Chapter Text
Who the fuck decided that this was a good idea? Clarke thinks, turning around in the hallway for the fifty thousandth time that day to find that the pile of boxes stacked around her doesn't seem to have gotten any smaller. It's more than frustrating, because her and her parents have been working on moving into this new house since they arrived at noon. But even now, when the sun has finally started dipping lower in the sky and the pizza box from dinner lies empty on the kitchen island, they don't seem any closer to accomplishing the task.
Huffing in frustration, Clarke allows herself to take a few long strides into the living room off to the right of the hallway and collapse onto the squishy couch, thankful that at least this is in place.
This is where her mum finds her a few minutes later when she strolls in from the dining room with a notepad and pen in hand. The corner of Abby's mouth turns up at the sight of her daughter lying on her back, a forearm thrown over her face and blonde hair fanning out around her head.
"Clarke what are you doing?" She doesn't need to see her mother's eyes roll in amusement, the action is perfectly clear in her tone.
"Wondering why it's so much more exhausting moving in than it was to move out," Clarke grumbles back, arm remaining firmly in place over her eyes.
This earns a chuckle in response. "Probably because it's much hotter in Alabama than New Jersey honey." Ignoring the dramatic groan she receives in response, Abby continues. "But we have to get some more done Clarke, your father starts his new job tomorrow and the house can't be left in absolute disaster if we want a smooth start."
The mumbling from the couch sounds an awful lot like "That sounds entirely fine to me," and while Clarke doesn't see the shake of her mom's head she knows it's there, right along with a small smirk.
"Fine fine, why don't I give you another job then?"
Clarke's forearm is moved away at this, one eyebrow raising in question as her bottom lip is pulled up into a perfect arc. "What is it?" she asks narrowing her eyes, knowing better than to be anything but skeptical.
Her mother tears a page from the notepad that she's been writing on. "We need a few things, some food and some other basics. I was going to go into town myself, but if you're so tired of unpacking than you can go for me."
"Mooooom," Clarke groans, throwing her head back down onto the cushions. "I don't even know where anything is yet."
"Well then this is the perfect way for you to learn," Abby says matter of factly, clearly used to her daughter's dramatics. "Come on, get up and go before the stores close. Let me just grab you the car keys."
Clarke's griping falls unheard as she watches her mother disappear back into the kitchen.
- - -
It's even hotter in town, Clarke discovers.
It's late September, an awkward time for her to pick up and move from another state considering it's her senior friggin year of high school, but she'll figure it out. Actually, Clarke doesn't care all that much about the move. She's happy that her dad has gotten a job that he likes working to help set up and establish his firm's new branch in Wilmington. They're living in a small town just outside of the city, but it's only for a year. Then Clarke can choose wherever she wants to go to college. The house the firm found for them is sort of gigantic compared to what they could get in Jersey and really, she can be a social floater in any school, any state. Her few friends back home are either long time family friends, or friends that have become family, so she's honestly not worried about losing touch with them over the year either.
So no, it's not a terrible situation at all, except for the fact that Clarke thinks her lungs might turn to dust in the evening heat as she looks around at an unfamiliar town square. It's actually just a wall of heat that hits her as she steps out of her car, that she's parked beside a promising looking general convenience store, and onto the baking sidewalk. If the sun would just dip behind the buildings Clarke thinks she might have some relief. But as that doesn't seem like it will be happening soon enough she steps up onto the covered porch outside the store, grateful for the shade as she pulls out her list. Eyes scanning over the items, she wonders if they'll have both milk and dish soap inside.
She vaguely registers the sound of a car door slamming shut, but the voice that calls over to her a few moments later gets her attention.
"Excuse me Miss, are you lost?"
It wasn't a car door, she discovers, but the door to an old, well used green pickup truck. And the strapping boy in blue jeans, plaid button down, and white cowboy hat that addresses her rounds off the stereotype perfectly.
