Hello everybody! Apologies for this being a day later than usual! It's been a busy week, but this is the longest chapter so far, so I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for all of the follows, reviews, and favorites too :D Please read & enjoy (and review!).
Disclaimer: I do not own anything regarding The Mortal Instruments series.
-Jace-
"Jace! Put. Me. Down. Now."
"Well then quit squirming," I point out as I carry Clary from the gym away from Kaelie and the other spectators into an empty corridor within the school. Izzy's yelling can be heard radiating from the gym.
She lets out a noise of frustration while retorting, "I'll quit squirming if you put me down!"
My arms are tightly wrapped around her waist so that her feet can't touch the ground, and she annoyingly continues to try to break free of my hold, presumably to go back to the gym and kick Kaelie's ass.
"Well, I'll put you down if you quit squirming," I respond with a smirk that she can't see.
She snorts at my remark, which is actually quite adorable despite what you may think, and renews her energy of trying to get loose.
"Jeese Clary, just calm down," I mutter into her ear, which seems to momentarily quiet her.
Wow she smells good. Vanilla. But it's also mixed with, well, orange punch. Kind of like a creamsicle…
Oh god.
Being in this close of proximity to her is messing with my thoughts. The last time I was this close to whisper something in her ear, I was trying to tell her how beautiful she is, and that turned into a humiliation fest.
By this time, my clothes are damp with the orange punch too from having Clary pressed so tightly to my body, so I take the momentary two second pause from Clary's stubbornness to carry her into the girl's bathroom down the end of the corridor that I know nobody else will go into since it's so far into the school.
I struggle to flick the lights on with one hand while setting Clary down and keeping my other arm wrapped around her waist. Once the ceiling lights flicker on, Clary pushes away from me toward the bathroom sinks as I stand in front of the door.
She glares at me and crosses her arms in front of herself defiantly. "I'm going back there," she states as she tries to barge past me, either thinking she could or that I'd just let her. My arms still tingle from the contact with her.
"Sorry, but no can do," I tell her as I block the exit.
She flings her arms into the air in frustration. "God dammit Jace! Your date just flung an entire bowl of punch all over me! Look at me!" She yells as if it isn't obvious that she's drenched. Trust me, all I've been doing all night is looking… and staring… and basically ignoring everything that wasn't Clary-related.
I take a tentative step forward and she stands her ground, refusing to move an inch. She's cute when she's pissed, and a little intimidating.
"Look, what Kaelie did was a dick move, but she's not worth it Clary."
She lets out a breath and her posture relaxes. She takes a step back to lean against one of the sinks.
"I know. It's just, how can somebody be so vain? She did it because, why? I made a comeback when she said something rude to me? I danced with Sebastian?" My fists tighten slightly at that particular memory that happened only moments ago. Clary seems to notice because she shakes her head.
"The only reason I did was because he was provoking Jordan and I didn't want it to escalate. And it was awful." Relief washes over me, because the tiniest part of me dreaded that she had enjoyed it, even though I saw her push him away.
Clary's still going on about Kaelie. "And what about stealing her date's attention?" She looks at me warily, like she doesn't know what to think and needs me to confirm something.
Silence.
I freeze at that and wash my face of all emotion, because that is the most observant fact Kaelie probably has ever made.
I move to the left of Clary and grab some paper towel and wet it at the neighboring sink as the silence drags on. I turn back to face her while saying, "well, whatever the reason, it was still a dick move."
I hand her the wet paper towel and she mutters her thanks. She turns toward the mirror to start wiping the orange punch that has started to dry on her face. I want to do it, but I don't want to be forward. Me. I'm worried about being too forward with a girl.
"Ugh, I'm so sticky," she decrees while staring at her reflection. She has orange blotches on her skin and her hair is still dripping. I notice now how sticky I feel too from the punch.
