Heaven Can't Wait - Chapter 14
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Chapter Fourteen - Why Doesn't She Like Me?
As Bellamy reads, the girl points at pictures, babbling away. By the end of the book, Bellamy’s picked up a few new words in Grounder. By the third reading, he’s learned the word for “again,” and that the girl really loves picture books.
After he finishes the book a fifth time, the girl yawns wide and snuggles against him. “No-taim,” she murmurs, smacking the book.
Bellamy groans. He forgot about this part of having kids. The repetition. The relentlessness. She slaps the book again, shooting him an impatient scowl. With a sigh, he flips to the first page. “This is the last time. I’m serious.”
She settles down, thumb in her mouth, but a few pages in, her head lolls to the side. Bellamy keeps reading, letting the cadence of his voice rock her to sleep. At the end, he holds his breath and gently closes the book, waiting. The girl snorts then starts sucking her thumb again, eyes shut. He lets out a sigh.
“That was my favorite when I was a kid, too.”
Bellamy glances up at Clarke leaning against the table across the room. When did she get here?
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It takes him way too long to regain his composure. He wonders if Clarke notices. He shakes the confusion from his head and taps a page covered in colored scribbles. “I can see that.”
Clarke laughs, crossing over to sit next to him. She pulls the book into her lap and looks through it. “I forgot about that. No wonder she kept it all these years. It’s ruined.”
“I don’t know. I think it adds character.”
She scoffs. “They’re awful.”
“You were like five.”
“Three, actually.” She smiles fondly at the pages then closes the book. “I just came by to check on you. Sorry it took so long.”
Bellamy squints around the dim room, noticing light filtering in around a blanket tacked over a window. “What time is it?”
Clarke follows his gaze. “Just after sunrise. About six.”
He rubs his forehead. “Huh. I’m not even sure what day it is.”
“I think it’s Tuesday. Not that it matters. I can open the curtain if you want.”
He blinks at her in confusion. Clarke nods at the window. “You keep staring. I can open it. It’s actually kind of nice out.”
Bellamy shakes his head then lays it on the back of the sofa. “Sorry. We didn’t have windows in our quarters. No one I knew did. It’s just weird.”
Clarke’s face flushes and she looks anywhere but at him as she picks at the corner of the book. She glances around the room. “I guess I never really thought about everything I had growing up. I really thought things were the same for everyone. That everything was fair on the Ark.” She lets out a puff of air that ruffles the hair around her face. “I’m probably just reinforcing my princess persona right now. I really was privileged.”
He gives her a crooked grin that makes her face blush more until she covers it with her hands. Bellamy laughs. “It’s not your fault, Clarke. You’re a product of your environment same as the rest of us. Besides, you kind of blew the whole princess thing to hell with Wanheda.”
She looks away, her hand going to the necklace. She drops it a few seconds later, but he can see the slump in her shoulders. The defeat. He hates it.
“Ready to talk about it yet?”
“No,” she says without looking at him.
“Not ready to talk about it now or not with me?”
Her eyes meet his. “Both?”
It comes out as a question. He nods and drops it. She’ll talk when she’s ready. Just not to me.
Part of him is relieved. He’s not sure he wants her to confide in him anyway. He wants to be a good friend, and she obviously needs to talk to someone, but on the other hand, it’s a huge punch to the gut. He’s surprised, though, at how much it hurts that she doesn’t want to talk to him about it at all.
“I heard Jasper’s party got a little out of hand last night,” Clarke says before the awkward silence can suffocate them. “Something about greased pigs and setting off the fire suppression system.”
Bellamy snorts, thankful for the change in subject. “Sounds about right. With Jasper every night is the end of the world.”
Their laughter wakes the girl. She sits up, rubbing at her eyes. Her face lights up when she sees Bellamy, but as soon as she notices Clarke, her eyes narrow. Bellamy tries not to laugh.
Clarke frowns, moving slightly away. “Why doesn’t she like me?”
The girl’s eyes narrow even more like she’s trying to bore a hole right through Clarke. Clarke shifts even farther down the couch.
Bellamy can barely contain his amusement, getting a glare from Clarke. “I’m sorry,” he says, desperately trying not to laugh at her. He just can’t help it-they’re both so damn cute sometimes. Did I really just think that?
She rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible sometimes.”
“I don’t know why she doesn’t like you. I mean, what’s not to like?” The look on her face challenges him to finish that thought. His heart flips because, really, that’s all it takes. Just a look.
Pathetic.
He tries to ignore the confused giddiness he feels. He lifts a hand, ticking off each thing on a finger. “You’re bossy. A know-it-all. Way too-”
Clarke shoves him away by his face. “You suck.”
He laughs. He forgot how good it felt to rile Clarke up. They’d been so busy the last few months just trying not to die, he hadn’t had time to smile let alone joke around. It feels good to let it out.
“I miss this.” The words slip out before he can stop them. It seems wrong to miss something that was never really there. That was always shrouded in misery. But there were some good times wedged in there somewhere, and he misses them. He can’t explain it.
Because you are a pathetic mess.
Clarke understands him, though. She rests her head on his shoulder and whispers, “Me, too.”
There goes his heart doing gymnastics again. How does she do that? If she only knew the effect she has on me. I’d be in serious trouble. Bellamy’s too busy trying to get the butterflies in his stomach to settle to notice the tension building. Then the girl shifts in his arms, drawing his attention.
The look on her face is pure murder. All directed at the spot where Clarke is touching Bellamy. Oh boy. Clarke senses the change, too. She lifts her head, her eyes going wide at the daggers the girl is shooting her. She slowly backs away, moving to the complete other end of the sofa.
Bellamy bites back a smile. “She really doesn’t like you.
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