind of competition I have for good almond-milk drinks."
"It's tea, so it's gross. I don't think I can give you an unbiased opinion." He gives her a smile, kind of sheepish. "I, uh, recognize you made me a custom drink and worked hard and I'm telling you I don't want to drink it because I'm an asshole. You don't have to tell me. I'm aware."
She has to laugh. "Whatever. I'll make you an inferior coffee drink. Give me three bucks and think about how terrible you are."
"Just like every morning," he says, and she grins.
"Just like every morning."
*
The Sunday before Lyra's birthday, Bellamy comes in with his girlfriend again. Clarke didn't actually interact with her last time, but she still recognizes her: long brown hair, sharp green eyes, gorgeous. She's a few years younger than Bellamy, probably closer to Clarke's age, and Bellamy is rolling his eyes at her, which makes Clarke surprisingly jealous. It's stupid, but--she'd sort of like it better if he was always lovey-dovey with his girlfriend, instead of being like he is with her.
"Hey," he says, giving her a smile. "How's it going?"
"Not bad. Lunch rush is over, Wells and Lyra are coming in half an hour to pick me up so we can go to the movies."
"Cool, sounds fun," he says. His girlfriend elbows him, and to Clarke's surprise, he hooks his arm around her neck, like they're going to wrestle. "Don't be a brat, O, I'm getting to you. Clarke, this is my sister, Octavia. O, this is Clarke. This is her place."
"You're an adult, you're not supposed to give me noogies!" says Octavia, and Clarke's pretty sure she kicks him.
"Jesus, you're wearing heels, that was not fair. Way worse than noogies."
"They're not heels, they're wedges."
"That just means there's more to kick me with."
Clarke swallows hard, looking between them. It's not like this means Bellamy is single; he could still have a girlfriend or a boyfriend.
But he might not, too.
"Is this what having a sibling is like?" she manages, trying not to sound as weird as she feels. "I used to think I was missing out."
"Basically," says Octavia, and offers her hand. "Nice to meet you. My brother says he's a dick to you about almond milk and tea."
"I don't think we can limit it to just that," she says, and he grins.
"Yeah, okay. I'm a dick about everything. What are you getting, O?"
"I guess you don't have pumpkin spice anymore."
"No, sorry. I can do a pretty good chai latte, it's kind of similar. Assuming your brother didn't bias you against tea."
"Chai latte sounds great. Also, do you have a bathroom?"
"Yeah, code's 812."
Octavia takes off, and Bellamy gives Clarke another smile. Her heart is fluttering, but nothing has changed for him. "I'll pay for hers and get, uh--just black coffee."
"Really? I don't get to make you something?"
He raises his eyebrows. "Do you want to make me something?"
"Always," she says, automatically, and he grins.
"Well, if you insist."
Her shift ends ten minutes later, and she debates for another couple before she loses the apron and goes over to their table. "Can I hang out while I wait for the kid and her dad?"
"Yeah!" says Octavia. "I'm curious about the kid."
Clarke glances at Bellamy, a little surprised. "Why?"
"I like other weird families. So the dad is--do you guys live together?"
"Yeah."
"But you're not dating?"
"Nope. We're really not like that. I'd say he's like my brother, but--it's kind of weird saying you had a kid with your brother. But the longer we live together, the more I can't believe we ever had sex."
"You were really young, though, right?"
"O," says Bellamy, with a slight warning in his tone.
Clarke is kind of psyched, though. Bellamy's little sister has heard about her. Like, a lot about her. Enough that Octavia has questions to ask. "Yeah, I was nineteen when I had her."
"Oh, uh--" Bellamy's neck goes red. "That reminds me. It's her birthday this week, right?"
"Yeah," says Clarke.
He roots around in his bag and comes out with a neatly wrapped package. Based on the dimensions, it's a book. "I, uh. I thought she'd like this."
The lump in Clarke's throat is so large she's momentarily rendered speechless. Finally, she manages, "You got her a birthday present?"
