Hey everyone! I originally wrote this as a one-shot, but if people like it, I may continue. Let me know in the comments, or on my Tumblr, chloelovesclexa. Also, don't be concerned, Maybe We Do isn't going anywhere! I just had to get this idea out there, too.

Happy reading!


"Alright, the pizza is in the oven, the timer is running, the blanket tent and pillow nest have been assembled in the den, and the DVD player is all set up. Are you still texting Raven? Is she on her way?"

"Yeah, she's still getting ready. Are you sure you want to wait for her?" Lexa sat on the kitchen counter picking at her phone case. I leaned against the stove across the room.

"Of course I do, we have to. She's the only who hasn't seen the movie; it would be pointless to start without her. I won't want to wait long after the pizza's done, though. Do you think she'll be ready by then?"

"I-I don't know," she stammered, blue light casting shadows on her face.

"Hey, are you okay?" I paced over to her, and she immediately locked and put down her phone when I jumped to the counter. "You've been buried in that thing all afternoon."

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just a new game. I'm sorry." I had learned to read Lexa long ago, and I didn't entirely believe her. The slight pout of her lip made it clear that she was in fact sorry, but she wouldn't look me in the eyes. Something was nagging at her. So I didn't.

"Well, if you're bored waiting for Raven," I teased, "maybe you could braid my hair?"

"Sure," she grinned. I swiveled on the counter and she quickly got to work coaxing out knots with her long, bony fingers. Her hands were always gentle, and her nails kept short and bare. They were always busy one way or another; weaving hair together, gliding across a piano, swiping at her iPhone's screen; yet they remained perpetually soft and smooth.

"Can I do a French braid?"

"Whatever you want, Lexa."

"Your hair is perfect for a French braid," she murmured. Her phone vibrated violently. She adjusted a cluster of my hair into her left hand and answered the text with her right.

"Is that Raven?"

"Yeah. She, um, I think I should go pick her up. She's not making much progress because she keeps getting distracted."

"Okay, do you want me to drive?"

"No, that's okay. You should stay here with the oven."

I felt the familiar tug of an elastic wrapping around the end of my braid before she released her grip and hopped down from the counter.

"Oh yeah, good call," I agreed.

"I've got to pee before I go. Would you mind finding my keys in my backpack?"

"Sure." I had retrieved her keys from the left pocket and scooped up her coat before even hearing the toilet flush in the next room. Even when it came to her mess of a bag, I knew my way around Lexa's brain. She used the left pocket for her keys not because it made them more accessible, but because it was the "perfect size" for the keys, and "the slot needed to be filled."

"Thanks, Clarke. I'll be back in ten, fifteen if she puts up a fight. Try to save us some pizza," she snickered. I shuffled back into the kitchen in my woolen socks to check the oven. The cheese was starting to melt, but the pepperoni was still uncooked and the crust hadn't reached that golden-brown color, so I closed it back up. The couch called my name. Just as I sunk into it and opened a book, I heard a sharp buzz from the kitchen. Startled is an understatement; I rolled off the couch onto the floor and my book flew out of my hands, across the room. I scanned the kitchen for movement before investigating; there was nothing. Suddenly the same grating sound pierced the room, and I noticed its source: Lexa's phone glowing blue on the countertop.

"Attached all night until you actually need it. Of course," I mumbled. When I saw the light on the screen read "Raven," I decided to answer it, and let her know Lexa was on her way. I entered the passcode, 4001, and read the most recent message in Raven's feed.

(Raven) Im telling u lexa she likes u too.

She likes you too? Lexa likes someone? Why hasn't she told me?

I scrolled a little higher and read the last few messages before Raven's.

(Lexa) Im coming to get u. I cant tell her, game over

(Raven) NO :( lexa dont u dare get in the car sit your ass back down and tell clarke how u feel! Im not going to be a third wheel in this and im not going to help u put it off anymore

I couldn't stop myself. There was more, so much more, and I knew suddenly what Lexa had been doing all afternoon, and why Raven was procrastinating so insistently. I read through dozens of their texts. The initial guilt ebbed away as I saw message after message of Lexa telling Raven about how sweet it was of me to give her the last ice cream sandwich, how cute I was when I concentrated in guitar hero, how warm I was when I hugged her, how beautiful I was when I smiled.

Heat rushed to my face, and I closed out of the app. Her background was of the two of us, bundled up in scarves and mittens, standing proudly in front of a lumpy snow man. I had known Lexa for years, since we started middle school, but until that moment I had never noticed the way she looked at me. I saw it in the photo; while I smirked for the camera, her eyes were trained on me, and her smile was more genuine than any I had ever given. There were dimples like craters in her wind-burned cheeks. Snowflakes freckled her hat and shined in her long chestnut hair.

The phone shook against my hands.

(Raven) Did you tell her?

It was Raven.

Lexa must not have arrived yet.

Without my permission, my index finger selected the notification, reopening Lexa's messages. My thumbs tapped away unauthorized.

(Lexa) No, she didnt. But you did. This is Clarke. Lexas on her way over, send her right back, okay? Tell her i said to come right back, without you

Three grey dots appeared in the bottom left corner; Raven was typing.

(Raven) Whatever you say Griffin…

What am I doing? Lexa's going to be back here in like, ten minutes. What am I going to do? What am I going to say to her?

I had paced frantically up and down the hallway towards my bedroom and back several times before the smell hit me. Smoke billowed from the stove up towards the ceiling, clouding the kitchen. I scrambled for oven mitts and yanked open the door; more smoke spilled into the room around me and into my lungs. Coughing and sputtering, I dragged a charred brick of pizza from the oven's mouth and dropped it to the counter with a thud. Then, as if on cue, the smoke detector set to screaming. With the oven slapped shut and turned off, I grappled for a broom in the closet.

"Alright, alright, I get it, there's smoke!"

After a few moments of jabbing the smoke detector with the broom handle and cursing under my breath, peace returned to the house. I slumped down on the floor right there in the hall, still wearing oven mitts and cradling a broom in my arms. Stringy curls fell from my braid, and a few stray tears had dried where they spilled over after cleansing my eyes from the smoke. I was a mess.

The front door flew open, then, and Lexa burst in, breathing audibly. I crawled down the hall towards the stairs, dragging the broom behind me, and saw her face, streaked with real tears tinted black where her mascara had mixed and melted. Her hair and navy blue sweater were darkened and dripping with fresh rain. She was a mess. And she saw it too; we were a mess. She let loose one of those shaky, half-sobbing laughs.

"Clarke, I- what're you- why are you on the floor?"

I dropped the broom with a clatter and leapt down the stairs to stand beside her. For a moment, we just stood there in that space, breathing in the same air. I could have smelled the rain on her clothes if it weren't for the burning cheese still lingering through the house. Oven mitts tossed to the welcome mat beneath us, my left hand sifted gently through strands of her damp hair and pressed them to her cheeks, so warm from the crying they should have let off steam at the touch. She looked at me through glistening eyes, and parted her lips as if to speak, but the only sound she made was a sharp, shocked breath as my mouth met hers.