The Mystery Package
Lexa settled back into the couch as Gal Gadot narrated her love of the world and pulled the fluffy blanket from behind her. She carefully draped the throw over Clarke’s legs and then her own, sighing inaudibly as Clarke scooted a little closer in the process.
By the time Diana was dragging an unconscious Steve to the shore, Clarke’s entire side was pressed right up against Lexa’s. When Diana explained to Steve that men were unnecessary for pleasure, a warm, soft hand wrapped around her own under the blanket. As Diana and Steve danced in the town square, Lexa’s shoulder was warmed by Clarke’s cheek.
Lexa didn’t even attempt to stop the slow smile that pulled across her face as Clarke’s breathing evened out. She slightly shifted and wrapped her arm around Clarke, bringing her close to her chest as she slept. She let Clarke nuzzle up against her for the duration of the movie, just enjoying the warmth of her body and the comforting cadence of her deep breaths as she slept.
As the credits rolled, Lexa bit the bullet and gently jostled the sleeping beauty. “Clarke?”
She knew the moment Clarke woke as she sucked in an almost panicked breath of air and shot straight up. Lexa lamented the loss of body heat as Clarke blinked at the scrolling credits and looked at her with an almost apologetic smile on her face.
Not wanting Clarke to feel remorseful at all for falling asleep on her, Lexa quickly smiled, “Hey, sleepyhead, I think I better walk you back to your place.”
Clarke stood and reached for her jacket. “You don’t have to walk me,” she yawned.
“It’s dark out.” Lexa stood and turned off her television. She made her way towards the front door and paused at the shoe rack. “And you’re tired. I wouldn’t feel right letting you walk by yourself.”
Clarke must have sensed the uselessness of any further argument and just waited for Lexa to pull on a pair of boots and coat of her own. “Such a gentlewoman.”
The twenty-minute walk was spent in comfortable silence, and about halfway to their destination, Lexa found the courage to intertwine her hand with Clarke’s. The heat that shot from her fingertips to her cheeks as Clarke subtly squeezed their connected hands was as welcome as it was unexpected.
All too soon, Lexa was standing in front of Clarke’s door, but this time she didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward and wrapped Clarke tightly in a warm embrace. She lingered, holding her for a fraction longer than platonically acceptable, but she didn’t care. Her mind had given up its fight ages ago; her heart was in full control.
Clarke broke away first. “Thanks for walking me home.”
“My pleasure.” With a last prolonged look at the woman waving tenderly towards her, Lexa turned the corner and made her way home.
She settled into bed and struggled to fall asleep as memories of Clarke snuggled up against her danced loudly in her mind. If she tried hard enough, she could still smell that chamomile shampoo on her shoulder.
The next morning came with a frenzy of curse words and self-berating. In her post-Clarke snuggles, Lexa had neglected, for the first time in her life, to set her alarm. She sprinted out of bed throwing on the first things she found and bolted for the door, grabbing her Colonial Latin America materials as she went.
As she stepped onto her welcome mat just outside her front door, her toe kicked a neatly wrapped package. She bent down and held the box in her hand. A little tag hung off the elaborate bow that just read:
For your History of Colonial Latin America notes...
Lexa was running late. Very late. She had only a few minutes to get to class, and she’d never been tardy in her life. She could take a few moments to open the mystery package, or she could be reasonable and open the gift after returning home from class.
Lexa should...