The Three Truths

Chapter 14

Sociology was boring.

That's what Lexa got from the first lecture, and despite others' assurances that it was an easy A, that the boredom was worth it, Lexa had decided by the end of the first class period to drop the course the second she returned to her dorm room. (But then she saw the familiar blonde head, and she hadn't been able to muster the energy to drop the course.)

It took several lectures before Lexa mustered the courage to sit next to the blonde—the biology major—and smile at her awkwardly.

"Hi. You're the walking sleep deprivation PSA." Blue eyes met hers, and Lexa felt her breath hitch, felt her hands go numb. (Was this normal? This couldn't be normal.)

"Oh my god. Hi! And I actually go by Clarke. Walking sleep deprivation PSA is reserved only for finals week." She held out her hand, grinning widely, and after a short pause, Lexa took it.

"I'm Lexa," she said, surprised Clarke even heard her.

"Hi Lexa," Clarke answered, still smiling widely. "It's really nice to meet you."

//

Lexa paced the room.

They'd become closer over the last few months, and Lexa found herself at Clarke's dorm more often than she liked to admit. (Raven told her it was annoying, grinning the whole time. Octavia—Clarke's roommate—kept hinting that Clarke and Lexa might as well find an apartment together for their senior year.)

"Lexa. Relax."

"I can't relax, Clarke. I can't. It's all ruined. Holy fucking shit. I can't believe this. I ruined it."

"Lexa—"

"It's my entire grade, Clarke. I knew I shouldn't have taken this dumb class. Who was I kidding? I'm not an artist! Who the fuck requires an art elective?"

"Well, the university—"

"I'm going to fail. I've never failed before. Never. And an art class has defeated me." Clarke, who was on the couch, her textbook open on her lap, raised her eyebrows, staring at the painting in Lexa's hands.

"It's not that bad."

"Don't lie, don't lie to me. I can tell, you think it's terrible. God, an art class, who was I kidding?"

"Lexa, it's not even ruined. It looks fine."

"The paint is running! It looks like a blob. It was supposed to be a person. Or a bowl. Or something that wasn't a blob." Clarke laughed, only just managing to hide it by turning her head away. "You think this is funny?"

"No, of course not. This is very serious. And I promise you, you're not going to fail." Lexa ceased her pacing, throwing the painting down in disgust, refusing to meet Clarke's eyes.

"It's hopeless. I'm hopeless. I should just go home." She made to pick up her jacket and leave, but Clarke got to her feet in a hurry, knocking her textbook to the ground without paying it any mind, and grabbed Lexa by the wrist.

"Wait, no. Just stay, okay? You're upset, and your roommate pisses you off. Just stay tonight."

"Clarke—"

"You're upset. You think I'm going to let you go off on your own?" Lexa swallowed hard, staring down at where Clarke's hand gripped her wrist, where her skin suddenly burned for no reason whatsoever. "Stay. Okay?"

"I'm going to fail an art class, Clarke. It's so fucked up." Clarke held out her arms and Lexa stepped into them, accepting Clarke's embrace, her comfort, inhaling the faint scent of her perfume.