Edited as of 1/23/16.
A/N: Sorry for my long hiatus! Huge thanks to everyone who supports this story. :)
This update covers the second half of chapter 3 and most of chapter 4 of City of Bones, if anyone is following along. I hope you all like it!
3
TENNIS PLAYER
Now Jace was actually approaching her, still with that pleased and slightly silly grin on his face. Clary felt dual rushes of exhilaration and apprehension, both of which were making her abruptly short of breath. What do I do? she thought desperately.
He came to a stop only a few feet away from her, looking incredibly clean-cut and handsome—which wasn't helping her nerves one bit. And he had gotten out of his car, just to talk with her… Right when she had been thinking about him, too. How odd. Not that Clary was complaining, of course…
"Fancy seeing you here," he said delightedly. "I was just driving around, and all of a sudden, I looked over and saw you! Crazy, isn't it? The same girl I met yesterday, walking along the sidewalk. I hope you're not in any hurry. But if you are, I don't have to stay for long. I just figured, you know—"
Clary couldn't help but return his smile, as nervous as she was, since Jace's excited babbling was really cute. "It's fine," she said breathlessly, and then cleared her throat to try to sound more normal. "I mean, it's totally fine. I don't have any plans." That came out wrong… Clary started panicking internally. Why did she say it like that? Now Jace was going to think that she had social issues. Which she kind of did, but—
"What a coincidence! I don't have plans, either." Still beaming, Jace shifted his weight and crossed his arms, and Clary's eyes greedily feasted on the sight of him. The strong contours of his body, barely concealed by a polo shirt and tailored powder blue shorts… His gleaming golden hair, ungirded by a sweatband today and flopping adorably in his face… Bright blue eyes staring right at her…
Clary found her face growing warm, and cast her eyes at the sidewalk for an instant. She suddenly felt guilty for checking him out like that. "That's surprising. You seem like a busy guy." Glancing up again briefly, she managed a shy smile.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that most of the time. But not today." He was still gazing at her, and his smile hadn't wavered… Clary glanced down again out of some demure habit. When she dared to look back at Jace, he was giving the sky an appraising stare. "Doesn't look like a good day to be walking around, though. I hope you have an umbrella."
It did look like it would rain any minute. By now, the clouds were dark and even more ominous than they had been before. "Unfortunately, I left mine at home," Clary said, still amazed that she was having a conversation with Jace (as awkward and inconsequential an exchange as it was, of course).
"Well, I think we should seek shelter immediately, before the heavens open." Jace did a quick sweep of the area, and Clary noticed that his gaze lingered on Steamy Indulgences, a hipster café across the street. "In fact, I could go for some coffee right about now. What about you?"
"I'm always in the mood for coffee," she told him, suddenly enthusiastic. Her heart was also beating very quickly at the prospect of alone time with Jace… "And Steamy Indulgences is pretty good." Clary's cheeks burned again. "Despite the weird name, anyway."
Jace's grin was even brighter than before, somehow. "Excellent! I should probably put money in the parking meter, shouldn't I?"
"Yeah, probably," Clary laughed. She was still unable to think clearly, but in a good way. Does this count as a sort-of date? she wondered mentally, her excitement growing at an exponential rate. Jace wanted to spend time with her! If only she had known beforehand… Then she could have worn something more attractive than her old flannel shirt. Ah well.
She watched him stroll towards his car with a casual saunter and pay the parking meter, before grabbing an umbrella and checking at least twice that the doors were locked. "Now that that's taken care of, I think it's time for some Steamy Indulgences," he smirked broadly, winking when his eyes met Clary's.
She laughed again, despite her deep blush. "Easy there, hotshot."
He walked back to where she was standing, and gently pressed his hand against her back, leading her towards the nearby intersection. They had to wait a moment for the traffic to settle down, but then crossed the street towards the brick-fronted café. Clary felt like she was in a daze, and the only thing on her mind was the surprising warmth and steadiness of Jace's hand when he had touched her.