Then my eyes scan the rest of her. Her entire dress is still dripping too, and it clings to her body even more than it had when it was dry, if that's even possible. Every curve of her body can be seen. I take a gulp trying not to stare too long or have her catch me staring, but good god. It's distracting.
A thought pops into my head as I watch her. I turn toward the bathroom door and reluctantly open it.
"Wait, where are you going?" She whips her head around after watching me head toward the exit in the mirror.
"I've got something that might help, I'll be right back." I don't want to leave, but it'll only be for a few seconds. "Just… don't go anywhere, okay?" I add as an afterthought.
She rolls her eyes at me, "I won't."
But I need to make sure our time together isn't cut this short because I leave. I want more time, so I make her promise me she won't leave and risk sounding like a five year old.
She laughs, but promises and adds a little extra by giving me the scout's honor with her hand. I give her the eye roll this time and head out of the bathroom into the abandoned hallway.
I sprint out to my car in the parking lot unnoticed, but not caring if anybody sees me. I grab a duffle bag from my trunk and head back to the bathroom. The music has started playing again in the gym. I don't take a momentary pause before pushing the door opened.
I laugh when I see Clary trying to ring her hair out in the sink. Upon noticing me she turns her attention to the duffle bag and gives me a questioning look.
"Maryse insists on Izzy and me leaving an extra pair of gym clothes in the cars in case of emergencies. I think this can be considered one."
She gives me a small frown, "I'm pretty sure Izzy and I are fairly different in size."
I laugh while reaching into the bag and grabbing Izzy's clothes. "Then I guess it's a good thing Izzy buys tight clothing and that these are a few years old. Besides, as lovely as that dress is, I'm afraid to say it is ruined."
She looks down at herself and I can practically feel the disappointment radiating off of her, and it physically upsets me. "I really loved this too," she whispers as if admitting it is a bad thing.
She needs to smile. "Yeah, I don't even think you'd qualify for a wet t-shirt contest like that. Shameful really."
That beautiful flush appears on her face in full force, but she laughs.
"And to think I probably could have won," she jokes. I choke on whatever I was going to say, not expecting that as a response.
"Kidding Jace. I was just kidding," she clarifies and reaches for the clothing and I hand it to her.
Right before I pull away though, I reach out to her face tentatively to move a strand of hair that is sticking to her cheek. Neither of us stops looking at the other, and she doesn't pull away once I tuck the strand behind her ear. We just stare at each other until she clears her throat.
She needs to change.
"Oh! Right, I'll just- you know-," I point towards the door, "I'll, um, go change in the guy's bathroom and, um, wait for you out there." She smiles in gratitude and watches as I open the door again and close it. I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I lean my back against the door.
When did I become considerate over things like changing in the same room?
Because it's Clary and you don't want to screw this up.
After washing off the punch and changing into sweats and a t-shirt, I wait outside the girl's bathroom until Clary emerges punch free, aside from the lingering scent. She has her hair thrown up in a knot at the top of her head.
And then I look at what she's wearing.
It's just a t-shirt that's a little big on her and a pair of what I think is called yoga pants, but my god she still looks just as beautiful as she did earlier in the night.
Seeing her like this makes her more tangible, more real. Not just some goddess creature, even though I still see that as well.
She smiles at my change of clothing.
We walk back to the parking lot and surprisingly don't encounter anyone even though the dance still seems to be in full swing and the lot is still filled with cars. I wonder where Izzy is…
I pop my trunk again and take the dress and her purse from her and toss all of our punch ridden items in it and slam it shut.
I turn to her and hold out my arm. She doesn't hesitate to slip her arm through mine, which makes me smile.
"Now what?" She asks as I guide her down the street away from the school, and the dance, and Kaelie.
I look down to meet her eyes and smirk as I tell her, "Now we screw these people and have our own fun."
She looks at me warily, not sure what to expect or what to say.
"Don't you worry Miss Fray, this is the part where I woo you."
"I think I've died and gone to heaven."
