Expectations

I didn't want to go on this…outing? Link up?

What if Jace was right about it being a date? Would Simon want to "come home" with me afterward? I mean, I guess I wouldn't mind, Simon is a good guy—handsome, too, with his auburn hair and smooth shaven face. His eyes were an odd light brown color with gold flecks that enticed me to take another mental snapshot while he asked me to go to Sunset in the hallway of the precinct earlier in the morning.

I felt bad for declining Jace's invitation to go eat, especially since I took up his evening by allowing him to drive me home. Images of his face popped into my vision at my rejection and breaking the news about my plans. He had turned stoic but held irritation in his shoulders that put me in a constant state of nerves for the rest of our interaction.

Even now, I tugged on my white long sleeves nervously, taking in the outside of the bar as I stood on the sidewalk. Orange and yellow neon tubes wrapped intricately around themselves to form the words Sunset on the face of the building that bumped music behind its closed doors. A broad shouldered bouncer stood at a metal podium with his elbows leaned against the hardtop, letting his eyes rake down my attire of my V-neckline which displayed the pillowy tops of my breasts and a snug black skirt that barely covered mid thigh. I hoped Simon approved of my panicked choice of outfit.

If Jace saw me dressed this desperate he would probably laugh.

I itched for my Rubik's cube.

"Clary!" Simon called from down the block, giving a wave as he sauntered to my position on the sidewalk. He wore a white button down collared shirt that exposed his tan arms through the short sleeves and tight blue jeans that accentuated the muscles in his thighs. The outfit was dressier than usual, only making me overthink even harder about the whole 'date' aspect. Especially since Simon has never asked me to join him at a bar.

"Hey, Simon," I greeted as he came closer.

"You look nice," he said with a smile. A small ping of disappointment prickled my mind at the less than pantydropping comment, but I chastised myself for the self-centered notion.

A small yelp almost left my throat as he unexpectedly pulled me into a friendly hug. I felt the bouncer watching with narrowed eyes. "Thanks, you too," I blushed, balancing on tip toes until he released me. Jace's suggestion that this must've been a date had me behaving more awkward than I usually did, but luckily Simon didn't seem to notice.

"Let's get some drinks." He led me to the front doors with a hand pressed against my lower back.

The bouncer looked us up and down with a raised eyebrow in silent question. "Oh, right," I mumbled, digging through my small backpack purse for my ID. He gave a nod in dismissal when we displayed our IDs before promptly letting his attention sit elsewhere.

Simon pushed the heavily tinted doors open as he walked in, and held the handle for me to follow behind him. The interior was lit up by colored LED lights that either strobed excitedly around the large space or stood stagnant above the black granite bartop in the center of the building. Many bodies vibrated on the dance floor to the loud music that bumped through massive speakers hung on the ceiling with more strobing lights. My ribcage rattled with each bump as we slithered our way through to the bar.

I heaved a sigh of relief as soon as my arms finally met the counter and hopped up onto the tall barstool beside Simon. A blonde haired man stood behind the counter, vigorously shaking a metal cup before pouring the contents into a glass for the customer in front of him.

"What's your poison?" Simon asked into my ear to be heard over the music.

"Tequila?" I asked without confidence as I had never really been much of a drinker to develop a preference, but if we were planning to party then the party alcohol it is.

He gave the order to the bartender, who quickly poured two shots in front of us with a slice of lime speared over the rims. I tugged on my sleeve and took a deep breath while my fingers wrapped around the cold glass. Simon lifted his shot with a smirk, his other hand prepared the lime.

Clink.

We slammed the burning liquid back. I fought hard to suppress a cough, shoving the sour fruit between my teeth to soothe my throat.

"Woo," Simon breathed with a quick shake of his head. I laughed and blinked away the watery tears that formed in my eyes at the toxic drink. A grin grew on his face at my own reaction. My empty stomach felt warm as the Tequila mingled with my digestive system.

"Can I get a couple White Claws?" I asked the bartender, my own boldness startling myself as well as raised the eyebrows of my best friend beside me. Cold cans were set in front of us, I gave one to Simon who popped his top and chugged down nearly half in seconds. I took several big gulps, reveling in the way it calmed my nerves and slowed my mind after several minutes. I began to sway to the music.

