Clarke burst through the bedroom door to find Bellamy lying on his bed, with his hands pillowed behind his head while that youtube channel about The Great War rumbled from his laptop speakers.

"Seriously?" Clarke asked. "You're the worst," she said and pushed his feet off the side of the bed so she could sit down.

"Right, sorry," Bellamy said, "Excuse me for existing in my own bedroom."

"Have you even started packing yet?" Clarke asked.

"Sure," Bellamy said and pointed a finger towards a duffel bag laying on the floor in the corner of his room.

Clarke crossed the room to go look into it.

"There's just a sock, your toothbrush, and three fruit-to-go's," Clarke said.

"Shit, really?" Bellamy asked and sat up. "Take the toothbrush out, I'm going to need that tonight and tomorrow morning."

"Bellamy."

"Okay, fine," he stood and stretched his arms out. "But my hockey gear is already packed, I don't really know what else I need besides pajamas."

"Bring a dress shirt and tie," Clarke said.

"Why?"

"What if they want to sign you right there and then?" Clarke asked. "You might need to give a press conference."

"I'm just here so I don't get fined," Bellamy yawned.

"You're going to need so much media training," Clarke wrinkled her nose. "But seriously, the scouts might want to meet with you or take you to dinner to talk about your options. You don't want to show up in sweats and flip flops."

"Maybe they'd like that. Maybe they'd think I'm super chill."

"That's what GMs are looking for," Clarke nodded sagely. "Wingers who are super chill."

They rooted around in Bellamy closet and threw all the clothes they thought he'd need onto the bed. They wasted about half an hour trying to roll all of his outfits into tube socks like Clarke had seen on some lifehack post on tumblr. The sock trick didn't work but it did make all of Bellamy's clothes wrinkly.

"I don't care, at this point, I'm willing to just wear a toga made out of the hotel bedsheets all weekend," Bellamy said as he crumpled one of his t-shirts into a ball and threw it in the duffel bag.

"Okay, but at the very least we need to iron the dress shirt," Clarke said. "This looks ridiculous," she pointed to the collar which had somehow been folded in the opposite direction of it's crease.

Bellamy couldn't remember where his mom stashed the steam iron so they had to improvise.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Bellamy asked.

"Positive," Clarke said as she took a pot of boiling water off the stove. They kneeled on the floor of the kitchen and Clarke carefully pressed the bottom of the pot onto the shirt, smoothing it out from the centre.

"Science," she whispered, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Well," Bellamy said when she was finished, "it's not exactly pressed to perfection but it looks a hell of a lot less like an elephant's asshole."

"Ringing endorsement," Clarke snorted. "Is there anything else we're forgetting?"

Bellamy stood up and tossed the pot in the sink, his mouth twisting.

"I don't think so," he frowned. "As long as I have my skates, my gear, and my jersey, I'm happy."

"How are you getting to school tomorrow?" Clarke asked.

"I was gonna drive," Bellamy said.

"And leave your truck in the school parking lot for three days?" Clarke asked. "My mom's driving me in- you want a ride?"

Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

"Your mom?" he asked.

"Yeah," Clarke rolled her eyes.

"Alright, if you're sure," Bellamy shrugged.

"I'm sure," Clarke said. She passed Bellamy his shirt and moved to grab her shoes.

"Just wait, I'll walk you out," Bellamy said. "I'm just going to put this away," he waved his button-up at her.

In the minute it took for him to run to his room and back, Octavia had somehow cornered Clarke in the front hallway.

"I've had better results with squatting than I ever did with sit-ups," Octavia explained, oblivious to Bellamy watching over her shoulder.

"Go ahead. Hit me," she said and patted her own stomach. "I won't feel a thing."

"Octavia!" Bellamy barked.

She jumped and jolted around.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Stop asking people to punch you in the abdomen. That's how Houdini died."

"Bell, that's not even true!"

"It is actually," he said as an aside to Clarke. "I read it in a book once."

Octavia snorted.

"You saw it on some bullshit show on the biography channel."

He turned back to Clarke.

"I saw it on the biography channel."

Clarke snickered and shook her head.

"Okay," Bellamy unlocked the door and jerked it open. "I'll be back in a minute, O. Try not to burn down the house."

"Just your room," Octavia responded. "Bye Clarke."

"Bye."

Bellamy shut the door behind them and waited until he heard Octavia turn the deadbolt locked before he headed towards the stairs.

"You know, I made it up to your apartment on my own just fine when I got here," Clarke said as they reached the steps.

"I know," Bellamy answered. "But its dark out now and this isn't the best neighbourhood."

"I thought you said this place was better than your old neighbourhood."

Bellamy scoffed.

"Pretty much anywhere's better than our old neighbourhood," he said and kicked at a piece of chipped concrete.

Clarke jostled up against his shoulder. He glanced at her before redirecting his gaze to his shoes and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Things were. . .bad then," he shrugged. "My mom had to do a lot of shit just to keep the lights on."

"But she doesn't anymore?" Clarke asked.

"She works her ass off," Bellamy conceded. "But at least she's just cleaning office buildings now. At least she can make rent."