"And what's that supposed to mean buddy?" Clarke hadn't bothered to fix her messy bun or change out of her sweaty white t-shirt before leaving the house, and it just makes having to interact with anyone in her flustered state all the more frustrating.
The small chuckle at her words has Clarke looking up with more concentration this time, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. The smile that she's met with is bright and amused, and she thinks she catches a very distinct twinkling in sparkling green eyes. Because in her distracted state she had read the situation just a bit wrong. A gentle accent had wrapped around the stranger's words, but the voice itself is was not so deep as Clarke had originally thought. She had also missed the dark hair braided back behind the hat, and while that sharp jawline still looked dangerous, it was attached to the face of a stupidly good looking girl.
"I just mean that I haven't seen you around here before and you look as if you can't find whatever it is you're looking for. I did not mean to offend you Miss." A hat is tipped gently in her direction as the statement is made and Clarke is sent into a raging blush. Because this isn't quite the stereotype she assumed. Sure, she's a few inches taller than Clarke, with shoulders that fill out the men's shirt that she's wearing absurdly well, but the girl's face is warm and welcoming and not at all judgmental.
"Um no, uh, it's Clarke actually. I'm sorry, I, that was rude, um?" She reaches a hand out in question.
Mirth flashes over upturned lips as a calloused hand reaches out to grip Clarke's firmly. "Lexa, Lexa Woods."
Clarke feels her hand shaking back, her tongue unable to come up with its own response.
"Now, Clarke, you do indeed look a little lost. Is there anything I can help you with?" Lexa is a southern gentleman if Clarke has ever seen one. And sure, she hasn't actually met one in real life, but the movies seem to have gotten it pretty damn close.
"Oh ah, no it's okay. We just moved in, my family, we just moved here. My mom needed me to pick some things up." She's fidgeting now, lifting her list half-heartedly in the air as proof.
"Just moved in? Down off of Willow Road?" Lexa asks, brow crinkling gently in question.
Clarke's own confusion surfaces. "Uh, yeah? How did you..."
Lexa has a way of chuckling that is devoid of any hint of mocking, she notices. "It's not a big town Clarke, you'll learn that right quick." The warmth from Lexa's eyes is not stifling like the heat from the sun, not at all. "But that doesn't mean you won't have a bit of a hard time finding your way around this evening, and I would be remissed if I didn't offer to help a lady like yourself."
Clarke's eyebrows pull together and her mouth draws itself up once more as she tries not to laugh. "One, do people seriously talk like that down here, and two, I wouldn't say I'm much of a lady."
Lexa's cheerful expression doesn't falter, and is only accompanied by the shadow of a smirk. "Well anyone with any respect does, and lady or not you are still very clearly lost."
The knowing raised eyebrow has Clarke grumbling once more, pushing through the front door of the shop as she beckons Lexa behind her.
"Oh fine then."
- - -
They spend the better part of an hour in the shop, because though Lexa herself was only grabbing a Coke, in a legitimate glass bottle, she apparently knows the shopkeeper who carries on a conversation with her about some farm or something even after he's done ringing through Clarke's purchases. It's a little strange to Clarke, because this is most definitely not the type of behaviour that she is used to in Jersey, but she's not complaining. It gives her a chance to study her new acquaintance without being too weird about it.
Tall and sturdy, Lexa is both beautiful and handsome at once. She has to work out or something, Clarke thinks, because it's clear that the girl has some fairly respectable muscle beneath her clothes. Her men's clothes, Clarke notes, that Lexa seems to wear with comfort and confidence.
Was not expecting to meet a hot butch my first day here, maybe this place won't be half bad.
Clarke is shaken from her wandering thoughts when Lexa appears in front of her, blushing faintly at not having noticed that the girl had finished her conversation. Though if Lexa notices, she graciously doesn't mention anything.
"Okay so we just need to pop over to Smith's for the last of those cleaning supplies, Jeff only has the basics here unfortunately," Lexa says apologetically. "Is that okay? It's just across the square," she continues, gesturing out the window.
