I'm sorry.
Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare has created these characters, I'm just playing with them. ;)
Chapter Eight
Was that the doorbell? I think it was the doorbell. It was definitely the doorbell.
How the heck did someone get in here without buzzing first? Jordan took an early shift at the station today so it's probably not someone for him.
"Hey Simon!" I yelled from my comfy bed. "You expecting anyone?"
Something that sounded like a grunt came from the direction of Simon's nerd cave. Assuming Izzy was popping over, I grumbled out of bed and went to go open the door. I didn't even check the peephole. Thinking back now, I probably should've checked the damn peephole.
I swung the door open and was starting to say something along of the lines of "Simon's in his room, good luck getting him out", but was cut short by the handsome, muscled, and terrifying figure in front of me. Visions from the ice rink and his cold dark eyes staring into my soul sliced through my vision, and I barely had enough wits to close the door. Once I started making the motions, his foot wedged between the door and the frame.
"Hello, Clarissa," Sebastian drawled. "Long time, no see."
"Sebastian," I squeezed out from my rapidly constricting throat, trying to play along. "To whom do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here?"
He obviously saw straight through the sweet sugary coating and grabbed my wrist, making my fake smile melt right off my face. "Watch your mouth, Clarissa," he spat out angrily.
"Fine." I wrenched my arm out of his grasp and grabbed my coat from the rack. I shrugged it on and flicked my hair out from where it was trapped against the back of my neck. "Let's go for a walk, and we can talk like two grown adults."
Sebastian's face softens into a smile and intertwines our fingers, and its times like this that make me think that Sebastian is sweet and caring and a loving boyfriend. But times like this are rare.
By the time we are walking on the sidewalk, I have skillfully maneuvered my fingers out of his, and my hands are in my pockets. I am leading us to the grocery store, but he doesn't seem too interested in where we are going.
"Why are you here, Sebastian?" I ask once we are inside the grocery store and he can't physically lash out at me without someone noticing.
He turns his head to me and smiles. "I missed you." He grabs my hand and forces his fingers through mine. I try to take my hand away, but stop once I realize we've turned into an aisle and Jace is standing there, reading a label off of a soup can. I turn around immediately, but Sebastian doesn't turn with me, and we make more a scene than we would have if we just walked past him.
"Clary?" Jace turns his head towards us and frowns a little, dropping the soup can into the basket he's holding.
"Hi," I say sheepishly, turning back around and still trying to disconnect mine and Sebastian's hands. Jace notices, and furrows his brow at me. He looks concerned.
"Hey, I was wondering," Jace begins, "are we still on for our date tomorrow?"
I can feel myself blushing because I remember our kiss, and I can feel myself smiling because we have a date tomorrow, and Jace is asking about whether or not I'm still going.
"Yeah, of course," I say. And then I remember who's standing next to me and mentally kick myself in the shins.
"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Sebastian asks Jace bluntly, and I can almost feel the steam that's blowing out of his ears.
"I could ask the same about you." Jace retorts.
"I'm Clary's boyfriend," he says confidently, and I flinch from the words.
"EX-boyfriend," I grit out, and rip my hand away from his.
Jace looks at me, obviously concerned, but I shake my head, mentally willing him to drop it. Maybe he was drunk too that one night out at Pandemonium when I was being stupidly drunk.
"Well, it was nice to see you, Clary," Jace winks at me and I feel pathetic at how my organs seem to melt into mush. "See you on Friday!" And then walks over to the cashier on the other side of the store.
Did he really have to add that last part?
Sebastian's hand squeezes my forearm so hard that I know there's going to be bruises later and drags me outside. Once there's people around to witness this, he drops his hand to find mine, then roughly puts both our hands into his coat pocket. His fingernails bite at the skin between my knuckles, hard. Before I can register what's happening, he's walking, and I'm being dragged along with him. I've never seen him this angry. I hate to admit it, but I'm scared, and I don't have the guts to tell him that my apartment is in the opposite direction. He doesn't care.