Summer Lights and City Nights

―iii. hot

―iii. hot

“I think you should give him a chance,” Clarke says, “he sounds cute.” 

The two of them sit at the edge of the pool, their legs resting in the water. The heat wave continues on and the only real way to beat the heat is to go to the pool (which is what about thirty other people also decided to do, Marceline notices, and then glares at a little boy who decides to cannonball right next to her).

Marceline makes a face. “Were you listening to anything I said? He’s weird. Who walks up to a random person and just asks them out like that?” she asks and kicks her feet in the water. It splashes in some kid’s face and he complains. Marceline sticks her tongue out at him and Clarke rolls her eyes. 

“He’s confident,” Clarke says, “that’s pretty sexy.” This time Marceline rolls her eyes.

“So how’s your not-boyfriend?” she asks, tactfully changing the subject.

“Stop calling him that, we’re friends. He’s fine. We’re going to Disney World on Tuesday.”

“Sounds romantic,” Marceline says and grins.

“I will push you into the pool,” Clarke says seriously and Marceline laughs until she hears that all too familiar voice.

“Oh, hey, what a coincidence!”

She turns her head and looks up to see none other than Prez standing there with his stupid [fucking charming like what the hell] grin.

“Are you stalking me?” she asks because, seriously, the amount of times they’ve crossed paths lately is kind of suspect.

“What brings you two ladies out here?” he asks as he sits next to them and Marceline gapes at him, offended. Did he--did he just ignore her?

“Heat wave,” Clarke answers while Marceline glares because he totally did ignore her, “I’m Clarke by the way. You already know Marceline.” 

“You’ve been talking about me?” Prez says with a cheeky smile aimed towards Marceline while Marceline glares at Clarke, telepathically screeching ‘WHY WOULD YOU TELL HIM MY NAME CAN’T YOU TELL HE’S INSANE?’

Clarke smiles sweetly, obviously not getting the message.

“Only all the time,” she says.

“I am killing you with my mind right now.”

“Soooo,” Prez drawls, “Marceline.” It sounds like he’s trying her name out. She hates how nice it sounds when he says it.

“There’s a carnival coming to town tomorrow night,” he says. Clarke quirks an eyebrow and tries to subtly nudge Marceline with her elbow except it isn’t subtle at all and only manages in almost knocking her over.

“Are you asking me to go with you?” Marceline asks.

“Yes.”

She narrows her eyes at him and is ready to hand him another rejection when she finally notices that he is not wearing a shirt. As in he is shirtless and basically half naked and pretty fit and she kind of does not want to look away.

“Marceline?”

She snaps out of her daze, [STRIKE, HOLY SHIT NO, DID NOT HAPPEN]wipes the drool off her chin[/STRIKE], straightens up and blinks only a hundred times as she tries to scrap up her pride and dignity.

“What? Yes.”

“Yes?” Prez perks up. Marceline replays the situation in her head.

“Um--”

“Sweet! I’ll meet you there at seven,” he says as he stands up, “Or well, you still have my number right? Just call me. Later!” He winks at her and leaves. Marceline is desperately confused. Clarke laughs at her expense and Marceline remarks at what a terrible friend she is and huffs. It’s not like she actually really agreed. She was distracted (by his stupid, dumb, beautiful abs) and all she had to do was call him and tell him that he'd misunderstood. 

.

.

(it was so simple, she told herself  and jumped into the pool because, God, it was really hot today)