"Wanna go dance?" Simon brushed a lock of meticulously curled hair behind my ear. Goosebumps littered my arms slightly and the hair on the back of my neck stood straight. I took another swig and nodded, clutching the can in my hand while I hopped off the stool. He grabbed my hand then, breaking me out of my buzzy mindset for a moment before I relaxed to his touch as he led me to the middle of the dance floor.

Did I even know how to dance? Was there a proper way to do it? I memorized the way the other people moved and gyrated against each other, hot blood crept to my cheeks at the…intimate motions.

Simon looked unsure of himself as well. His hands hovered as if he wanted to hold my hips but was trying to determine if that was appropriate at this point in the night. With a confident shrug I got close to his chest and swayed to the music in a way that felt natural. His tense shoulders relaxed and finally let his hands rest on my waist while he swayed too. I drank more of my seltzer and felt laughter bubble in my chest.

In a move that I wouldn't have imagined I could or would do sober, I grabbed one of his hands and raised our linked fingers above my head to spin myself before I pressed my backside against his front and brought our hands down to wrap around me. A rumble vibrated in his chest as he bent down, his breath slid over the skin of my neck.

After what felt like hours, he led us back to the bar and sat atop the stools. We both sucked in heavy breaths as laughter racked through us.

"So how's detective work going? Solve any cases yet?" he asked breathlessly and took a swig from a water bottle. He offered it to me, but I politely waved it away.

"It's alright. I've only solved a couple so far but nothing too difficult. Detective Herondale seems to keep me from the real crazy ones."

"He underestimates you," he chuckled.

My brow furrowed in thought. "No, I don't think that's it. Somehow I feel like he's trying to keep me from seeing really scary stuff. The kind of things that torture the detective himself."

A scoff left his lips. "Well, forensics is arguably worse. We have to touch the gore that the detective only has to look at." His tone was resentful as he took another swig, but what he said wasn't completely true, detectives got their hands dirty, too.

I shook my head, deciding not to start an argument on a night that was supposed to distract me from detective work—and the detective himself. "Let's not talk about work. I'm tired of thinking about it."

I was having a good time with Simon, and I was by no means drunk but I was a bit tipsy. Despite all of that, something had been eating at the back of my mind like I was being watched. My nerves didn't seem too concerned, it was a full bar after all so I was bound to be glanced at by the occasional passersby or even by the bartender.

Or maybe it was Simon. He was looking down at me through hazy eyes, his gaze flicking from my eyes down to my lips.

This was it. We were going to kiss and I would have to invite him back to my place. He leaned forward slowly as I did. I tried to hype myself up even as our lips were inches away.

My phone dinged and vibrated loudly in my backpack on my lap, causing my back to straighten and lean back in surprise. Simon cleared his throat when he righted himself as well.

"Sorry, it's just my dad checking in," I apologized, cringing at myself for not turning off my ringer earlier. I whipped out my phone just to be sure but what I saw wasn't a text from my dad, it was from Jace.

Please tell me he praised the way you look tonight. I rolled my eyes. He seemed dead set on making Simon seem like he wasn't a gentleman.

He did, thanks, I quickly typed back and set the phone down hoping that would be the end of it but my phone buzzed again.

You seemed pretty disappointed by the compliment when he first arrived.

I stilled and flicked my gaze around the room. Simon raised an eyebrow at my sudden mood shift but I gave him a tight smile. I thought I felt someone lurking. Hoped it was a new serial killer out there, but I guess you'll do. Where are you hiding, detective? I responded, eyeing the surrounding area subtly through my lashes.

Come find me, princess. My body tingled with excitement, I fought the feeling to stay above my core. With a sigh, I motioned to Simon that I was going to the bathroom.

I wasn't sure why I lied, maybe the idea of going to talk to another guy while on a date felt…rude.

My eyes scanned each face as I slowly wriggled through the bodies until eventually I popped out of the cluster and scanned the tables along the wall. Groups huddled around the tabletops casually chatting with glasses full of multicolored fluids.

