"You're in a weirdly good mood. Why is that Clarissa?"
Jonathan watched me with narrow eyed curiosity over the rim of his Big Ben coffee cup and leaned back in his seat. It had been a couple of days since he'd arrived home from London, and it was the first time we'd spent any time alone together since he'd walked off the plane. Mom had devoted the last two days to smothering him within an inch of his life; he may have joked about how overbearing it was but we both knew he loved the attention really.
It was obvious that he'd wanted to talk. He had a terrible habit of eyeballing the unlucky victim of his interest as if they were a particularly fascinating puzzle he needed to figure out, and it was unnerving to say the least. I'd recognised the look as soon as it had appeared on his face during family dinner at our moms house the night before. We'd ordered Chinese takeout and, somewhere between stuffing wontons and noodles in his face like he'd never have a chance to eat them again, he'd started with the staring. He'd been giving me that same look all our lives; it was tight eyed, halfway between a glare and irritation. The look of a lawyer who meant business.
"Can't I just be happy to be spending some quality time with my favourite big brother?" I sing-songed. I could practically hear his eyes roll from across the room. We'd holed up on the second-floor balcony of the bookstore so I could draw on my lunch break and he could read away from mom's ever-attentive gaze, but it was becoming apparent that he'd lured me into a trap.
"The fact that I'm your only brother aside, your track record says no." he pointed out dryly and, after a moment's thought, I grunted in nonchalant agreement. He kind of had a point. As much as I'd kill for him if it came to it, I was honestly more likely to have killed him first before it got to that point.
Jon set his cup aside and crossed his arms, getting straight to the point. He might have been a seismic pain in the ass when he wanted to be, but you couldn't fault his efficiency.
"Something good has happened to you, and I need to know what it is."
I shrugged with a smile, making my eyes as wide and as innocent as possible. I knew how much that annoyed him, and I wasn't disappointed; the scowl he threw in my direction could have soured grapes.
"I'll find out, you know." He promised me, "You're better off just telling me now."
I snorted at his obvious irritation and tossed my hair defiantly over my shoulder.
"Don't lawyer me Jon. I'm your sister, not a defendant in a murder trial." I set my sketch book down on the sofa and swapped it for my sandwich, "I promise you my life isn't anywhere near as interesting as you're imagining it to be. The most excitement I've had so far this week was hearing about Mrs Ferguson's traumatic bunion removal." I pulled a face, shivering at the memory. Mrs Ferguson was a nice enough regular at the store, however she talked far too freely, and in graphic detail, about her gross feet.
"Don't get me wrong, I don't think it's going to be particularly interesting. I just need to know." He mused, examining his nails. I shot him a grimace of my own and his lips twitched into a smile.
"Gee, thanks brother dearest." I drawled, my voice dripping with sarcasm, "Why do you care so much?" I took a bite of my sandwich and cocked an eyebrow as I chewed.
"I'm bored." He deadpanned honestly. I couldn't help but laugh though my mouthful.
"Don't you have friends you could hang out with rather than bothering me?" I asked him after I'd swallowed.
"They're all at work. I have literally nothing to do. I can't exactly just sit staring at mom while she paints commissions for cat ladies all day. It tried to attack me yesterday, look at my scar." He sulked, brandishing his scratched forearm at me. He'd managed to sign a lease for a new apartment but couldn't collect the keys for a few more days so he'd been stuck with mom and the incredibly angry Bengal she'd been hired to paint.
"I suppose I need to remind you that I'm also at work?" I said and flicked a seed from my roll in his direction, "Why don't you go out? It's Friday. There's always something to do."
He waved a dismissive hand, "It's too hot."
"Then maybe you should have stayed in London forever." I mumbled. If he heard it, he chose to ignore me. He sat up straight, all business.
"Either way, my sole purpose for the afternoon is to figure out what's got you so uncharacteristically happy so I can move on with my life." He stood up and paced along the floorboards, eyeing up the paint covered walls.
"What do you mean 'uncharacteristically'? I'm always happy." I snipped indignantly. His pacing paused momentarily so he could give me a measured glance.
"Please. No one mopes harder than you." He ran a finger over the portrait mom had painted of the three of us with dad, much the same way as I had weeks beforehand, "Even mom's noticed you're different."
