i don’t wanna be your friend (i wanna kiss your lips)
She can’t exactly pinpoint the exact moment it all started. It began with her attraction to Lexa, of course, what else could it have began with, but when did it become more than tentative – at times, awkward – friendship?
Please, she tells herself, and her inner voice sounds just like Raven’s – because what else best friends are for if not for embodying one’s conscience. As if it ever was just friendship.
But that’s all it ever could be. Even if she ignored the fact that they are neighbors – and you don’t start anything with your neighbors for the same reason you don’t start anything with your coworkers, or roommates, or friends’ brothers and sisters – even if she ignored that, their age difference would still remain. Clarke can’t fuck someone who’s still in college. She just can’t.
Except that’s exactly what she’s about to do, and if the heat of Lexa’s gaze is any indication, she certainly doesn’t mind.
Clarke takes a hurried sip of her wine and gulps it down, just to have something to do; and, as it usually happens with her and alcohol, her mind takes her down memory lane, in a futile attempt to figure out where it was that she went wrong.
