Disclaimer: I do not own the 100 or any of it's characters, I merely obsess over them in my freetime, and write super lame fanfiction about them. Sue me...but seriously don't.

AN: So I wasn't going to continue with this, but your guys' support, and my love for Bellarke inspired me to write this next chapter! Not edited so please forgive me!

"BLAKE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Bellamy groaned in frustration as he turned around to face the sidelines, where his coach currently stood, screaming his head off at him.

Coach Griffin was tough. Real tough. He was the new assistant coach, but if you asked him, he was a billion times a better coach then their actual head coach, Coach Jaha.

"Blake, what the hell was that? That will never fly in a game, come on son, get your head in there!"

Bellamy nodded gruffly, as he walked back to the huddle where the rest of the offense stood in the middle of the field. It was a Wednesday after school, and he was sucking up the whole practice. He had been sacked 5 times, and thrown three interceptions in the last hour, which is probably more than he's thrown in the last 20 practices combined.

He must have pulled a muscle the other day or something, he thought to himself; after all, that was the only explanation to his poor performance. Yeah, that's it, just a pulled muscle. His sudden loss of talent couldn't have anything to do with the fiery blonde sitting in the bleachers, watching the practice. Nope. Totally not a factor at all.

"Alright, run it again, and for God's sakes guys, let's end on a good note!" Coach Jaha called from the sidelines, before blowing a whistle, indicating the start of the play clock.

"One, right wing 35, 35 HIKE!"

The center snapped the ball into his hands, and Bellamy could feel the field changing around him. Suddenly, everything was moving in slow motion. He could sense the left line backer closing in on him, and so he quickly looked downfield, for his man. The play called for a shotgun pass on the right sideline that had to fall right on the outside, so that his man could catch it.

Putting all thoughts of the coach's daughter out of his mind, he stepped forward, and released the football through the air in a long shot down the field. A couple seconds later, the play was over, and Jasper was cradling the ball in his arms, successfully.

The team cheered, and patted him on the back, as they walked off field, thankful that practice ended on a good note.

Bellamy grinned proudly, accepting the praise gratefully. However, despite all the cheers, he couldn't help himself from glancing over to the bleachers to see what a certain blonde thought of the throw…but she wasn't there.

He looked around, confused, as he searched the stands. Just as he was about to give up and head to the locker room to change like the rest of the team, he saw her retreating figure, headed to the parking lot, and for whatever reason, he followed her.

"Clarke! Hey, Clarke, wait up!" he yelled out, pulling off his helmet, and tucking it under his arm as he chased after her.

She turned around curiously, before noticing who it was, and continuing on her path.

"Come on, what you don't talk to football players either?" He joked, as he fell in to step beside her, taking in the un-amused look on her face.

"Don't be ridiculous," she began, "I don't talk to my dad's football players, all other ones are eligible conversationalists."

He gaped at her incredulously, before noticing the teasing smile on her face, and allowing himself to chuckle at what was obviously a joke.

"Wow, princess, who knew you were such a comedian?"

She scrunched her nose in puzzlement at the nickname.

"Princess?"

"Yeah, you know, your dad is the coach, so that makes him the king, and if he's the king, than that makes you the—

—Princess," she finished, with a small smile, as she finally stopped beside a large black pickup truck, and turned to face him.

"Smart princess," he murmured teasingly, as he grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes at his remark, but something about the way her eyes twinkled when she did it, made him think it was all for show.

"So I was thinking, your dad's the assistant coach, and he's in charge of defense…"

Clarke watched him through skeptical eyes, as she waited for his point,

"So?"

"So," he continued, "I'm on offense, so technically, I'm not one of your dad's players."

Realization dawned on her face, as she leaned back against the black truck. He couldn't help but admire the way her fare skin glistened in the sunlight, slightly pink, from the sun or from his comment, he knew not.

"Bellamy Blake, are you trying to ask me out, again?" She questioned facetiously.

"That depends," he said with a boyish grin, "Are you going to say no again?"

She smiled shyly, as she looked down at her feet. Okay, that blush was definitely not from the sun.

He was already mentally planning their date, when the world's worst cock block walked up.

"Blake, what the hell are you still doing here son, shouldn't you be in the showers?"

He bit back an irritated groan, as he clenched his hands in fists. Clarke smirked wickedly, clearly entertained by Bellamy's obvious distress.

"Yes, sir, I was just asking Clarke about the math homework sir," he whipped up randomly.

Coach Griffin narrowed his eyes at Bellamy, as he rubbed the brim of his ball cap.

"You're taking AP Calculus, too?" He questioned, skeptically.

Bellamy's gaze darted over to Clarke, who seemed to be ready to burst with laughter, and just utterly reveling in his embarrassment.

"Yes…um, yes sir, I, uh, love math…"

He ended on an inflection, as if it were more a question than a statement, but either Coach Griffin believed him, or just didn't care to interrogate him further, because he merely shrugged, and said,

"Whatever son, just hit the showers, you smell like shit."

Bellamy grimaced, as Clarke actually let out a small chuckle at her dad's statement, before hopping in the big black truck.

He stood with his hand's clutching his helmet, as Coach Griffin turned on the engine.

As they began to pull away, Clarke waved, and shouted out the window in amusement,

"See you in Calculus, Bellamy!

He held up a hand in a half-hearted attempt at a wave. When the truck was finally out of view, he groaned in embarrassment, before bringing his raised hand to cover his face in humiliation.

Bellamy Blake, apparent calculus student, and star quarterback of the Skyland 100, was on the bigget losing streak of his life: 0-2 with the coach's daughter.