**The characters of The Mortal Instruments are owned by Cassandra Clare. The original content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by ddpjclaf, 2010. Please do not copy, reproduce, or translate without express written permission.**
Due to fanfiction's decision to disable the ability to copy and paste from this site, I will be re-downloading Turbulence in its entirety. Those of you who have been supportive of my decision to remove it due to the numerous times it was copied and pasted and re-posted under other people's names, I appreciate you and thank you all so much.
Chapter 21: Here We Are
Chapter Songs:
**Battlefield by Jordin Sparks (Scene 1)
**Kindly Unspoken by Kate Voegele (Scene 2)
**18th Floor Balcony by Blue October (Scene 4) Amazingly amazing song—listen to it. *Lyrics to 18th Floor Balcony are owned by Blue October
"Isabelle!" Clary called, taking a few steps toward the door before she felt Jace's fingers close around her arm. Looking up, she met his gaze.
"Clary—"
"She's my friend, Jace. I have to try and make this right."
"I know, it's just—" He let go of her and raised his hand to his hair, tugging on the mess of curls. "Isabelle's really not very nice when she's mad. At least wait for me to get some shoes," he pointed to his bare feet, "and I'll go with you."
Clary couldn't help but grin. Standing on tip toes, she brushed her lips over his cheek, her hand ghosting against his face. "I'll be fine. Just give me a few minutes with her, okay? I'm not sure how receptive she'll be seeing us together after . . . well, you know."
The look on his face let Clary know he wasn't happy with the idea, but he nodded anyway. She reached down and grasped his hand, squeezing it once before turning away and continuing to the door. Glass crunched under her shoes and she grimaced at the mess. Maryse would not be happy.
Clary stepped out the door into the foggy haze. The air was warm, but thick and heavy. Moisture from the storm the night before clung to everything, making Clary's skin instantly sticky. Looking out, she spotted Isabelle half way across the yard, heading in the direction of the street.
She hurried down the stairs onto the grass, wetness seeping through her canvas shoes and dampening her socks. "Isabelle, please. Would you just stop?"
Isabelle halted, her shoulders stiffening before she finally turned and faced Clary. Her brows were drawn together, hurt and anger plain on her face. "Why should I Clary? So you can spin more lies my way? So you can continue to tell me you're not interested in anyone and then go behind my back and suck face with my brother?"
Clary closed her eyes briefly. "It's not like that."
"Oh really?" Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest. "What's it like then? Because it certainly looked like that. Did you not tell me there was no one you were interested in? Were you not just stuck to Jace's face in the middle of my house?"
"That's not what I meant—"
"Then what do you mean, Clary? Are you trying to tell me I was hallucinating? Because if I was going to go to the trouble to do that I would damn well imagine something other than you and Jace together."
"Izzy, please . . . It's not just—we didn't mean—we weren't just kissing. It's not like that."
Isabelle quirked a brow. "Are you trying to tell me you two have a thing?"
"I don't know what you mean by 'a thing,' but we're—we're—" Clary really didn't know why she couldn't articulate what she and Jace were. It was simple wasn't it? No, it wasn't which was why this was so hard.
Isabelle laughed. A cruel, disbelieving laugh. "God, you're so naïve." Her eyes bored down on Clary. "You really think he's into you?" She shook her head. "This is what I tried to warn you about from the beginning. This is what he does, Clary. He gets in your head, makes you swoon and act all stupid, gets you attached and then he breaks your heart. You're not the first and you won't be the last."
"That's not going to happen."
"Oh yeah? And what makes you think you're so different from every other girl? Each and every one said the same thing. 'I'm different.' And guess what, none of them were and it always ended the same. Jace gets what he wants, and I lose a friend. Every. Single. Time." She narrowed her eyes. "Jace is incapable of caring about anyone but himself. He's proven that over and over and over again." Tilting her head to the side, she studied Clary. "I'm curious though, what did he do to lure you in? Tell you how pretty you are? Give you those puppy dog eyes and pouty lips? Or maybe it's the bad boy you like? The sinister grin? What's your poison, Clary? Which one did he get you with?"
"Stop it, Isabelle." Clary felt the anger building.
"Why?" She took a few steps forward. "Hitting a nerve? Making you realize how stupid this whole thing is?"
"No, because you're wrong. You don't even know him."
She threw her head back and laughed. "I don't know him? He's my damn brother for Christ's sake. I've lived with him for five years."
"And you admitted yourself that he doesn't share things with you."
"And he does with you?" A tinge of jealousy flashed through her eyes.
Clary hesitated. "That's not what this is about."
