Has anyone else noticed that in times of high stress when I'm doing last minute work, I always digress and update my long overdue stories to keep my sanity? I guess I really do write to keep sane. Gah, I just hate doing work :/ it's so depressing, isn't it? Anyway, random update! Not too long, but enough for a tease, no?

Here we go!

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Clary kept her eyes glued on one of her older pieces-an oil portrait of a girl sitting in a huge booth all alone on the background painted in tan hues-in order to steady the nerves that caused her knees to buckle and stomach to do cartwheels inside of her. It was the day of the competition, which was situated in Javit Center, and she was anxious. She had already submitted her final masterpiece-the one that Jace inspired her to paint, the one that rendered her art teacher to a blubbering baby-but like all the other aspiring artists, she had complied a small display of her best works that her teacher "strongly recommended"-a.k.a forced her to add in.

"Wow," a familiar sweet-as-honey voice gasped behind her. She spun around on her heel, already expecting to see a pair of amber-ish golden eyes staring back at her.

"Thanks," she blushed. It had been a week since she'd seen him, and even though it was foolish of her, she had half-anticipated that he'd show. Now that he was actually here, she didn't know what to do.

"I knew you were good," Jace complimented. "But I had no idea to what caliber." His eyes were fixed to the portrait on the wall and flicked back to her as he added, "You're going to win, just so you know."

"Um, thanks," Clary said sheepishly. "But it's not like you're a professional judge or even psychic."

"You are going to win," he repeated with such conviction, Clary felt overwhelmed. "I know your work and I've seen the others. They lack so much emotion that you put into your paintings, it's mind-boggling how they even made the semi-finals."

"But what if I don't get first?" Clary persisted. "What if I get second?"

"Then you plan our next get-together," Jace's eyes were glittering in a way that made Clary's hand itch for a pencil. "And if I win, then I plan. That way, we all win." Jace spun on his heel gracefully–which was probably a lot harder to accomplish since he had a guitar slung over his shoulder–and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Clary called out, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

Jace stopped mid-stride and looked at her from over his shoulder. He was so…so insouciant. Yes, that was the word she was looking for. His appearance, his demeanor, everything about him screamed that word. And yet…

But before she could finish that thought, the judges began to encircle her, cutting off her view of Jace. She went on her tiptoes, desperate for one last glance from him, but it wasn't until he was about to round the corner did he look over his shoulder at her, a smirk spreading slowly across his face as he did some sort of salute with two fingers as a means of saying goodbye.

"And as runner up, may a Clarissa Fray please come up to retrieve her two hundred and fifty thousand dollar check please?"

Clary couldn't believe it; sure, she hadn't come in first like she'd wished, but a quarter of a million dollars was a quarter of a million dollars more than she'd ever owned in her life. Her legs felt like jello as she forced her way through the reluctant crowd, keeping her head down low so that she didn't see the blatant envious glares–or even worse, the fake smiles. That's why she always hated being the center of attention; it required too much energy to be that fake for that long that she didn't want to waste.

Once she was on stage, Clary lifted her head up to face the mass that was below her…and tried not to puke. There were just so many pairs of eyes staring up at her, as if they expected her to say anything that could satiate them if possible, that Clary felt sick to her stomach.

Until she noticed a furious-looking Jace glaring at her from all the way in the back, where he was given a wide berth of clear space due to everyone pushing up to get up front. Clary shrank deep inside of herself, struggling to maintain composure with Jace staring at her like that. But for some reason beyond her, she had a feeling he wasn't staring at her that way.

Slowly, she turned her head just an inch, which was enough to see a girl with ink black hair glaring right back at Jace indirectly from her peripheral vision. She couldn't decipher what her eyes were saying, but if Clary were being honest with herself, she really didn't want to know.

Clary's eyes flickered to the other corner of her periphery to catch Jace as he unfolded his arms from high across his chest and kick off the wall, making his way through the crowd as if he were an untouchable god before leaving the building altogether. And if it weren't for the fact that she was forced to stay on stage and smile as if everything was fantastic, she would've dropped the check and ran after him.

But she couldn't.