"I don't know what you're talking about." A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.
"Sure you don't," he said breezily and crouched in front of the wall, his attention taken by a small painting, "Is this one new?"
I tried to look nonchalant, but my cheeks flared without even looking at what he was referring to. A week or two ago during a particularly quiet Sunday shift at the store I'd taken out my watercolours and started painting; a collection of softly glowing lanterns and fairy lights hung in a dark sky that blended gradually from night to fiery morning sunrise along the skirting board. In the centre of the painting, two dark figures bled into one another, features nondescript aside from a shock of red and gold hair.
"New-ish, I guess." I attempted to sound cool, but my voice had traitorous ideas of its own and squeaked out at least one octave higher than usual. He hummed under his breath as he straightened up and took out his phone.
"It's good." He told me. I thanked him quickly and snatched my sketchbook back up, eager to busy my hands. He crossed the room casually and sank back into his chair, occupied by his screen.
We eased into a comfortable silence. I drew – a quick sketch of Jon, all long limbs and grace like a cat in his chair – and he kept his eyes on his phone, tapping swiftly against the touchscreen. Every now and again he would hum in intrigue again at whatever he was looking at and glance at me. I'd raise an eyebrow; he'd smile somewhat insincerely; we'd carry on.
After what felt like an age, but had probably only been around ten minutes, he set his phone down on the arm of his chair and crossed his legs. I could feel him looking at me, his laser gaze burning holes in my skin. When I looked up, his grin was wide. He cleared his throat theatrically.
"Clarissa, who is Jace Herondale?"
I almost dropped my sketchpad.
"How did you-" I spluttered. His grin morphed into a cackle and he clapped his hands together triumphantly.
"A magician never reveals his secrets." He was gleeful, pleased he'd cracked the mystery in such a short space of time, "But I guess I can make an exception this time." He added smugly. He leaned across the gap between us and handed me his phone. On the screen was the photograph of Jace and I dancing at the wedding.
"The lanterns. You always paint the things that made the biggest impression, right?" He boasted, "I knew I recognised them from somewhere. So I did a little digging for clues and remembered those pictures from Sebastian's wedding."
I handed him his phone back with a blush but managed to speak in my most mocking tone, "Okay Sherlock, so you found a picture of some lanterns. Congratulations." I gave him a slow round of applause.
He continued on, pointedly ignoring me, "Next I found some pictures hidden on Isabelle's profile of you and the same guy from your birthday looking pretty cosy. From there I had a pretty good hunch."
I opened my mouth to argue back but he silenced me with a hand, "Then, for my pièce de résistance I went ahead and sent Isabelle a message just now and she was only too happy to confirm my theory. You, my dear little sister, have got yourself a boyfriend. Why didn't you say anything?"
Isabelle. That snake.
I crossed my arms defensively, but the smile wouldn't leave my face, "He's not my boyfriend. We're seeing each other." Jon laughed at the weak clarification.
It wasn't like I'd been hiding it from them. They hadn't asked, and I was more than happy to enjoy keeping it between Jace and I for a little longer while we figured out exactly where this was going and faced the oh-so-predictable onslaught from my family. I knew what they were like, and Jon was only proving that point. Besides, the real reason I'd been so happy was that I'd finally managed to shake the Sebastian-shaped albatross that had been hanging around my neck for the last few years. Blocking his number from my phone and his face from my mind had been liberating in a way I didn't think was possible. Jace was part of that process, sure, but I was mostly high on my own power; I'd finally done something to take control of my own happiness and that was a damn good feeling.
"How long has this been going on?" he probed. I shrugged; there was no point in keeping it under wraps now he'd forcibly removed the cat from the bag.
"Couple of weeks? Since my birthday I guess. We met at the wedding. It's pretty new."
Jace and I had seen each other a lot since that Sunday at his apartment, and to say every moment I'd spent with him so far was great would have been a wildly unfair understatement. We'd walked around Prospect Park for hours one day and visited a cool pop up gallery the next. A few days after that, I'd had a particularly rough deadline at the studio, so he'd invited me over to unwind. I'd marched to his apartment, armed with popcorn and all manner of junk food, and we'd done nothing but lounge around watching bad movies in our sweatpants. I'd immediately felt better.
