Bellarke One Shots Book 1

11) Reindeer Sweaters and Mannequins

A/N not my story

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Clarke woke to banging on her door. Groaning, she opened her eyes, only to shut them when the grey light of dawn hit her like an icepick in the eye. She shoved her head into the pillow and prayed to any god listening for the pain in her skull to stop. The pounding on the door continued. Clarke turned in her bed and spotted a glass of water and two Advil waiting on the bedside table. She grabbed for the pills and quickly shoved them in her mouth, chugging down the entire glass in an attempt to rid herself of the cotton on her tongue. A note fluttered to the ground, and Clarke grasped for it, pulling it close to read.

Princess,

Try not to let my sister bully you too much today.

Bellamy

At that moment, Octavia came bursting through Clarke's bedroom door, looking far too perky for a girl who drank more moonshine than everyone else combined the night before. Clarke narrowed her eyes.

"Go away," she growled at her friend. Octavia beamed.

"Sorry Clarke," she chirped, "But we had a deal, and now it's time for you to come shopping with me." Clarke raised her wrist to glance at her father's old watch and collapsed back into the pillow, pulling the blankets over her head.

"It's six in the morning. We went to bed at like...two. How are you awake right now?" Octavia chuckled, tugging the blankets away from a protesting Clarke.

"Blakes are immune to hangovers," Octavia explained, "Now come on let's go!" Clarke sat up groggily, her head pounding at the sudden movement.

"I hate you," she whispered, standing. Suddenly, her stomach gave a heave and Clarke rushed to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time to choke up the remnants of turkey and moonshine in her stomach. It burned on its way up, and the world span. Clarke closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool porcelain.

"I think I'm still a little drunk," she admitted, "Can't we go shopping another day? Any other day?"

"Sorry, Clarke, but the best sales are today," Octavia said, and Clarke could hear the amused smirk, "We're going." Clarke opened one eye to glare at her friend, who was leaning against the doorway with a smug look that reminded Clarke way too much of Bellamy for comfort.

Clutching her sore stomach, Clarke raised herself up and reached for her toothbrush. After thoroughly cleaning the bad taste from her mouth, she turned to face Octavia.

"I'm going to take a shower," she told her friend, "Go pick out an outfit for me to wear." Octavia clapped her hands in glee and left before Clarke could second guess the wisdom of allowing her friend to dress her for the day. With a shrug, Clarke shed her clothes and turned the shower to steaming. The grime of the previous day clung to her like a second skin, and Clarke could practically smell the alcohol eking out of her pores. She needed a long, hot shower to scrub away the hangover, but judging by Octavia's impatience, Clarke was going to have to settle for a relatively short shower at the hottest temperature she could stand.

Stepping under the spray, Clarke hissed as the hot water beat at her back, turning her fair skin pink. The hot water stung in a way that made Clarke's muscles relax slightly. She quickly scrubbed away all of the dirt and sweat from the other day, trying not to remember the feel of Bellamy's arms as they'd danced together. She had a feeling that Octavia would not thank her if they missed out on a deal just because Clarke had been too busy imagining Octavia's brother in the shower. Once she felt slightly more human, Clarke switched off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in a large, fluffy towel.