I seriously suck with updates! BUT I want you guys to know that your reviews encourage me so much it means a lot :) I have definitely NOT given up on this story and I have a general idea of what will happen it's just hard to put it into words sometimes. lol i'm so sorry this update took so long I don't deserve y'all. I've been trying to edit my stuff more so I don't absolutely hate how it sounds but it takes a while! Hope you like it.
Happy holidays to anyone that celebrates! Also, everyone should watch the new Mortal Instruments show that is coming out on January 12! I'm giving it a chance and I hope it gets enough viewers.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the lovely Cassandra Clare. Cover art by Cassandra Jean.
I walk out of his room quietly, not knowing why I feel like I have to tiptoe out of there or something. I take the train home to avoid walking and feel something in my chest, almost like a laugh bubbling up. I touch a hand to my mouth, sure that I look like a maniac, and feel my lips stretched into a grin. Jace Lightwood had just become my friend.
It took me the next day to realize it. Friends. With benefits. Oh my god, I had become a cliche.
And the worst type possible. Not only was I a cliche, I was now a hypocrite as well. Where was the Clary that I knew? The Clary that laughed at and even pitied girls who threw themselves at Jace. I always knew that I wasn't that kind of girl, but really who was that kind of person? What sane, confident girl involved themselves with someone who would only use them for their own pleasure? Me, I think to myself bitterly.
With those depressing thoughts, I prepare for the day, sluggishly moving through the morning routine I had perfected. Except when I got downstairs there was no breakfast waiting for me and my mom was nowhere to be seen.
I moved through the eerily silent house until I reached the narrow hallway leading to the bathroom. There I heard just one muffled voice, my mother's, and she sounded distressed. I stopped right before the hallway, pressing my back against the wall so I wouldn't be seen and tried to use eavesdropping skills. She must have been on the phone, but I really didn't know who she was talking to. I strained to hear her voice and that's when I could hear snippets of the conversation.
"You've never been there for her! Why do you care now?"
"I will not let you anywhere near Clary. Do you understand? You don't belong in her life and as far as she knows her father is dead."
I felt a shock run through me. Father. My mom is talking to someone about my dad. But it sounded like she was talking to him. I had to stifle gasp by pressing my hand against my mouth. Of course I knew it was impossible. There was no way my mom is talking to my dead father right now.
I knew the story of his life well. His name was Jonathan Clark and he had been a decorated soldier serving overseas. A picture of Jonathan on top of our mantel was really all I knew of his face because he had died in a car crash before I was born. I remember constantly asking questions to my mother about him when I was younger and how she would constantly push them aside. I thought it was because she was heartbroken, but now? I'm sure she had another reason to avoid any talk about him.
I put my face in my hands and loudly sigh. What was going on?
By the time I made it to school that morning, my mind was so jumbled I had barely even remembered Jace.
That is, until we literally knocked right into each other in the hallway.
I let out a string of apologies under my breath as I held my books to my chest to keep them from dropping to the floor. My face quickly heated with a blush as strong hands gripped my waist to keep me from falling and lingered for a bit too long. I let out a small squeak as the calloused fingers wandered under my shirt and rested on my bare hips for what felt like .2 seconds before moving away. Yes, I am not proud to say that I actually squeaked. What happened to being cool and collected? I looked up into tawny eyes and a face hovering well above mine with the famous Jace Lightwood smirk.
"Maybe you should be a little more careful when walking down the hallway. Never know who you could bump into," he says with a smile that looks like we're sharing a secret. "You okay?"
"Yeah, fine." I respond hurriedly, my mother's conversation from this morning still rattling in my head.
A crease suddenly appears between his eyebrows, his body still hovering over my much smaller frame. "No, really. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I've just got to get to class. See you tonight? At your place?" I ask suddenly, feeling slightly courageous for taking the initiative.
"Sure." He says, the crease still there between his brows but lessened.
I hurry along the hallway away from him, looking back almost for a minute thinking that he would still be there watching me. But, of course, he was long gone.
As a girl who has currently only had one sexual partner in her lifetime, you'd think I would be lost and uncertain all the time. But really, it feels like more of a natural process. The easy rhythm between two bodies is fairly simple to get down once it starts. Not to say that there aren't surprises and excitement when I'm having sex with Jace. I feel a thrilling high unlike any other when I climax and the words stumbling from my mouth are either profanities or God's name. Or sometimes both. People who say that intercourse is all about the spiritual connection between two people probably weren't having good enough sex. I am not very experienced, but Jace is and he always seems to be enjoying himself, alright.
Tonight is like a dance. We move roughly around the space of his bedroom, making as much noise as we want because he has already whispered in my ear with hot, bated breath "we have the house to ourselves". I should worry why Jace spends this much time alone, but then he picks me up gripping the backs of my thighs firmly before pressing his warm, soft lips against the underside of my jaw and by the time that I catch my breath, I've already melted into a puddle of thoughtlessness.
When the dance is finally over and all that's left is our slowing breaths I lay my head back and close my eyes for a few moments. I try to conjure up the feelings that I should experience after having sex with someone I'm not in a real relationship with- regret, shame, guilt. But all I can feel is relief. Relief at being pleasured. Relief for pleasuring someone else. Relief that I can't think anymore and at the moment, all that's left inside of me are feelings of euphoria. Now, I understand why Jace does this so much and with so many different girls. I wonder when he will get tired of me and start to bore at my small, barely curvy body. I don't know what I will do when that day comes.
"So, are you going to tell me now what was wrong this morning?" Jace asks with a knowing tone.
"What?" I respond, still slightly out of breath. But, hey, I'm an artist, not an athlete.
"This morning. You looked like someone had just told you that a duck ate your mother."
"What?!" I reply, actually startled.
"Stop ignoring the question."
"I don't even remember what the question was! What does that even mean?"
"I have a thing with ducks. Not good. You're still avoiding."
"Fine," I reply, exasperated. "You want to know what happened! I've known my entire life that my father is dead, but this morning I hear my mom talking to someone on the phone saying that 'as far as Clary knows, her father is dead'. So I'm not really sure what I know anymore!"
Jace is silent for a long time. Then he slowly lets out a breath. "Yep, that pretty bad."
And I can't help it. I let a laugh. Once it starts, I can't stop. I laugh at the complete insanity of the situation. Here I am, practically naked with Jace, talking about my family problems- which I haven't even told Simon about yet!- as if it were just a normal Wednesday. I laugh until I'm sure Jace thinks I'm certifiable because he just stares at me. But I don't care. I laugh and I guffaw and it feels like I haven't done this in ages.
"You're probably the strangest person I've ever met." Jace says once my cackling session is finally over.
"Me? Who has a thing with ducks? And whose room is always this neat?" I ask, looking around the dimly lit bare walls.
"I happen to like neat things." He responds, a bit affronted.
"What else do you like?" I ask, unable to help myself.
"Not ducks."
"Seriously."
"Why're you so interested?"
"Fine." I huff annoyed that he could remain so closed off.
I turn to get my things and leave when I see the clock beside Jace's bed. 12:15. It was midnight and my mother was waiting for me at home. I look at my phone, the same time staring back at my face along with the message that I had 21 missed calls from my mother and 2 from Simon. I was screwed.
No pun intended. THIS TOOK FOREVER I HOPE Y'ALL CAN FORGIVE ME. Please leave a review it will brighten my day. Anyone get anything cool for Christmas? Any suggestions for the story? Cool. See ya.