Summer Term
Summary: "...He's supposedly the hottie professor of the summer." "Ew, Izzy." "Don't tell me you wouldn't bang a hot professor."
Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments and all its associated characters, places and events all belong to Cassandra Clare and the copyright holders. This is a non-profit fan work and no copyright infringement is intended.
Acknowledgement: 1. Thanks so much to my lovely beta, ddpjclaf, who makes my words super pretty and flowy. Love ya. xx 2. Also, thanks to rippingbutterflywings for making me write everyday (not like you give me a choice or anything...). xo
A/N: Enjoy. :)
Chapter Four: Messed Up Bastard
"So," Jace said as the two of them stepped inside the train. He motioned for Clary to take the nearest seat, while he leaned against the pole for support, his hand curled around the railing. "What does BB stand for?"
Heat spread across Clary's cheeks as she sat down. She looked up to find him gazing curiously at her. "Just something really stupid," she mumbled.
His perfectly arched golden eyebrow rose in response, clearly waiting for her to spill the nickname. A shot of jealousy coursed through her—she'd always wished she could do that. Nevertheless, she wasn't sure if she should tell him why BB was BB to her. He was, after all, her teacher. And she really wasn't supposed to feel the pit in her stomach when a certain annoying blonde idiot flirted with him in class. Nor was she supposed to find him somewhat attractive. Okay, maybe a little more than somewhat...
But Clary was already doing something she wasn't supposed to do: going to her teacher's apartment. To get her backpack, nonetheless, but she was still going. Students didn't do that. So telling Jace about the nickname shouldn't be worse than that.
Clary let out a long sigh and gave in. "Bleach Blondie."
She felt him shake beside her and turned to find him laughing.
Clary frowned. "What?"
Jace shook his head, a smile still playing on his lips. "That is stupid."
She had the urge to punch him in the stomach—since that was the closest body part of his to her—but tried to refrain herself. Though she did wonder how many times she could get away with hitting her professor. "Don't tell me you didn't do that to the people you weren't fond of."
"I didn't," said Jace, grinning. He tilted his head to the side, his brows furrowing as if he were trying to calculate a complex math equation. "Why don't you like her?"
Clary blew her hair from her face. That was a valid question, but even she didn't know precisely why she didn't like the other girl. Of course, there was the most obvious reason, but was there another one? In all honesty, Clary couldn't care for other reasons. She was all right with the one she currently had in mind.
A ding sounded above Clary's head, followed by an announcement, saving her from answering his question. "Van Cortlandt Park, 242nd street."
Jace's head snapped up at the voice and glanced down at her. "That's us."
Clary gathered the CDs in her hands and stood up, flipping through them to make sure she had all of them. Heat spread over her cheeks when she remembered how exactly she came to be the owner of these particular CDs.
She started toward the cash register to pay for the new music she'd selected. When she reached for her bag, she realized again, she didn't have it. Which also meant she didn't have her credit card or any cash on her either. She frowned and, with a disappointed sigh, turned around to return the CDs to the rack she'd picked them out from.
"Not getting those?" Jace asked from behind her.
She whirled around to find him walking toward her, his gaze on her hands. He came to a stop mere inches from her. Clary could smell his cologne and fought the urge to lean in.
"No," she finally replied once she'd come to her senses. "I don't have cash on me."
"Ah." He nodded and, without another word, he took the CDs from her.
"What are you doing?"
Instead of answering, Jace just grinned, turned back around, and made his way to the cashier. Clary hurried behind and stood on her tip-toes to peer over Jace's shoulder to see what was happening.
"Will that be all?" the cashier asked.
"Yeah." Jace pulled out his wallet and threw a fifty dollar bill on the counter.
The cashier looked at Jace, his eyebrows raised. "The total was forty—"
"Keep the change." Jace took the bags and handed one to Clary.
Clary's mouth dropped a little as her fingers curled stiffly around the bag he'd given her.
"That one's yours," he said, as if that clarified the reason for his actions.
But all she could do was gape at him. Words stuck in her throat.
"What?" he asked. "Didn't you want them?"
"I did, but—"
"You can pay me back later," he interrupted, as he looked at his cell phone screen. "Anyway," he continued, "We should get going. The subway leaves in about three minutes."