"Oh yeah no, of course," Clarke says as nonchalant as she can muster, "I'm in no rush to get home to unpack more boxes than I already have today."
Smiling, Lexa holds the shop door open as Clarke rolls her eyes at her, before leading them across the street. She laughs unapologetically at Clarke's disdain for the way the setting sun seemed to roast her skin, the sound sweet in her ears despite the scowl she throws Lexa's way.
Their conversation doesn't stray much from the items on the list, but Lexa still finds enough opportunities to release her refreshingly genuine laughter, a sound that Clarke is quickly learning to feel an uncomfortably strong affection for. And so Clarke is set a little off balance at the question she receives as they walk back to her car, Lexa having insisted on carrying her bags.
"What are you doing tonight Clarke?" It's definitely not pushy. It's not exactly nervous either, but maybe a little less confident from the way Lexa has spoken up until then. And when Clarke glances to her side she sees Lexa's eyes trained on the road in front of them.
"Um, nothing? Well, unpacking, but I'm trying to get out of that. Why?" They reach the silver vehicle as she says it, and Lexa moves to the trunk to deposit the items, speaking again as she does.
"Well would getting to know the area be a good enough excuse to get you out of it?" She closes the trunk firmly and meets Clarke's eyes.
"I was going to go over to Jamesonville tonight anyways, they've got a good dance hall that's easy to get into. I was going to go home to wash up and change before I ran into you, because I was at work all day, but I could pick you up after I do that?" Green eyes are hopeful, though Clarke can tell that the emotion is trying to stay hidden.
Clarke opens her mouth, but pulls up short. This is the kind of thing she would usually say no to, that she would have said no to before. Not because she's scared or anything, but why would you want to go hang out with someone you don't even know. Hell, Clarke wouldn't want to hang out with most of the people she does know.
But suddenly the idea of spending time with a stranger, with this stranger, doesn't sound so horrible. Dare she say, she kind of wants to.
"Oh um, yeah Lexa, that might actually be fun." Clarke grins, shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation. "Do you know where the house is?"
The girl beams back at her, eyes doing that sparkling thing again. "Yes ma'am. What's your last name Clarke?"
Confusion again. "Griffin, why?"
"So I can greet your parents properly Clarke, obviously." The eye roll she receives is not entirely welcomed.
"Oh god! Whatever you say Lexa, I'll see you in a bit."
- - -
When Lexa shows up on her porch forty-five minutes later she's dressed in black cowboy boots, dark jeans, one of those genuine cowboy button downs, black again, and the same white hat from earlier. A hat which is swept off her head in greeting when Clarke's mother accompanies her to the front door to "meet your new friend sweetheart."
"It's wonderful to meet you Mrs. Griffin. Welcome to Bloomfield, I hope you enjoy it here." Clarke thinks she might never stop rolling her eyes around Lexa if she keeps doing things like making her mother hold a hand to her chest at her flattery.
"Why thank you Lexa, I think we'll like it just fine."
Clarke smoothly pushes her way through the scene before her and onto the porch before the world around her can fade to black and white and they become stuck in an actual classic movie.
"Okay mom, I'll see you later alright? I'm sure Lexa wants to get going."
"Oh of course, I'm sorry dear. It was wonderful to meet you Lexa, be safe tonight."
"Always ma'am. What time would you like her home?"
Clarke does throw her head back in exasperation at this, wondering what the fuck she's gotten herself into.
"So respectful," her mother gushes, though Clarke can't complain about her next words. "Not terribly early in the morning or anything, but as long as Clarke keeps in touch she can stay out quite late."
"I'll make sure she's keeps you up to date Ma'am. It was a pleasure meeting you." Lexa all but bows before turning to walk down the front steps with Clarke, who is nearly bouncing off the edge of the porch. She can feel her mother watching them as Lexa opens the passenger door for her, arm held out to steady Clarke who stumbles trying to hoist herself up onto the bench seat, cursing under her breath about no one having trucks in Jersey as Lexa makes her way to the driver's side. She settles in and the engine roars to life under her key.
