Thank you guys so much for the encouraging comments! I have been writing non-stop this weekend and am very happy with what has come of it so far. There's no Alec in this chapter (I know, booooo :'( ), but we do get to spend some time with his sister :) and the plot thickens mwahahahaa. It feels like it's moving a little slow, but I promise it picks up, you just gotta trust me. This is going to be a fairly long story. (I think)

Next chapter will be in Alec's POV, so we'll get to see him more, and maybe a certain someone who has been in high demand with the reviewers *wink*.

I've posted this one for you guys a day and a half early (I was trying to wait three days), and I may post the next one early too if I get a bunch of reviews :)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, except the teachers, or Starbucks or any other copywrited thing I mention.

Chapter 3: How to Create Opportunities

So that was how I met him yesterday and why I woke up today at the asscrack of dawn (or 6:15am as some people call it) with a smile, a slight headache, and a thorough sense of determination.

The sun was barely shining through my leopard print curtains, but that dismal fact didn't bother me as much as it usually does.

I was a man on a mission.

I had realized in those early moments of waking when your body tries so desperately to go back to sleep, but your brain is already awake, that I didn't need to wait for class to find out if, what was her name? Izzy? Yes that was it, if Izzy was in my French 101 or not. I could just go to our online class site and it would have a roster listed.

I slid on the pair of pink silk pajama pants I found lying next to my bed and headed out of my room to find the laptop I'd left in the den last night. I'd decided that I would check to see if she was in my class before getting ready because if she was, I needed to make myself as attractive as possible so as to make a good first impression. Though, if she was in my class, it was likely that she'd already seen me before.

Can't say I'm not noticeable.

Still, my plan involved actually speaking with her and if that was to happen I needed to dress for it.

I ran my fingers lightly across the keys of my keyboard as I waited for the computer to boot up. Why was time moving so slow today? Finally I was allowed to get online and search for the information I needed.

Let's see: Jones, Joyce, Lamas, Lane, Lightwood.

There it was. Isabelle Lightwood.

Could fate really be on my side?

I have never been a religious man, but I thanked every god I'd ever heard of, and the Buddha for good measure, that Isabelle Lightwood and I had been placed into the same class by this wild and mysterious universe. I literally had to stop myself from skipping into the bathroom I was so excited. Today was going to be a good day.

For the first time this semester I made it to my journalism writing class with fifteen minutes to spare, even after standing in the mile long Starbucks line for my morning macchiato. As I walked into class I earned no small amount of stares from the people around me; not that I was surprised. I'd gone all out today, attempting (and I think succeeding) at looking sophisticated and chic, with just the slightest bit of exciting. I had chosen a pair of black skinny jeans coupled with black leather boots, a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled midway up my forearms and a black unbuttoned waistcoat and a pencil thin magenta silk tie for a splash of color. I added a studded leather belt for flare and a pocket watch with a silver chain to hang out of my waistcoat pocket. I'd spent a good thirty minutes painstakingly making the spikes in my hair stick up exactly how I wanted them to, adding a dash of glitter here and there for character. I'd chosen a smokey eye look, even though it was eight a.m. and that was really supposed to be a night time thing. Smokey eyes always looked good on me. Add to that a thin line of magenta sparkly liner on my eyelids and I was done.

Perfection, thy name is Magnus.

I took my seat in the front row of Dr. Edgington's class and tried to clear my brain. There were exactly three hours and two classes standing in between me and the next phase of mission: Date Alexander Lightwood. I had to keep calm and focus on my studies. There was nothing else I could do until Mme. Marceau's class.

At long last 11 am rolled around. I felt myself getting giddy with anticipation. As I waited for the class before ours to let out so that we could go in and take our seats, a terrible realization occurred to me.

I have absolutely no idea what Isabelle Lightwood looks like.

I wanted to smack myself for not having asked Jace for more details before forming my grandmaster plan in my head. What was I supposed to do now, hope and pray and the teacher calls on her today so I can get a look? I got out my phone and hoped to the gods (I was doing a lot of that recently) that Jace was awake and paying little enough attention in class to notice his phone buzz.

What does this Izzy girl look like?

I texted furiously as people started to pile past me into the awaiting classroom.

Hurryuphurryuphurryup!