"I, uh--yeah? Sorry, if it's weird you don't have to--it's okay if you don't--"
"No, no. This is--it's really nice of you. Thanks."
Octavia is watching them with interest, and Clarke can't help the flare of hope in her stomach. Maybe Wells was right. Maybe she was right, and they've been flirting. And he's still flirting, and he likes her, and he knows about her daughter and likes her to, and this could be--
"When's Lincoln coming to get you?" Bellamy asks Octavia, pulling her back to the present.
"Probably like ten minutes." She smiles at Clarke. "Me and my boyfriend are just here for the weekend. His cousin was getting married."
"Where do you guys live?"
They chat about Octavia for a while, and when Bellamy grumbles about her moving across state lines with her boyfriend, she tells Clarke, "He's just bitter because he's single."
"That's exactly why," he says, dry.
Octavia's phone buzzes on the table, and she glances down. "Okay, that's Lincoln. I'm gonna go meet him." She gives her brother a smacking kiss on the cheek. "Sorry our schedules sucked so much. I'll come see you over spring break, maybe? Or you come see me."
"I hate New York," he says.
"But you love me, so suck it up." She grins. "It was really good to meet you, Clarke. Keep trying to trick my brother into drinking tea."
"I'm doing my best."
Bellamy watches her go with a fond smile, and Clarke watches him. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't ever checked him out, hadn't ever hoped he and his girlfriend broke up. Hadn't ever just--wished.
"Sorry about her," he says, turning his attention back to Clarke. "I was grading all weekend, so we barely had time to see each other. Lincoln's down the street, so--"
"No, that was--it was fun to meet her." She pauses, and then says, "I actually thought she was your girlfriend."
He chokes on his drink. "Based on what?"
"The first time you guys came in."
He frowns. "Really?"
She shrugs one shoulder. "She was cute, you were waiting for her. I just kind of assumed."
"Huh. I guess there isn't a ton of family resemblance."
"I'm not gonna judge on that," she says, and he grins.
"Lyra looks a lot like you. I couldn't believe I didn't notice." He looks at her, considering, and then says, "Speaking of, did you notice how subtle O was in mentioning that I'm single? Subtlety is not her strong suit."
"I appreciated it, though."
"She also wanted verbal confirmation you weren't into Wells," he says. "I was pretty sure, but--I don't know. Best friend can mean a lot of things."
"I'm not into Wells," she says. "At all."
"Yeah. So, uh--" He reaches over, puts his hand on hers, and Clarke's heart is beating out of control. "Do you--"
The door jingles, and Clarke startles. Bellamy does too, glances at the door and pulls his hand back. It's Wells and Lyra, of course, and Clarke's never been less happy to see them. Which--okay, she's still happy, but she's definitely going to get a date out of this, and she'd like to nail down a day and time.
"Hey, Bellamy," says Wells, clearly surprised, but pleased too. They've met only a few times, never really had a conversation, but they're passingly familiar. "You're not usually around this late."
"Yeah, stopped by with my sister. I know you guys are heading out, so--"
"Do you want to come?" Clarke asks. "We're just catching a movie and grabbing dinner."
"I don't want to impose," he says, automatic, and Clarke takes his hand back. It's warm and rough, huge, and when he squeezes her fingers, she finally lets herself consider the real, tangible possibility that she might get him. That he could want her, and all the messy parts of her life, because he knows about them, and he's never shied away.
"Lyra, you don't mind if Bellamy comes to the movie, right?" she asks.
They hang out after school sometimes, and Bellamy's one of her favorite people to chatter at. He helps her with her homework. Lyra's always pretty friendly, but she especially likes him.
To her delight, Lyra brightens immediately, her pleasure obvious. "Yeah, you should come!"
"If you guys really don't mind," he says, and Clarke squeezes his fingers again.
"Definitely not. Did you drive?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"You want to give me a ride?"
His smile is a little shy, and her heart stutters again. "Yeah."