I openly laugh at Clary's dramatics as she sits across from me in the booth, "And what on earth makes you say that?"
Bright greens eyes meet me over the top of the menu with the word 'Taki's' written across it like I'm the one dramatically declaring love over the contents of a menu. "You're kidding right? I don't think there's a single item on this menu that I wouldn't devour in seconds."
This girl loves food. Why should that even surprise me? I've spent all of a half an hour with her and I can feel my feelings doubling, and it petrifies me.
"Well, pick anything you want. My treat."
She smirks while saying, "That's a very dangerous statement. I may be small, but Jon always jokes that I eat like a truck driver."
I clear my throat to give me a moment to get my thoughts together. Who the hell is Jon? An old boyfriend? A current one from another town?
"Who's Jon?" I ask with what I hope is mere curiosity.
"My older brother," I let out an inaudible sigh, "he would probably order one of everything if he was here," she says with the slightest bit of sadness.
"And where is he?" I ask, hoping it's something she's okay with talking about.
She smiles while saying, "He's studying in Miami so he didn't move with us." I give her an understanding look, because I know what she's feeling.
And to my surprise, I actually tell her that, "I know what you mean. My brother Alec moved out and studies at NYU. I mean, it's not as far as Miami, but I haven't seen him since school started."
She nods her head in agreement. "I know. Jon tries to video chat, but he's been busy, so it's been harder to actually have a conversation with him."
Before she can say more, a fairly good looking waitress comes over to take our orders and gives me a seductive smile. I ignore it and look to Clary in questioning. "One of everything then?"
Her eyes widen a fraction before she chuckles. "Oh no, I think I'll just have the coconut pancakes," she tells the waitress. "Oh! And a coffee. Two actually, if that's okay," she adds as she looks at me.
I just stare at her, dumbstruck. Of course she loves coconut pancakes. Logically, since those are my favorite thing on the menu fate would have it that she loves them.
The waitress and Clary give me weird looks. "Jace?"
"Right, of course that's okay. I'll have the coconut pancakes too, and a water." The waitress writes it down and gives me a wink before overly swinging her hips as she walks away. Clary stares after her with her brows scrunched together and I want to reach over the table and smooth them out.
She turns back to me with the strangest look on her face. Kind of like when I saw her when she first walked into the dance.
"So, tell me. How on earth did you find this place?"
I shrug my shoulders. "Alec, Izzy, and I were bored one day a couple years ago and decided to explore the city a bit. We stumbled on this place. It doesn't look like much from the outside, but I mean, the inside's great. Izzy calls it 'homey' and 'quaint.' And the food gives you a mouthgasm," I tell her with a wink.
Her mouth drops open. "A what?" She squeaks.
I burst out laughing at her expression. It takes me a few seconds to calm down enough to get words out, and Clary's face is completely flushed again. "You know, a mouthgasm. It's like an orgasm, but for your mouth. And, well, it's because of how delicious the food is. Like these coconut pancakes? Totally mouthgasm worthy."
Now Clary's laughing too, like she had in art that day, which leads me to laugh some more and my stomach actually starts to hurt from all of the laughing. Her laugh is beautiful, and infectious.
"That- is the most- ridiculous thing I have ever heard," she gasps out between breaths, "You are-"
"Amazing?" I cut her off. "Brilliant? Amazingly brilliant?"
She shakes her head as she laughs, "You're so weird."
"I know-,"
Wait.
"Did you just call me weird?"
Clary nods as her laughs subside. I look at her absolutely flabbergasted.
"Never. Never in all of my life has somebody called me weird. I am not weird." This girl…
She shakes her head while smiling, "Oh come on Jace, that was an extremely weird statement."
"Who doesn't know about mouthgasms?"
"I'm pretty sure if I ask anybody in this restaurant what that is they'll have the same response as me," she looks around the room, "and there are quite a few people in here."
"I am not weird." I have been called thousands of things, some not so complimentary, but weird was never one of them. It's a strange idea.
