Fake Dating Blake

Chapter Three

Bellamy's POV:

Bellamy wasn't so much concerned about Clarke's driving as he was the fact that, for a doctor in training, she didn't seem to be great at multitasking. One moment she'd be talking, words lightning fast, and paying less attention to the road, and then she'd break off mid-sentence to concentrate solely on the way ahead. Bellamy was left hanging on her last word, waiting for her to finish her thought. Usually, she forgot what it was.

She was likely the most intelligent girl he knew, second behind Raven perhaps, and it surprised him how...silly she could be sometimes. He wasn't sure what wound him up more; her silliness, or her know it all-ness. He surveyed her; her brow was scrunched as she concentrated on the traffic, and she looked the way she had when he'd crossed paths with her at the hospital's blood drive a few weeks earlier. She'd had a pen in her mouth as she went through a patient's chart with a doctor, brow creased in deep concentration, twirling a lock of that mane of golden hair around her finger. She did that a lot; when she was cooking, when she was deciding what take out she wanted, what she was writing a paper, when she was on the phone -

'Why are you staring at me?'

Fuck.

'Just trying to figure out how we're going to make this work,' Bellamy said, shifting in his seat. 'Sorry, princess.'

Clarke rolled her eyes. 'I wish you wouldn't call me that.'

Bellamy looked her over again. He wasn't exactly sure when he'd started calling her by the nickname, but now whenever he saw her or thought about her, the word just seemed to fit. Her with her hair, her eyes and her parents' careers; in juxtaposition to his own life, Clarke had grown up privileged and, to be honest, he resented that a little. Not for himself, but for Octavia, and not that he'd ever say it out loud. He'd kept Octavia happy over the years, he knew that. He only regretted that he hadn't been able to give her the life Clarke had been blessed with. None of that was Clarke's fault, or by her own doing, but Bellamy knew himself to be irrational at times. Those times just happened to fall whenever he was around Clarke.

'Bellamy?' What's with you?'

He cleared his throat. 'Whatever. Let's get back to it. How long have we been together?'

'Officially, three months and unofficially, about six. We didn't want to tell anyone because we weren't sure how serious it was and we didn't want to make things awkward for Octavia if we were to break up.'

'But now we're official.'

'Yup, and we're in love.'

His eyebrows shot up. 'Me and you?'

'You and me,' she replied, smiling sweetly at him.

Bellamy looked at her, then at the road, and then back again. 'They're never gonna buy this.'

'Sure they will,' Clarke said, sounding a little more desperate than she probably would have liked. 'Octavia told me about those theatre classes you took in freshman year.'

Bellamy's mouth dropped, but he composed himself quickly and hit back. 'All this just so your parents won't tease you about Wells Jaha? Seems a little extreme.'

'That was the plan last night, after a bottle of red. Now it's just convenient. So let's start from the top. Your birthday is in May, right?'

'May 5th.'

'And you're 26.' He nodded. 'Mine's November 16th and I'm –'

'22, I know.' When she looked quizzically at him, he scoffed. 'You're Octavia's age. I'm not stupid.'

'Right. Sorry. Oh, could you dial my parents for me? They'll want to make sure I'm on the way.'

She reached over his lap, down into the foot well, and retrieved her cell from her bag. Bellamy's hands were raised up by his shoulders; a pulse had shot through him the moment she'd grazed her hand over his thigh. Did this girl have no notion of personal space?