Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while. As I explained to some of you, I started an internship at my favourite magazine last week - woop - but that involved me working full-time and writing for hours and hours every day, so when I came home in the evenings I just slept and didn't get round to working on this. I've gotten more used to it this week though, hence the update. As a result, I haven't been able to get through all of my replies yet - I actually fell asleep during them yesterday, so for those of you who I promised an update, that's why it didn't happen last night - but I'll get through them all in the next couple of days.
I'm still pretty exhausted so I'll leave all my thoughts on the Clary/Tessa thing till next time. Also, thank you for all the birthday wishes! I feel older and wiser already.
Disclaimer: I do not own TMI, TID or any of their characters, but I do own a crappy old boiler.
A Tale Of Two…
Invitations
20th January
Will Herondale thought he understood women.
After years of careful practice, he was certain he'd honed the act of pulling to an art. His methods were fool proof. Fail-safe. Unquestionable.
Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen.
Those were the words he lived by.
He was assured enough in the way that he looked that he'd never even had to try anything different. He drove women absolutely crazy. They couldn't handle his quiet amusement or his subtle indifference. Where Jace was an obvious flirt and played into their hands, Will's opposite approach had the exact same effect. There was nothing women hated more than being ignored. They despised the way they couldn't tell what he was really feeling and ached to find out.
His teasing smile pushed them to the very edge, until they felt like the only way they could claw their way back to the surface was by holding onto him.
He was their doom. But he was also their salvation.
Will Herondale was like a fallen angel.
Unyielding and unforgiving.
So in theory, there was no reason why it wouldn't work again. He'd accepted that he would have to change the scenery from his usual haunts – the kind of bold, confident girls who usually jumped him in bars and clubs wouldn't necessarily be willing to stick it out with him for a month – but other than that, he didn't think he'd have to try a different tack.
Until he met Tessa Gray.
Crazy, hot-tempered Tessa Gray.
Never before had someone made him doubt himself so much as her.
She appeared to be completely immune to his charm. Instead of getting more turned on by him whenever he teased her, she just seemed to despise him more. He knew he'd been rude the first day – though that was exactly what he'd intended – but the second time he returned to the bookstore, he had genuinely wanted to make amends. Obviously he noticed the other brown-haired girl and thought he might as well try his luck with her too, but in part, he did almost feel bad for how much he'd upset Tessa.
He gathered she must have had a particular affection for Charles Dickens, so as far as he was concerned, as long as he didn't insult any other authors, she should have been okay with him.
Apparently, that wasn't the case.
"But it's basically a compliment!" He'd pleaded with her, both arms braced on the threshold of the shop. Tessa's eyes blazed as she grappled with him, her own hands planted firmly on his chest.
As soon as she'd spotted the 'Thomas makes me Hardy' t-shirt, she hadn't even bothered with expressing her outrage. Her features simply hardened and then she tried to push him out of the shop again.
"Please, Will," she'd said, clearly trying to keep calm. He noticed it was the first time she'd addressed him by his name. She really must have been mad. "I apologised for what I did, but now I don't want to get into another argument with you so I have to feel bad about it all over again. Just don't make a fuss and leave."
"But I don't understand!" He resisted her as she gave him another shove, trying to keep his footing as his upper-half dangled outside. "I'm not insulting Thomas Hardy. I actually love Thomas Hardy! He wrote Tess Of The D'Urbervilles. Surely you must like that, eh, Tess?"
"Don't," she snapped. "Call me that."
"Just tell me what the problem is!"
"She doesn't like innuendos." This came from the other girl, the one who was looking on from behind. She'd seemed like she wanted to intervene multiple times, but obviously decided against it. "Or anything remotely sexual."
"Sophie!" Tessa's eyes bulged as she turned to gape at her friend. Will took advantage of her momentary distraction to edge back into the shop, his feet set on the welcome rug. "You are not at liberty to disclose that sort of information to strange men."
"I'm not strange," Will pouted. "I think I'm rather dashing, actually. But wait, what do you mean she doesn't like anything sexual?"
"Don't tell him a thing!" Tessa hesitated, clearly torn between trying to kick Will out or restrain Sophie. She hovered in between them, both arms raised.
