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"Shit, this line is ferocious!" exclaimed Simon from my left. Of course, it was his fault we were even in this line. Pandemonium's entrance was lit up with flashing neon blue lights every time someone entered or exited through. The lights made my eyes water a bit.

I blinked back the wateriness and smirked. "You're the one who forced me to get out of bed tonight." I reminded him. "I was perfectly content catching up on my shows."

Simon rolled his eyes dramatically, something he was very good at. Too good. "I'm sure Netflix is just calling your name too, huh?"

I sniffed as we inched closer toward the door. Simon was right, this line was ferocious. "I even put on makeup," I lamented. "I mean, look at all I do for you. It's crazy, really. How much effort I put in."

This earned a scoff from Simon. A grin prickled around his mouth. "Ha ha."

I actually had put in quite the effort in my appearance. I took the time to straighten the deep auburn, unruly curls that suffocated my scalp, which fell like satin around my shoulders. To make my eyes pop, I ran some deep green eyeliner on the waterline of my eyes. I was wearing some black shorts that were probably a bit too short, but since I was so small, it wasn't really noticeable. A white V-neck tank top hung on my frame and allowed a bit of the black lace wrap-around bra to peak through.

My shoes probably didn't add to my "sex appeal," since they were a pair of simple white Keds. But I couldn't stand any pair of shoe that was even remotely sexy. High heels didn't agree with me.

Simon didn't seem to notice my lack of coordination in the shoe shopping department. He was much too focused on getting inside the club. His nervousness was apparent too, I could see the quiver of his hands every few seconds. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

"Nervous, Si?" I asked, trying to keep my tone playful. "I mean, we're both nineteen. The bouncer has to let us in." I really couldn't blame Simon for his aura of nervousness though. It wasn't like we ever went out when we were legally of age to. Clubs were never our scene, and even now I could feel the tightness in my stomach as we neared closer to the scary looking bouncer with the septum piercing and blue Mohawk.

Simon shook his head and fought to maintain his cool façade. "Of course I'm not nervous, Clary," he gave me a are-you-crazy look. "I'm the epitome of chill." I bit back a giggle as I realized we were next in line. Even my hands were a little shaky, but not from nervousness. Excitement coursed through my body. I realized I was thankful to finally be out of the apartment.

I said this to Simon, who gave me a quirky grin and readjusted his glasses. "You're very welcome, Fray. What are friends for, if not to get you off your lazy, ice cream-eating, Netflix-watching ass."

"Next!" We walked up to the scary bouncer. Clary noticed that his neck tattoos were gross, faded spider webs.

I gave the bouncer my ID, as did Simon. With a wave of his meaty hand, we were ushered through the door. Loud music erupted my senses as we meandered through the thick, sweaty crowd. Women and men swayed to the atrocious music, bumping into me after each step I took. The bar entered my line of vision, and I quickly walked and grabbed a seat at the first stool I could get my hands on.

Simon had been on my heels, and he took the bar stool next to me with a sigh. "Netflix has never sounded so good," he spoke over the music. "Maybe a huge ass bottle of wine… hell, maybe some ice cream too."

I laughed out loud, throwing my head back as I did. "C'mon, Si. This is supposed to be fun." I swerved around to face the bartender, who was just as scary as the bouncer. Were gross neck tattoos in style?

"What can I get you, Red?" the bartender grinned widely, creepily. I suppressed a shudder at the nickname and put on my best flirtatious smile.

"How 'bout two shots of tequila?" I asked, batting my eyes. The bartender blinked a few times before nodding and turning to retrieve a bottle of brown liquid behind him. Before I knew it, two tall shot glasses were slid towards me. I gripped both and handed one to Simon.

Simon raised an eyebrow at me. "He didn't card you?" he mouthed at me. I grinned and downed the shot in a quick motion. Simon did as well, before making a face and setting the glass back on the counter. I did the same.

Simon smacked his lips together. "Disgustingly refreshing."

I was about to reply with something sarcastic when a golden hue caught my eye. Over Simon's head, I saw a man walk up and smile at the bartender. His hair was tousled messily on top his head, golden curls splayed near the name of his neck. My eyes trailed down to his nose, which was perfectly straight. His lips, which formed the most perfect Cupid's bow I had ever seen, made my hands itch to sketch it. His strong jaw bone was splattered with stubble, and I realized that he must have been stressed out. His eyebrows were pinched together. Even I could see that from his profile. His mouth was in a firm line, his eyes cast down at the bar in front of him.

