Clarke’s left ass cheek stung, and for three whole days she had been unable to sit properly. Why? Three words: Bellamy Fucking Blake.
Logic told her that is wasn’t necessarily his fault- that this was how it worked, but logic be damned! This was not what she wanted or who she wanted.
For months now, Clarke had set her eyes on Finn Collins as her mate. When it came to good genes, good looks and all around goodness, he was it. Maybe she had deluded herself into thinking she could decide fate for herself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t at least try to sway it towards what she wanted.
Three days ago, Bellamy had been laying it on thick, spinning some nonsense about her being a princess- which she knew he was calling her sarcastically, and that made it worse- when she’d tripped over her own feet.
She wasn’t blind: Bellamy was hot, but falling in front of him?
Then he’d done the unthinkable and helped her up. Clarke could have dealt with that. She could have been overjoyed with that! But, life sucked.
A giant fucking spider clung to her back pocket as she stood, and Bellamy- being the gentleman he is- whacked her ass to kill it. Pain like no other raced through her, and before she could process the other sensations she was feeling, she brought her hand across his cheek.
So angry were they at each other, that it took them fifteen minutes of yelling to realize that her handprint on his cheek wasn’t going away and that the stinging in her butt had not subsided.
Five seconds of pure, realized horror washed over them as they stared at each other, jaws hanging on the floor, before they uttered in unison, “fuck!”
Thinking about how it all happened, rage boiled anew in Clarke’s fingertips and she itched to strangle Bellamy and opt for a new mate. But, like she had thought many times already today, fate was a bitch.
Her ass would forever hold Bellamy’s handprint.
At least she could hide it being a pain in the butt though, she thought wryly. Bellamy though?