Isabelle took another step closer. "You actually think you know him better than I do? You've been in our lives for what? A few months? I've watched him grow up, Clary. I've watched how he treats girls, how he disregards authority, how he doesn't care who he hurts or why."
"I don't think I know him better, just different."
She snorted. "Yeah well, if you're talking in the carnal sense, then yeah, you got me there."
Clary scrunched her nose. "Ugh, Isabelle. I'm not going there with you."
"Just make sure you protect yourself, from what I hear Jace has been around the block a time or thirty."
"Jesus, Izzy." Clary looked away and felt her cheeks heat, really not wanting to find out about Jace's past from his sister.
"What?" Her eyes widened. "Don't tell me you already—"
"Isabelle! No! God, what kind of girl do you think I am?"
She shrugged. "The type of girl that swaps spit with Jace. All the others were more than willing to do whatever it took to get him. Why should you be any different?"
Anger burned inside her. "Because I am different. I didn't set out to 'get him.' And he didn't try to lure me in, either. It just happened. We didn't plan it, and it's not like we didn't think about you either."
She laughed dryly, "Oh really? It certainly doesn't seem like you two were thinking about anyone but yourselves. Does your mom even know? She doesn't does she? What's she gonna say when she finds out about this thing you two have going on?"
"Isabelle, please." Clary reached out, but Isabelle yanked her arm away. "I never meant to hurt you. Honest. We just—knew how strongly you reacted to us even talking and knew you wouldn't like this."
"Don't you think I had my reason's, Clary? That maybe I was trying to protect you?"
Clary swallowed. "Yes. But like I told you, I'm a big girl and I can make my own decisions.
She narrowed her eyes. "Obviously you can't. You're too naïve and stupid to see that he's playing you. He won't ever care about you. Won't ever be able to be what you think you want him to be."
Clary fought back the tears stinging her eyes. She did not want to cry. Not now.
"That's enough, Izzy." Jace's voice rang out from behind Clary.
Isabelle's eyes flickered to the space just over Clary's shoulder. Clary turned and saw Jace standing a few feet behind her, his eyes locked on Isabelle.
"What? Are you afraid I'm going to tell her something you don't want her to know? Something that will put a stop to your little game?"
"No." He moved closer, stopping just beside Clary but keeping enough distance between them as to not irritate Isabelle further. "Tell her whatever you want about me, she deserves to hear it. Deserves to hear what an ass I've been. But don't talk to her like that. She hasn't done anything wrong."
"Okay, fine then." She turned her gaze on Clary. Something flashed in her eyes that made Clary somewhat afraid. "Did I ever tell you about my friend, Maia?"
Jace groaned, but said nothing.
"No," Clary answered, a little nervous to hear what Isabelle had to say. She glanced at Jace, but he didn't look at her. He kept his eyes glued to Isabelle.
"She was my best friend back in the city. We grew up together. Spent our whole lives braiding each other's hair and painting our toenails. We were really tight. She helped me deal with the string of friends I lost due to him." She cocked her finger toward Jace. "First it was Camy, then Abigail, Krista, Melanie, Sarah, Danielle—am I missing any, Jace?"
He still said nothing, just chewed on the inside of his lower lip while letting Isabelle vent. Clary began feeling more and more uncomfortable. Not because Jace had had so many girlfriends, but because it did seem as though he purposefully picked Isabelle's friends.
"Anyway, Maia and I vowed she'd never get taken in by him, and for a long time it worked. Until the night of the party."
Clary swallowed hard.
"Alec's friends talked him into throwing one when our parents and Max were away. He invited all of our friends, and some of the older guys brought alcohol. Things got really crazy. I lost track of Maia—until I went upstairs to get a towel to clean up some jerk's puke and caught them together. He had her backed up against the wall, half her clothing gone—though he was curiously still completely dressed." She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at Jace.
Clary was right; she didn't want to hear this.
"Needless to say, I blew a gasket, but ended up forgiving Maia because she was drunk."
Jace scoffed. "Nice how she gets off for that and I don't."
Isabelle put her hands on her hips. "Well, she wouldn't have been if you hadn't given it to her in the first place."
"I realize you believe I'm capable of magically making anyone do anything I want, and as much as I appreciate the confidence boost, it wasn't like I forced it down her throat with a funnel or anything. She did it all on her own."
"Well it was your fault for treating her like absolute crap afterward! She really liked you and you acted like she didn't exist, like nothing happened."
"I didn't remember anything had happened! I already told you that."
"Even if you had it wouldn't have made a damn difference would it? You still would have ignored her. Still would have treated her exactly the same as you did."