"Tessa is incredibly modest," Sophie continued, despite Tessa's frenzied waving. "What? I'm sorry, Tessa, he has to know. You can't keep freaking out like this."
"Seriously?" This had peaked Will's interest. He'd never encountered a girl in her twenties who was afraid of innuendos. What was she, Victorian? "So you don't like my shirt because it's a reference to arousal?"
"Ah!" Tessa gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Her face had turned a bright shade of pink.
"Oh, c'mon," he continued, encouraged by her reaction. "You're a fully grown woman. What are you so scared of?"
"I'm not scared! I'm just not talking about this," she shook her head frantically. She backed away from Will, but then paused again when she realised he'd just use that to get further into the shop.
"So that's why you got so mad at me the other day…" Will was pleased by this revelation. He didn't believe it was possible for a woman to take such a dislike to him so soon after meeting. If his 'Suck my Dickens' t-shirt had already managed to offend her before he'd spoken a word, he'd been fighting a losing battle anyway. That restored his pride somewhat. "You didn't like the meaning behind my shirt. I thought it was because of what I said."
"It is because of what you said!" Tessa glowered at him. "Charles John Huffam…" She paused, daring him to laugh. He stayed quiet. Just about. "Dickens is very important to me. But no, the suggestion was also rather shocking. I hated you on both counts." He noticed the way she was trying to avoid direct eye contact with him.
"Wow," Will grinned at her in appreciation. "Please, Tessa. I'm blushing."
"Just. Leave."
"Alright," he held his hands up. "I'll go. But this is not over."
"Yes, it is. It's over. It's over right now. I don't want to see you here ever again."
"Now, you don't mean that," he bit his lip, relishing the way her eyes seemed to drift towards it.
"I do. I absolutely mean it."
She didn't mean it. Not one bit.
"We'll see," he shrugged. "It's only a matter of time before you give in to me."
"You're mad," she laughed once, throwing her arms up in disbelief. "Completely delusional."
"Maybe, but so are you, love." Then he strolled out of the shop of his own accord. But just before the door shut on him, he stopped it with his foot and leant against the frame. "Mark my words, Tess - it might not be today, tomorrow or even next week, but eventually you'll be begging to be Thomas."
"I told you not to call me that!" She shrieked, then froze in her tracks as she understood the full meaning of what he'd said. Will darted away before she had the chance to yell at him again, narrowly avoiding a man in a flannel shirt on the pavement.
And that was the last he'd seen of her.
He'd come back the day after and even this morning, but both times she hadn't been there. He recognised the blonde girl from his first visit and there was some redhead with her, but his fiery prude was noticeably absent.
And that was bothering him far more than it should have done.
It took him a while to admit it, but he'd been feeling something since that evening at the bookstore. It took him even longer to figure out what that feeling was.
Regret.
He realised he may have overstepped the boundary in the last few things he'd said to her. He wasn't usually so forward and he especially shouldn't have been since he knew she was so uncomfortable with talk like that, but he couldn't help himself. Perhaps it was the frustration with her indifference – at least, romantically – where it should have been the other way round, or maybe he was simply desperate to get another reaction out of her.
Either way, he'd taken the encounter as a challenge.
Tessa wasn't going to be the first girl to ever turn down Will Herondale.
He wouldn't give her that satisfaction.
Whether it involved him stepping up his usual game or even some extreme sucking-up, Will was determined that somehow, he would crack the grey-eyed enigma. She may not have been cut out for trust-fund-girlfriend material – he doubted he could manage to put up with her for an entire month anyway – but he'd conquer her all the same.
So that's all he'd been thinking about.
Every moment of every day, his mind was set on how best to win over Tessa Gray. Well, whenever he wasn't thinking about food.
Or his annoying little brother who was wearing his shirt!?
"What the hell, Jace?" He jumped out of his chair as the blonde Herondale came waltzing out of his bedroom into the open plan living room. Will had received a pack of three literature-related t-shirts for Christmas. Two of them he'd showcased at the bookstore and now Jace was wearing the third.
It read: Hotter than Dante's Inferno…
"Good morning to you too," Jace nodded, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Jonathan dragged himself out of his own room shortly afterwards, still in his pyjamas.
"What do you think you're doing?" Will snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Making coffee…" Jace frowned.