"Ready to go Miss Griffin?"
"I told you enough with the Miss thing already!"
- - -
The sun has finally gone down, only a dim orange light skirting the top of the tree line as they drive down a two lane highway to the town that Lexa says is just under an hour away. She's sat leaned against the door, head nearly hanging out the rolled down window as she watches the countryside pass by. Her legs have curled up underneath her at some point, hiding under the skirt of her red sundress. She had been worried that it might be too fancy when she had thrown it on earlier, but it was one of the few pieces near the top of her boxed up wardrobe and she was too lazy to search for anything else.
Plus, if Lexa's lingering eyes when they had pulled out of the gravel driveway had been any indication, she had her approval.
Ten minutes into the drive and the silence between them still isn't anything but comfortable, but Clarke finds herself speaking up nonetheless. "What's this place called again?"
Lexa doesn't divert her gaze from the road, driving with the utmost care. "The town? Jamesonville. It's bigger than Bloomfield, but it's not the big city that I'm guessing you're used to."
Clarke zeros in on one word of the response. "What the fuck kind of name is that?"
The lilting laugh she receives in reply has a small smile worming its way onto her face. "I don't know, what the fuck kind of name is New Jersey?" Lexa challenges.
So this is the game their gonna play huh? "Well what the fuck kind of name is Lexa?" Clarke smirks victoriously.
"It's Alexandria actually," Lexa mutters, almost too low for Clarke to hear.
"Are you serious?" Clarke asks, turning fully towards Lexa now, pulling her head back in moderately dumbfounded question.
"Yes. And you're not allowed to use it," Lexa retorts, being as firm as her manners will allow. "I don't know how I didn't just get a boring biblical name like everyone else around here. Walk through town and you'll think you've stumbled upon half of the apostles."
"How the hell did I end up in a place like this?" Clarke questions the night, hand falling over her eyes.
"I don't know Clarke, why don't you tell me about it?" Lexa counters smoothly. Clarke thinks she might have been wanting to ask since they met in town a few hours ago, but damn if Lexa Woods doesn't have tact.
"It's really not a sensational story. My dad got offered a position over in Wilmington for the next year, me and my parents agreed it was a good idea, we called a moving company, and now I'm in the car with a stranger driving to what very well could be my well executed murder."
"Just like that?" Lexa asks like she sincerely wants to know the answer. "Wasn't it hard just picking up and leaving?"
Clarke leans more heavily against the bench seat of the truck, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "Honestly, not really. My friends weren't from my school anyways, and I'll be back on the east coast by next year, so it's fine really. Jersey is nice and familiar, but I'm not in love with it you know? And there wasn't really anything keeping me there, no heartstrings to be ripped apart or anything like that to keep me around for senior year."
Lexa hums to herself for a second. "Yeah I feel you on that one. Maybe we can change that while you're here."
"Oh you think so? Cause I haven't met anyone cool since I've been here soooooo."
She can't help her cackling laugh when Lexa places a hand dramatically over her heart, mouth falling open in feigned shock. "I am very hurt by that Clarke!"
"Oh shush. What's your story anyways? You haven't actually told me anything about yourself Woods."
"My story? It's your quintessential southern tale Clarke. Born and raised in this small town. Grew up enjoying the rivers and fields, I go to a party here and there now that I'm older. I own a truck and work on a farm and dream of getting out of here after graduation this year. You know the drill." The words roll off her tongue like the fresh honey that Clarke is sure she could find somewhere around here, not a hint of bitterness to be found. Though one part of the account does peak her curiosity.
"You dream of getting out of here? But you seem like such a perfect fit Lexa?."
The girl in question smiles kindly as ever at her, taking her eyes off the road for only a moment, but it's long enough for Clarke to see the sparkle dim ever so slightly in her eyes for the first time. "Yeah well, there are a few pieces that don't line up so well, you know?"
She surprises herself when she allows her fingers to brush gently across Lexa's arm for a second. "Yeah, I get that."
"Mhm."