This year, Bellamy Blake had made his resolution long before the first of January.

He knew there was some irony in that, because he'd always told everyone that New Year's resolutions were idiotic. That if you really wanted to do something, you just... went ahead and did it. No internal promises required.

But in this particular case, that hadn't worked at all.

He damn well knew he should have dealt with the whole thing a long time ago, and the fact that he hadn't was down to sheer cowardice. Fear of the consequences. Fear of making himself vulnerable.

Fear of getting hurt.

Problem was, the more he'd avoided it, the worse it got... and the shittier he felt.

He'd had some half-assed idea about dealing with it on last New Year's Eve. Of course, that had turned into a total fucking disaster, and he'd been trying to handle the fallout ever since.

So this year, Bellamy was taking no chances. This year he was making it a resolution, making it a promise to himself. Making it a plan. This year, he would finally talk to Clarke.

And then he would undo last year's mess. If he could.

XXXXXXXXXXX

New Year's Eve, one year ago...

Bellamy would really like to know who the hell had decided they should ring in the new year at a fucking dance club. He wasn't fond of dancing under the best of circumstances, and Inner Sanctum was a far cry from that.

First of all, it was too damn loud, the relentless bass booming out over what he could only imagine was a jillion-dollar sound system. It was also hellishly bright, with strobe lights flashing on and off in time with the music. And if that weren't bad enough, the drinks were too fucking expensive.

Maybe they were right, he mused. Jasper and Murphy and all the others who loved telling him he was not only a decrepit old man but also a total buzzkill. But Bellamy cared about his eyes and his ears - not to mention his wallet - and as he sat at the bar nursing his second drink it felt like they were all pretty much under assault.

He was seriously considering just taking off when Clarke suddenly and unexpectedly showed up. That was all it took to change his mind.

She'd told them all she wasn't sure she could make it, didn't know if she'd be back from visiting her Mom for the holidays in time for their New Year's bash. But here she was, dressed in a tight sparkly dress that shimmered under the iridescent lights and did amazing things for her body.

As soon as he saw her Bellamy knew he wasn't going anywhere.

She waved to him, and his heart leaped when it seemed like she might be heading immediately in his direction. But when she was still several yards away, she was intercepted by Harper, who swept her into an excited hug.

"Hey, you made it!"

If Harper hadn't practically shouted the words at Clarke, he'd never have heard them over the din of the blaring music and the shrieking partygoers. Clarke nodded, but there was far too much noise to hear her smiling reply.

They both turned toward him then, Harper's face a study in amusement as she cocked her head at him. He could only imagine what she was telling Clarke. The old man still hasn't moved.

He slipped off his stool when Harper eventually left with a nod, and Clarke finally made her way to the bar.

"What are you doing just sitting here?" she asked, giving him a teasing smile.

She'd had to move very close in order to be heard over the music, and Bellamy tried hard not to react visibly when he felt her soft breath wash across his cheek.

"I'm not just sitting here," he said, his lips nearly grazing her ear as he shifted close enough to be heard himself. "I'm also drinking."

Clarke rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Bellamy, you can drink anytime! This is New Year's Eve. You're supposed to be doing something more exciting than that."

"Yeah? And what would you suggest?" he smirked playfully.

When her eyes widened and her expression shifted, Bellamy was sure his cheeky question had given him away. And for an instant, it seemed like they were both holding their breath.

Then she blinked rapidly and laughed, swiping playfully at his broad shoulder.

"Like dance! This is a dance club," she grinned.

"Dance? Uh, dancing isn't exactly my strong suit..."

"No one cares," she assured him, holding out her hand. "Come on! We'll just have fun."

But as he looked out over the floor, at the dancers swaying together to the music, Bellamy wondered how he'd deal with Clarke's body moving that sensually so close to his own. He'd watched her dance before, but only from a safe distance. To have her near enough to reach out and touch might be more than he could comfortably handle.

On the other hand... maybe it was exactly what he needed. What they needed. To kickstart their relationship and move it to the next level. To a place where he might finally be able to tell her.

God knew nothing else seemed to be working.

But not quite yet. Bellamy figured he needed just a little more alcohol to work up the nerve to dance like that with Clarke. And to deal with whatever might happen next.

So... yeah. Good plan. He'd have a third drink, and then take her up on her offer.

"Why don't you go ahead," he told her. "I'll watch a while and try to get the hang of it, then I'll come out and, um, join you."

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "You promise? Because I've heard that song before."

Bellamy laughed, reaching out to wrap one of her shiny curls around his finger.

"I promise. I just need to, uh, work up to it." And to what I know I'm going to want to say to you once we finish dancing.

"Okay," she agreed, "but I'm holding you to it. Don't think I won't come over here and drag you away from this stool if I have to."

"I have no doubt," he said... mostly to himself. Because by then she'd already left his side and was gliding gracefully toward the pulsating bodies in the center of the room.