I looked down at my phone screen, 10:57 it told me. That's ok. Three minutes is plenty of time. And I can always check it during class when Mme. Marceau isn't looking.

I looked up and saw said teacher hurrying down the hall, briefcase and papers in hand.

"Ah Bonjour M. Bane" She flashed a friendly smile at me and I held the door open for her.

"Bonjour Mme. Marceau." I felt my phone vibrate in my hand and my heart skipped a beat.

"Merci." She stepped through the door and looked over at me, expecting that I follow her in since class was just about to begin. I had no choice. I smiled and walked over to my seat (again at the front of the class) and discretely clicked to screen button on my phone to see what Jace had replied.

Her brother. But with darker eyes. And more boobs.

What a delicate way he had with words, that Jace Herondale. I desperately wanted to look wildly around to see if I could spot any black haired dark eyed females, but I refrained. Instead I set my backpack down next to me, glancing to my right as far as I could without looking creepy. Nope, no female Alec's over there. Then I removed my notebook (decorated with a beautiful fleur de lis pattern) and ever so casually dropped my glittery yellow pencil on my left.

How clumsy of me.

As I slowly glanced around, taking my sweet time retrieving the stick of graphite, a flash of black caught my eye.

There she was! All the way in the back left corner, playing on her phone was the girl who absolutely had to be Isabelle Lightwood. She was slender, with ebony hair like her brother's, dark brown, almost black, eyes, full lips and a much bronzer complexion than Alec's ghost-like paleness. She was in a purple lacy top that clung to show off her ample bosom and tiny waistline, and a short black pleated skirt, with black leather high heeled boots going all the way up to her knees. I was a bit stunned at her beauty, surprised that Jace hadn't described her differently. But then again, that boy did have some pretty awful taste in women. Still, this Isabelle was a thing of beauty. Even Jace should have been able to appreciate that.

It was even worse trying to focus on the lesson in this class than it was in the previous two. I just had to make it through fifty minutes and then I would go talk to her and enact my brilliant plan.

Mme. Marceau called on her to conjugate our newly learned verb faire and I recognized her voice, though I never usually turned around in class when people behind me spoke, so it wasn't a surprise I hadn't recognized her featured. She definitely sounded better than Monday when she'd butchered the accent trying to say her birthday in French. Not that he had much room to judge on that front...

Now she spoke with confidence, sounding not unlike Alec had last night. "Je fais, tu fais, il fait, nous faison, vous faitez, ils font."

"Bravo Mlle. Lightwood! I can tell you've been practicing. Remember however, that faire is irregular though and doesn't follow the rules for the vous form; it should be vous faites." Isabelle's cheeks flushed a little at the teacher's corrections and it struck me just how much she and her brother looked alike. Aside from the great fashion sense and different eye color, she could've been his twin.

I was glad the teacher had called on her (another friendly handout from the universe), because it gave me the perfect opening to strike up our conversation. When the clock hit 11:50 everyone started packing up their books quickly, fleeing the classroom. I took my time, waiting to catch Isabelle as she left. She had her bright purple backpack slung over one shoulder and was sauntering over to the door, exuding coolness with every step.

I want to be this girl.

"Hey, Isabelle, isn't it?" I asked, falling into step beside her as we walked out of the door and down the hall.

"That depends, who wants to know?" She looked me up and down and I suddenly felt more scrutinized than I ever had before. It was as if she was trying to learn my life story with that one glance. I was glad I'd put so much effort into my look today. Not that I don't always look fabulous.

"Magnus Bane," I held my hand out to her and she took it, awkwardly shaking hands as we walked down the cold gray stairwell. Her heels made loud clicks as they struck each step.

I could see a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth when I said my name, but it was quickly schooled. What was that about? We'd finished descending the steps and walked out into the all too bright midday sun when she finally decided to answer.

"Well, you've got the right girl. What can I help you with?"

I was thrown at her strange behavior for a moment; until I remembered that I was on a mission and it needed my full attention.

"A little birdie told me that you have this really great French tutor, and obviously it's helping you a lot, you sounded great in class." Flattery will get you everywhere in life.

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and smiled; I took this as encouragement to continue.

"Anyway, I'm having a hard time making sense of that lovely language and I was wondering if you thought your tutor could help me out as well."

