A/N I do not own any of the characters. This is my first fic. So Review and all that shit the other authors say. Have fun!
"You can't stop the beat!" I skid on my hardwood floor with "graceful" ease (hard quotations around the word graceful. Or just read: disastrous.) "Ever since this old world began, a woman found that if she shook it, she could shake up a man"
Shaking my ass to the underlying rhythm of the bass, I lose myself. Cue long sigh: Showtunes- nothing but cocaine can make me feel like this. Not that I, Clary Fray, know what cocaine is like. (Ok, but it was ONE time. Izzy coerced me into snorting up the dust. And don't fucking lecture me about how I shouldn't be peer pressured. My ass was already whooped for it. Courtesy of my lovely mother)
"And so I'm gonna shake and shimmy it the best that I can TODAYYYY" With every dance cue, I move my body as so. This way and that, my hair moving as if it was alive with a mind of it's own. A fiery bundle of strawberry red: getting tangled up and messy. All this athletic movement tires the hell out of me. Sweat creating a minuscule river done my body as a result. My body isn't used to this type of strenuous activity. I pray feverishly for every single Broadway star out there. Doing this every night, I haven't lasted the first verse and half the chorus of this song yet.
"Cause you can't stop-" "SHUT THE FUCK UP OR GOD HELP ME." The yell startles me enough that I drop the hairbrush I've been using as a microphone. It's him again, every single goddamn time I try to just have a solo rave in MY APARTMENT, mind you, he goes and spoils all my enjoyment. But then again, getting evicted doesn't sound like fun, so I can't really go up to him a start a brawl. Plus, knowing my tiny little self, I wouldn't last a minute.
So, I relent. "I'm sorry if some people know how to have fun. Is is MY fault that your pissy self doesn't know how to have a good time? As far as I'm concerned- I'm not your keeper." I mentally high-five myself. Good job Fray show him you amazing bitch. But when I hear his response, my body freezes. "No. I mean quiet down so that I can help this beautiful girl laying beside me come. If that doesn't sound like a good time, then go back to Church prude."
Did he just? That douche bag! Oh, he may be able to stop my beat, but he won't stop my fists. I throw open my door hard enough that I may need to call maintenance to put it back on its hinges. Stomping to the door next to my own, I knock furiously at it. Imagining it to be my neighbor ugly ass face. My fist stops in mid air. Holy… His FACE. I can't imagine anything to be as, angelic. The jawline, sharp enough to cut my skin. His full, delectable lips… Snap out of your reverie Fray. Remember what the hell you're here for. Deep breaths. Come on.
"I would appreciate it if you would stop singing, no screeching, so loudly." My unnamed (for the time being) neighbor said, 'The walls are paper thin. And At least I have the manners to bite my pillow when I have sex." Dafuq did he just say to me? Oh no, I don't think so. His face suddenly morphs from the most elegant angel, to the fiery devil.
"Screeching? May I inform you, that plenty of people enjoy my singing." Total lie, but I'm trying to prove a point. "So she speaks! I though your red-haired self just stared." He exclaimed, "But, who can blame you, I do look like this" Gesturing up and down his body, he winks at me. I melt. Geez, Clary KEEP YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. TAKE A RIBBON AND TIE YOURSELF TOGETHER. He looks at me, "You wanna grab a coffee and come to a compromise about your songs?" I stutter through my sentence. Meaning to say hell no, but instead responding with, "Uh, sure, that um, sounds like, uh, totally good." Oh my God, you sound like a toddler learning how to string sentences together. He smiles, "Great. I'll come next door in an hour." with one more dazzling smile, he closes the door lightly. Did he just? Did I just? The door flies open one more time, "Oh, and my name's Jace."