"'What changed?" Clarke asked. "Is it just because you and Octavia started working?"

"That's part of it," Bellamy nodded. "Mom got the cleaning job too. And my grandpa died and left us the truck and enough money to afford first and last month's rent on a new lease."

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Clarke pushed the door open to walk out into the parking lot.

"So things are better," Bellamy said, "but we're still living on the south side. I'm still nervous about O walking around here after dark," he said and checked over his shoulder.

"What about you?" Clarke asked, fishing her mom's key fob out of her pocket.

"What about me?" Bellamy asked.

"Are you nervous walking around here after dark?" she asked. "Who's going to walk you back up to the door?"

He shrugged.

"If anyone tries to jump me on the way up the stairs, I have O on speed dial," he smiled. "She'll fly out the door in her gi and drop a guillotine choke on whoever's giving me trouble."

Clarke snorted and got in the car.

"She does have abs of steel," she said. "But still. Text me when you get upstairs."

"Clarke-" Bellamy laughed.

"Just do it," she insisted. "We'll pick you up at quarter to seven tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed.

His hand twitched by his side and he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet.

"What?" Clarke asked.

Bellamy wound up his mouth like he was trying not to smile.

"Pittsburgh," he whispered.

Clarke grinned.

"I know," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

IIIIIIII

It was still dark out when Bellamy trudged out of his apartment and into the cold, morning air to meet Clarke in the parking lot.

"Good morning," Abby rolled down her window to chirp from the front seat. "You can probably fit your hockey bag in the trunk but the duffel might have to go in the backseat with you."

Bellamy obediently rounded the back of the car and stuffed his bag in the trunk before cramming into the backseat.

"Thanks for driving me, Dr. Griffin," he said as he clicked on his seatbelt.

"Not a problem," Abby said and smiled at him through the rearview mirror.

Clarke huffed and twisted around in the passenger seat to look at Bellamy. She had a toque pulled over her blond hair and she was hunkered down in an oversized hoodie. His oversized hoodie, he noticed belatedly.

"Hey," she nodded at him.

"Hey," he grunted back.

"Tea," she said and passed him a take-out cup in a cardboard sleeve.

He wrapped his hands around the cup, and pulled it to his chest so he could feel its heat bleed through the front of his sweatshirt. He peeled back the lid and breathed in the steam.

"Honey lemon?" he asked.

"Obviously," Clarke rolled her eyes. She took a long draught of her own cup of tea and gave him a once over.

"You look like shit," she observed.

"Clarke!" Abby admonished.

"Sorry," Clarke said but continued to stare at Bellamy with her eyebrow raised.

Bellamy rubbed his cheek and caught his own reflection in the glare off the window from the streetlights. The dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced in the shadowy car than they had been in the bathroom mirror earlier that morning.

"I didn't sleep much," he admitted. "But we don't have any games today, just registration so hopefully I can just nap on the bus and still get to bed early tonight."

"Yeah, hopefully," Clarke nodded. "Is that toothpaste on your sweatshirt?"

Bellamy bent over and tugged his sweatshirt away from his chest to inspect.

"Shit," he whispered.

"Stay fresh, Blake," Clarke smirked and twisted back around in her seat.

When they reached the school parking lot, the coach bus was already parked in front of the main entrance.

Bellamy whistled and pressed his face up against the window.

"Thank god," he said, fogging up the glass with his breath. "I thought for sure Jaha was going to make us ride the four hours to Pittsburgh in a school bus."

"There's still time for him to change his mind," Clarke said.

Abby parked the car underneath a street light and they all climbed out to unload the car.

"I don't have to be at work until 8 so I can stick around to help you load all the luggage onto the bus," Abby offered.

"No, we got it," Clarke adjusted the bag strap on her shoulder and looked at the ground. "Thanks for the ride, I'll text you when we get there."

Abby reached for Clarke's shoulders to pull her into a hug but Clarke shrugged away.

"Bye," Clarke said pointedly.

Abby withdrew her hand and inhaled sharply.

"Uh, bye Dr. Griffin, thanks for the ride," Bellamy said and stuck out his hand to shake.

Abby squinted at him but took his hand and pulled him closer.

"You'll watch out for her?" she asked him, her voice low and her eyes darting back to Clarke.

"Yeah, of course," Bellamy swallowed.

"Good," Abby said and squeezed his hand. She took a step back and waved at the both of them. "I'll pick you up here on Sunday night," she said. And with that she turned and got back in her car.

Bellamy watched her go and hitched his bag up further on his shoulder.

"Well, that was awkward," he muttered.

Clarke elbowed him in the ribs and turned towards the bus.

"I can't believe you shook her hand."

"I panicked," he admitted. "I almost hugged her but caught myself at the last second."

Soon enough, members of the skate team and the hockey team started pulling up in the parking lot, bleary-eyed and sporting pajamas or sweat pants. Somehow, they managed to pack all of the duffel bags and hockey bags and luggage carriers into the cargo hold. Mr. Kane and Mr. Sinclair leaned against the side of the bus sipping coffee and counting heads as they walked on.