She rolls her eyes. "Don't worry. Perfect Jace can have some weird quirks. I have loads of them, so I'm weird too. Everybody's weird in some way," she states matter of factly.
I shake my head. "Nope, sorry. Weird is not on the list of adjectives to describe me. I can think of many, like sexy, godlike, charming-"
"Jace. Look at it this way. I'm weird. I like coconut pancakes. You like coconut pancakes. Therefore, you have to have a weird quirk."
"That," I say because I'm utterly speechless, "makes absolutely no sense," I laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
Clary just shrugs it off. "Say what you want. You have a weird quirk. Don't worry though, I'm making it my job to find it."
I take that opportunity. "You know that means you'll have to spend time with me," I say with a wink.
She ponders that for a second before saying, "I know."
Those two words lift my spirits more than I thought possible. I'm sitting in my favorite restaurant, which I have never taken anybody to except for Alec, Max, and Izzy, about to eat my favorite meal and having a conversation with Clary. An actual conversation. And she doesn't seem to be hating the idea.
I give her another smile.
As the waitress comes back over with our food, I feel my phone start to continuously vibrate in my pocket. As Clary stares wide-eyed at the pancakes and starts eating, I sneak a look at the messages I have from Izzy under the table.
Where are you?
Is Clary with you? Is she okay?
Jace! Where the hell are you?
Jordan said that you had carried Clary away?
Why aren't you answering my messages?
She better be okay!
JACE LIGHTWOOD ANSWER MY MESSAGES!
I internally roll my eyes at Isabelle. I glance at Clary who is completely consumed with the pancakes. Izzy must be texting her like crazy, but she hasn't made a comment or looked at her phone once. Maybe she left it in the purse I tossed in my trunk.
I respond quickly before turning my phone off.
Yes, Clary is with me. Yes, she is fine and safe. I'm taking care of her. I'm not telling you where we are. I'll drop her off when we're done so stop texting me.
I tuck my phone away and start eating my pancakes. Neither of us really talks as we eat, but it's not an awkward silence. It's actually quite comfortable.
Once both of our plates are cleared and Clary is on her second cup of coffee, I stare at her until she looks up.
"What is it?" She asks.
"Well? Did you have a mouthgasm?" I raise my eyebrows up and down in the hopes of making her smile or blush.
I succeed in both.
"Yes, I think I had one," she comments while staring at the table.
But I can't let it go. "Come one Clary, it's okay to say it."
Her cheeks turn a deeper red, but she looks straight into my eyes with determination. "Yes Jace, those coconut pancakes gave me a- a mouthgasm." She smiles triumphantly.
"I knew they would," I smile with just as much triumph.
Clary looks away again and I can tell that there is something she wants to say. We sit there for a few minutes before I can't take it anymore. "Is something wrong?" I thought everything was going great. I mean, it was kind of like we have been on a date. I've never really been into the 'taking a girl on a date' thing, but being with Clary just seems… right.
She meets my eyes again and she asks, "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything," is my only response. I want tell her everything and anything she wants to know.
"Why does Sebastian call you Wayland? He did it on the first day of school and then again tonight when I was dancing with him." They were talking about me while they were dancing?
Hm, I wasn't expecting that, and it's not like it's not pretty common knowledge. "Izzy didn't tell you?" She shakes her head no. "Verlac calls me that because I'm adopted. You didn't know that?" She shakes her head again. I scan her face for any sign of pity, but none is there.
"I'm a curious person, but I stay out of people's personal lives. It's none of my business." I wouldn't have expected any other response from her. "It does explain why you don't look like Izzy or Max though and why you call Maryse by her first name. But with the way you guys act around one another? It doesn't matter if you're blood related or not."