With Jace, even waiting in line didn't seem like a chore. In the few minutes it took to order, receive their drinks, and find a table, Clary had already learned that Jace hated Earl Grey tea, drank his coffee black, had the habit of bouncing around a little when he was bored, innately distrusted 'the establishment', and was overall a natural conversationalist—which made it all the more surprising that he was directing his boundless energy at her, of all people.
Clary, for her part, was doing a lot of smiling and nodding. The fact that Jace was doing most of the talking didn't bother her one bit, since it was an excellent opportunity to both get to know him better and stare unabashedly at him. She couldn't get past how incredibly beautiful he was: not in an effeminate way, of course, but in a refreshingly masculine sense. Everything about Jace was gorgeous, and that was that. And people say that only women can be pretty, Clary thought with a touch of amusement.
It didn't even bother her that she was kind of obsessing over his looks. The way she rationalized it was that, as an artist, she had a unique appreciation for aesthetics and the human form. As Jace carried on, talking about his tennis career, she found herself fantasizing about drawing him in a variety of situations… playing tennis, romping around on a sunny day, posing nude… And she wasn't going to deny that she wanted him to touch her again…
"So, what are you doing?"
"W-what?" Clary blinked, faintly embarrassed.
Jace smiled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You know, what are you doing with your life? I've been talking about myself this whole time, so I figured that I would stop monopolizing our conversation. I want to know more about you."
Clary took a sip of her cappuccino and settled back in her chair, thinking about how to approach the subject and coming up empty. What was there to say? She didn't think that her life was particularly interesting. "I'm afraid that there's not much to know about me," she said self-effacingly.
"I'm sure that's not true. You're an artist, right? Your sketch was excellent."
She glanced forward at Jace, remembering how it felt to have him holding her sketchbook and looking at her drawing of him. It had been a remarkably intimate experience, all things considering. She decided that this was, too, sitting opposite Jace with his inquisitive blue eyes. He wanted to get to know her better, for whatever reason… "I'm an art student at St. Xavier University, with a concentration in drawing. Um… I live with my mom. I draw… frequently." Clary found it very difficult to concentrate with Jace staring at her like that.
"Well, it certainly shows. You're very talented."
She grinned, faintly embarrassed at his praise. "Thanks. It's one of the best drawings that I've done in a while… Is there, uh, anything else you want to know?"
"Whatever you want to tell me," Jace said.
How unhelpful, Clary thought, struggling to find something to talk about that Jace would find interesting. "So, you're a tennis player? My mom never let me play sports."
"Really?" Jace seemed thrown, like he had never considered such a thing to be possible.
"Yeah. I don't know why, but she's always had a strict no-sports rule. It really irritated my gym teachers. They always tried to convince me to sign up for teams anyway, since they claimed I had natural talent."
He leaned forward even more, clearly intrigued. Clary could almost detect in his eyes the glimmer of a new scheme… "Which sport did you like the most in gym class?"
She considered it. "Hmm, maybe running. Or soccer. Swimming." Clary smiled again and leaned in, mimicking Jace's posture. "But I always did want to play tennis."
Jace's own grin widened, just as she had hoped it would. "Well, if you ever feel the need to seek out personal lessons, I am a semi-professional."
"Not that my mom would let me. She'd probably have a fit if she even knew that I was here with you now. For whatever reason, she doesn't want me 'associating with tennis players'," Clary air-quoted. "I have no idea why."
"That's really strange," Jace said. "I—"
He was cut off by the sudden blaring of Clary's phone. As if on cue, her mother's specific ringtone, 'Mother Knows Best' from Tangled, was now playing. Clary groaned and fished her cell phone out of her purse. "Sorry. It's my mom."
She was just about to hit 'ignore' when Jace said, "Answer it. It's fine."
"You sure?" Clary asked, feeling rude at answering her phone while she was alone with someone.
"Yeah, go ahead."