Honestly, I'd found myself hoping on more than one occasion that time would somehow suspend itself when I was with him so I could live in those moments for as long as possible.
It had been five days since I'd last seen him, and I could feel the withdrawal setting in. He'd been preparing for an important meeting at work, so we'd agreed a no distraction zone for his benefit – a decision I found myself regretting more and more as the days went on because being a distraction to Jace had fast become one of my favourite past times. I missed the happy, weightless feeling I had slowly grown use to when I was in his company already. Thankfully, we had plans to meet up once I'd finished work.
I didn't want to be presumptuous, but I'd worn my best underwear. Y'know, just in case.
"Are you seeing each other exclusively?"
"Yes, dad." I drew out the words and couldn't stop the childish face I pulled at him. Jace and I hadn't exactly discussed it, but I figured he'd have to be some kind of superhuman to be able to work sixty-plus-hour weeks, see me as much as he had, visit his family and have someone else on the go.
"Does Seb know?" his eyebrows rose ever so slightly into his pale blond hair and the simple question halted me in my tracks. Jon watched me carefully, his bright eyes tightening ever so slightly.
"I don't know, maybe? They work together. They're friends."
"But you haven't told him?" his prodding was relentless.
"We're not exactly on speaking terms right now." I explained with a tight smile. Jon drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.
"And is this Jace guy anything to do with that?"
I snorted, "No."
If only it were that simple. Jon watched me carefully for a minute, considering his response. I sat ramrod straight, waiting for the next attack of questions.
But it never came.
"Okay. I'm glad you're happy. It suits you." Jon said eventually. He sat back gracefully in his chair and reached for the book he'd discarded. I eyed him doubtfully.
"Okay? That's it?" I asked. His only response was a one shouldered shrug.
"I tell you I'm not speaking to my best friend of twenty years and you're not even the least bit curious?" my tone was incredulous. Jon blinked and patted the cover of the book gently, his head cocked to the side.
"I figured you didn't want to talk about it. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," I admitted, "but you've just given me a grilling about whether or not I have a boyfriend so I kind of assumed you'd be all over it. This is very unlike you."
"You said you don't want to talk about it, so we won't talk about it." He shrugged.
"Oh. Okay." I said limply, still shocked by his very un-Jonathan like reaction. Jon was the kind of person who had to know everything. Some might call him a busybody. A pest. A meddler. I used all of those words frequently to describe him. Subtle and considerate, he was not, yet there we were. I felt like I was in the twilight zone.
After a pregnant pause, I mumbled a quiet 'thank you' and pulled the doodle of him out of my sketch pad and passed it to him. He examined it with a faint smile for a moment before he placed it carefully between the pages of his book. He looked up at me, his expression turning suddenly serious.
"Listen," he said, clearly choosing his next words carefully as he eyed me with uncharacteristic apprehension, "I don't know what's happening with you and Seb, and you really don't need to talk about it because whatever it is, if it's got to this point I'm sure it's pretty serious."
He paused, the silence loaded. I could tell from his face and the ever so slight waiver in his cool tone that he may have put two and two together and realised what was going on.
"But, in the spirit of honesty," he continued, "Seb asked to meet up with me tonight. He's my friend too so I'm going, but if he brings you up I won't mention anything. I'll just tell him you've been busy washing your hair or something."
I managed a rueful smile, "Thanks Jon. I appreciate that."
"Also, he's meeting me here. He suggested it; asked if you were working." He added quickly with a grimace.
I swore colourfully. Luke, who had been shelving stock in the bays beneath the balcony, yelled for me to watch my mouth. I quickly hollered an apology, red faced, before turning back to my brother.
"What time? When were you going to tell me that?" I asked urgently. My brain went straight into panic mode. I wasn't ready to be faced with Sebastian. I hadn't prepared myself. I felt like I needed at least six rounds of therapy and a seriously stiff drink before I got to that stage and even then...
Maybe I wasn't quite as far along in my process as I'd thought.
"Not sure, around five thirty maybe? In my defence I didn't know there was a reason for that not to be okay." Jon interrupted my thought tirade and his lips twitched ever so slightly. I couldn't believe he had the nerve to be entertained by this.