"Wait! Wait!" Clary said, holding her hand up in front of her. Her head spun from their arguing. Both Isabelle and Jace looked at her. "So, you're mad because Jace made out with your friend while they were both drunk and then didn't remember? Or didn't return her feelings afterward?" Confusion clouded her mind. Yeah, the situation sucked and she probably would have been pissed had Jonathan ever caused her to lose friends. But she just couldn't understand such a strong reaction from Isabelle.
"No, I'm pissed because he knew she was my best friend and he knew she was fragile. She'd always been overly sensitive. Insecure. His total disregard for her sent her over the edge and her parents had to have her committed for depression."
Jace raised his brows and his mouth dropped open. "Is that what you think? Really? You think it's my fault she was committed?"
"Of course I do. She was fine before you came along and screwed with her."
"I never screwed with her. I was drunk off my ass at that party and didn't know what the hell I was doing. I don't remember any of it." He shook his head, an incredulous look on his face. "All this time I just assumed you hated me because I'm an ass—which I fully admit and own up to. But to think, you've just been blaming me for this—Jesus, Isabelle, I thought you were smarter than that."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Jace crossed his arms over his chest and hesitated. "Mom and Dad didn't want you to know."
"Damn it, Jace, you better tell me before I lose my patience and kick your ass right here in front of your little girlfriend."
Jace rolled his eyes. "Like you even could, though it would be interesting to see you try." He paused before continuing. "Maia wasn't fragile. She wasn't committed for depression."
"You're such a liar," Isabelle said. "Her parents flat out told me she was depressed. That she tried to kill herself. Why would they tell me that if it wasn't true?" Her voice shook with anger.
"Maybe because they didn't want anyone else to know how crazy she was. God knows if it was my kid I wouldn't want to be broadcasting that all over the place."
"If she was crazy it was because you and your assishness made her that way."
"I already told you I admit to being an ass with those other girls. Worse than an ass. And I screwed up with Maia. Drunk or not, I shouldn't have gone anywhere near her. But I didn't do anything to make her act the way she did."
"What are you talking about?"
"Christ, I don't want to talk about this." He paused and rubbed his hand over his face before continuing. "It started off small, phone calls, texts, notes. A few here and there. I shrugged it off, told her I wasn't interested and to leave me the hell alone, that the party had been a mistake. Needless to say, she didn't appreciate that. The notes and texts increased, sounding more and more crazy. Then she started the threats and putting dead things in my locker and car." He shrugged. "I did what I had to do after that. Told Mom and Dad. They called the police. During the investigation, the cops found out she'd also done the same things to Catcher MacDonald and Steve Warson. And that's why her parents had her committed. Not because she was depressed or because she tried to kill herself, but because she was an obsessive stalker."
"That's—that's not true." Isabelle's voice wavered in denial.
Clary glanced over at Jace, his face was drawn and completely serious. She knew without a doubt he wasn't lying.
He threw his hands up in the air. "Fine. If you want to just keep on believing that go ahead. I'm not going to try to stop you. You want to stay mad at me? Whatever. But don't take this out on Clary, it's not her fault."
Isabelle's eyes narrowed. "I'm not mad at her because of this. This is why I'm mad at you. This is why I think you are the king of asses everywhere. Why I don't trust you and why I don't know if I ever can." She turned to Clary and pointed. "I'm mad at her because she was my friend and she betrayed me by keeping this a secret. By caring more about this little fling than our friendship. I'm mad at her because I asked her straight up if she was interested in someone and she said no. She lied to my face. She walked into my house, stayed the night in my room, all the while she was secretly messing with my brother." She looked back at Jace. "That's why I'm mad at her. It actually has nothing to do with you."
Jace crossed his arms over his chest once more. "So, if it had been anyone else—other than me—and she acted in the same way, you'd be just as pissed?"
Isabelle hesitated for a fraction of a second. Almost short enough to go unnoticed, but not to Clary. "Yes."
"Izzy," Clary spoke at last. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just—it was stupid not to. I wasn't trying to lie, wasn't trying to be a bad friend."
"Yeah, well, you were."
Clary looked down at the ground. "I know. It's just—it's so complicated with my mom and everything. I—I'm sorry. But I promise, I won't do it again."
Isabelle looked away.
Clary closed the distance between them and placed her hand on Isabelle's shoulder. "Please Izzy, I don't want to fight with you. I still want to be your friend."
Isabelle turned back slowly, her eyes meeting Clary's before shrugging her hand off her shoulder. "Yeah, well, I'm just not sure I want to be yours." She turned on her heel, and walked away, her silhouette disappearing through the lingering fog at the edge of the yard.
.o.O.o.
