Not All Fun and Games

Chapter 9

I sit up, my face hot.
No wonder Bellamy's mad. I rejected him, and then left him on the roof alone.
I dig around under my sleeping bag. Sure enough, I pull out a baggy black shirt.
I check the time: 10 o'clock. Most people are still out.
Knowing I won't be able to fall back asleep, I exit my tent. I easily spot Bellamy, who's standing by the fire talking to Murphy.
Before heading over there, I ball up his shirt in my fist and put on my best apologetic face.
Making my way over to him, I almost trip on a log. Bellamy must have heard me stumble, because he looks up at me. He says something to Murphy and walks my way.
"Hey Bellamy."
"Hi," he says, his lips a straight line.
I open my hand and offer him his shirt. "Here."
He looks at my hand in confusion. "Where'd you get that?" he asks, taking it from me.
What?
"Uh. Last night. Remember?"
He laughs, shaking his head. I can't help but notice his condescending tone. "Clarke, do you have any idea how much I had to drink last night? There's no way I could remember anything."
A wave of relief mixed with confusion washes over me. If he doesn't remember, why has he been acting this way?
"Thanks for giving it back, though." He pats my shoulder and walks away before I can reply. He leaves me standing alone, my mouth half-open.