Fenixfloyd
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Clarke hitches her purse into the crook of her elbow and rests a hand on the doorknob, fingers aching to turn it. She would rather go home than be talked into attending some ghastly book club hosted by Lexa. “I’m afraid I would feel very awkward. Everybody already knows everybody, and I’ll only stick out like a sore thumb."
“Well, the point is for you to bridge that gap”, Henry insists, and she doesn’t need to look at Mark to see her husband smiling encouragingly. He would want her to leave the house. “Come on, Clarke.”
“Yes, Clarke,” Lexa speaks up for the first time, gaze trained on her and the ghost of a smirk on her lips. It feels like a challenge; like Lexa is daring her to say no. “Say you’ll come.”
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“I’m so sorry, he’s not so talkative during the movie, I assure you,” Lexa said, explaining her son to Clarke and Octavia.
“Don’t worry about it,” Clarke said. “He’s adorable.”
Lexa smiled.
The lights went down low and Clarke hoped that the boy wasn’t a talkative one. “Don’t worry about it?” Octavia whispered to Clarke. “You hate talkative kids at the movies,” Octavia reminded her.
“Shhhh, he’s cute,” Clarke whispered. Completely not wanting to mention how cute she thought his mom was.Clarke was able to focus on most of the movie. But at one point, when she reached for her drink, it wasn’t there. Then she looked to her right and saw the boy sipping on his drink. Only, it wasn’t his, his drink was still in the holder on his right, between him and his mom.
(PS: Don't let the title fool you)