Three days passed before Isabelle spoke to Clary again, and that was just to tell her she had gum on the butt of her jeans. It wasn't for lack of trying on Clary's part. She tried every day to engage her, but Isabelle kept silent, never uttering a single word in Clary's direction. Simon tried to mollify things between them by discussing the most mundane things possible and annoying them, but nothing worked. Clary wanted desperately to have her friend back, but she couldn't compete with Isabelle's stubbornness.
Clary understood she was angry and hurt, but she couldn't understand why she wouldn't even give her a chance to make it right. It wasn't like she'd done anything so unforgivable—or maybe in Isabelle's eyes she had. Still, she couldn't wrap her mind around why Isabelle just couldn't forgive her, or Jace. She'd been avoiding him just as much.
In an effort to pacify her, Jace and Clary kept their distance from each other when Isabelle may be around. Clary hated it. Finally, things between them were out to enough people that they didn't have to hide at school, at least, and they avoided each other. The only time they spoke was at night, and that was usually by phone or text. It had been a mutual decision as to not egg Isabelle on and to let her calm down at bit before they threw it all in her face, but Clary was going just a little insane from it all. Her best friend wouldn't acknowledge her, and she couldn't talk to her boyfriend.
After a week of nothing from Isabelle and barely any time with Jace, Clary was about ready to explode with frustration. She sat at the lunchroom table, her forehead in her hand, her body hunched over her lunch tray. Spaghetti was the fare for the day, but Clary had no appetite. She twisted several noodles around her fork, shook them off, and picked them up again, repeating the motion over and over. Normally, she packed her lunch, but hadn't felt like it today.
Simon sauntered up to the table and paused, his arms stretched out to his sides and his palms up in the air. "Where's lunch?"
Clary didn't bother looking up. "Here." She pushed her tray toward him and laid her head down on her arms. "I didn't pack one today."
He pulled out the chair beside her, the metal legs scrapping along the tile. Plopping down in the seat, he pushed a chunk of dark hair out of his eyes and slid his glasses back up his nose with his pointer finger. "Still on the whole love embargo?"
She furrowed her brows and glanced up at him. "What?"
"You know," he twirled a large helping of noodles around the fork and shoved them in his mouth, speaking through his mouthful, "the ban on you and Jace."
Clary sighed and rested her forehead on her forearm. "There's no ban, Simon. We're just trying not to flaunt it in Isabelle's face. She's mad enough as it is."
"Aren't you glad I was so awesome about it? I mean, I could have gone all spastic on you too, you know." He pointed the fork at her. "She'll get over it. As much as I like Isabelle, I think it's really stupid for you two to be so accommodating to her. I mean, it's been a week and she still won't talk to you."
"If you're trying to make me feel better it's not working."
"I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm trying to make you see reason." He sighed. "Look. I don't really like Jace, that's no big secret. I think he's an egotistical jerk. But you do like him, and I've seen how much better you've gotten since you've been with him—which I really don't get but that's neither here nor there. I just don't want to see you back pedal."
Clary lifted her head and smiled. "Thanks, Simon. I'm not going to back pedal. I'm feeling much better."
He grinned back. "Good." His eyes shifted to just over Clary's head and his smile faded. "Okay, here she comes. Just act normal." He thrust back his shoulders and sat straight in his chair.
Clary raised one brow. "I'm not the one acting abnormal. Sit right, you look like a moron."
He loosened his shoulders and scowled at her.
"What's his problem?" Isabelle said, eyeing Simon as she slid out the chair on the other side of Clary.
Clary glanced over at her, her eyes widening in surprise. "Excuse me? Are—are you talking to me?"
Isabelle picked up a can of pop and pulled back the tab. "Uh, yeah, who else would I be talking to?"
"You—you haven't spoken to me in like a week. Why . . .?"
She glanced at Clary with one brow raised, the hand holding her drink frozen in the air. "Would you like me to stop?"
Clary shook her head. "No. I just, well, I thought you were mad at me."
Isabelle waved her hand in the air and took a drink. She set it down on the table and picked up a bag of chips. "I am mad at you."
Clary furrowed her brows in confusion and Isabelle sighed, setting her food down and turning to Clary.
"I'm more hurt than mad. Hurt that you didn't feel you could tell me." Clary opened her mouth to protest, but Isabelle raised her hand to stop her. "I know I made a big deal out of you and Jace talking in the beginning, and I would have been pissed had you told me, but I would have gotten over it." She sighed. "I'm not going to say I like it 'cause I don't know if I do. But I'm not really mad. Not anymore." She inhaled a shaky breath and raised her gaze to Clary's. "You don't know how hard these last five years have been. How much it hurt to love him and have him push us all away."
Clary blinked against the stinging in her eyes.