"I'm referring to the blatant act of theft you have just committed."
Jace looked down at the mug again. "Was this your coffee?"
"No, the t-shirt you prick! Why are you wearing my t-shirt!? You don't even like poetry."
"Oh, that! I'm just borrowing it temporarily, relax. I need it to be my wingman. Wingshirt. Whatever."
"Why exactly?"
"I decided to take your advice."
"You did?" Will dropped back into his seat in surprise. Jonathan slumped down onto the sofa next to him. "What advice?"
"About shaking things up. The places we usually go to are great for picking up girls, but not necessarily picking up girlfriends, so I'm expanding the pool. I'm heading to a poetry reading and I thought the shirt would be a good conversation starter. There's sure to be a couple of the whole naïve, committing-type there."
"Oh. Well, if it's for the cause, I guess I can let you off this time."
"Are you guys still banging on about that?" Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "I already told you, there's no point trying so hard to get into a long-term relationship. It's not worth it. Just give it time and something will come along."
"That's easy for you to say," Jace shook his head, carrying his mug from the kitchen over to the living area. "You've got girlfriends left, right and centre."
"Yeah," Will added. "Aren't you still dating those two best friends? Seelie Queen and Kaelie Whitewillow, right?"
"No!" Jonathan winced. "I technically don't have any girlfriends at all and I'm not even dating those two anymore. I ended it before we moved out of Bristol. The problem is, I don't go out seeking these relationships. They find me. I'm tragically boyfriend-zoned by everyone."
"That's not a thing."
"It is!" Jonathan said, running his hands through his hair. "I'm so attractive and witty that girls don't even consider me as anything less than a romantic interest. They can't just be friends with me. I'm automatically boyfriend material. Like, I wasn't even trying to pull Celia and Katie."
"Seelie and Kaelie," Jace corrected.
"Whatever," he shrugged. "Point is, I didn't make a move on them at all. I just found out that one of Seelie's friends was moving out of a flat in London so I figured I'd ask her about it. I tried to be nice. That's all. It's not my fault she took the cup of tea the wrong way and jumped me. Same with Kaelie. She hooked me up with a potential site for the tattoo parlour so I offered her some crisps. Some crisps. And she didn't even take them! But how was I supposed to know that basically equated to a marriage proposal in her book? After that I couldn't get rid of either of them. They both thought I was with them. Absolutely nothing at all to do with me."
"Wow, that is actually pretty tragic," Will commented, completely genuine. "I'm lucky enough that girls don't expect any more from me in the first place but the thought of not being able to blow them off? You have it harder than I thought."
"I do," Jonathan nodded gravely. "I really do."
"But unfortunately," Jace interjected. "Will and I don't have that problem. Instead, we're like, fling-zoned. None of the girls we're actually interested in would be up for being with us for more than a couple of hours. It's the unpredictability they like us for in the first place. The notoriety. If we started baking with them at weekends and…" He shuddered. "Spooning, we'd lose all credibility. That's why I need to look for people who won't be popular enough to spread news of my sudden desire for a relationship and thereby affect my reputation. Hence," he pointed to his shirt. "Poetry reading."
"What about that girl upstairs?" Will asked. "I thought you said she was a potential?"
"What girl upstairs?" Jonathan suddenly snapped.
"Oh," Jace took a sip from his mug before continuing. "The Fray girl. Yeah, she's pretty hot. A bit zany though. I don't know if I could handle that."
"No," Jonathan shook his head wildly. "Definitely not. You wouldn't be able to handle someone insane."
"Well, she's not that bad…"
"She probably is," he insisted. "I bet she was actually downplaying it. She's likely to be a lot worse! Trust me, she sounds like bad news."
"But she's so hot," Jace laid back, his eyes glazing over. "I'm not ruling her out just yet. Obviously I'm keeping my options open, but she's on the list. It doesn't matter what she's like, anyone with eyes like that would be more than welcome to…"
"Okay, dude I get it!" Jonathan cut him off, shifting his own gaze to the ground. "Let's not talk about her anymore."
"Man, what's your problem?" Will asked, watching him suspiciously. Jonathan was never usually this interested in Jace's romantic endeavours.
"Nothing! I just don't think we should err…objectify women like that."