I give her a grateful smile and continue talking, even though she hasn't asked for more information. "Before the Lightwoods adopted me, my last name was Wayland. I started school in the Alicante district when I was ten, before I had my name legally changed to Lightwood, so pretty much everyone in the school knows that my name used to be Wayland. Everybody was pretty cool about sticking with Lightwood once it was changed, but Verlac seems to insist on calling me Wayland. It's like he wants to remind everyone that I'm different. Like I'm an outcast for being adopted."
Clary gives me a small smile, "I don't think he's doing too hot of a job with that part."
I chuckle at that. "No, I guess not. Besides," I can't believe I'm going to say this, "if you want to get into technicalities, Wayland isn't really my biological last name either. It's Herondale." Nobody knows this, only Maryse, Robert, Izzy, and Alec. So why do I feel like it's okay to tell Clary? Why do I feel like this is the absolute right thing to do? For her to know all of me?
Now she looks at me quizzically. She opens her mouth to ask the question I know she's itching to ask, but then closes her mouth again.
"It's okay, you can ask," I smile at her reassuringly.
She takes a breath before asking, "What happened to your parents?"
And I tell her. Not just what happened to my godfather, who had taken me in, but my biological parents as well. "My biological parents died in a car crash a week after I was born. I don't remember anything about them."
I have one solitary picture of them from when they were married and a blanket sewn for me as a newborn tucked in a box in my room.
I continue, "And then when they died, my godfather, Michael Wayland, took me in. He died when I was ten, gunned down randomly in the streets one night."
He went to go get me chocolate milk from the nearby convenient mart because I had begged him for it and refused to go to bed without it. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don't mention this part to Clary, because I've never told anyone about why he had gone out that night. The guilt still eats me inside out whenever I think about it, so I try to shut it out, lock away anything that makes me think about it.
And yet, here I am telling this girl about all three of them.
She reaches out across the table and takes my hands that have been resting there. And then she says, "Then the Lightwoods found you."
I smile at the simplicity she makes with it, "yes, and then the Lightwoods found me, and I've been making life hell for them for eight whole years."
Clary smiles and shakes her head, but doesn't look at me with pity, or with sadness like those who know my story occasionally do. One of the many reasons I don't show any emotions toward the situation. If they see I'm fine, they leave me alone about it.
"I'm not a sociopath you know," she says completely out of the blue. I look at her with shock, completely thrown off by the statement.
"I'm not sure of many things about you Clary, but I know you're not a sociopath. Why would you even say that?" Did I say something to make her think that?
She meets my eyes once again. "The drawing Jace, that drawing that you saw."
Oh god. I had completely forgotten about that. I'm shocked she's mentioning it, and a little nervous that bringing it up is going to ruin what has been going so well. I didn't think she was a sociopath because of that.
"I don't think that," I tell her with all the sincerity I have in me. "I was just surprised because it's different than what you draw in art."
I want to know. I want to know so badly what the drawing meant, but I'm afraid to ask.
She gives me a knowing smile as she watches my face. "It's okay, you can ask," she says, repeating my own words.
So I do. "Why did you draw it?"
She looks sad as she says, "My dad. He died when I was a year old. Jon was two. I don't remember a thing about him, only that he died from some type of accident. My mom never talks about him and there's nothing that we have in memory of him. I haven't even ever been to his grave. I don't know where it's located since we move so much. I guess Jon had found a picture once of him and he showed it to me, telling me not to tell mom or my step dad, Luke, so we kept it a secret. So I know what he looks like. Jon looks just like him."
I nod my head showing that she has my full attention as she continues. "Sometimes I'll try and mention my dad to Mom and Luke, but they always brush it off or make me feel like I shouldn't be asking, so I get upset and then drawings like that pop up in my sketchbook. Not often, which is why I was upset that it happened to land open on one of them when it fell to the ground."
Our gazes meet once again and we don't say anything for seconds or minutes, I can't tell. What I do realize is that our hands are still linked together in the middle of the table. Clary realizes it at the same time I do and she pulls her hands away, leaving my skin cold. I want to apologize again for the whole sketch book ordeal, but I don't think this is the time to do it.