Actually, I could. This was the Jonathan I knew and sometimes loathed. He found literally everything funny.
I groaned loudly. I didn't get off work until six. I couldn't even beg Luke to let me finish early; I'd agreed to take his later shift so he could take my mom out for a fancy Friday night dinner to celebrate their anniversary. Lizzy, the kind faced thirty-something single mom Luke had hired a few years back, finished at two most weekdays so she could get home to her typically furious kindergartener, and today was one of those days.
I was trapped.
"You have to meet him somewhere else, Jon. I can't see him. Not yet." I practically begged him. He stopped laughing long enough to take his phone back out and fire off a quick message.
"Calm down, Clarissa." Jon said, "I've told him I've had a change of plans and need to meet him at the bar."
I let out a long, rattling breath and ran my hands through my hair.
"Thanks." I told him eventually, meeting his eyes. My mouth was tight. He stood up with a nod and patted down his jeans, still watching me carefully. He gathered his things and strode towards the stairs. Before he left the balcony, he turned to me.
"Clary, do I need to kick his ass?" he asked, serious once more. I could see a small spark of concern light behind his green eyes. I managed a small, almost sincere smile and shook my head.
"Not today."
He tucked the book beneath his arm with another curt nod, "Good. You know how I feel about violence." He turned away and started to descend the stairs. He was around halfway down when he added, "If I find out he hurt you, though, he'd better make his funeral arrangements."
Jace called at precisely six o'clock, punctual to a fault. I answered the phone cheerfully and tucked it between my ear and shoulder so I could keep my closing routine in motion; the sooner I closed up shop, the sooner I'd be able to see him.
"Pick a number. One or two." He announced without saying hello. I snickered as I bumped the safe shut with my hip and leaned against the cool metal. I hummed thoughtfully before I answered.
"Two."
I heard him click his tongue, "You were supposed to say one. That's disappointing."
"Why give me the choice if there was a fifty-fifty chance you'd be disappointed?" I asked with a laugh. God, I was glad to hear his voice. I'd spent the last few hours in an impenetrable bubble of paranoia, worrying that Sebastian would still turn up regardless of Jon's message, forcing me to speak to him. I'd imagined every possible way that conversation could go down, and none of them were particularly appealing. Between that and how busy it had been, I'd had almost no spare time to daydream about what we'd get up to that night.
Well, almost no time.
"Because as much as I might wish for it, the world unfortunately does not revolve around me alone." he drawled with a theatrical sigh.
"Truly a crime," I teased, "So tell me, what have I just signed myself up to?"
"An all-expenses paid trip to the movies with none other than yours truly. Bask in your success, Clary. Not many people get this kind of opportunity."
I grinned, "I must be the luckiest girl in all of Brooklyn."
"Come on now, you're the luckiest girl on the east coast. Don't sell me short." I could hear the smile in his voice as he chuckled and even through the phone the sound of it gave me goosebumps. I wandered back through the store towards the counter with what could only be described as a skip in my step.
"So what are we seeing? Action? Pixar? Romance? Are you trying to woo me again?" I asked, grabbing a cloth to wipe down the register.
"No, no and no, although yes to that last part. I'm pretty much always trying to convince you that it's worth spending time with me." I smiled at his honesty, biting my lip while he continued, "I got us tickets for that film about the possessed polaroid camera. Remember the one? I mentioned it last week."
My smile grew wider; I was a sucker for bad horror movies, a fact that Jace had fully embraced during our movie marathon the week before. We'd watched more low budget scares than I could remember, not in the least because he could be rather… distracting.
"That sounds perfect." I told him.
"It's going to be so tacky. We're gonna love it." He promised. I tossed the cleaning cloth into the waste bin and set about locking away the inventory sheets I'd been working on between customers.
"Out of curiosity, what was option one?" I asked, stacking up the papers and clipping them in their file.
"There was no option one," he explained breezily, "I just wanted to sound dramatic."
"I should have known." I laughed, "Where should I meet you by the way? I'm just about ready to lock up." I told him, bending down beneath the counter to grab my jacket and bag. I heard the bell tinkle above the bookshop door and frowned a little. I was sure I'd flipped the sign in the window.