"I was talking about her eyes. That's hardly…"
"Someone's here!" Jonathan leapt to his feat as there was a knock on the door.
"I'll get it!" Jace also jumped up, almost spilling his coffee in the process.
"No, that's okay. You just have your drink. I'll answer the door."
"Really, I'm fine," Jace said, edging towards the door. "Besides, you're not even dressed yet."
"I don't mind," Jonathan shuffled sideways too. "Your coffee's going to get cold. Be a good boy and sit down."
"God, what has gotten into you two?" Will watched them with concern. Three more knocks came at the door. He rolled his eyes. "I'll get it."
"NO!" The two of them yelled at once.
Great, Will thought. I'm living with nutcases.
"Fine, then both of you go and open it or they'll go away."
That spurred Jace into action and he narrowly beat Jonathan to the handle, wrenching the door open as the other boy knocked into him from behind. Will groaned as coffee splashed onto the floorboards but the other two were too busy staring ahead of them.
"You're not the Dark Sisters…" The voice was male. Will peeked over the edge of his chair to see a tall, dark-haired man coated from head to toe in glitter. Another guy stood just behind him, his floppy black hair falling into his eyes. This one was dressed completely the opposite, with holes appearing in his tatty jumper and threads dangling from the hem.
"No," Jace shook his head slowly, eyeing the man. "We're blonde."
"I can see that," the man laughed. "My name is Magnus, I'm from the flat downstairs. And this is my boyfriend, Alec."
"Oh!" Jace reached out with his free hand to shake Magnus's. Alec simply nodded a greeting. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jace and this is Jonathan. Over there is my brother, Will."
Will waved lazily from his chair.
"Have you just moved in?"
"Yeah, a few days ago," Jonathan said. "The Dark Sisters don't live here anymore."
"Well, that would explain the noise. We were wondering how the old biddies had managed to keep moving from room to room so fast." Magnus grinned, revealing a set of pristine white teeth. "Are you here for long?"
"For the foreseeable future, yeah."
"Great! Well, you might as well join in with the festivities then. Alec and I were here to warn the sisters that we'd be throwing a party soon – it's my 25th birthday – but if you're up for it, why not come down? It's on the 29th January, so just over a week."
"Yeah, why not?" Jace said. "We're always up for a party."
"Awesome, it'll be a good chance for you to meet the others in this house too."
"Wait," Jonathan moved Jace out the way. "Other people from the building will be there?"
"Sure! De Quincey in Flat One isn't around much during the day but he's always up for our evening dos and I'm sure Flat Four will be there."
"Flat Four as in upstairs?"
"Yeah! Have you met…"
"Briefly," Jonathan cut him off. "Well, we might actually have something on that day…"
"We do?" Jace glanced sideways at him.
"Yeah, I was about to tell you guys today. It's just this work thing. Really important."
"Oh, well it'll be going on till pretty late so if you find time afterwards then pop over!" Magnus seemed unfazed.
"Absolutely," Jonathan nodded, starting to close the door. "Thanks for letting us know. Bye bye now."
"Bye!" Magnus called as Jonathan shut him out into the corridor.
"What was that about?" Will squinted at him.
"Nothing," Jonathan shrugged. "Jace, clean the floor will you?"
Then he walked back to his bedroom, leaving the two Herondales staring after him in confusion.
-o-O-o-
"…and make sure you carry a pot of chilli flakes with you at all times."
"Dad, is that really necessary?" Clary sighed, balancing the phone between her chin and her shoulder as she attempted to select an outfit. Isabelle sat cross-legged on her bed, occasionally nodding or shaking her head at Clary's choices.
"Is it necessary?!" Valentine gasped from the other end of the line. "Clarissa, do you have any idea what sorts of vagabonds roam the streets of London at night? You must be prepared at all times."
"Sure, Dad." She picked out a tartan skirt and threw it onto her bed.
"Clarissa, are you listening to me? You seem to be preoccupied."
"Of course I'm listening," she mumbled, taking out a woolly black jumper from her wardrobe. Isabelle gave her a thumbs up. "Vagabonds galore."
"See, it's exactly this sort of attitude which is going to get you brutally shanked."
"What?" This finally distracted Clary from her clothes and she burst into laughter. "Dad, did you just say 'shanked'?"
