The Perfect Cup of Tea
Without a word, Lexa began walking down the path again. When she noticed Clarke wasn’t following, she looked over her shoulder and gently gestured with a nod for Clarke to follow. “The student center has an electric kettle.”
When Clarke still didn’t move, Lexa reached into her messenger bag, her fingers easily finding the handful of packets she always kept stashed for an emergency and held them up for Clarke to see.
“Oh. My. God.”
“What?”
“You actually carry around tea bags?”
Lexa just shrugged. “I like what I like.”
Clarke rolled her eyes so dramatically that her entire body moved, and Lexa found the exaggeration incredibly endearing.
“This better be the best damn cup of tea I’ve ever had in my life,” Clarke mumbled as she quickly caught up to Lexa. They walked in relative silence to the student center, and Lexa quickly filled the electric kettle grabbing two paper cups as she waited for the water to heat.
“So…” Clarke leaned against the counter and tore open the bags with ease, placing one in each cup. “How’re classes?”
“Oh, fine.”
“That’s it?” Clarke prodded. “Just fine?”
“Academically they’re fine.”
“I sense a story there. Does this have to do with that guy in your history class who keeps hitting on you?”
“Mmhmm,” Lexa nodded solemnly. That guy was relentless, and just the thought of him had her lips pursed in annoyance. “I told him I was a lesbian last week.”
“And…?”
The kettle clicked off, and Lexa busied herself with pouring the perfectly heated water into each cup. “He said, and I quote: ‘Oh, that’s okay. My cousin’s best friend is a lesbian. Should I pick you up at seven tonight?’”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” Lexa enunciated brutally. “And he’s still asking me after nearly every class to join him for coffee or dinner. He won’t take no for an answer.”
“There is Plan B.”
“What Plan B?”
“Simple. Rainbow-colored notebook, unicorn, woman of your dreams.”
Lexa glanced down to find the water had turned that perfect shade of brown and pulled the tea bags out of the cups. She discarded the used teabags and absent-mindedly handing Clarke a cup. She was met with arched eyebrows, and Lexa struggled to remember what Clarke was talking about. “What?”
“Come on; you could go into your class on Monday, pull out a rainbow colored notebook, smack him over the head with it while shouting ‘I’m a lesbian! No means no!’ Remember to do it just as class is dismissed, for the witnesses. And then waltz out of the lecture hall with your head held high, and hop on to the back of your unicorn, where the woman of your dreams is sitting, and kiss her like there’s no tomorrow as you both ride off into the sunset!”
Lexa shook her head at Clarke’s admittedly humorous but no less far-fetched scheme. “I’m not going to hit the guy with a rainbow.”
Clarke let out a breathy little laugh before taking a tentative sip of her tea. “Okay, you’re right.”
“I know,” Lexa nodded, blowing on her tea before taking a sip of her own. “Violence should only be a last resort.”
“No,” Clarke shook her head and smiled. “I mean, yes, that’s true, blood shouldn’t always be repaid with blood, but that’s not what I was talking about.”
Confused, Lexa just slowly sipped her tea, her eyes asking the question for her.
“This is one of the best cups of tea I’ve ever had.” Clarke raised her cup in cheers, and the pride that burst from Lexa’s chest had her sitting taller and smirking into her perfect cup of tea.
They finished their drinks amidst perfect small talk, and Lexa was in awe of how easy it was to converse with Clarke. The woman was witty and charming and far more earnest than Lexa could have ever imagined.
“Well, I should get going.” Clarke stood and took Lexa’s empty cup the recycle bin as well as hers. Lexa stood and followed Clarke outside and down the path towards her dorm. They arrived at a little fork in the walkway, and Clarke paused, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at practice?”
“Yes,” Lexa grinned. “Goodnight, Clarke.”
“Night, Lexa.” Clarke smiled once more, tucked her hands in her coat pocket, and began her trek away from Lexa.
Lexa glanced down the softly lit path that led to Clarke’s dorm. She should walk her home. It would add a good half hour to her trek back to her own apartment, but she’d feel good knowing Clarke made it home safely.