I heard them the minute they came in through the front door, scuffling around and laughing, sounding like a teenage couple.
I stirred my black coffee, sipping it nonchalantly as Val called out, "Hey, Clary, we're here!"
Like I didn't know that already.
She'd gone out early in the morning to pick up Jace and bring him back to our place straight away, but apparently they'd had a few complications along the way. I huffed into the mug, taking a seat on the stool.
Val clattered into the kitchen, dropping her bag and keys on the counter. I heard another set of footsteps along with hers but didn't bother looking up. "Sorry for being late!" She didn't sound sorry at all, "Jace was a bit hungry and we decided to stop for lunch." I arched an eyebrow, but didn't comment.
I heard a male voice, "Where do you want me to hang up my coat?" The voice sounded like honey, pronouncing the words in an elegant, fluid British accent. Huh, of course Val would pick a guy who was British. She went weak at the knees at the sound of their voices. I hated to admit it, but even my heart flipped over when he spoke.
"Oh, just put it in the hallway Jace!" Val called back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, blushing like a little girl. I didn't like it when she started acting all silly and simpering to guys. It made me think they were taking away the strong, independent Val I knew and loved.
I felt her nudge me but I shrugged her off, trying to choke down my black coffee. I didn't usually go for black, but I was feeling foul right now so why couldn't my drink be?
"Give him a chance!" She hissed in my ear before straightening up quickly when Jace came back into the room, "Jace, this is my sister Clary." She said my name through gritted teeth, an obvious sign clearly directed at me. I rolled my eyes and finally decided to look up.
Whoa.
It should've been what I expecting really – an insanely gorgeous guy with tattoos running up his arms and that certain bad-boy glint in his eyes. Val said to me once that she went for the 'dangerous' rather than 'cute'. "Why play it safe, when you can so much fun taking a risk?" she'd said with a wink. I was never sure if she was entirely right though.
Sure Jace Herondale was my sister's typical choice, just like all the others, so why he seem... different? He had a full head of blonde hair, curling slightly at the ends, and intense, amber eyes like flecks of gold. Strong jawline, neatly chiselled features, not forgetting that naughty smirk... my sister had done well, I'll give her that.
He grinned, leaning down and holding out his hand, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jace." It felt odd shaking his hand, his warm fingers sliding through mine. I nodded then found my voice.
"I know. I'm Clary." Then I felt stupid because my sister had already introduced me. Too bad. Jace smirked, standing tall again, before walking over to Val, snaking an arm around her waist. Her blue eyes lit up at his contact and I flushed awkwardly, realising they probably wanted some alone time.
"Um, I'll be in the living room then," I started, but neither was taking any notice of me, just gazing at each other like they were the only ones in the room. As if I were invisible. I tried to ignore the hurt in my heart, getting up from the table to leave.
I switched on Netflix, surfing through channels to find one to match my mood status. Preferably something with with a whole of lot of sisters forgetting their sisters over guys, when they'd probably forget the guy ever existed this time next year... I sighed, tossing the remote aside. I was way too worked up about this. Val had had tonnes of boyfriends, even a few fiancés over the years, and none of them had made me this upset. So why Jace?
I thought about heading to my room to calm down a bit and then seconds later heard a bunch of laughing and knocks as Jace and Val stumbled into her bedroom. This flat had really thin walls. Did I really want to hear them going on at it while I tried to get my wits together. Um... I'll pass.
Finally, I decided on reading, picking up a romance novel, one about a girl falling in love with her captor. I'd started reading it last week or something, the first line being These manacles he places on my wrists are just his way of saying he loves me, that just intrigued me. Why would someone fall in love with a person who hurts them? I tried to sink into the storyline as best as I could but gave up completely when I heard Val's low moans coming from the door.
I huffed, grabbing my phone and earbuds, plugging them in quick and putting on Coldplay at the highest volume it could possibly go, drowning out my sister's noises. Getting my sketchpad, I drew a pair of hands, pale and scarred, with metal cuffs tightened firmly around them. I paid close attention to the chains attached to them, highlighting the gleam of the metal, the loop of the chain.
In my best calligraphy, I wrote along the length of the manacles my favourite line from the book so far: Having your choices taken away from you is the truest freedom – freedom from decisions.
In a way it was true but also wrong. You were always trapped if you were unable to make your own choices, having your life dictated by someone else. There was no freedom in that, as far as I saw, but maybe others saw things differently. I dropped the pencil back on the table, then my book, slipping a bookmark into my page.
Carefully, I took out my earbuds but heard no suspicious sounds coming from the door. Slumping in relief, I got up and headed to the kitchen, planning to have a snack before going to bed. Time to raid the larder.
I smuggled some Doritos and a bottle of Sprite, stuffing it down at the kitchen table when a certain British accent made me jump, "Having a midnight feast, I see." I swallowed down the last of the Sprite, wiping crisp crumbs from my mouth.
"You never saw anything, Blondie." He laughed as I threw everything back into the larder, quietly closing the door.
"Got it, Red." I snorted, turning around to see his smirk that seemed to be his trademark, and a pair of glimmering, golden eyes. I frowned when I recognised my drawing in his hands. He saw my pointed stare and winked, "Just saw this lying around. It's good."
"It's mine." I clarified, grabbing it from his hands and smoothing out the creases. His eyebrows were raised, "What? Don't believe that I actually drew it?" Jace chuckled.
"Course I do." The tone in his voice told me he really didn't. He was mocking me, and I didn't like it one bit. My cheeks flamed and I felt the urge to defend myself, to prove to Jace that he was wrong. I stopped myself just in time; why did I need to prove myself to him? I knew I'd drawn it, and that was enough. The satisfaction was underwhelming.
"Now if you don't mind..." I shoved past him, my drawing held protectively to my chest, walking to my bedroom.
Jace Herondale seemed like a jerk, even if he had a charming British accent. Different to the rest? Now, he seemed exactly the same. I dreaded the next few weeks he'd be staying here, wondering how on earth I was going to survive.
Thank you for all reviewers/followers/favourites for the last chapter. It means so much! ;)
Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
~InfernoAlive