"Shanking is no laughing matter, young lady! I've been watching the news lately and this is the sort of language the dissident youths are using these days. It's the same as stabbing, did you know that? So if someone asks you if you'd like to get shanked, you say 'absolutely not, vagabond. I am placing you under citizen's arrest.'"
"If that were to happen, I think I'd just run away instead."
Valentine considered this for a moment.
"Hmm, that would also be a sensible course of action. But perhaps use your chilli flakes to blind them first so that their pursuit is delayed. You can't run very fast on those little legs of yours, Clarissa. Unfortunately, you did not inherit the Morgenstern stature as your older brother did."
Clary stiffened at the mention of Jonathan. From what he'd told her, only Jocelyn knew about his move to London. Their father was still blissfully oblivious to the fact he'd left university.
"There are a lot of things I didn't inherit from the Morgenstern side of the family," she said, thinking of their lack of creativity. There was no way Jonathan was going to be able to set up a licensed tattoo parlour. Absolutely no way.
"Alas, that is true," he said gravely. "But you've still got that fire inside you and I know that when the time comes, you will know what to do. The voices of our noble Swiss ancestors will speak to you in your hour of need."
"I hope so. Thanks, Dad."
"Anytime, daughter. I must take my leave now, your mother is calling me upstairs. For what, I'm not yet sure."
"Yeah, that's fine. You can go." Clary didn't want to wait around to find out. "Speak to you later!"
"What's up me when you get home from the café."
"I'll whatsapp you, Dad. Sure." She smiled to herself. "Bye, love you!"
"Good. Bye…" His voice sounded croaky. "Love you."
After a moment of silence, Clary then heard him shout, "Yes, Jocey, my English breakfast muffin?" and that was her cue to hang up.
"Gross," she shuddered, throwing her phone to the other side of the bed.
"Did he forget to end the call again?" Isabelle asked.
"As always."
Her black-haired friend laughed as Clary scooped up the clothes she'd picked out, holding them against her as she glanced in the mirror.
"So, does this say 'I'm-probably-interested-but-I-can't-show-it-for-another-three-weeks' to you?"
"Without question," Isabelle nodded. "I think the tartan skirt definitely indicates the interest, but the woolly jumper is a stark reminder that you are still cold. Romantically. Very expressive choice of outfit, Fray."
"Thank you, Lightwood." Clary moved behind the wardrobe door to get changed as Isabelle went back to texting Simon. "So, remind me why we're doing this again."
"Because Simon invited us. Eric is his friend and he wants us to be there for his poetic debut, so we're supporting him. Not Eric. We're doing this for Simon."
"Can't you support Simon alone?"
"No, that's lame. And besides, isn't it better if you're away from this house? I thought you wanted to get as far away from your hot, cocky neighbour as possible?"
Clary sighed, pulling the jumper over her head. It was true that she had said that. After the way he'd managed to weasel his way into Malcolm Fade's good books, possibly even superseding Clary herself, she found herself revaluating her feelings for Jace Herondale.
His confidence was certainly appealing to an extent, but could she deal with living in his shadow for the rest of her life?
Sometimes you could just be too good.
Clary didn't think she needed too good. She wanted someone she could stand at eye level with – figuratively – and know they deserved each other. Jace was just a few inches – both figuratively and physically – too high for her.
So as soon as the lecture had finished that day, she'd rushed out of the theatre with the briefest of goodbyes and hadn't seen him again.
She knew she was definitely still attracted to him. After all, no amount of personality traits were ever going to change that face. That was something she'd expected.
But his character did make him infinitely more dangerous.
Not only could she not have him because of the pact she'd made with Tessa, but also because Jace was a troublemaker.
Clary made the mistake of always wearing her heart on her sleeve, and without a doubt, Jace would rip it right off and tear it to pieces.
Might as well save on the pain and relinquish any fantasies before it was too late.
"Yeah," Clary eventually said, appearing from behind the wardrobe. "Yeah, that's probably best. Alright then, I'll go with you and support Simon. I shall bear the burden."
"She says once she's already dressed," Isabelle rolled her eyes, but grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along the corridor anyway.
The two of them ran into Tessa in the kitchen.
"Oh!" She looked up from her book. "You're ready."
