The Internal Instagram Debate

 

Lexa slumped back in the lumpy bench, her head resting stiffly against the hard polyester seat. Her phone cast a blue light on her face, illuminating her seat in a ghostly glow. The photo grid displayed in front of her was anything but ghostly.

 

Lexa spared a discreet glance over her shoulder. Her eyes easily skimmed past the rows of rowdy twenty-somethings, landing on the gorgeous honey blonde hair currently draped over a face she’d studied far more than she’d like to admit. Clarke Griffin had her nose buried in a book, an art history book to be exact, as the bus bounced and her hair danced on her strong shoulders.

 

The corners of Lexa’s mouth began their inevitable tilt upwards at the sight of the stunningly beautiful soccer player. And she wasn’t just talking about Clarke’s gorgeous, powerful curves or the way her hair cascaded down to her shoulders or that little twinkle in those soft blue eyes or the way her nose crinkled when she smiled. No, she was also talking about Clarke’s immense intelligence, her undeniable desire to help people, her ability to make everyone around her smile with just a few choice words. Lexa was talking about the beautifully amazing inside and out, soccer player.

 

Who she was obviously, irrefutably in love with. Not that she would ever admit that out loud. She had been watching Clarke from a distance for years. If she suspected that Clarke liked her even a fraction of the way Lexa did, she would have been all over that ages ago. Maybe.

 

Lexa quickly turned her focus back to her phone, terrified of being caught gawking. She cocked her head slightly to the side as she tapped on the first photo that caught her eye. A simple selfie: Clarke giving the camera a little sly smirk, nearly non-existent makeup, her natural beauty on full display. Lexa sighed at the photo before tapping the back arrow.

 

She pulled up a second post. Blue cleat clad feet. She’d recognize Clarke’s cleats of choice anywhere. Lexa pathetically thought the blue matched the color of her eyes as if that was the reason Clarke chose them.

 

Lexa inhaled deeply, the oxygen pulling slowly through her nose as her finger hovered over that tiny little heart. She caught herself just in time and hit the back button.

 

Lexa’s eyes darted back and forth from the selfie to the soccer cleats. She should like one. She’d stared at them long enough…