Clary didn't respond. She couldn't. She was still trying to comprehend what just happened. But Jace clearly wasn't waiting for her to reply since he was already out the door, not looking back to see if she was following. She sighed and clenched the bag tighter in her hand before hurrying after him.
Jace walked fast. Really fast. Clary had to jog to keep up with his long strides.
"Will you slow down?" she said, letting some annoyance seep into her voice.
"It's your fault for having short legs," he replied, but slowed down a little for her to catch up.
When she did, she glared at him. "I'm not that short," she muttered, watching the cars drive by her in a rush. She noticed how everyone always was going about his or her own way. No one had a care in the world about what the other person was going through. She felt as if everyone around her was living a perfect, happy life and had no inside clue regarding her life whatsoever. Although she wasn't a fan of the busy life, it was the one thing she liked about this lifestyle, as odd as that was.
"You're slowing down again." Jace's deep voice broke through her thoughts.
"Or you just started walking faster," she countered.
He rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ. I've never met a more ridiculous person in my life. Well," he paused, "maybe one."
Clary was about to volley back an answer, but her curiosity was piqued. "Who?"
"Why don't you like Kaelie?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Answering my questions with your own."
He shrugged. "It's one of my endearing traits."
"More like annoying."
A smile flickered across his lips when thunder rumbled above them. Clary jumped, dropping her bag on the ground and clinging to Jace in fear. She tilted her head back to watch the sky rapidly change from sunny to dark, to almost black clouds.
"Are you alright?"
Clary blinked and her eyes traveled to where her hands were gripping Jace's biceps as tightly as they could. She noticed he was staring at her arms clutching on to him, and she nodded, slowly dropping them at her sides.
"Are you sure?" His tone indicated he wasn't fully convinced with her reply.
"Yeah. I—storms just scare me, that's all." She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to keep warm from the cold wind that had started to blow.
"We're almost—"
Clary's growling stomach cut his answer off. She pressed her hand to it, hoping the noise would stop, but it just grew louder each passing second. God, could this get any more embarrassing?
Jace chuckled. "Hungry?"
She shook her head and bent to grab the bag full of CDs. "I'll eat once I get home."
He looked at her skeptically.
Before Clary could reply, her stomach snarled loudly again, affirming that she needed food and needed it now. She tried to cover her stomach with her hands, wishing fervently that would make the sounds stop, but nothing helped.
"I'm fine, really." And to prove she was, she stalked past him in the direction of what she hoped to where he lived.
After a couple seconds, she heard footsteps behind her. She smiled triumphantly as it was him having to catch up to her this time.
They walked in silence for a while. She wanted to ask how far they were from his apartment—or house—but figured if they were going on foot, it shouldn't take long. Every now and then, a breeze would blow, rustling her hair around her face. Clary was rather enjoying the cool air now. It was never like this in California, and sometimes when she was in class during the regular term, she would daydream about how she used to stroll outside with her mom. Clary would hold her mother's finger and waddle alongside her when she took her out for fun.
She was so consumed in her thoughts that she didn't realize it had started raining until the sound of the water dripping incessantly from the sky brought her back to reality. Freezing drops seeped through her clothes and Clary shivered.
It was getting cold. So damn cold. Chills ran down her spine and goosebumps erupted over her skin on both of her naked arms. Another gust of wind blew in her direction, bringing forth a blast of shower.
"It's right down the street," Jace yelled over the wind. "C'mon, run."
Clary nodded and followed him. He was fast, but Clary was right on his heels. The sound of their feet slapping against the concrete reminded her of how when she was little, she used to participate in races. Her father and mother always came to her competitions. They'd bring banners, with her name written in large letters, along with a number one foam finger her mother used to wear. She remembered how, before the contests would start, her father would give her a pep talk and encourage her to do her best, and her mother supported her just as much. The memory brought a smile to her face even though the circumstances should have made her anything but.
By the time they reached his apartment, Clary and Jace were drenched. Water dripped from her hair and down her back. Jace opened the door to the lobby and let her in first. She waited for him to enter before trailing alongside him. Clary shivered as she followed Jace into the elevator, watching as he pressed the button for the eighth floor.