"Yep!" Clary gave a twirl. "Compulsory poetry reading attire. Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"
"No, it's okay. I've got some uhm…" She looked about herself and picked up a nearby cardigan. "Washing to catch up on."
"Tessa…"
Clary hadn't been this worried about her friend in a while.
After the whole Will debacle the other day, she hadn't been the same. Tessa was too distraught to speak of what had happened, so Clary had had to ask Sophie for details. From what she'd gathered, since Will left on a rather perplexing note, by the time Tessa had started screaming at him he'd already gone. Instead, it was a flannel-clad man who had to bear the brunt of her outrage.
Unfortunately, that man was Luke.
He'd stared in wide-eyed wonder as she'd yelled a stream of curses that would most probably have given her great-grandfather a heart attack and then she'd just slumped down onto the floor.
Since that was the second time Luke had seen her so wound up – at the same guy, no less – he ordered her to take a few days off. He reasoned that she was taking the break-up with Jem much harder than she pretended to and that was affecting her judgement and her ability to remain professional. He was also rather miffed that she'd managed to scare off the custom they were getting yet again. One time was fine, but if Will could potentially have bought many items from the bookstore and she was preventing him from doing so every time, that was problematic.
And so instead, she'd spent her free time after classes wallowing in the flat.
It was clearly driving Tessa crazy because throwing herself into work was all she knew. She wasn't like Clary. She couldn't sit in silence and just relax and that particular matter was driving Clary crazy too.
In the two shifts that she'd spent at home – Clary had taken one of them while Jessamine filled in for the other – Tessa had attempted to do absolutely every job around the house, no matter how small. She'd hand-scrubbed the floor, dusted every corner and had even started washing the washing machine.
Clary didn't know how much more of it she could take. Seeing Tessa so jittery was making her just as uncomfortable. In truth, she couldn't wait for her to get back to work.
Anything to get her out of the house. She'd assumed the poetry reading would be a great idea since Tessa was so fond of literature.
She just didn't seem to want to.
"Look, honestly," Tessa said, making an effort to smile. "I'm fine. I really am. I feel fresh and rejuvenated and calm. Somehow, I think listening to Eric's abuse of poetry will actually make me feel worse."
"I'm not going to argue with that," Isabelle agreed. "I was privileged enough to hear a snippet at their last band practice and yeah…wow. That was something else entirely. Not in a good way."
"Exactly."
Clary glared at Isabelle.
"I'll just…wait outside," she laughed nervously, slipping out of the kitchen and walking out onto the landing.
"Is this really about Eric's poetry?" Clary asked, pulling out the chair opposite her flatmate. "Or was Luke right, that this whole thing is to do with Jem?"
"Jem?" Tessa raised her eyebrows. "This doesn't have anything to do with Jem."
"Then why are you acting like this?"
"Because of him," she huffed. "Will. The guy from the bookstore. I don't know how he just manages to get under my skin like that. No one's ever been able to make me so irrationally angry before. It's no wonder Luke told me to go home. I yelled at the poor guy. I'm Tessa Gray. I don't yell."
"But maybe the reason you're losing it with Will, is because you're still mad at Jem and you just don't want to believe that. You don't want to own up to the fact that you don't agree with what he did."
"That's not…"
"It's okay," Clary insisted. "You're not being selfish for wishing he hadn't gone. It's a completely natural reaction."
"Clary, I'm fine."
"No, you're really not."
"Yes, I…"
"Oh my god!" This came from Isabelle. She ran back into the apartment. "Clary, I saw him! The blonde guy from downstairs you were talking about, and I can completely see…"
"Who?"
Isabelle cut off immediately as Tessa turned a questioning gaze onto the two of them.
"Who is she talking about? You didn't tell me you'd met the new neighbours."
"Ermm…" Clary began to panic. She had no idea what to tell Tessa. That girl could read her as if she were one of her books so if she mentioned Jace, she knew she'd give something away to alert Tessa to the fact she liked him. She'd probably blush or break out into a cold sweat or start fidgeting.
And then Tessa would know how dangerously close she was to breaking the pact.
Tessa would know how weak she really was.
"My brother," Clary said instead. If it came to deciding what was more humiliating – her brother living downstairs or not being able to stay away from guys for even a whole week – with Tessa, she decided it was the latter. "Jonathan lives downstairs."