"All we wanted was to help him. All of us. Mom, Dad, Alec, and me. We just wanted to be his family and he wouldn't let us. But, since we moved here," she looked down and fiddled with her fingers, "he's been so different." She looked up. "He eats dinner with us. He jokes around with me." She paused. "He smiles."
Clary sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes flickered up and found his golden head across the cafeteria. He was laughing with his friends. She couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. When she glanced back down, she found Isabelle studying her curiously.
"What?"
Isabelle grinned and shook her head. "I was such an idiot."
"What are you talking about?"
"That I didn't see it. You two are so obvious. It's disgusting."
Clary scowled and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Isabelle snorted and picked up her can of pop once again. "Whatever. I should have realized it in the way you look at him. It's gagworthy. You've got it so bad. You're totally in love with my brother."
Biting back a grin, Clary rolled her eyes. "Shut up."
Isabelle's eyes widened. "I was just messing with you but . . . are you?"
Clary felt heat rise from her chest and pool into her cheeks. She shrugged and looked down.
Isabelle laughed. "God, you really are." When she stopped, her gaze lingered on Clary and her expression changed from amusement to something else entirely. She bit her lip and drew in a breath. "Thank you."
Clary frowned. "For what?"
Isabelle hesitated and glanced over in Jace's direction before turning back. "For finding what was hidden underneath all the armor." Her eyes stayed right on Clary's. "For finding him."
.o.O.o.
The last bell of the day finally rang. Clary pulled herself up from the small desk in the back corner of the classroom and gathered her books. Shoving them into her bag, she thought back to what happened at lunch. Isabelle thanked her. She still couldn't wrap her mind around that. Why had she thought whatever was going on with Jace was due to her? She hadn't done anything. He'd done more for her than she'd done for him at this point. She'd been the one breaking down and he'd been her rescuer.
Making her way out into the hall, she moved to her locker, needing to grab her geometry book before heading home. A loud sigh sounded beside her. She peeked over and spied Isabelle leaning against the wall, picking at her nails.
"What's up, Iz?" Clary asked while juggling her bag and the math book.
"Oh, nothing." She paused and glanced up. "I was just wondering, why don't you and Jace act like a couple?"
Clary slowed her movements. "Well, we didn't want anyone to know," she said quietly.
"No, I mean now. Now that I know and Simon knows . . ."
Clary sighed. "We're trying to respect your feelings Isabelle. You know, not shove it in your face and all. Plus, we're just kind of used to acting like there's nothing going on in public."
Isabelle screwed her lips to the side and chewed on the inside of her mouth, her eyes settled on something over Clary's shoulder. "Well, I think you need to change that."
Clary gaped at her. "What?"
Isabelle lifted her chin to something behind Clary.
Clary furrowed her brows and turned around. Her mouth fell open when her eyes landed on none other than Kaelie, trying her hardest to get at Jace. He tried to ignore her and pack his bag, but she'd plastered her body up against his and was running her blood red nails through the hair at the nape of his neck. Clary watched as he tried to subtly nudge her away with his elbow, but Kaelie was relentless.
"You need to stake your claim quick or else that skank is never going to lay off."
Clary turned back. "What do you mean 'stake my claim?' How?"
Isabelle shrugged. "I don't know. Let her know he's yours."
Clary's cheeks burned, still not used to Isabelle knowing and being sort of okay with it.
Isabelle sighed. "Listen, I can tell this is all new to you so let me give you a few pointers." She glanced up momentarily before continuing. "As disgusting as this seems to me to even say this considering the fact that he's my brother, I feel like I need to lay it out there for you." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Jace is what most girls would call hot. Everywhere he goes, girls want him and they try to get him. It's always been that way. And, up until now, he's played that out, letting them chase him and think they've caught him. He's a big ass flirt. Always has been, and girls pick up on that even when he's not trying."
Clary stared at her, trying to understand what she was telling her.
"You need to make it very clear to these hobags that he is off the market."
"And how do you propose I do that?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
A small grin pulled at the corner of her mouth. "Just go tell her."
"You mean—just go up to her and tell her to back off?"
"Yep." Isabelle nodded once.
"I—I don't know—"
"Fine." Isabelle shrugged and her eyes flicked back to Jace. "If you like having that skank hanging all over your man then by all means stand here and do nothing."
Clary glanced back over her shoulder, heat flooding her face as she studied Kaelie's display. She felt the possessiveness crawl up into her chest, spreading throughout her body and erupting into a raging inferno. "All right. Let's go." She slammed her locker shut and started forward.
Isabelle squealed and marched up to her side, her grin huge. "This is gonna so rock."
"So, you're going to have my back if she tries to punch me right?"