"Alright…" Hesitantly, Clary held the phone to her ear. "Hi, Mom. What's up?" Then she remembered that she hadn't left the house on the best note. "Is everything alright? I'll probably be home soon—"
Clary registered that Jace now looked slightly crestfallen as her mother gasped, "No! Don't come home. It's not safe. I—think there's someone in here."
"What?" Clary felt her pulse increase. "What do you mean? Have you called the police?"
"Yes. Don't worry about me. Just—stay with Simon tonight. I don't want you getting caught up in this mess."
"What mess?" There was a brief silence over the line, broken by a sudden thudding noise. "Mom? Are you there?"
"I'll handle it, Clary. Don't worry about me." There was a crash, and then the call ended.
"Mom?" she said into her phone, before frantically dialing her mother's number. The call went straight to voicemail, which only made her even more frantic.
Jace said, "Clary? What's wrong?" She glanced up and saw him, almost having forgotten that he was still there. Embarrassment mixed with her anxiety, especially when she realized how concerned he looked. "Is your mom alright?"
"I have no idea. She just told me not to come home, and…" Suddenly, her eyes started to well with unbidden tears, her heart racing. Clary began shaking slightly in her seat. "She thinks that someone is in our apartment, but she said she already called police… I can't just leave her."
"That's horrible," he said, looking and sounding like he really meant it. "Do you need anything?"
"I have to go home," she whispered, barely holding it all together. "I'm so sorry. I was having a great time." Great was an understatement. Of course this amazing moment would be ruined, knowing her luck…
"I was, too. I can give you a ride home, if you want."
Jace was just too perfect, too incredibly sweet for words. Feelings of inadequacy were added to her other swirling emotions, which made Clary faintly dizzy. "I couldn't ask you to do that. I don't want to be a burden…"
He said reassuringly, "I promise you that you're not a burden. Let's go. I'm taking you home."
"Okay…" Clary guiltily stared down at her half-empty cappuccino. "I'm sorry that we didn't get to finish our coffee."
"Contrary to popular belief, there are more important things in life than coffee," Jace said with a hint of a smile. "Come on."
Jace had been right about the rain. As they drove the seemingly endless route to Clary's house, rain battered the windshield in heavy, enormous drops. The windshield wipers were barely keeping up, even on the highest speed, but Jace seemed undeterred. For the whole ride, he wore an expression of grim determination, even as Clary gave him directions in a faltering voice that was barely audible above the noise of the rainstorm.
After what seemed like an eternity, they reached her apartment building. Clary took deep breaths to steel herself while Jace said, "You can do this. I'll be waiting out here in case you need me, alright?"
"You don't have to do that," she said tonelessly.
Jace just stared at her for a moment, looking equally resolute and sincere. "It's not a matter of what I have to do, Clary. I'm not going to abandon you at a time like this."
She had been about to protest, but his words took her breath away. She didn't know why Jace was being so nice to her, but it offered a faint glimmer of hope in a bad situation. "Okay." Taking one last deep gulp of air, she thrust open the car door, and rain began to pour in immediately, striking her like bullets. Clary tried to steel her nerves, panic setting in again.
"You're forgetting something," Jace said, the sound of his voice snapping her out of her nervous reverie.
Clary glanced back and saw that his right hand was outstretched, offering her his umbrella. She took it gratefully and tried to return his encouraging smile, to little success. "Thank you. Really," she told him, trying to convey through her eyes how much it meant to her. Jace's blue gaze, steadfast and soothing, held hers for an instant, during which the rain and her anxiety were reduced to nonissues.
With gritted teeth and the umbrella firmly in place, Clary plunged into the storm.
As soon as she got to her floor, she could tell that something was seriously wrong. The long corridor leading to her apartment was cloaked in shadow, only serving to disconcert her further. Had the light burned out? Heart racing, Clary ran down the hallway and stopped outside her door, which she soon discovered had been left ajar.