Bellamy slid back onto his stool and ordered a third drink from the barman. By the time he turned back to the dancers, he saw that Clarke had been joined by a slender sandy-haired woman who looked vaguely familiar.

He sipped his drink, trying place her, and after a while it came to him. Neelah. No, no, Niylah. She'd done a lot of subbing last year at the high school, and he knew she and Clarke had become friends because he'd seen them having lunch together.

He didn't think Niylah had come to Inner Sanctum with their group, but he supposed she might have. The rest of them had a table on the other side of the room, but as far as Bellamy was concerned, it had been way too near a couple of the speakers. That's why he'd taken up residence at the bar.

As he watched Clarke and Niylah dance, it suddenly occurred to Bellamy that while he was pretty sure the women had only been friends, it now looked to him like Niylah admired Clarke in a much more... personal way.

Shit! He hadn't expected... competition. As far as he knew, he and Clarke were currently both single for the first time ever in their multi-year friendship. That's why he'd decided this was finally the right time say something. But maybe Clarke already had a thing going with Niylah, and he just... hadn't heard. Or she could be thinking about it...

Bellamy tried to tell himself that Clarke and Niylah were only dancing near each other, not grinding away sensually on each other's bodies the way some of the other dancers were. But the longer the women danced, the more uneasy he became.

So that when Clarke eyed him a few moments later, crooking her index finger and inviting him out onto the dance floor, he still... hesitated, uncertain. Decided that maybe he needed just one more shot of liquid courage.

Bellamy swallowed the last of his drink, holding up his glass to show Clarke he was ordering another. She frowned at him, standing at the edge of the swarm of dancers, and he had a vague idea that she might actually run over and object.

But if that had been her intention, she never got the chance.

Because at that very moment Bellamy was grabbed from behind, as strong hands swiveled him around on the stool. Before he could recover from that, or even begin to wonder what the hell was happening, he was being kissed. And this was no peck on the lips, no fun-loving mistletoe smack of the sort he'd experienced every Christmas holiday for years. Oh, no, this was a full-on, wet-lipped, open-mouthed smashing of mouths.

When he finally recovered his wits, pulling back in shock, he found that it wasn't after all a stranger who'd assaulted him. Instead, he stared disconcertedly into the face of Echo Winters, the girls' phys ed teacher at the same high school where he was history and Clarke was art.

"Told you I'd have a surprise for you tonight," Echo said, grinning, before he could get out even a single word.

Had she said that? Bellamy conjured up a vague memory of Echo making some kind of mysterious comment about the planned New Year's bash. But that would have been days ago, because he certainly hadn't seen her since school let out for the winter break. And if he'd wondered about it at all, it definitely wouldn't have been with the idea that he'd be the surprise.

When he remained silent, still searching for the right response, she only laughed and said, "Oh, come on, Bellamy! What's the big deal? I know damn well you're single and I've been wanting to do that forever. And you didn't exactly pull away," she reminded him with a smirk, bending as if to kiss him again.

Echo was right. He hadn't pulled away. But that was only because he'd been so fucking stunned.

He pulled back now, though, opening his mouth to object, but before he could say a word his gaze shifted slightly, and he found himself looking past Echo's left shoulder and right into the shocked face of Clarke Griffin. She'd stopped dancing altogether, and was simply standing stock-still amidst all the gyrating bodies.

But when he started to rise from the stool, Clarke suddenly came to life. She gave him a small wave, and a smaller smile, and quickly resumed dancing. And this time, he noted, she'd moved much, much closer to Niylah.

As he stared in dismay, the two of them began grinding against one another in earnest. And only seconds later, Clarke and Niylah were kissing, right out there on the dance floor. And it was definitely not a "friendly" kiss.

His heart sank! What the hell had just happened? To his plan? To his night? To his fucking life?

Echo stared down at him, blissfully unaware, still smiling.

"So are we getting a drink?" she asked cheerfully.

"Uh, sure," he sighed, barely aware of what he was saying. But definitely feeling the need for more alcohol.

How the hell was he going to fix this?

He tried later, when they all finally made it back to the group table just before midnight. By then, he was pretty well plastered, and Echo was still clinging to him, while Clarke had Niylah in tow.

"Clarke," he said, hurriedly grabbing onto her arm as she passed by. "Let me explain about... the dance..."

"Don't be silly," she said quickly, and from the way she was slurring her words Bellamy figured she was just about as drunk as he was. "Although I don't know why you didn't just tell me you were waiting for Echo."

"No, you don't understand..."

But by then Clarke had moved away and the countdown had begun.

"Ten... nine... eight... seven... six..."

By the time they got to "Happy New Year," Bellamy was no longer surprised to find Echo kissing him. Nor did he have any real reason not to respond in kind.

And when, on the first day of the new year, he awoke to find Echo in his bed, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised about that either.