"Alright," Mr. Kane shouted when everyone was seated. "We're going to drive for about two hours and then make a pit stop so this is really your last chance to go to the bathroom," he looked up and down the aisle.

"Does everyone have everything? Ice skates? Cell phone? Wallet?"

Everyone started talking at once, some affirming Mr. Kane's questions but most just chattering excitedly and bouncing in their seats.

"Okay," Mr. Kane dragged a hand down his cheek. "I guess we're ready to go."

The bus lurched forward and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Jasper," Mr. Kane called out. "The floor's all yours."

Jasper Jordan stood to his feet and loped to the front of the bus.

"Alright everyone," he called out. "We have a long ride ahead of us but lucky for you, Mr. Kane entrusted me with providing the entertainment for this trip."

"He volunteered," Mr. Kane interrupted. "I just gave him permission."

"Anyway," Jasper soldiered on, "This coach bus is blessed with not only a TV but also the finest DVD player money can buy."

"No one cares!"

"I've hand selected our first feature film so strap in because its going to be a wild ride."

"We're on a bus, Jasper, there's no seatbelts."

"I meant figuratively," Jasper smiled and nodded his head. "Although this next film might literally blow your mind."

"Oh my god."

"Alright," he grinned. "Get ready. For a knee-slapping story about Jack: the rookie player who skates a little faster, shoots a little harder, and is driving everyone BANANAS."

"Jesus Christ," Bellamy swore. "If he says MVP, I'm going to lose it-"

"MVP. Most Valuable Primate."

"Jasper, no."

"Come on."

"We're not watching this bullshit for four hours."

"Well obviously not," Jasper scoffed, "MVP is only a 93 minute movie. That leaves us enough time for The Mighty Ducks, Miracle, The Mighty Ducks Two, Blades of Glory and Remember the Titans."

"Remember the Titans is a football movie."

"Yeah," Jasper agreed, "but it's a really good football movie."

Bellamy sighed and closed his eyes.

"I can't take this," he whispered. "Not again."

"Again?" Clarke asked.

"Octavia might have gone through a phase. An Air Bud phase," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, I only have a port for one set of headphones so you're on your own for this one," he said and pulled a cracked mp3 player out of his pocket.

"That bad?" Clarked asked.

Bellamy quirked an eyebrow.

"You said podcasts were your go-to coping mechanism," Clarke reminded him. "We're like 37 seconds into this trip and you're already bringing out the heavy artillery."

"I don't think you fully understand the trauma I suffered during Octavia's Air Bud phase," Bellamy said. "I don't think you fully appreciate that it was my job to beta her Air Bud fanfiction."

Clarke clapped a hand to her mouth and giggled.

"Yeah," Bellamy said wearily. "I'll see you on the other side, Clarke. Wake me up when he puts on The Mighty Ducks." And with that, he put his headphones on, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes.

By the time Jasper was swapping out MVP for Blades of Glory, Bellamy had passed out quite comfortably. In his sleep, he'd slumped down in his seat with his legs sprawled out and his head lolled against Clarke's shoulder. His heavy breaths tickled her neck. She sat very still and only moved to wake him up when the bus pulled into a rest stop off the highway.

"Where are we?" he blinked awake, his hair a mess and his voice low and gravelly.

"Somewhere in Ohio," Clarke answered.

She shifted out from underneath his weight and stood up, stretching until her joints popped.

"Snack time?" Bellamy asked behind a yawn.

"Yeah," Clarke nodded. "Come on, if we hurry we might be able to make it in before McDonald's stops serving breakfast."

"Fuck," Bellamy muttered and jumped to his feet before launching himself into the aisle.

"Let's go!" he shouted at the line-up of people clogging the aisle ahead of them.

The rest of the drive went by in a similar fashion. The students intermittently napped, chomped down on junk food, watched Jasper's horrible movies, and occasionally had moments of stir-crazy madness. Mr. Kane and Mr. Sinclair sat at the front of the bus throwing back cups and cups of coffee. When they finally passed the City of Pittsburgh road sign, the kids shook each other awake and crowded around the windows.

"Do you think we'll see Sidney Crosby?" Miller asked with his nose fogging up the glass.

"No, the Pens have a game in Tampa Bay tonight, I already checked," Bellamy answered.

The bus pulled into a Quality Inn and everyone scrambled to unload their bags from the cargo holds. Check-in was an absolute nightmare with kids carrying hockey bags and skates swarming the lobby. Ark High School wasn't the only school with teams staying at the hotel- it was packed with student athletes from all over. A teenage boy walked by carrying a curling broom and Clarke elbowed Bellamy to point him out. Bellamy's eyes flicked from the broom to Clarke and he burst out laughing.

"Does this look like a curling broom to you?" she imitated him in a low voice.

"Jesus, I completely forgot about that," he said.

"Repressed memory," Clarke raised her eyebrows.

After check-in at the hotel, there was tournament registration at the arena. The entire team had to get back on the bus and ride to the arena where they lined up behind a fold-out table.