"What?" Tessa got up. "You didn't tell me that! I should go introduce myself…"
"No, no!" Clary jumped out of her chair and stood in front of her. "I didn't tell you because he made me promise not to. He doesn't want anyone knowing he's my brother."
"Oh, how strange."
"Yeah, he's really strange. Best to stay away." Clary pulled on Isabelle's sleeve. "Come on, Iz, we're going to be late."
"Right, yes!" Isabelle giggled again. "So late. We should go."
"We should."
"Well, okay then. I'll respect his wishes. You guys have fun!" Tessa eyed them warily as the two girls shuffled out of the door.
"We will!" Clary smiled. "Lots of fun." Then she pulled the door shut behind them.
"Isabelle Lightwood, one of these days I'm going to offer you up as a sacrifice and I'm not even going to be sorry."
-o-O-o-
Tessa hummed to herself as she stepped into the shower. She'd struggled to cope with being at home initially, but her new philosophy had helped her come to terms with it much quicker.
A clean home makes for a clean mind.
And she figured that applied to everything. Her room, her kitchen, herself. As long as she kept everything nice and clean, she'd be at peace too.
Apart from her brief outburst at the table with Clary, she'd managed to avoid thinking of anything that might upset her fragile balance.
She smiled as the warm water cascaded over her.
She was calm and collected. Just like she'd always been.
Everything was neat and tidy, the tiles were gleaming and so was her mind.
Absolutely nothing could have ruined a moment as perfect as this.
Until.
"Aah!" She screamed as the once-pleasant streams turned to icy waves down her back. "What in the bloody, shitty…"
She slapped her hand over her mouth before she could swear any more.
The balance was clearly even more fragile than she'd anticipated.
Was this it?
Was she losing it?
She stepped out of the freezing water and wrapped her towel around her, slipping on her sandals.
It's okay, she thought, trying to compose herself. Just need to reset the boiler.
In a house as old as the one they lived in, the boiler was always conking off so you'd unexpectedly lose the hot water. As long as she pressed the red button, it would reset itself and return to normal.
She opened up the airing cupboard in the kitchen and reached to fix the boiler, but nothing happened.
She pressed the button over and over again. The same button they'd always press and after a minute or so, everything would be working again. Except, this time it wasn't.
"Why?" She wailed. "Why do you keep doing this to me? I'm a good person." Tessa began to sob. "I cleaned up the house, I sent a handwritten letter to Aloysius, what more do you want from me?"
After a while, the cold began to get to her so she snapped back into action.
She wouldn't be beaten so easily. Not Tessa Gray.
And so she began the search for the manual. Though she'd nagged Clary for not listening to her when she went through the emergency procedures, Tessa wasn't exactly much better. She'd tried to read all of the instruction manuals for the appliances around the house – as she considered was her responsibility and obligation-, but had given up by the time she'd gotten to the oven and had never found the motivation to force her way through the other ones.
When it came to fixing the boiler, she didn't have the foggiest.
Eventually she found the booklet within the pile she'd arranged in the bathroom, but upon flicking through it, she found it was just as useless. She noticed the error message on the boiler matched up to the one on the page, but all it said was 'pressure error.' It didn't tell you how to fix it at all.
"I know there's an error, you stupid piece of…" She stopped herself again.
Breathe.
Tessa decided there was one more option. She grabbed the phone and dialled Clary's number.
She knew the chances were slim, but if there was the slightest possibility that she had any idea about plumbing…
"Yes?" Clary answered on the tenth ring. "Tessa?"
"Clary!" Tessa tried to sound as bright and cheery as possible. "I don't suppose you have a wrench, do you?"
"Err…right now?"
"No, I mean, did you happen to pack one when you moved in?"
"I can't say I did, why?"
"Well, you see…" Tessa paused. "The boiler has had a pressure fault and I need it to fix the flux valve and adjust the time capacitor."
She'd seen Back To The Future recently and hoped that by using those sorts of words, Clary wouldn't get wind of the fact she had no idea what she was talking about.
"Okay," Clary sounded dubious. "Have you tried fixing those…things with your hands?"
"They won't give," Tessa shook her head. "Unless you have any other ideas?"
