Clary almost hadn't come to this party explicitly because Brian might be there. But Simon had begged, and told her there's no way her ex would show his face, and she'd given in. Best friends for life meant making sacrifices sometimes.
So of course the very first person she sees after Simon abandons her to flirt with Maureen and Raphael is Brian, with his stupid smug smile, touching some girl's face and probably giving her the same line about how "perfectly symmetrical" her cheekbones are, and "won't she please let him draw her." She's torn between conflicting urges to punch that smile off his face or leave, when he and the girl start to turn in her direction and she realizes she's standing in front of the drinks table.
"Shit!" she spins and almost knocks someone over. For a moment she is stupefied by large dark eyes, full pouting lips, and a leather bustier that wouldn't look out of place on that basically soft porn lesbian fantasy series she watches when her roommate's gone.
"You okay?" the girl asks, clearly amused, and Clary shakes her head.
"My ex is here, with someone else." The girl's smile turns sympathetic and Clary, bolstered by fear and intense attraction, speaks before she can overthink it. "Make out with me?" She darts a glance over her shoulder and sees Brian frowning in her direction, then turns back to the far more appealing sight of the gorgeous stranger still holding her arm. "Please?"
The girl looks at her for a breathless moment, a silent evaluation Clary hopes she measures up to, then those vivid red lips are curling into a smirk and Clary basically forgets that Brian exists. "I am a sucker for a damsel in distress."
Clary wants to protest that description, however accurate it might be, but then those lips are on hers, warm and soft and perfect, and Clary no longer has any desire to argue with her new favorite person in the world. The girl lets go of Clary's arm, curving one hand around Clary's hip and sliding the other into her hair. Clary moans into her mouth, eagerly pressing closer. It's the best kiss she's had, maybe ever, and she doesn't want it to end.
The girl has long, silky, black curls, and Clary tangles her hands in them, already addicted to the feel of her soft curves and the supple leather encasing them. She definitely owes Simon for talking her into coming to this party. When they finally pull apart, breathless, Clary has forgotten that this is supposed to be a distraction and just wants to get the girl's name, number, and possibly her hand in marriage. Or at least a facebook relationship claim.
The other girl grins at her, her hand dropping out of Clary's hair to pinch her ass. "That was fun, Cinnamon, but I've got a prior engagement to get to. See you around!" Then she's gone, and Clary's left staring, one hand reaching up to touch her still tingling mouth. Okay, no. That is unacceptable. She refuses to let that be her only encounter with her new favorite person. She turns, glad to see Brian has disappeared, and forges into the crowd to find Simon. Someone has to know who she is.
But no one does, or at least no one's talking, and Clary is a frustrated mess when she storms into the first day of her Principles of Biology class just as the Professor starts talking.
She flashes the woman an apologetic smile and slinks into the closest seat, not bothering to see who else is at the table until Professor Sinclair-Jones announces that that their seatmates will be their partners for the lab section. There's a low laugh next to her and Clary looks up to see her savior from last night, looking at her with a bright, evaluative gaze. "Hope you're good at science, Cinnamon, your cuteness will not save you if you tank my grade."
Clary flushes from a variety of emotions, ranging from lust to relief to defensiveness. She is admittedly taking this course primarily to get the gen ed out of the way, and give her a chance to practice scientific drawing, but she's an excellent student and she's never tanked someone's grade in her life. More importantly, this is not the reunion she'd been hoping for.
She tries her most charming smile as she pulls her notebook out of her bag. "We should exchange numbers so we can coordinate study times and labwork." And maybe booty calls, if Clary's lucky.
The other girl grins like she knows what Clary's thinking. "I'm Isabelle by the way, Isabelle Lightwood."
"Clary Fray," Clary responds, holding out her notebook for Isabelle to write down her number. She may have needed rescuing last night, but she didn't need any help to find Isabelle, and she's not going to need any to woo her either. Kickass lab skills, short skirts, and as much inappropriate use of biology terms as she can manage. She's so got this.