"Name?" demanded a disgruntled woman sitting behind the table.

"Bellamy Blake."

"Student ID," she asked without looking up from her laptop.

Bellamy fumbled with his wallet before sliding his ID across the table. The woman's fingers clicked away loudly at her keyboard as she entered his information.

"Ark High hockey team?" she asked.

"Uh, yes," Bellamy cleared his throat. "And also the Ark High skate team."

The clacking stopped and she looked up.

"Are you fooling around?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," Bellamy shook his head. "I'm on both- I'm competing for the Ark High hockey team and the skate team."

The woman raised her eyebrows and looked back at the computer screen.

"Well, alright," she said.

"Excuse me," Clarke said from somewhere near Bellamy's shoulder. "I just wanted to double check. None of his events conflict?"

The woman huffed and ruffled through her papers before pulling out the event schedule.

"Which events are you skating in?" she asked.

"The pairs original dance," Bellamy answered.

The woman uncapped a highlighter and circled a square on the schedule.

"That's the original dance," she explained. "It doesn't overlap with any of your games."

"What if he wins?" Clarke asked. "What if the hockey team makes it to the semis or the finals?"

"Nope," the woman shook her head and passed Bellamy the schedule. "Shouldn't be a problem."

Bellamy and Clarke looked at each other and grinned.

"Alright," Clarke nodded her head as they walked away. "All that's left to do now is skate."

IIIII

But skating proved to be no short order. The following day was jam-packed with events. The hockey team was up bright and early for their first game at 8 o'clock and they had two more games scheduled later in the day. The boys ran across the street to Giant Eagle in between games so they could stock up on food.

"Just eat something light in between games," Mr. Kane begged. "Fruit and cereal. You can eat pizza when you're done for the night."

Bellamy loaded up on Gatorade, apples, and All-Bran bars. He had wanted to slip away to the figure skating rink to watch Clarke's long program but after his second game he was so tired that he ended up napping in Murphy's hotel room with his water bottle still in his hands. Luckily, Miller was on top of things and went around knocking on doors to get the team up for their last game of the day. Bellamy felt a little groggy from his nap but by the time he reached the arena, the cold air snapped him awake and the adrenaline of playing in front of scouts perked him up.

He was dead on his feet when the team went for a late dinner at the hotel restaurant. He inhaled a bowl of pasta and trudged upstairs to his room. Jasper and Monty were already there, sitting side by side on one double bed with the sheets pulled up to their chins and watching American Ninja Warrior on TV. Bellamy brushed his teeth and settled in on his own double bed.

"How are you still up?" Nathan asked when he came in.

"I'm hydrating," Bellamy said and shook his water bottle around.

"Right," Nathan raised an eyebrow as he climbed into bed beside Bellamy. "You're definitely not waiting for Clarke to get back."

"Nope," Bellamy said without looking away from the TV.

Nathan charlie horsed him with a punch to the thigh.

"Fine," Bellamy relented. "I want to know how her skate went."

"And?" Nathan prompted.

"And what?" Bellamy asked.

Nathan looked down at his hands, a bemused smile tugging at his lips.

"And you haven't seen her all day," he said pointedly.

Bellamy scowled but before he could respond, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in!" Jasper called from where he was tucked into bed.

The door swung open to reveal Clarke standing in the doorframe.

"Hey," she smiled and strode into the room. She paused at the foot of Bellamy's bed and put her hands on her hips.

"Hey," Bellamy echoed her. He elbowed Miller in the ribs and they both scooted over to make space for her.

"How'd you guys do?" Clarke asked. She slid in beside Bellamy, stretching out her legs and bumping her shoulder against his.

"Good," he nodded. "Won our first game, tied the second, and won the last," he rhymed off on his fingers.

"Where's that put you for tomorrow?"

"Second place so we're guaranteed at spot in the semi-final."

"Score any goals?" Clarke asked.

"Three," Bellamy grinned widely.

"And he made two assists," Nathan chimed in.

"It was a good day," Bellamy smiled down at his lap. "Too bad you missed the games."

"I know," Clarke pulled a face. "But Charlotte was really nervous, I told her I'd stay and coach her through her routines. She skated well enough anyway. And Raven killed her solo routine."

"How'd your solo go?"

"It was good," Clarke said. She bit her lip. "I landed the triple salchow."

"You went for it?!" Bellamy grabbed her knee and shook it.

She grinned and bobbed her head up and down.

"I wasn't going to," she admitted. "But I saw a scout in the crowd and I just thought I'd go for it."

"You're fucking crazy," Bellamy shook his head. "How'd you know it was a scout?"

"I didn't really," Clarke shrugged. "I'm just pretty sure she was a scout. I was scanning the crowd all morning- they're not hard to spot. They always have clipboards and usually wear ball caps."

Bellamy snickered.

"You were looking for them?"

"You weren't?" Clarke fired back.

"No!" Bellamy laughed. "I was trying to pretend we were on home ice."

"But that takes all the pressure off!"

"Well, yeah," Bellamy agreed. "That's the point."

