Clexa (Taylor's Version)🤍
I wanted an excuse to write heavy angst + messiness with lots of social media
Clarke and Lexa are celebrities in L.A.'s Hollywood scene, and have been broken up for a while, but can't quite move on from each other. Thei...
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Welp, here goes nothin....
Clarke holds her breath as she hits send.
She's been waiting for the right time, the right picture, the right reason to try to reach out. To test the waters.
Luckily, she's around the whole group of friends to distract from her anxiety, and several drinks deep to finally have the courage to not overthink it.
"Griffin! You're turn!" Jasper calls out, "Truth or Drink?"
"Okay..." She gives one last glance at the message she's sent and puts her phone back face-down on the table, already anxious for what kind of reply it might evoke, if any.
"Craziest place you've ever had sex at?"
They are crammed around the small kitchen table at the apartment Jasper and Murphy share, with several of them standing, leaning against the counters or walls. Anya is the only one who isn't there, claiming she was dealing with a migraine and preferred a quiet night in. Raven didn't want the boys making a mess or breaking shit in her place, and Clarke needed the change of scenery. Plus the boys' place reminded her of the good ol' days when the group first met, when she herself was rooming with Raven and Octavia is a cramped, dingy apartment too.
They lived like overgrown frat boys, as if auditioning their home as the set for a reboot of that 70's show, a pure hodgepodge of mismatched furniture, dishes, a dart board dubiously secured to the wall in the living room, and barely much besides beer and takeout leftovers in the fridge.
All eyes watch Clarke sift through her memories.
"Your studio doesn't count either." Octavia jokes, and the group collectively gawks.
Clarke scowls jokingly at her for outing such info, and then squints her eyes as she takes a sip of her vodka cranberry from her paper cup.
"Aww come onnnnn!!" Whines Jasper, "Not giving us ANYTHING?!?!"
"It's called truth or drink!" Says Clarke, "And I'm drinkin!"
Even if she was willing to share, trying to decide on ONE when everyone's definition of "crazy" might vary...how is she supposed to compare the amount of places she's fucked (or been fucked) all over the globe?
They'd all know exactly who it was with....
From public bathrooms in half a dozen countries, versus actual public places or nature, like a shaded boardwalk in Miami at dusk, on a jet ski in the Caribbean, in a private jet over the Atlantic, on a balcony in Prague, in a dressing room for a late-night talk show, some random storage closet backstage at the SAG awards...
She shakes off the continuous stream of recklessly hot sex memories, not realizing the smirk that's stretched across her face while the friends continue going around for everyone else's turn.