"One sec," I told Jace as I straightened up and moved the phone away from my ear. I raised my voice to address the customer, "I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid we're closed for-"
I locked eyes with the person in the doorway.
"I really didn't have the patience to wait." Jace, the real life human, not the disembodied voice on the other end of the phone line, told me with a shrug. He pocketed his cell phone and grinned as I ogled him.
He must have managed to get home after he'd finished work; he wasn't in his suit and tie like he often was if we met straight from clock off. He wore a dark red flannel shirt over the top of a thin grey hoodie and black jeans, and although I loved the suit, I liked casual Jace just as much. He looked relaxed, his hair rumpled as if he'd just woken up. I couldn't stop the stupid, goofy smile that plastered itself on my face.
Without a second thought, I dropped my belongings back on to the counter and charged him.
He caught me in his arms with a laugh and hugged me tightly as I let myself be enveloped in that familiar, earthy smell of his. One of his hands wound into my hair and he bent down, leaving a lingering kiss on my lips that sent shivers all the way down my spine. He moved to pull away, but I wasn't quite ready to let him. I tugged him back towards me by the strings of his hoodie and we kissed until I was almost breathless.
"That's a 'hello' I could get used to." He grinned when I took a step back. He looked me up and down slowly, his eyes lingering on my pale, bare legs beneath the strappy black and white polka dot sundress I was wearing. I shuffled my high-top clad feet, feeling the typhoon surge in my stomach as it usually did whenever I was near him.
"You look amazing." He told me. The thing about Jace was that he wasn't scared to say what he really thought of me. I had learned very quickly that his brain had very few filters, and that almost every word he directed at me had the capability of making me blush. I twirled on the spot and the skirt of my dress flared; my cheeks were pink, but my smile was wide.
"Izzy made this for me." I told him, and he nodded, impressed. Isabelle loved to make clothes, and she was great at it too. Half of mine and Maia's wardrobes were stuffed full of designs straight from the imagination of Isabelle Lightwood and just like her, they were one of a kind.
And sometimes kind of weird, but that was beside the point.
"Remind me to thank Isabelle for making this when I next see her. Is it easy to take off?" he mused as he stepped further inside the store and looked around curiously.
"Ha-ha," I rolled my eyes playfully while I collected my things from the counter. I stuffed my arms into my denim jacket and watched him quietly for a moment. He'd wandered a little further in between the shelves and stacks of books, running his fingers along the spines as he passed. Jace loved reading. It didn't matter the genre; if it caught his interest he'd give it a try.
"Luke's got a good selection here. This is a great store."
I nodded, "He's proud of it. We all are. I think this is my favourite place in the world."
Jace smiled to himself, his attention quickly taken up by the portraits and doodles on the walls, "Yours?" he asked.
"Some, not all. My mom paints here as well. We kind of treat the walls like a photo album. We paint all our favourite memories on them."
He turned to me with a smile, "Do I make an appearance?"
I stuttered, my eyes darting, "Don't be silly."
He laughed, his smile turning wolfish. He crossed the distance between us in a few long strides and took my hand, "Oh come on, I want to see it. Show it to me."
I shook him off with a smile and grabbed my bag from the counter, pulling the strap over my head while I tried my best to look nonchalant and cool, "Not a chance Herondale. C'mon, we can't hang out here all night. You can come back and admire the store whenever you want."
A corner of his mouth twitched, "I can?"
"Well… yeah. If you want to. Luke would probably love someone new to talk to about books." I turned away, cringing slightly. Did that sound like I was inviting him to meet my family? I hastily added, "But you can't distract me while I'm at work, okay?"
"I promise I'll be on my best behaviour. Scouts honour." He said, but there was something about his overly sober tone that told me he meant the complete opposite.
I shot him a smirk out of the corner of my eyes, "There will be no funny business in this bookstore."
"Funny business, right." He repeated with an absent nod. I turned to correct him at the same moment he bent to kiss me again, pushing me gently against one of the bookshelves. He trapped me between his hands, his body flush against mine.
"You know, all I've done is think about you for the last week. You're one to talk about distracting someone from work." He said in his most reasonable voice. I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could manage, although my heart was skipping in my ribcage.