"Hmph," Clarke crossed her arms. "I like the pressure," she insisted. "Makes it do or die."

"You're insane," Bellamy affirmed. Clarke pinched his arm. "I mean, I love you, but you're insane."

Clarke's brow furrowed and she opened her mouth to retort but she was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Alright, boys. Light's out in five minutes," Mr. Kane said from the door. "Miss Griffin," he bristled. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," Clarke waved him off. "Sorry, I'll be in my room in five," she said and turned back towards Bellamy. "You didn't even scan the crowd once?" she asked.

"Clarke," Mr. Kane intoned. "You'll get to your room now."

Clarke looked up sharply and Bellamy cocked his head. Nathan only smirked.

"But I thought we had five minutes?"

Mr. Kane rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and rubbed a hand over his face.

"You're not supposed to be here," he explained. "You can fraternize in common spaces like the hallway or lobby. But you can't hang out in the boys' hotel room, the PTA would have my head."

"Oh," Clarke blinked. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and hopped down. "Right. Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said and swatted at Bellamy's feet.

"Alright, see ya," Bellamy kicked her hand back.

She walked out and Mr. Kane shot a pointed look at Bellamy before shutting off the light and closing the door behind him. Nathan started snickering as soon as the door shut.

"You two are ridiculous."

"What?" Bellamy asked defensively and slouched down into his pillows.

"She was fucking shocked she wasn't allowed to stick around here and snuggle."

"Shut up," Bellamy said. "We weren't snuggling. Besides, I don't see why she's gotta leave but you're allowed to share a room with Monty," he dropped his voice to a whisper.

Nathan rolled over and scoffed into his pillow.

"Yeah, tell me more about how much easier I have it as a gay male in high school."

"I envy you," Bellamy deadpanned and was immediately walloped in the chest by Miller's fist.

They both broke into giggles that they unsuccessfully tried to smother in their pillows.

"Lights out," Mr. Kane's voice called from the hall.

They quieted and Bellamy reached for his cellphone to triple check that he'd set an alarm for the next morning.

Clarke Griffin
10:33 pm:
I said a silent prayer to Ovi asking him to help you play well in the semi tomorrow.

Bellamy Blake
10:35 pm:
Blasphemy. There is only one god and his name is Sidney Crosby.

Clarke Griffin
10:36 pm:
Your love of canadian athletes is disturbing and frankly un-American.

Bellamy Blake
10:36 pm:
ya well if its wrong to love virtue and moir then I don't want to be right

Clarke Griffin
10:37 pm:
you're the worst

Clarke Griffin
10:39 pm:
good night bell

Bellamy Blake
10:40 pm:
good night

IIIIIIII

The next morning found Bellamy back on the ice for not only the semi-final game but also the final game. He tried not to scan the crowd but it was like his eyes were magnetized to anyone in the stands wearing a baseball cap. After the puck dropped, he was all focus. The final game was hard fought and long. Their opponent was an undefeated school from a big hockey town in upstate New York. Their team captain was rumoured to be a first round draft pick next year and he'd attended camps with both the New York Islanders and the Washington Caps. Bellamy put it out of his mind and just kept grinding at centre ice. Ark High went down a goal in the second period but Bellamy scored in the third to tie it up. The game went to overtime and Bellamy created a few chances but ultimately the team ended up losing in penalty shootouts.

"Good game," Miller caught him by the shoulders as they were skating off the ice.

"You too," Bellamy grunted and clapped him on the back.

"Hey," Miller said, "you did everything you were supposed too do."

Bellamy tilted his head and frowned.

"I was supposed to win," he protested.

"You won three," Miller reminded him.

"And you played the maximum number of games in the tournament," a voice called out.

Bellamy looked up to see Monty sitting in the stands behind the bench.

"So you maximized the amount of time that the scouts could watch you," he said.

Bellamy ducked his head and nodded.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "What are you doing here? Have you been here the whole time?" he asked.

"Yeah," Monty answered. "I had time after my solo so I wanted to watch the game," he explained with pink creeping up his neck.

"Did Clarke catch any of it?" Bellamy asked.

"No," Monty shook his head. "She had to coach Charlotte through her routines again."

Bellamy nodded again and left Monty and Miller alone to talk. He waited around the rink, staring hopefully up at the stands but he couldn't spot any of the scouts. Before the tournament, he and Clarke had written letters to school coaches and mailed off their SAT scores. Still, Bellamy had copies of his player profile and his SAT scores in his bag in the locker room. He wondered if he should go and get them and just chase down anyone wearing a baseball cap. He was just about to grab them when Mr. Kane approached.

"Hey," he said and put a hand on Bellamy's shoulder. "Good game today, son."

"Thanks," Bellamy said. "Did anyone- did anyone talk to you?" he asked.

Mr. Kane was wearing an Ark High Hockey jacket and Bellamy hoped that he was visible enough for coaches to find and approach during the games.

"No," Mr. Kane shook his head. "But you're registered in the tournament and your name and number were up on the board plenty of times this weekend since you scored so much. If the scouts want to contact you, they'll have no trouble getting in touch."

"Really?" Bellamy asked.

