The Hope for the Future
“Clarke. I should tell you something.”
“Oh, god. I’m so sorry. I ramble when I drink.”
“It’s okay. I think it’s endearing. It only makes me like you more.”
“What?” Clarke sucked in a quick gasp of air, her throat bobbing visibly as she swallowed. The sudden tension in her muscles nearly had Lexa recoiling, but she just gave a determined little nod to herself and pushed on.
“I like you, Clarke. I have for years. And I can’t believe I’m actually this saying anything out loud, but I think you’re amazing. Everything you were saying, it was like you were listening to my thoughts. It’s all totally, one hundred percent, mutual.”
“Oh.”
Clarke’s alcohol-loosed face was suddenly tight with panic. Her brows furrowed, and her mouth kept doing this weird pucker thing. Her hands were wringing in her lap, and Lexa just wanted to reach out and wrap a soothing hand around them. But she didn’t. She remained silent and calm and just waited for Clarke to say something other than that horrific “oh.”
However, Clarke turned her gaze from Lexa’s face down to her hands, and Lexa’s breaths became short with dread. She was reasonably sure that Clarke had been rambling about her. Did Clarke regret telling her? Did Lexa jumping in completely throw her from her thought train? Did her own confirmation of feelings make it all of a sudden too real for Clarke? Was the realization that they could actually be something overwhelming?
They were young. And these feelings seemed huge. Lexa knew that. She understood how powerful and terrifying it was to realize that one person could ruin her in the best and worst way.
Lexa stared at her own hands, folded perfectly in her lap. A tentative hand reached forward, and fingers interlaced with her own. Clarke gave a squeeze, and Lexa finally looked up to meet her gaze.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things out loud. I really like you, Lexa. I wasn’t lying about that at all. You’re so unbelievably perfect. But these feelings are so intense, and it’s a little overwhelming to hear that you have them too. Fuck, I like you so much. I just…. I don’t think I’m ready. Not yet.”
Lexa swallowed the lump in her throat and mustered up what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Okay,” her voice was gravelly and her throat so much drier than she anticipated. She took a moment to clear the scratchiness away and wet her lips. “I understand. It’s okay.”
“I’m so sorry, Lexa. I know how unfair and cruel it was of me to say all those things and sit here now and say I’m not ready. Fuck. I’m a-”
“Clarke,” Lexa interrupted with a sudden bout of fervor. She squeezed that hand that still clasped hers, and a real smile pulled up one corner of her mouth. Clarke said she liked her. Hell, she said she was in love with her. She just wasn’t ready for it right now. Not yet.
Lexa shook her head with a breathy laugh. She cupped Clarke’s cheek with her free hand, and Clarke closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. “It really is okay. It took me three years to like one of your Instagram posts. I completely understand not being ready.”
When Clarke opened her eyes, she found a comforting warmth behind those baby blues. Lexa ran her thumb softly back and forth on Clarke’s cheek and smiled back at her. She wasn’t ready right now, but she would be one day. Lexa believed that. Because Clarke was right. Kismet. Fate. Destiny. Soulmates. Call it by any name. They were meant to be. They just needed to wait for their stars to align.