"Maybe you need to learn to focus more."
"Mhm," he mumbled, "We could just skip the movie and head back…" his dark eyes never left mine and his lips twitched upwards at the corners. I swallowed hard and finally ducked under his arms.
"And miss this cinematic masterpiece we're about to witness? Not a chance." I said with a reluctant smile and a wobbly voice. I quickly grabbed the shop keys from my bag, "You promised me haunted cameras and I'm holding you to it. Now scram, I have to lock up." I told him.
He waited patiently on the sidewalk just outside the store while I set the alarm, locked the door and tugged down the shutter.
"I want the record to state that I hate this idea." He mock-sulked. I gave him a withering look and dragged him down the sidewalk by the hand.
"The movie was your idea, remember? Come on, I need some popcorn and a crappy ghost film, stat."
We giggled like kids for the majority of the film, earning ourselves some choice looks from other people in the audience that only made us laugh more (albeit silently). We'd managed to claim seats at the back of the theatre, which only encouraged our teenage antics even more. Jace's hand hardly left my leg for the duration of the movie, lazily resting against the skin just below the hem of my dress. At one point he watched me like a hawk as I stuffed a fistful of popcorn into my mouth, then swooped in to kiss me while I was doing an excellent impression of a hamster.
"You taste like sugar." He'd whispered in my ear afterwards before settling back into his seat, looking smug. I was happy for the dark; it hid the fact that my skin had turned the exact same shade of red as my hair and the flesh on my neck tingled. I had to fight the urge to just stand up and exit the theatre with him in tow to find the nearest closet. But I persevered. Just about.
We'd probably only paid attention to a grand total of twenty minutes of the film by the time the credits had rolled.
"We're going to have to watch that again." I told Jace when we eventually left the theatre. He nodded solemnly in agreement as we pushed our way past the crowd of people out front.
"Maybe next time we watch it you should wear a floor-length burlap sack rather than that dress." He winked, slinging his arm around my shoulder.
I laughed and nudged him gently in the ribs with my elbow, "I'm starting to think it wouldn't matter what I wore– you'd get distracted either way you perv."
"I'd prefer it if you weren't wearing anything." He said matter-of-factly, proving my point. I smiled to myself.
"You know…" I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, "Isabelle and Maia won't be back at the apartment until Sunday and I have the weekend off."
Without missing a beat, he thrust out an arm and hailed the nearest cab.
We tumbled into my apartment in a frenzy; it was a relief when the door finally closed behind us with a satisfying click and we were finally alone.
Jace didn't wait for me to catch my breath before he backed me against the door and pinned my hands above my head. He kissed me hard on the mouth, then softly worked his way towards the sweet spot on my neck. He knew that as soon as he reached that spot, it was game over for any restraint I had left. He took his time, his lips grazing my collarbone, my chin, my mouth, before he finally kissed the spot just beneath my ear and my skin rose in gooseflesh. I felt his smile on my skin as I gasped, and he quietly told me all the things he wanted to do to me.
My hands broke free from his and they fell down his back, unable to stand not touching him anymore. I tugged at his clothes, and he quickly removed his shirt and hoodie, tossing the offending items to the floor. Within a matter of seconds his hands were back on my skin, my own jacket long discarded, and the thin straps of my dress fell from my shoulders.
I twisted his t-shirt in my fists and pushed him towards my bedroom, our mouths and hands never leaving each other's bodies for even a second as we stumbled, giggling, through the empty apartment. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard Church meow indignantly and trot into Maia's room, clearly disgusted at what he'd been forced to witness.
I couldn't have cared less.
When we finally made it to my room, I pushed Jace on to the bed and he watched quietly as I unbuttoned my dress, revealing the emerald underwear beneath it. He swore quietly beneath his breath and ran a hand through his hair.
"You look sinful right now." He told me seriously as I let the dress fall softly to the floor in a heap. I smiled, not even feeling the tiniest bit self-conscious for the first time in my life. There was something about the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world worth looking at, that made me feel comfortable. I didn't want to hide.