"Definitely," Mr. Kane said. "It's part of the registration process. All of the scouts receive a team roster and the schools' contact information before the tournament starts."

Bellamy sighed in relief.

"Now, what time are you skating with Clarke?" Mr. Kane asked.

"3:30," Bellamy said swiped sweat off his brow.

"Then you've got a little over an hour," Mr. Kane checked his watch. "You'd best shower up and get ready."

Bellamy barely had time to shower, eat, and change into his ice dancing costume. It wasn't so much a costume as a white, collared shirt and black trousers but it was more formal than anything he'd had to wear to hockey. All too soon, his hour was up and he was standing at the figure skating rink with Clarke, waiting for their turn to go out and skate the pairs original dance. Bellamy's face was sheet white. He was staring at the ice, his eyes wide and dark and distant.

"Hey," Clarke tugged at his sleeve. "Quit gaping, relax," she rubbed a hand up and down his arm.

"I'm gonna drop you," he said, his eyes never leaving the ice.

"Stop," Clarke grabbed both of his arms and wrenched him towards her. "Don't be stupid, you haven't dropped me once yet, you're not going to do it now."

"What am I doing," he whispered.

"You're gonna be great," Clarke insisted. "You were clean in practice and in warm-ups and-"

He gripped her arms and squeezed til she fell silent. "What if I mess this up for you? What if I hurt you and you can't even skate in your short dance?" he asked, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"You won't," she squeezed back. "Stop worrying. Pretend we're going out for a hockey game, alright? You've practiced; you've put the work in, just trust the training. Okay?"

He nodded shakily.

"And hey," she said and squeezed his arms again. "No matter what happens out there-" she faltered, her eyes searching his face but for once, she was at a loss for words. She flung her arms around him in a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He stood with his hands held out at his side, momentarily shocked. After a beat he raised his arms and wrapped them around her tightly.

"Clarke?" Raven called out. "You're on in 30 seconds."

"Alright," Clarke breathed and relinquished her grip. She straightened the collar on Bellamy's shirt and then smoothed out her skirt.

The announcer called out their names and she took Bellamy's hand and led him out onto the ice. She did a tiny twirl and shot him a smile before taking her starting position. He returned the smile uncertainly and took his place behind her, setting his hands on her hips. But then the music started and his nerves melted away- it was all automatic. Trust the training she'd said and that was all it took. He knew the steps, he knew the lifts, it was all just routine. It felt just like practice- the only difference was that Clarke had traded in her standard underarmour leggings and tank top for tights and a blue dress.

Before he knew it, the program was over. The music stopped and Bellamy and Clarke froze in place in their final pose. There was a beat and then the crowd broke out into polite applause. Clarke whipped around and hooked an arm around Bellamy's waist.

"Perfect!" she grinned and slapped him on the chest. "You were perfect!"

He caught her hand in his and squeezed her fingers.

"I had a good coach," he shrugged but he was beaming too.

"Those were some textbook twizzles, Blake!" she crowed.

With her hand still in his, they skated back to the gate and exited the rink. They were putting on their skate guards when a woman holding a phone walked up.

"Hi," she said brightly. "Great skate!"

"Thanks," Clarke replied and shot a nervous look at Bellamy.

"Is it true that this was your first time ice dancing?" the woman asked Bellamy.

"Uhh, yeah," Bellamy responded.

"And you're also the captain of the Ark High hockey team that made it to the tournament finals?"

"Yup," Bellamy answered. "Also true."

"Wow," the woman nodded. "Do you mind if I just ask you two a couple of questions? We'd love to run a story about you for the Post-Gazette."

Bellamy exchanged a look with Clarke and she raised an eyebrow. A story in the newspaper couldn't be a bad way to gain the scouts' attention.

"Sure," Bellamy said. "What do you want to know?"

IIIIIIIII

The ride home was considerably quieter than the ride to Pittsburgh. The hockey team had played five games over the course of the weekend and they were knackered. Nobody even had the energy to complain about Jasper's movie choices. Everyone just passed out with open mouths and their coats draped over themselves like blankets.

Bellamy sat sideways in his seat with his legs stuck out in the aisle and his head tipped back against Clarke's shoulder. Clarke fell asleep halfway through Blades of Glory with her temple leaned up against his head and her hands lost in the long sleeves of his hoodie.

The coming weeks were tense. Bellamy checked his e-mail several times a day to see if the coaches had reached out. He made a habit of going into Mr. Kane's classroom at lunch to ask if any scouts had contacted the school.

"Do you think it'd be too much if I just started showing up at Michigan's practices?" Bellamy asked one afternoon after school.

Clarke looked up from her math problem set to shoot Bellamy a look.

"Not in my gear!" he said. "I'm not an idiot! Just, you know- I could sit in the stands. Show commitment or something."

Clarke chewed on the end of her pencil.

"Maybe. I'd start with an e-mail first," she said. "But give it another week. The tournament was last weekend, they might be reviewing the tape or putting together an offer, who knows?"

"Okay," Bellamy nodded.