Wells gives her the smuggest look of their lives, which is saying something, and Clarke just grins back, because it's not like she's not smug. It wasn't like she wanted Bellamy to have a girlfriend. She just thought he did.
He's parked in the opposite direction from Wells and Lyra, so they part ways, and it feels awkward, once they're alone. Not that it didn't feel awkward before, because she basically asked him out on a date in front of her child and best friend, with her child and best friend, but--now they have to talk about it.
"So, uh--I don't know how dating you works," he admits.
"Dating me?"
"You have a kid and own a business. I live under a pile of grading and lesson plans. So, uh--this might have to go slow. I don't mind, I just--" He squeezes her fingers. "I really like you. I want to figure it out."
"I really like you too," she says. "But, yeah. Dating tends to suck for me."
"I'm hoping the actual dates will be good. Just not as frequent as I'd like." He unlocks the car, and Clarke slides into the passenger seat. He gets the key in the ignition and stops, huffs out a breath. "Sorry, just--"
He slides his hand onto her neck, waits until she smiles before he leans in to kiss her, soft and slow, tender. She hasn't kissed anyone since she and Lexa broke up, and she wouldn't say she's consciously been missing it, but--god, did she want to kiss him.
He pulls back, and she follows him; he pecks her one more time, laughing. "I don't want to have to tell Lyra why we're late," he teases. "Or miss the previews. Previews are my favorite part. I just--I wanted to do that."
"Yeah," she says. "Me too."
*
They don't manage to coordinate an actual one-on-one date until Friday, between everyone's hectic schedules. Bellamy has grading, Clarke and Wells have childcare, and it's just hard to do anything on short notice. And Clarke has to explain to Lyra that she's dating again, which--it's not the first time they've had this conversation, but it's the first time it's been about someone Lyra knows, and the first time it's been about anyone who had as good an understanding of her life as Bellamy does.
It might not go any better than any of her other relationships. It could still crash and burn. But she has such a good feeling about him.
"So, seriously," she says, bumping her hip against his in his kitchen. He's making her dinner and she's hoping the evening ends with her getting to at least third base, if not just sleeping with him. Wells already told him she could spend the night, and she thinks Bellamy probably won't object to that plan. "The kid doesn't freak you out?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"Is that something I have to justify now?" He shrugs. "Like I said, my mom died when I was nineteen. O was twelve. Who do you think took care of her? Hell, I was taking care of her before my mom ever died. I like kids. And I like--" He worries his lip. "Is it weird if I'm into good parenting? That seems weird."
"Kind of, yeah."
"Cool. Well, I was into you before that, so it's not like that's what did it. If that helps."
"Yeah, I'm glad your attraction to me isn't entirely parenting-based." She lets out a breath. "My last girlfriend thought the kid was temporary."
"What did she think was going to happen to her?"
"That once Wells was financially stable, he'd take her, and I'd just--have this whole new life. Where I wasn't a mom anymore."
He makes a face. "That seems like a weird assumption."
"I never know how to talk about her," she admits. "When--I'm just so used to thinking it's going to be a deal breaker. When I started trying to date after she was born, I just--I couldn't get anyone to stick around, once they found out. I didn't want to push."
He cups her cheek, and this kiss is hot and raw, all passion. Clarke throws her arms around him and presses close, and when he finally pulls back, he looks dazed. It takes a minute for his face to rearrange itself into a smile.
"You don't have to justify yourself to me. But--I don't think she's temporary. I don't want her to be." He leans in to bump his nose against hers. "I think I know what I'm getting into."
"I've been trying to warn you, yeah."
"I'm warned," he says. "I want to try anyway."
She rests her head on his shoulder, warm and close, and lets herself believe again. The future stretches out before her, and it's just--her life. The one she already has, the one she's happy in. But Bellamy's there, a firm presence by her side, bickering with her about tea and holding her hand and reading to her daughter. It seems so possible.
"Yeah," she says. "Me too."