"Hell, yes! I'd love to get a fistful of her trampaliscious hair."
Clary chuckled. "Okay then, let's do this." She held her hand up and she and Isabelle bumped fists like she'd seen guys do a million times before.
As soon as they neared where Jace and Kaelie stood, Isabelle tapped Kaelie on the shoulder. When she turned, Clary slide in between her and Jace. He furrowed his brows and she smiled up at him, winking before looking back down.
"What the hell do you want?" Kaelie spat at Isabelle.
Isabelle grinned. "Oh not much, just giving my girl the chance to get situated."
Kaelie let out a disgusted sound and whipped back around, her nose almost grazing Clary's in the process. She stumbled back a step.
"Hey, there," Clary said with a smile.
Kaelie narrowed her eyes. "Get the hell out of my way, freak."
Clary pretended to think about the request. "Hmm, no, I don't think I will."
"What? Did you—did you just tell me no?"
"Are you deaf? Because I'm pretty sure I spoke quite clearly, but if you need me to I'll repeat myself. No. I. Don't. Think. I. Will." Clary cocked her head to the side. "Got it that time, Princess?"
Isabelle stifled a laugh. Kaelie glanced over her shoulder for a second before looking back. "What the hell is going on?"
"Well, you see," Clary said. "Not only do you seem to be deaf, but you also appear to be blind. This poor boy has been trying to politely—and knowing him, probably not so politely—ward off your advances for some time but you just don't seem to get the message, so let me spell it out for you. He's not interested."
"Oh yeah? What the hell do you know anyway?"
"I know that if you don't keep your hands off him I may have to mess up your pretty little manicure and possibly your make up—which you wear too much of by the way. You think it makes you look pretty but it just adds to the skank factor."
Kaelie narrowed her eyes. "You think you're brave talking to me like that? You think that just because you're his neighbor or whatever you can just tell me what I can and can't do to him? I can do whatever the hell I want."
"No, you can't. And no, not because I'm his neighbor. I can tell you to keep your hands off him because he's mine. Got it. Mine."
Kaelie laughed, sounding very much like a hyena once again. "Oh, that's priceless. You and him? Yeah, like I'd believe that." She stepped forward, her nose actually touching Clary's this time. "He's so far out of your league he can't even see yours from where he's at."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, that's so."
Clary nodded and stepped back a little. "Jace?"
"Yeah, Pippi?" he said, the amusement evident in his voice.
"I don't think she believes me."
"I think you're right." His hands came up and settled on her hips. Kaelie's gaze flickered down and a small crease formed between her brows. She glanced up again, narrowing her eyes.
Clary gave her a smile and turned to face Jace. "Maybe we need to prove it to her."
A small grin spread over his lips. "Maybe we do."
Clary stared up into his eyes, seeing that he was game. "Isabelle, you might want to look away."
"Oh, no, I'll just focus on the skank's face. This is just too good to miss."
"Make it good, Goldie," Clary whispered.
"Have I ever not?"
Clary smiled and reached up, fisting her hands in his shirt and stood on tip toes. Yanking hard against the fabric, she pulled him down to her, crushing his mouth her hers. He didn't disappoint in his performance either. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her body flush against him as his lips assaulted her, opening up almost immediately and plunging his tongue into her mouth. She probably should have felt embarrassed that they were doing this out in the middle of a crowded hallway with everyone looking at them, but as always when Jace kissed her, all of those people fell away. She was vaguely aware of the hoots and catcalls sounding around them, as well as the horrified huff and swirl of wind as Kaelie stormed off, but for the most part, she was gone, wrapped up in a cocoon of Jace as always.
After a few moments, he pulled away. She opened her eyes slowly, only to be met by his smirk.
"What are you grinning about?" she asked.
"Do you have any idea how hot that was? Any at all?"
Clary's cheeks burned. "Um . . ."
He laughed and placed another chaste kiss on her lips before letting her go completely.
"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to go all PDA on you."
"Does it look like I'm complaining? Actually, I should be thanking you. I was so sick of her."
She eyed him. "No, you don't look like you're complaining."
"Well then, stop your apologizing." He slung his arm over her shoulder and turned her around, pulling her into his side before pausing. "Izzy," he said as they faced her.
Isabelle looked at them, her lips pursed. "For the record, I'd like to say that that was utterly disgusting. I seriously think I might vomit."
Clary giggled and leaned into Jace.
Isabelle smiled. "But I'm glad to see you two together. And I was right, the look on Queen Skankula's face was priceless. I wished I would have had my camera." Her eyes lowered to the ground before meeting theirs again. "I'm sorry for how I acted—to both of you."