Seconds passed before they reached their destination. Both of them stepped out, walked down the hall, and then turned a corner. Clary stared at the ground as she walked beside Jace, noticing the cleanliness of the floor. She could see a reflection of herself: wet hair stuck to her face and her body was shivering from the cold.
Jace stopped in front of a door and pulled out his key. He unlocked it, and it swung wide open. Clary set foot inside as he flicked the lights on from behind her. Her teeth chattered as she rubbed her arms, trying to keep warm.
"C-can I use the bathroom?" she asked, twisting half her body to see him.
"Uh," Jace said, his hand cupping the nape of his neck. "Yeah. It's down the hall and to the left."
She bobbed her head. She turned and passed several rooms, though the entrances were closed. Clary wondered if Jace lived with anyone, or if he was here alone. But if he were here alone, what was the point of living in a grand place like this one?
Clary halted in front of a door and raised her hand to turn the knob. She stepped over the threshold and found herself in one of the cleanest bathrooms she'd ever been in in her life. She remembered the days when she slept over at Sebastian's and dreaded going to take a shower at his apartment. Most of the time, Seb's clothes were lying on the floor, his towel sitting on the counter near the facial hair he'd recently shaved off. The sight of the hair sticking to the faucet had almost made Clary throw up, but she tried to ignore it. Compared to Jace, Seb's place was a pigsty. She was surrounded by perfectly white-washed walls, sink, and shower. There were matching blue-and-green rugs, towels, and curtains. Mr. Herondale seemed to like his place in order.
Tearing her gaze away from her ogling of how spotless his bathroom was, she focused her attention on her wet hair, and her shirt clinging to her skin. Clary was glad she hadn't decided to wear a white shirt today, otherwise she could imagine how uneasy she would have felt in front of Jace. Almost idly, she ran her fingers through the untamed curls and scrunched it, hoping to get rid of the water dripping. Once she was satisfied—or as satisfied as she could be with a lion's mane—Clary left the restroom.
She headed toward the living room but there was no sign of her teacher. Clary frowned and contemplated whether or not she should try to find him. On one hand, she didn't want him to think she was snooping around in his house, but on the other, she really wanted to find her bag. In the end, she stayed where she was and figured he would show up soon. Hopefully.
As if on cue, a couple seconds later, Jace came into view. He stopped short as soon as he saw her. She felt his gaze lazily run up and down her. A slight shiver went through her body when he reached her eyes.
A towel hung around his neck and his blond hair was disheveled, curling up around his ears. He was only in a simple black v-neck shirt with pajama pants, but something about him wearing that made her stomach turn. Think about Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian.
"Did you want your bag or are you just going to stand there and check me out?" She could hear the smile in his voice.
Disbelief colored her tone. "I was not—"
"Save the excuses. I'm used to it." He shrugged and threw his towel on the sofa. The asshole—as attractive as he may be—shrugged as if he encountered girls ogling him everyday.
"Mr. Herondale, where is my bag?" Clary restrained herself from speaking rudely to him. But, God, he infuriated her so much. He knew just what to say to get on her nerves.
Jace smirked, clearly pleased that he was able to ruffle her feathers. "On the couch."
Clary furrowed her brows and turned around. Sure enough, her bag lay on the sofa. She walked the couple steps to pick it up and peer inside to check if all of her belongings were still inside.
"Relax, I didn't steal anything," came Jace's voice from behind her.
She startled and her head hit against something hard. She realized that something was Jace and heard him swear. Clary rubbed the spot where it throbbed. She whirled to face him and almost laughed at the sight in front of her. Jace cupped his chin and opened and closed his mouth several times.
She covered her mouth in attempt to hide her smile. When he caught her looking at him, his golden eyes narrowed. "You think this is funny?" He took a small step toward her. She could feel the heat emanating from his body. Clary's stomach was filled with butterflies when she was suddenly aware of how close he was standing to her.
Automatically, Clary moved back and immediately felt the furniture against the back of her knees. "N-no," she breathed.
Jace raised his hand to tuck a rogue curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a moment against her skin before he dropped his hand to his side. Clary let out a shaky breath when she looked up at him. He was so tall. And so beautiful. All golden and hard jaw and soft skin and... curious eyes gazing at her.