"And you're wearing too many clothes." I told him. I pulled him by the hand so he was close enough to kiss and gently tugged the t-shirt over his head, taking my time so I could admire the tattoos on his chest and his deliciously dishevelled hair. He watched me silently the whole time, his eyes glittering in the darkness. He held his breath when I unfastened the buckle on his belt and helped me make quick work of his jeans. They clattered to the ground and for a long moment we just looked at each other, committing the sight to memory, but another blink later he had wrapped an arm around my waist and span me on to the bed so I was pinned beneath him. I pulled him close, wrapping my legs around his hips as my back arched at the touch of his hands trailing purposefully down the side of my body.
He had just unhooked the clasp of my bra when someone started pounding on my apartment door; the sound echoed angrily and insistently through the hush we'd been enveloped in just seconds beforehand. We shot up in bed immediately, looking at each other in the darkness; wide eyed, confused and half-drunk from lust. We waited for a long moment, holding our breath, but the pounding didn't stop. It only grew louder and more insistent by the second.
My heart was beating like a kick drum in my chest, and it wasn't because of Jace. Not anymore, at least. I had no idea what was going on, or why anyone would be banging against my door like they were trying to break it down. I realised almost numbly that I was suddenly scared.
Church skidded into my room and hopped on to the bed beside us, his fur puffed out to angry attention. I shushed him gently as I tickled him behind the ears, trying not just to calm him, but myself as well. Jace slid off the bed and snatched up his clothes, pulling them on as quickly as he could.
"Stay here." he told me firmly with a squeeze of my shoulder, "Get dressed and put some shoes on. Just in case." He added. It was a practical, sensible suggestion considering I was sat in the middle of the bed in nothing but my underwear, but it didn't stop me from recoiling against the idea of what he had considered could be happening outside for that to be necessary.
"Jace…" I said nervously, shaking my head as I clambered off the bed after him and re-fastened my bra. He kissed my cheek without waiting for me to finish my sentence and disappeared into the apartment to investigate, flicking on lights as he went.
I did as I was told and shakily yanked on a pair of yoga pants and a sweater over my underwear. I spotted a pair of sneakers that I'd abandoned at the foot of my bed after the first and only time I'd been dragged out running with Maia and stuffed my feet into them, scanning the room for my cell phone. With a swift, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I realised exactly where it was.
It was in my jacket pocket, and my jacket was lying abandoned on the floor by the front door.
I blinked hard, trying to stem the panic rising like acid in my throat. My hands were trembling; I squeezed them in to fists and took a deep breath.
The banging on the door stopped suddenly and for a long moment, everything was quiet. Then, like a roll of thunder, the apartment was filled with raised, incoherent voices, each yell becoming more severe as the seconds ticked by. Before my brain and logic had a chance to catch up, my legs were carrying me out of my room towards the source of the noise.
"Jace? Jace!" I yelled as I rounded the corner into the living room.
My eyes found him immediately, blocking the doorway from whoever was on the other side of the frame. His shoulders were tense, but he seemed otherwise fine. I let out a breath, but it didn't take long for the relief to be replaced by disbelief.
"What the hell are you doin' here?" an awfully familiar, exceptionally slurred voice said indignantly from the hallway. I walked slowly towards Jace, shaking my head sceptically when my visitor came in to view. He was slumped against the doorframe, hardly able to keep himself propped up, and his eyes were half-closed as if he might fall asleep on the spot. The panic I'd felt only seconds beforehand burnt away in my veins, swept up instead by rolling waves of white-hot anger that consumed every last drop. It was Jace who spoke first, thankfully, his voice cool.
"Honestly, I think the better question is what are you doing here, Seb."
Hi everyone! As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next, this one is coming to you live on my birthday! It also turned out way longer than it probably should have... oops.
Thank you to all the lovely reviews and DM's I've had over the last couple of weeks, you're all so kind! It really means a lot to read how many of you enjoy this story and my writing :)
On that note, I have almost three weeks away from real-life responsibilities over the holidays, so watch this space for another update for TWT, as well as (if all goes according to plan!) a little fluffy Christmas one/two/three shot in the next couple of days(honestly, I have the idea but who knows how it will pan out just yet)! Give me a follow for notification if you're interested in giving it a read, it'll be Clary/Jace but totally unrelated to this story.
Lastly, I just want to wish everyone a very happy holiday season, and as always I hope you're all keeping safe and well! G x