At some point, my staring must have burned a hole in his side, because his eyes flickered up to meet mine. My breath caught.

No. Not him. "Well, hey there Little Red!" his earlier pinched expression melted away, and he smiled-what I'm sure he referred to as his lady-killer smile-at me.

I glowered at him. Before me was the very same jerk that sat next to me in my Art Appreciation class at Columbia University.

My mind flashed back to our very first encounter. I hadn't said one word to this asshole all through the hour and fifteen minutes that I was forced to endure of the lecture, partly because he was goddamn gorgeous and partly because he didn't say a word to me. I had been sketching as the professor spoke about old artists that I truly had no interest in – the professor was so monotonous that the only way I managed to keep my head up was to be otherwise occupied. I hadn't truly realized who I had been drawing for the whole hour, it just hadn't occurred to me to cover my work up. When our professor dismissed us, I gathered my bag quickly and threw my pencil inside, completely oblivious to the heat that was radiating from behind me. I spun around quickly, gasping when I realized he was looking over my shoulder, those golden eyes darting between me and the sketchbook that laid before me on the desk.

I allowed my gaze to travel from the beautiful man behind me to the nearly identical sketch his profile on the page.

With a squeak, I grabbed the offending book and attempted to throw it in my bag as well, but the golden beauty snatched it out of my hands before I even had the chance. "This is really good," was all he said.

"Um, thank you?" I could barely breathe. I mean, what the hell was I supposed to say? I was caught. "This is so embarrassing. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off as-"

"Creepy?" he replied. I blushed furiously. Heat rushed to all parts of my body, and if I hadn't known better, I would have thought he seemed a little remorseful for his remark. But I knew better.

"Um, yeah," I responded lamely, my eyes darting from his face to my sketchbook. I reached for it quickly. To make matters even worse, my fingers grazed his hand. I gasped, but attempted to cover it up. I coughed and threw that stupid book in my bag and slung it over my shoulder. "Sorry again."

I realized that even the professor had left the room, leaving only me and the flawless man, and the sketchbook that I was pretty sure ruined my life forever.

"I'm Jace," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "But I'm sure you knew that."

I bit my lip and narrowed my eyes, "Like I even care," I bit out, maneuvering around him – God, he smelled amazing – and walked toward the door.

Of course he followed me. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?" he asked. For some reason, it infuriated me.

"Not in your life." I threw over my shoulder.

"Alright then, Little Red," I heard his reply from behind me. I refused to turn around to meet his gaze. "I'll be seeing you."

I hadn't been able to shake the heat that had radiated throughout my body for the rest of that day.

"I was just leaving," I growled as my thoughts returned to the loud club I was in, slipping out of the stool that I previously occupied with haste.

Simon glanced over his shoulder during our exchange with raised eyebrows, but he was having none of it. With his hands raised in surrender, he scurried away from the bar, and away from me, mouthing, "I'm out."

I gritted my teeth and attempted to follow him, but Goldie grabbed my hand and pulled me back. "Aw, don't be like that!" I spun around to face him, and my hateful gaze faltered. His sad expression made my breath catch all over again, and I found my own eyebrows pinching.

"Are you alright, Jace?" I asked, surprising the shit out of myself. I couldn't stop myself from speaking his name, which was usually replaced by some demeaning nickname when I addressed him.

His eyes crinkled around the edges like he was in pain when he said, "I'll live."

I wish I could say I hadn't noticed that my hand was still in his, or that his fingers were stroking mine gently, almost like he had no knowledge that he was doing so. I wish I could say that the contact hadn't shot a hot rod through me, that my insides weren't on fire, that the way his eyes raked over my face didn't make my body quiver.

Instead, with a shaky breath and a squeeze of his hand, I said, "Do you wanna go get a coffee somewhere and talk about it?"

I saw him swallow roughly, his eyes dropping to our joined hands. He stared at them for a long time, long enough for me to shiver and want to deny the offer. I was about to yank my hand away and tell him to forget about it, that it was stupid to even suggest such a silly thing. All of these nervous thoughts stopped in their tracks when his topaz eyes met my emerald ones. "Yeah. Yeah, I think that's a good idea."