"What?" she asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
He shook his head. "You should go."
Clary blinked. That was not at all what she'd expected him to say. Not after what he'd done. Or how his touch made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. Or how she could still feel where his fingers had lightly brushed against her temple. Clary clenched her fists to stop herself from thinking further. It didn't matter. He wanted her to go. Her heart sank as she stepped around him and walked to the door. Just as she was about to exit his apartment, a loud crash echoed throughout the room. The lights suddenly went out and the bag fell from Clary's hand in surprise. Her breathing sped as she realized the room was completely dark and there was no source of light anywhere. The pitter-patter of the rain grew louder each passing second.
"Clary?" He sounded worried. She heard his footsteps come closer and closer to her. "Are you alright?"
She'd barely uttered a word when Jace's hand wrapped around her wrist. His hand slid down to lace their fingers together, and she welcomed the warmth. The fear slowly emanated and despite the fact it felt foreign to her that it wasn't Sebastian comforting her, she was glad someone was. She made sure to keep her distance. But even then, at that moment, she was just a girl and he was a boy. A boy comforting a girl.
Somewhere, in the far depths of her mind, she heard a wheezing sound. Was it her teacher? She was about to break away to see if it was him, but it wasn't until Jace squeezed her hand tighter that she realized the noises were spilling from her mouth. She bit her bottom lip to stop it.
The sound of thunder reverberated throughout the room again, followed by flares of light illuminating the apartment, and the terror rose in her again. She needed to get out. She needed light. It was getting harder and harder for her to breathe. She slowly inhaled and exhaled. Breathe Clary, breathe. She tried to remind herself.
"Are you doing okay?" he asked softly.
Clary nodded and barely managed to speak. "I'm scared of the darkness."
"Don't worry. I've got you," Jace reassured her.
Clary blinked and slowly tilted her head to look at him. Dark shadows masked his face. Clary could only make out the clenching of his jaw and the creasing of his forehead. She wondered if he was aware of what he was doing. If he knew that whenever he touched her—whether it be by accident or on purpose—she wanted more. She wanted to feel more than just a brush. Than just a whisper of skin grazing against each other. And now she felt ashamed for wanting it more. She felt ashamed for not wanting that from her boyfriend. She felt ashamed that she wanted her teacher.
She needed to leave. If she didn't want the situation to get worse, she needed to leave right away. Just as he'd asked her. Clary stepped away from him, immediately missing the warmth and comfort of his touch. But she couldn't risk it. "Thank you," she mumbled before turning to leave.
Clary opened the door and headed down the hall. She heard footfall from behind her, and without glancing back, she knew it was him. It was strange that she knew him just from his footsteps.
"Clary..." he trailed off. "Wait."
She didn't stop. She pushed the button for the elevator, but it never came. She swore under her breath and turned toward the stairs. Eight flights of stairs. Wonderful. She shoved the door to the exit and started to descend. On the bright side, she was getting the only exercise she ever got. Izzy would be proud of her.
She didn't hear the door shut behind her, which made her suspect that Mr. Herondale was on her heels. His steps resounded in the building and Clary quickened hers. In a matter of seconds, he was right next to her. He matched her pace with his easily. Clary held on to the railing as she moved faster, but she was glad he was there. It was still dark and the only light she received was from the thunder flickering through the sky.
"Look, you can stay until the storm blows over."
"No thanks. I can manage on my own."
The fifth floor sign showed up. Clary couldn't be more thankful that she had to descend instead of ascend.
On the last stair of the fifth floor, Jace suddenly stood in front of her, blocking the way to the next set of steps. "Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?"
Clary looked up at him. She couldn't clearly see him, only when lightning flashed. Only then did she see the pained expression on his face. He fisted his hand in his golden curls and ran it through his hair several times before looking at her.
"You told me to leave," she said.
He sighed. "You can stay until the storm blows over," he repeated.
Clary snorted. Snorted. "Only to have you kick me out again? Please. Besides," she walked past him, but he moved into her way again, "the Mr. Morgenstern that spoke with you? He's waiting for me at home," she lied. There was no way he'd be home this early or at all. Her father liked to threaten her into thinking he'd do something, but he never did. He didn't care enough to. At first Clary had had a hard time accepting that, but now she was coming to terms with it.