Jace raised a brow. "Admitting you were wrong now, Izzy?"
She narrowed her eyes. "No, jackass, I'm never wrong and I'm still pissed that you kept it from me, but I can see this is different so I'll let it slide—for now."
"How generous of you," he said with a grin.
"But seriously though," she continued as they walked down the hall. "I think you two must spend too much time together."
"What are you talking about?" Clary asked. "I've barely seen him all week."
Isabelle smirked. "Did you hear your sassy self back there? You sounded almost exactly like him."
"What? No I didn't."
Jace laughed. "Yeah, you kind of did. My assyness must be rubbing off on you. I'm so proud."
Clary furrowed her brows and stared straight again. "Well then, I probably should spend more time away from you."
Jace stopped and pulled her closer to him. "Not a chance, Pippi. You're stuck with me now."
Clary grinned. "Promise?"
"Oh God!" Isabelle sputtered, making fake gagging noises. "Here comes my lunch." She raced off down the hall and out the doors.
Jace looked after her with a grin. "This is going to be more fun than I thought."
Clary smiled and tucked her arm around his waist, pulling him down the hall. "Most definitely."
.o.O.o.
Clary lay on her stomach on Isabelle's bed, waiting for her nails to dry. Isabelle had insisted on giving Clary a manicure even though she told her she'd just chew her nails all off anyhow.
"So," she plopped down next to Clary, a bottle of red polish in her hands, "how long, exactly has this been going on?"
Clary groaned and laid her head down on the bedspread. "Do you really want to do this? I mean, I thought we were okay?"
"We are. I just want to know because, well, that kiss was pretty, um, yeah."
Clary peered up at Isabelle. "I thought you weren't going to look."
"It was pretty hard to miss."
Clary sighed and sat up. "That part, not very long. Since the night of the dance."
Isabelle nodded and opened the bottle of polish. "And before?"
"Before that we were just friends."
Isabelle paused and glanced over. "Friends."
"Yeah. I mean, we'd see each other here and there and we—well, we talked."
Isabelle went back to painting. "It just seems so weird to me. I mean, he never 'talked' to anyone."
"We understand each other," Clary said slowly, not wanting to make Isabelle feel badly.
"Does he, you know, really talk to you." She met Clary's eyes. "I mean, really?"
"Sometimes. He's—he's still pretty closed off about a lot of things."
Isabelle sighed. "But he does talk."
"Yeah, he does."
"Good." Isabelle stood and walked over to her vanity, placing the bottle of red with the rest of her collection.
Clary stared across the room at the door, wondering what Jace was doing. She'd noticed the somber look on his face after he'd come back with the mail, a large manila envelope in his hand. He didn't speak or even acknowledge anything was wrong, but he seemed distracted enough for Clary to notice. She sighed.
"You wanna go see him?"
Clary blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. "What?"
Isabelle grinned. "Do you want to go see him?"
"Oh, uh," Clary stammered, wanting nothing more at that moment. "I mean, it's okay if I—"
Isabelle laughed. "It's all right. Go. I'm willing to share." She winked.
Clary grinned and stood from the bed. "Thanks, Izzy."
She waved her off. "No problem. I'm just gonna chill for a bit anyway." She grabbed her iPod and flopped down on her bed, holding the little purple player up. "Wouldn't want to hear any noises or anything."
Clary scowled. "I already told you we don't—"
Isabelle laughed again. "I know. I was just screwing with you. Have fun."
Clary rolled her eyes and stole out the door. She crossed the hall and raised her hand to knock when she heard the faint sounds of his guitar. Smiling to herself, she tapped lightly on the wood. The music stopped and she heard him call out, asking who it was.
"It's me," she said.
"Oh, well, I suppose you can come in." His voice teased from the other side of the door.
She giggled and twisted the knob. He sat at the head of the bed, leaning against his pillows with his guitar in his lap. His fingers plucked at the strings, a lazy melody flowing through the room. The manila envelope lay open at his side, a long white one like the one he showed her before sat beside it.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Pippi?" He grinned.
She walked in and closed the door. Strolling across the room, she sat down on the end of his bed, facing him. "Just wanted to see you."
"Hmm." He glanced down at the guitar, strumming a few chords.
She studied him for a moment, noticing the slight crease between his brows. "You okay?"
He glanced up. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
She let her eyes fall to the mail on the bed. His followed.
"Oh, that." He sighed. "Same old, same old."
She nodded and studied the navy blue bedspread, not wanting to push, but desperately wanting to hear his thoughts.
After a few moments, he spoke, his voice quiet as he picked at his guitar. "I think I might go."
Clary's head snapped up. "Really?"