I'd decided when I woke up this morning that it would be too weird to just text Alexander out of the blue. If he really was as shy as Jace had said, I didn't want to scare him off by being to forward. I needed a better, more concrete, way of getting to see him again.

Employing him as a tutor seemed like the perfect plan.

Plus, seeing him up in front of our class last night had awakened some dormant teacher/student fetish of mine that I hadn't known existed.

"Hmm..." She pursed her lips in thought. "Perhaps. Buy me a cappuccino and I'll see what I can do." She swiftly changed directions towards the library (where the Starbucks was located), expecting me to follow, even though I hadn't answered.

I was starting to like this girl more and more every minute. She reminded me of myself.

I grinned to myself and followed her to the large automatic doors of the library. We took our place in line behind a short brunette girl who was talking shyly with a tall blonde boy who I could only assume was her boyfriend, or wanted desperately to be, based on the lovesick way he hung on her every word.

Isabelle took out her phone and texted someone, tilting the screen away from me so I couldn't see the name. Not that I would have looked. I'm nosey, but not rude. She clicked the screen off and slid it back into a little pocket on the front of her skirt.

We made small talk while we waited to place our orders and receive our drinks. Isabelle carried her cappuccino over to one of the small round tables by the large picture window looking out onto campus and I followed with my chai tea latte.

There was a melodic ring and Isabelle checked her phone, laughing and rolling her eyes at whatever was on the screen before returning her attention to me.

"Here's the thing," she said, abruptly starting a conversation. "My tutor is really busy and barely has enough time to help me out, but," she said with a glint in her eye, "I am willing to let you sit in on our sessions, kind of like a little study group. Only without any lame asses who don't actually do any work." She took a sip of her beverage and continued. "Speaking of which, you'd better not waste our time. I need to pass this class and Alec is the only way that's going to happen so if you're not going to be dedicated and are just planning on fooling around then you can forget about it mister!"

I was floored at her aggressive tone. Are we still talking about tutoring, or had she somehow read my mind and was now launching into little sister defensive mode?

I cleared my throat, buck up Magnus, you've got this.

"I assure you my dear Isabelle, my intentions are the complete opposite. I will put every amount of dedication I have into this endeavor if you give me the chance." That was entirely true. "I really need to pass this class as well." I added; making sure we were, in fact, still talking about French.

She gave me a look that made me feel like a prisoner being interrogated, then, like a storm clod being blown away in the wind, it was gone. Back to all smiles.

Her phone could be heard buzzing again, but she ignored it this time.

"Great! We're going to have a blast. Call me Izzy by the way. Oh and you should know that Alec has very high expectations for people, he's not one of those types who yells at you a bunch if you screw up. He generally doesn't say anything, but you can tell he's disappointed in you. I think that's worse. I'd rather just be yelled at. It's a really good motivation for me to study." She was talking fast, possibly because her caffeine had kicked in, or possibly because now that she'd appraised me and found me worthy, she was being more herself. Either way, it was a little terrifying.

"Of course, that might just be because he's my big brother." She added casually. I feigned surprised, seeing as how I wasn't supposed to know this little tidbit of information.

"Really? Yeah, I guess that would put the pressure on. You're sure he doesn't mind taking on another pupil?"

"Oh no, not at all, he's a good sport. And I'm sure you two will get along great. When are you free to start? I don't have any night classes, but I'd really prefer not sitting around making flash cards with my brother on a Friday night, so, do you have time Sunday?"

"Sunday sounds marvelous." I replied, happy that we both agreed that there were better things to do on Friday and Saturday nights than study, though I couldn't think of any better way to spend any night of the week than being with Alexander.

"Well now that business is out of the way," she said, flipping her black curtain of hair over her shoulder, "you HAVE to tell me how you apply your make-up like that. Those smoky eyes are flawless!"

And that was that. Izzy and I spent the next hour and a half talking about make-up and clothes, exchanging phone numbers when it was finally time to head off to our next classes.

I was walking on clouds when I left the library. Three days. I only had to wait three days and then I would see him again. And not just see him, I would be talking with him, working with him, hopefully sitting close to him and flirting skillfully when his sister wasn't paying attention. I needed to go home and decide what to wear!

Scratch that, I needed to go shopping!