Jace swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I shouldn't have been so harsh."
"Don't worry about it," she said airily. "I'm only here to get an A in the class. Nothing less. Nothing more."
Jace's tawny gaze hardened, but he didn't say anything.
Clary smirked. For the first time, he had nothing to say to her. She turned around and took the stairs leisurely, keeping close to the rail so that she wouldn't fall.
"Do you know the way back?"
Clary stopped mid-step. She glanced up and saw him walking down slowly toward her. "Of course I do. I've lived here most of my life."
"You don't act like it."
Anger coursed through her. "You don't know anything about me," she spat.
"You're right. I don't," he said softly. He was so close to her, almost within reach.
Clary rolled her eyes and moved away as she continued descending. Jace was too hot and cold for her. Either he was comforting her, or he was telling her to get out of his place. It didn't seem like it should be so hard to decide what he wanted. And now Clary didn't care. She'd wanted her bag and she had it.
Thankfully, they came up to a door with a sign overhead that read: First Floor. Clary shoved against the door and it thrust open. She froze in her steps. Rain poured down in thick sheets, making it hard for her to clearly see the people and cars bustling about. The streets ran with streams of water, and Clary wondered how she would ever get home in this mess. At this point, she just wanted to curl up in her bed and forget about how ridiculously frustrating her teacher was.
She leaned her head against the cool pane of the glass door and sighed. She watched as the steam spread from her breath. Clary had two choices: either she could call her father and ask him to pick her up, or she could ask Izzy to help. Although the second option was the one she most wanted to choose, she couldn't ruin her friends' date. Instead, she decided to risk calling her father.
Clary called him. Once. Twice. No answer. Just as she was about to give up and deal with the downpour, her phone vibrated. She looked down to open up the text. It was from her father.
What do you want?
Clary could almost hear him say that through his gritted teeth.
She took a deep breath and replied.
Can you pick me up?
She knew she was going to get crap from him. She could feel it. As much as she was dreading the car ride back home, she also didn't want to speak to her teacher anymore.
"Is someone coming to get you?" Jace asked from behind her.
Clary startled, again, but he wasn't near enough for her to hurt him again. She turned toward him. "My dad is."
Jace nodded curtly.
Clary's phone buzzed once more.
Address.
Even his polite statements seemed like commands. Clary typed in the address and wondered how she hadn't thought of that before. It seemed clearer to her now that he'd started acting less and less like her father.
Clary dropped her mobile in her bag and searched through it for her wallet. Once she found it, she fished out the amount her CDs had cost and held out the bills to Jace.
He cocked his brow. "I don't need money."
"It's for the CDs. You said I could pay you back." Clary pushed her hand out a little further toward him.
"I don't need it," he repeated, an edge to his voice this time.
Clary threw her hands up in the air. "I don't get you."
Jace leaned against the wall, his ankles and arms crossed over his chest. A small smile pulled up at the corner of his lips as he studied her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Let's keep it that way, shall we?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words spilled. What would she have said? His comments were making her head spin in circles.
Headlights flashed behind her and she whirled to look out the transparent door. Clary recognized the black Mercedes. Her father. He was here. That was faster than she'd anticipated. Though, she should have known it wouldn't take him long.
Clary watched him step out of the car in a dark suit with an umbrella, leaving the door open. He blended in with the storm going on outside. Her father scanned the building, and as soon as his gaze slid to Clary's, he started toward her, moving quickly. In a matter of seconds, he was inside, shaking the parasol to rid it of water and set it beside him.
To say he looked furious was the understatement of the year. His coal-colored eyes burned with anger as they flickered back and forth between Clary and Jace. Her father sauntered toward her, his jaw set. He grabbed Clary's wrist, pain shooting from his tight grip, and pulled her to his side.
"What are you doing here, Clarissa?" He growled, squeezing her wrist even harder. Clary bit her lip to stop from whimpering.
She felt dizzy. The room spun and she was starting to believe her father's grip stopped the blood from flowing. "Daddy, plea—" she managed.
Without realizing what was happening, her father's hand cracked across Clary's cheek. She stumbled and almost fell back had it not been for her father restraining her from moving anywhere. Unshed tears stung her eyes and she was too shocked to feel pain.