"Besides, they probably have ice time at the same time as us," Clarke reasoned. "You'd be better off to keep practicing and keep playing well in your season games. Wouldn't want to cut practice to watch someone else practice."

"Right," Bellamy agreed. "And you're sure you haven't heard anything back yet?" he asked.

"For the last time, Bellamy!" Clarke slammed her pencil down. "I'll tell you as soon as I hear anything."

"Okay!" Bellamy raised his hands. "I'm just saying, I'm not going to be upset if you hear back and I don't! I want you to get a scholarship, I'm going to be happy for you whether I have one or not!"

Clarke's face softened.

"I know, Bell," she said. "Trust me. I couldn't keep it a secret from you if I tried."

It turned out she was right. The following Tuesday, Bellamy surreptitiously checked his phone during class to see a frantic text from Clarke.

Clarke Griffin
1:47 pm:
COACH CALLED ME TODAY. MEET ME AT MY LOCKER AFTER CLASS.

Bellamy jolted so badly that he practically threw his phone across the room. It skittered across the floor and he had to sheepishly get up and retrieve it while his English teacher scowled. He barely made it through class without twitching non-stop and staring at the clock. When the bell rang, he tripped in his haste to get up and started running as soon as he reached the hallway. He got to Clarke's locker before she did and bounced on the balls of his feet, his heart pounding.

He was happy for her. But there was a chance that some big school from out of state had offered her a fat scholarship and they'd take her away. He craned his neck to see over the crowd of students milling the halls and he caught sight of a flurry of blonde hair.

"Bellamy!" she called when she spotted him.

She leapt at him and threw her arms around his neck. He staggered backwards at the force of the impact and just barely managed to catch her around the waist.

"Full-ride!" she beamed up at him. "Between my academic scholarship and the athletic scholarship, Michigan's giving me a free-ride!"

Bellamy didn't even have time to respond because she surged up and kissed him, her lips crashing into his. His eyebrows raised in surprise but he only took a second to recover from the shock. He lifted her off the ground in his haste to kiss her back. His lips pressed against hers, feverish and eager, like he'd been waiting for this.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Bellamy dropped his head onto Clarke's shoulder.

"University of Michigan?" he asked against her ear.

"Yes," she said, her hands squeezing his shoulders tighter.

"Thank god," he sighed and melted into her further. "Please tell me this wasn't just because you're happy about your scholarship," he muttered as an afterthought.

"No," Clarke laughed. "I mean I am happy about my scholarship," she amended. "But I've wanted to do this for weeks. I just didn't want to start anything until I knew we'd be going to school in the same state."

"Clarke," Bellamy head butted her. "It wouldn't have mattered where you went to school," he pulled back to look at her. "You're my best friend."

"Oh," Clarke said and her face fell.

"No, Clarke," he laughed and couldn't help but press another quick kiss to her lips.

"You're my best friend and I love you," he explained.

"Oh," she said again, a smile breaking across her face. "Good."

She fisted his shirt in her hands and stepped up on tip toe to kiss him again more thoroughly. Her lips were soft and sure against his and always pushing to be closer, to have more of him.

The bell rang and Bellamy pulled away, groaning when Clarke chased his mouth.

"I have a history test this period," he explained and leaned his forehead against Clarke's.

"Okay," Clarke leaned back and tugged on his hair, her lips looking red and swollen. "After your game tonight, okay?"

"Okay," he mumbled and kissed her hair while squeezing her around the waist. He released her and set her down flat on her feet.

"I'll see you later," he promised.

"Later," Clarke agreed. His hand trailed down her arm to catch her fingers as he walked away.

"Bellamy!" she caught hold of his hand.

He turned, eyebrows raised.

"I love you too," she said.

He grinned all the way to history class.

IIIIIII

Clarke didn't see Bellamy until later that night when she walked into the arena to watch his game. She spotted Raven, Monty, Finn, and Charlotte sitting together behind the team bench and she sidled in to sit next to them.

"Hey," Raven smiled. "He's been looking for you," she nodded at Bellamy.

Clarke's cheeks pinked and she turned to watch Bellamy on the bench. He was standing with Miller, facing the ice, but there was no mistaking his unruly hair or his broad shoulders, or the studious tilt of his head as he bent over his yellow legal pad.

One of his teammates nudged him on the arm and he turned around, a smile breaking across his face as he saw her.

"Clarke," he grinned. "You finally made it out to watch a game, huh?"

She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"I figured I better," she said. "I mean, I am dating the captain."

He bit back on a smile and nodded, the look on his face making Clarke feel like her heart might burst. .

The referee blew his whistle and called the captains to center ice.

Bellamy glanced at the ref and then back at Clarke.

"Wish me luck," he said, big, dark eyes gazing up at her expectantly.

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile off her face.

"Good luck."

He ducked his head and smiled before vaulting himself over the boards. Clarke watched him skate to center ice and come to a neat stop in front of the ref. He pulled his glove off to shake hands. He won the coin toss and within seconds the game was starting. Clarke didn't know hockey but she did know sports. And Bellamy was good.

