The Moji-Tea Ramble

 

Turns out, Clarke’s moji-teas were dangerously delicious. Before they knew it, they had consumed one and a half of the tasty cocktails a piece, and Lexa was definitely, one hundred percent tipsy and well on her way to drunk. But she didn’t feel that concerned about it, because Clarke was right with her.

 

They were curled up on the couch, taking turns choosing songs, singing along wildly to Spice Girls, A-ha, and Fleetwood Mac. Lexa was giggling madly at her excellent rendition of Never Going Back again when she suddenly felt heat shoot up her leg.

 

Clarke had her hand on Lexa’s lower thigh, and her face was suddenly unreadable. “Have you ever just met someone and you were like, whoa, yeah, this person is amazing and I want to spend all this time with them and it feels like it should be weird cuz you talk to them all the time but you still need more but like not in a creepy way?”

 

“What?” Lexa blinked back her confusion and struggled to process what Clarke was saying. Her question didn’t even jostle Clarke at all. She just sighed and kept rambling.

 

“Like, you just know that this person is going to be important to you. Kismet. That’s what it is. Fate. Destiny. Soulmates. It’s just supposed to be. That’s why it feels so natural, and why it’s so easy. Do you know what I’m talking about? Does that make sense?”

 

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded. It made total sense. That’s how she felt about Clarke. Wait, was Clarke talking about her right now? Was that too much to hope for?

 

“Ugh, and then all of a sudden this person is like all you can think about and not just cuz they’re awesome, which they totally are, but also because you want to be with them. Like, be with them. Hold them, kiss, hug, snuggle. Fuck, Lexa. FUCK. Like you dream about them touching you and you touching them and what their skin would taste like.”

 

“Umm…” Lexa’s skin began to tingle, and the blush that rose from her chest to her cheeks set the tingle on fire. Because Clarke was sitting there talking about what skin would taste like and all Lexa could now think about was if Clarke’s lips would taste like the strawberry chapstick she always wore.

 

“But it’s not just a sex thing. It’s so much more than that. Like I think this is love. I think I’m in love.”

 

Lexa’s heart was seriously about to beat right out of her chest. Clarke was describing, not very articulately and with far too many run-on sentences, exactly how Lexa felt about her. And Clarke could very well be talking about her.

 

Lexa could take a leap of faith and confess, right here and now, how she felt about Clarke. She could be brave and hope Clarke was talking about her. Or she could let Clarke continue her not so eloquent ramble and find out for sure if she was indeed talking about Lexa.

 

Lexa should…