If ever Clary were going to surprise her, now would be the right time.
"Nope, not a clue."
"Maybe I should ask your brother then." Tessa noticed how uneasy she was when they talked about her brother earlier, so maybe if that were the other option, Clary would be forced to dig deeper?
There was silence on the other end.
Good, she's thinking.
"Yeah, alright," Clary then said.
"Wait, what?"
"You can ask him, but remember, don't mention that you know who he is. Just ask for Jonathan. Actually, that bit is the most important. Ask for Jonathan. Not Jace. Jonathan."
"Clary, are you sure-"
"He might have a wrench so you can fix the valve and capacitor thingy."
"Right," Tessa gulped. "He might. Well, thanks Clary."
"No, problem!"
Tessa put the phone down, frowning. That hadn't worked at all.
But then she got up.
Clary could believe that she was just asking Jonathan for a wrench, but if they really were trying to avoid each other, Tessa could ask him for help with the whole thing and she'd never need to know about it.
Before she could overthink it, Tessa stalked out of the front door and made her way down the set of stairs that led to Flat Three.
She hated asking for help. Absolutely despised it. But Tessa hadn't exactly been herself lately and she knew it. It was no use being stubborn when this would have been the end result anyway.
That's what she told herself as she reached up to knock on the door, then stopped herself as she noticed her arm.
It was completely bare, still dripping with water.
She noticed with horror that she was still wearing just her towel and yet here she was, standing outside an apartment full of men.
Tessa turned and was about to run back up the stairs when the door behind her cracked open.
She spun around and almost bumped straight into a tall blonde.
He looked just as stunned as she was.
"Err…hello," he said, taking a step back.
"Hello," Tessa squeaked, wrapping her towel around herself tighter. "I must apologise for my indecent state. You see, I was in the shower and the boiler broke down so…"
"That's okay," he laughed, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. "I didn't assume that's how you usually dress."
"Of course," she blushed, looking down.
"So, was there something you wanted or…?"
"Well, I…" She steeled herself. "Actually, yes. Are you Jonathan?"
"Yep," he replied. "That's me."
"Oh thank god!" Tessa sighed with relief. It was only Clary's brother.
"That's what I always say," he smirked. "I'm quite the miracle, I know."
"My name's Tessa," she went on. "I live upstairs."
"With Clary?" He took on a strange tone when he said her name.
"Yes!" She nodded, realising he must have been wondering whether she knew who he was. "With Clary. She just mentioned we had new neighbours and err…do you know anything about boilers?"
"Something else gone wrong, has it?" He grinned.
"Something else?" She creased her eyebrows.
"Well, like I told Clary, normally I'd love to help and have a look at it, but I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush at the moment. I'm already really late to this thing I was going to."
"Oh, that's okay."
"But I'm sure my brother will give you a hand."
"Your brother?" Clary didn't mention having two brothers, but then again, she didn't speak about her family that much. She'd talked about Jonathan briefly in the past, but it didn't seem like a topic she was that fond of discussing. Perhaps her other brother was so bad he didn't warrant mention at all.
"Yeah, he won't mind. It's not like he's been doing anything all day." Jonathan peeked his head back through the door. "Oi, twathead. Get over here. Your services are required."
"It's really okay," she said. "I'll try and figure it out."
"No, it's fine. He'll help you. I've got to make a move though. See you later, Tessa."
"Yep," she smiled awkwardly, clutching at the towel again.
What am I doing? She groaned internally. Why didn't she just say goodbye and go upstairs to get changed, then come back down? One man had seen her half-naked now. Was it really necessary to make that number a two?
Seconds later, the door flew open again and Tessa found herself wishing she had run off after all.
The colour drained from her face as her gaze locked onto those deep, blue eyes.
"Oh no."
Oh yes.
Things are about to kick off in the next chapter for both of the girls. I don't intend on sleeping for the entirety of this weekend like I did with the last one, so updates should be back to normal come Saturday/Sunday.
In the meantime, please let me know what you think! Oh and I'd also love to hear your theories on where I'm going with this or what's going to happen to a particular character. I had some really interesting ones last night. Some were on the mark, some were way off. Obviously I won't tell you for sure.
Thanks again for bearing with me and reading!
Till the next time...
smim xx