He always brought it to practices- practice the way you play! he always screamed at his teammates. But he had a different sort of intensity in a game. He skated fast, he hit hard, his stick handling was second to none and he had a keen tactical awareness. Factoring in the additional figure skating practices had only improved his stamina, strength, and balance (not to mention, made him a more precise skater). Halfway through the second period he dangled the goalie for a slick goal. He threw his arms in the air and was promptly bear hugged by several teammates. When he broke free from the crowd he skated away and started rotating on one blade.

"Oh my god," Clarke muttered.

Laughter broke out among the figure skaters sitting to her right.

"Is he. . ."

"He's doing twizzles," Clarke confirmed and shook her head in disbelief. "And he's nailing them."

He skated past her seat, doing a counter turn as he went and blowing her a kiss.

"Oh my god," she said again as the girls around her erupted into giggles. Red crept into her cheeks but this time she couldn't fight the smile off her face.

Idiot.

The ref blew his whistle again to call the teams to centre ice for the puck drop. Clarke glanced up at the clock and her eye caught on someone in crowd. Someone wearing a baseball cap, holding a clipboard, and taking notes. Clarke sucked in a deep breath and grabbed a hold of Raven's arm, her fingers like pincers.

"Ow!" Raven cried. "What? The play hasn't even restarted yet!"

"Scout!" Clarke said and flung a finger out to point at him.

"Shit!" Raven said. "You have to tell Blake so he'll stop doing fucking twizzles when he scores!"

Clarke looked at the clock and shook her head.

"It'd make him nervous," she said. "And he's playing so well. You really think the twizzles will be a dealbreaker?" she asked.

"No way," Monty shook his head. "An asset, if anything."

Clarke twisted her gloves in her hands until the final whistle. When Bellamy left the bench to head into the tunnel, she hung over the stands to reach for him.

"Bel-" she said seriously.

"Hey princess," he grinned and arched up towards her.

"Hey," she grabbed him roughly by the scruff of his jersey. "There's a scout here, so look alive," she said into his ear.

"What?" Bellamy yelped. "Really?!" he asked, his eyes wide.

"Yes," she nodded and kissed him quick. "Go shower. He'll find you."

Bellamy took a deep breath to steady himself and squeezed Clarke's fingers.

"Okay," he breathed. "Okay, thank you."

He kissed her cheek distractedly and then toddled down the tunnel in his skates.

Clarke watched him go and then shot up. She raced across the bleachers, pushing through the crowd of spectators to reach the lobby. Still, it took her a few minutes to get through the crowd and to navigate the hallways of the rink. By the time she reached the home team change room, Bellamy was already outside with the scout. Clarke squinted to read the embroidery on the man's jacket. She thought she could make out the words University of Michigan in bright yellow stitching. The man was talking to Bellamy and Bellamy was nodding along fervently. Then the man reached out and shook Bellamy's hand. Bellamy grinned from ear to ear. The man clapped him on the back and walked off. Clarke immediately ran up.

"Well?" she asked.

Bellamy shook himself as if in a daze.

"He wants me to come out to camp," he said and stared after the man exiting the hall. "He saw me play in the showcase so he came out to the game to take another look."

"And?!" Clarke prompted.

Bellamy smiled.

"He says I'm a technically gifted skater with great leadership skills and if I click with the boys at camp then he wants me on the team."

Clarke thumped him on the chest and beamed so bright it was blinding.

"So you're a wolverine?" she asked.

"Not yet," Bellamy smiled again. "But almost."

IIIIIII

Clarke breathed deep, her breath fogging out in front of her in the cold, Ann Arbor air. She tilted her head up and caught sight of the blue and maize banners hanging from the rafters. She skated to the huge blue M at centre ice and turned in a slow circle before pumping her legs and speeding off down the ice. She launched herself in the air and pulled her arms to her chest, spinning 2, 3 times before landing on one blade.

"Good, Clarke!" her coach's voice rang out. "But try to get that leg a little higher on the landing."

Clarke nodded and squared her shoulders before lining up to try the jump again.

A whistle blew and the distinctive sound of skates thudding against the flat floor pitter-pattered from the tunnel.

"6:30, time's up!" a voice barked from the bench. "Everybody off the ice!"

Clarke turned to see the entire hockey team waiting on the bench. She skated across the ice to the gate. The boys shuffled past her and entered the rink. Except one, who stopped as he passed her.

"Cutting into our time again, princess?" Bellamy asked, his eyes impossibly dark in contrast with his bright yellow practice jersey.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Clarke answered.

He smiled and placed a warm hand on her waist before leaning down to kiss her soundly.

"I'll see you after class, okay?" he asked when he pulled away.

"Okay," Clarke smiled.

He kissed her once more and then broke away to skate out onto the ice.

Clarke lingered by the boards to watch him warm up before heading out to the locker room to get ready for class. He was skating laps with the other boys but after a whole season of training together, he was easy to pick out. On his third lap, he caught her eye as he skated past and threw himself into the perfect layback spin. His teammates threw their heads back and laughed. Clarke smiled and shook her head and wondered how the hell she got so lucky.