He nodded.
"Wh—when?" For some reason, the prospect of him going to see his father made her extremely nervous. She didn't know why, couldn't pinpoint the exact reason for the pang his words set off in her chest.
"I'm not sure. Soon probably." He looked up at her. "I don't think he's going to stop until I come."
She scooted a little closer, reaching out and resting her hand on his knee. "You don't have to, you know."
"I know, but—I think maybe I'm ready to know."
"Are you sure?"
He let out a breathy laugh and continued to finger a tune. "No. But, I don't know that I'll ever be sure. I think maybe it's just time for me to suck it up and act like a man. Get it over with and move on."
She bit her lip and lowered her gaze to his hands, watching as his fingers moved across the strings.
"It'll be fine, Clary."
She pushed back her worry and looked up at him, forcing a grin. "I'm sure it will." Crawling across the bed, she leaned over top of his guitar and brushed her lips against his. When she pulled away, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his. "Play me something," she whispered.
"What do you want to hear?" His breath flowed over her face causing her to shiver.
She sat back and met his eyes. "Something that tells me how you feel right now."
He raised a brow. "Right now at this very moment or right now in general?"
"Right now at this very moment."
He studied her for a second, his eyes never leaving hers. "Come here," he said.
She leaned forward again. His hand came up and ran across her cheek until it cupped the back of her neck, pulling her to him. His lips parted just before they touched hers, taking her bottom lip between his. Clary let out a slow breath and lifted her own hand to his face, tracing her fingers along his jaw. He placed a few chaste kisses to her mouth before releasing her and lowering his hand to his guitar, strumming a few chords.
Clary drew her bottom lip between her teeth, running her tongue along it and tasting him on her. She watched as his fingers moved across the strings, the music flowing around her, enveloping her inside it. His eyes met hers just before he sang the first lyrics. The emotion behind them nearly causing her breath to catch.
*I close my eyes and I smile, knowing that everything is all right
To the core, so close that door
Is this happening?
A small grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he lowered his gaze.
My breath is on your hair
I'm unaware
That you opened the blinds and let the city in
God, you held my hand
And we stand
Just taking in everything.
And I knew it from the start
So my arms are open wide
Your head is on my stomach
And we're, we're trying so hard not to fall asleep
Here we are
On this 18th floor balcony.
We're both flying away.
Clary couldn't help the sting of tears she felt in her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she held them back so she could watch him.
So we talked about mom's and dad's
About family pasts
Just getting to know where we came from
Our hearts were on display
For all to see
I can't believe this is happening to me
And I raised my hand as if to show you that I was yours
That I was so yours for the taking
I'm so yours for the taking
And that's when I felt the wind pick up
I grabbed the rail while choking up
These words to say and then you kissed me...
I knew it from the start
My arms are open wide
Your head is on my stomach
And we're, we're trying so hard not to fall asleep
Here we are
On this 18th floor balcony...
We're both flying away.
He looked up again, his eyes boring into hers as he continued to play. And she knew, more than any other time, he was singing to her, every word meant just for her.
And I'll try to sleep
To keep you in my dreams
'til I can bring you home with me
I'll try to sleep
And when I do I'll keep you in my... dreams
No matter how hard she tried to hold it at bay, a single tear fell anyway as her mouth turned up into a smile.
I knew it from the start
So my arms are open wide
And your head is on my stomach
And we're, we're trying so hard not to fall asleep
So here we are
On this 18th floor balcony, yeah
I knew it from the start
So my arms are open wide
And your head is on my stomach
No, we're not going to sleep
Here we are
On this 18th floor balcony... we're both..
Flying away
Wiping the tear from her cheek, Clary reached forward and removed the guitar from his lap, standing it up carefully on the floor beside the bed. He looked at her curiously as she climbed on top of him, her legs straddling his. She reached up and took his face in her hands, her thumbs gently sliding over his cheeks as she looked him right in the eyes. His hands settled on her hips.
"I love you," she breathed, lowering her face to his and capturing his lips without waiting for him to respond. He didn't have to say the words for her to know. She felt it in every touch, heard it in every word he sang, saw it in his eyes when he looked at her. For reasons wholly unknown to her, he loved her.
She'd heard the words every day of her life from her mother, knowing they were true. But somehow, when they came in the form of song from this beautiful, broken boy, they meant more than any of the times they were spoken to her in the past. That he could somehow feel it enough to express it to her in any way was a miracle considering he hadn't felt it or been told himself in twelve years.
And even though she didn't need to hear them, didn't need them to affirm what she already knew, he pulled away, and with his eyes closed and his lips hovering so close to hers, he said the words anyway, "I love you too."