"That felt good to tell somebody else. No pity looks to worry about," Clary states, and I can't help but agree. But only because it's Clary.
I want her to know me.
All of me.
"It's an anti-pity party," I declare with a smirk, and Clary smiles.
"I like the sound of that."
We move onto lighter subjects after this. She tells me about her mom, her brother, and her stepdad and I tell her about Robert, Maryse, Alec, Max, and Izzy. I even tell her about Magnus, who she finds absolutely fascinating with his flamboyant outfits. We talk about her goals to go to an art school and my lack of plans to go anywhere. I want to go to college, I just have no idea what for. She tells me about her mom's art and why they move so much. I tell her about the special exhibits Maryse and Robert coordinate at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I tell her things I have never told anyone else in my entire life, and she does the same for me.
And then Taki's is all but empty except for the two of us, and we're laughing like hyenas. Is this how a date goes?
"Jace," Clary says after we calm down.
"Hm?"
"I really want to be your friend." And I come crashing down from cloud nine where I have been sitting since carrying Clary out of the gym. She just wants to be my friend. But I thought I could see it in her eyes, in the way she smiles at me… like she wanted to be more than friends.
"Friends?" I ask with a neutral voice.
"Yes," she says while shaking her head adamantly, like she is trying to convince herself that this is what she wants. "You're not what I expected," that makes two of us, "and I think we could be friends."
Or more than friends.
But I simply nod my head in agreement, because days ago Clary wouldn't even speak a word to me, and now I'm getting the opportunity to be her friend, and maybe even spend time with her, and I won't screw that up. "Friends sounds great."
"You mean it?" She asks, almost as if she hopes I say 'no.'
But I don't, even though I want to. I tell her being friends is a good thing, and that I'm happy that she wants to be friends after what I did to her, to which she remarks that it's okay and that if I start apologizing again she'll be hearing 'I'm sorry's' in her sleep.
She gives me her phone to put my number in it, and I feel like I've won a small victory because she has had her phone on her all night, and I'm sure Izzy has been badgering her about her whereabouts, but she has ignored them and not mentioned them at all to me.
I almost can say that she has enjoyed herself.
As we walk back from Taki's to the school to get my car, we finally realize how late it actually is. All of the lights are out in the school and my car is the only one left in the parking lot. Even Izzy's car is gone.
As Clary heads toward the passenger door, I grab her hand, suddenly remembering something.
I smile when I feel the tingling sensation again where our hands touch. "You know, you still owe me that dance."
She rolls her eyes and points toward the school. "I'm pretty sure the dance is over with Jace."
I shrug my shoulders and step away, letting go of her hand and opening my car door to turn on the radio. Fate seems to be on my side as a slow song plays through the open car door.
I walk back to Clary, who hasn't moved an inch, and extend my hand to her.
"Clary, will you do the honor of giving me this dance?" I ask. "As a friend, of course," I add the last part reluctantly.
The intensity in my eyes is mirrored in her green eyes as she simply nods her head and takes my hand. I pull her in closer to me and she wraps her arms around my neck as I wrap my arms around her waist. To my surprise, she's actually the one who pulls me closer. The sensation whenever I touch Clary is back, and I hold her as we sway slowly to the music. She rests her head on my chest, and I rest mine on the top of her head.
We dance in an empty school parking lot past midnight in New York City, swaying to the music radiating from my car, not dressed in fancy clothes, but in sweat pants.
Never has anything felt as right as this moment.
We stay like that for the next two slow songs that play afterwards. Thank you fate.
No words are spoken.
The one thought that pops into my head as the third song comes to an end is this…
How am I only going to be friends with Clary Fray?
As always, I cannot tell you how much I love to read your reviews, so please, if you have a chance, let me know what you think (you know, thoughts, opinions, theories, critiques, and all that fun stuff)!