Valentine, her own father, had—she couldn't even complete the thought in her head.
And suddenly, the pain in her hand subsided as her father's hand was yanked away from her. Clary looked up, confused, and covered her mouth with her hand.
Jace had gently pushed Clary behind him, and he stood protectively in front of her, his fists clenched.
"Get the hell away from my daughter!" her father roared.
"You are one messed up bastard," Jace said, his voice muted and deadly.
Clary couldn't focus on anything else besides the blood rushing through her fingers as she wiggled her fingers to get the sensations back.
"Clarissa, go in the car. Now." Valentine deadpanned.
She peered up at Jace, but he wasn't paying attention to her. He was staring at her father with a lethal expression. The fire she saw in her father's eyes were nothing compared to the one in Jace's. This Jace... this new Jace, was like an avenging angel ready to take on his nemesis.
"I said now," her father gritted, breaking into Clary's thoughts.
Keeping her head down, Clary faced the door and walked into the rain. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the cold water from trickling into her clothes again as tears ran down her face. She shut the door her father had left open and entered the car, silently thanking her father for not taking the keys with him. She turned the heat on as the warm wind billowed her hair about, and she pressed her hand against the vents to heat up her fingers.
She was soaked. Completely soaked. Though that was the least of her worries. Her wrist hurt and the pain in her cheek was finally starting to hit her. She couldn't wrap her head around this situation. On the one hand, she couldn't believe her father had raised a hand at her. But on the other, she was confused about what it was she saw between her father and her teacher. Her father hadn't looked pleased in the least. The way he'd glared at Jace, it seemed as if he knew him... somehow... but how? Clary knew she shouldn't jump to conclusions, but she couldn't get rid of the knowing look he'd given Jace. She'd have to ask him, but how to bring it up?
Sighing, she shivered and increased the heat once more. Her tears had stopped. She was numb now. She'd been feeling like that a lot lately. The only time she actually felt something was when Jace had held her hand, and his quiet voice assuring her everything would be alright. He made her feel safe, just from one touch. He made her feel. He made her remember what it was like to be safe. Be worried about. Clary couldn't remember the last time Sebastian had held her like that. The way Jace had. Protectively and sweetly. With Sebastian, it was always seemed ostentatious. Maybe it was because he knew she was the daughter of a rich lawyer. It'd never occurred to Clary that he possibly liked her for her money.
No. That couldn't be it. Her Sebastian wasn't like that. He was a nice guy. But in the back of her mind, she heard a tiny voice telling her that maybe, just maybe her suspicions might be correct.
Clary exhaled slowly and watched the water droplets race each other across the window. Sometimes she wished her life was as simple as the drops of water. Careless and carefree. Their only job was to race each other. Just like it used to be when she was little. Her only job was to race the other students in the competition.
The car door opened as her father got inside. He slammed it shut behind him and the car's engine purred as he stepped hard on the accelerator. He drove faster than Clary had ever seen him drive.
"Dad?" She asked, panic rising inside her. Although she was planning on giving him the silent treatment, Clary was terrified of what he was about to do.
His hand tightened on the wheel. "What were you doing in his house, Clarissa?"
She swallowed hard and cupped her cheek. It had started to sting just looking at his hand. "I'd forgotten my—" Her eyes watered.
Her father raised his hand, indicating she should be quiet. Clary flinched slightly and waited for him to talk, but he didn't. He didn't say a word. He only stared at the road, his knuckles turning whiter by the minute.
"Dad?" Her voice was small and she felt like a child again. She wanted to be loved by her father. She wanted him back so badly. She didn't want this monster. The one that hurt her.
He sucked in a breath. "Don't call me that," he said harshly.
She jolted at his words.
"I'm not your father anymore. I lost both you and Jocelyn the day she died."
Clary teared up again. She dug her fingernails into her skin. "W-what?" She cracked at the last syllable.
"And," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "Don't go alone anywhere near that son of a bitch."
Her head snapped up, questions filling her head. "Why?"
"Because," Valentine said, his voice void of any emotion. "He's responsible for your mother's death."
See you all next month! xx
(P.S.: Check my tinypic account if you want to see what Jace's apartment looks like!)