"Here we go," Clary whispered desperately to herself as she pushed it open, afraid of what she might find. All the lights were off inside, so she groped her way to a light switch. It wasn't like Jocelyn to turn off every light in the apartment…
Flipping the switch to the 'on' position revealed a scene of chaos. Most of the furniture was overturned or destroyed. All of her mother's beautiful paintings had been taken off the walls and were nowhere to be seen. The couch cushions were strewn around the entire room, their fabric shredded and lying in tatters. Clary was aghast. What horrible event had happened here? Had Jocelyn been present for the apparent fight in her own living room?
"Mom?" Clary had intended to shout, but it came out as a broken whimper. "Mom, are you here?"
She apprehensively made her way through the other rooms in the apartment, each one seeming to have been looted as well. Every time she looked down, Clary was afraid that she would find her mother's body nestled among the wreckage. As much as the thought terrified her, she plowed onward on unsteady legs.
Eventually, she had made a full rotation around the ruined apartment. Her only consolation was that she hadn't found anything gruesome. But where was Jocelyn? Why had she hung up so suddenly on the phone? Had she made it out in time before all of this happened? Was she even alive?
Clary thought of the afternoon, just a few hours before, when she, her mother, and Luke had all been in the living room together. It seemed like an entirely different world, one where terrible situations like this didn't happen. She regretted leaving on such an abrupt note, especially since she and Jocelyn had been fighting. As far as she knew, she might never even have the opportunity to apologize. Any number of unspeakable things could be happening to her mother at that very moment, the least of them being death.
Overwhelmed, Clary sunk to her knees on the floor and sobbed for a long time. Her entire world had come crashing down, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. Even if Jocelyn were still alive, all of their possessions were ruined or missing. Nothing would ever be the same.
Crying made Clary feel a little better, if only for the emotional release. After a while of doing just that, she got to her feet and decided to pack up whatever was left in her room. It was obvious that she couldn't stay here. She found that most of her clothes and art supplies were untouched, which was a minor relief in and of itself. She tried to fit as much as she could into her backpack and messenger bag and, giving one last look at the remains of her bedroom, started to head towards the front door.
On her way back through the shadowy hallway and while going downstairs to the lobby, she hollowly weighed the options of what to do next. Call the police, call Luke, call Simon… And then there was Jace, who was probably still waiting in his car. Clary decided that calling Luke was most urgent, just in case he knew more of what had happened than she did. Then she would call the police and take it from there.
She had made her way back outside—the rain had finally stopped, it seemed—and was just about to dial Luke's number when she suddenly came face-to-face with a large, rough-looking man. And before she could react, the man pushed her against the wall of her apartment building, causing her to drop her phone.
"What's in the suitcase, little lady?" he growled in her face, reeking of alcohol, tobacco, and unwashed wounds. "Got any money in there?"
"No!" she gasped, trying unsuccessfully to edge her way out of his tight grip. "Please—let me go!"
"Aww, there's no need to struggle…" Almost lazily, he drew a knife, which made Clary's heart sink into her stomach. Why was all of this happening today? "You are a pretty one, so I'll make this easy for you. Now, hand over your money and no one gets hurt."
"I don't—" she choked, breaking off with an exhale. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a figure running towards them. Was someone coming to help her?
"Clary!"
The unexpected yell made the rough man pull back from her for an instant. And that was all it took. As if in a dream, Clary was only half-aware of how the mysterious figure charged in and hit her attacker square in the face with a tennis racket.
The man swayed and fell backwards from the impact like a chopped tree, his head making a dull thudding noise as it collided with the sidewalk.
"Clary!"
The unexpected yell made the rough man pull back from her for an instant. And that was all it took. As if in a dream, Clary was only half-aware of how the mysterious figure charged in and hit her attacker square in the face with a tennis racket.
The man swayed and fell backwards from the impact like a chopped tree, his head making a dull thudding noise as it collided with the sidewalk.