There in the farthest corner sat Jace, slumped back lazily in his chair with a smirk, watching my every move like a lion stalking prey while I approached. He swirled a glass of whiskey in one hand, the ice ball rolled around in circles as he did.

"What are you doing here, Jace?" I sighed, ignoring his hand when he invited me to sit in the seat next to him, instead I came up close to his left side until our arms brushed.

"I made a reservation." He motioned at the table with a grin and took a sip from his glass. I rolled my eyes.

"That's not how bars work, try again," I scoffed but giggled drunkenly at the same time.

"Hm," he hummed. "So, what exactly did he say when he saw you tonight?"

I sighed in exasperation, any playfulness the alcohol brought was doused by the straightforward questioning. "He said 'you look nice', if you insist on knowing the specifics. And it has been a great—" I hesitated, "date, so far."

He rolled his eyes this time but with little interest as he took another sip. "Well, if it's any consolation," he leaned into my ear and I could've sworn I felt the featherlight touch of lips. His voice dropped low, "I would've told you that you look delicious, and he's not working hard enough to earn a taste."

My body went rigid as a different kind of warmth spread through my abdomen. I absently brushed my fingers against the skin of my thigh that he touched earlier, the tingling had faded through the evening but sparked to life a little as I thought about the memory. I hadn't remembered the feeling of Simon's hands on my hips like I did with Jace's accidental graze—must've been the alcohol.

He leaned back in his chair with a serious look—he hadn't been joking. He must've been drunk but at the same time, I almost missed the feeling of him being so close. His gaze flicked to my hand on my thigh, I quickly snatched it away and leaned my elbows against the tall table, but he was already smirking like he knew. But he couldn't.

Could he?

"You, detective, are way too drunk. I'm taking this," I said with a laugh in my voice but I knew my cheeks were bright red. My fingertips grabbed the glass and slid it to the other end of the table. "Go home, Jace."

"Wanna come with me?"

My heart skidded to a halt in my chest. "And why would I do that?"

He leaned forward until our noses almost brushed, scanning my face with gold flames. "Mmm," he hummed, "because he bores you. You want mystery, you crave the hunt for the puzzle pieces. But his puzzle is solved, princess. Look at him, he wears his entire life on his sleeve."

My brows furrowed. I didn't appreciate the accusation that I only go for broken and mysterious men—I liked Simon…I think. I couldn't help but feel upset from his invasive words that cut too deep. "Go home, Jace," I hissed before pushing off the table and making the trek back to my date.

"Clary, wait." A hand slid down my sleeved arm to my wrist and gently tugged me back, spinning me around until I almost collided with a hard chest. The familiar smell of cedar and chocolate nearly made my drunken eyes roll in pleasure but instead they glared up at the light haired man through my brows. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I'll leave but will you at least text me when you get home safely?"

I internally groaned. That was probably the most apology I would ever get from Jace—and I couldn't be too upset since I had picked him apart in the same way a week prior.

"Yes, okay. I think I'm about done here anyway, it's getting late." I checked my phone screen but frowned. Everyday at 9:45 on the dot, my dad sends a text to tell me he got home safe, but my screen was blank of any notifications other than 10:55pm in pink font. The blood that was circulating through my system suddenly pooled to my feet.

"What's wrong?" Jace asked, trying to get a better look at my phone screen.

"Nothing. I'm actually going to leave very soon so I'll text you." I rushed quickly through the bodies back to Simon who was drinking from a water bottle exactly where I left him last. "Hey, Simon, I have to go check on my dad, I'm going to call an Uber," I said up into his ear.

"I can take you," he offered, snatching his keys out of his front pocket before I could protest. "I insist."

With a reluctant nod, I slung my phone into my purse and strapped it onto my shoulders. He grabbed my hand and led me out the door. I gave one last glance over to the table in the corner—but it was vacant.

"Are you sure you're good to drive?" I asked warily as he walked around to the driver side of a black Hyundai sedan and popped his door open. I stood at the passenger side, eyeing him over the roof.

"Oh yeah I'm good, I drank on a full stomach. The door should be unlocked," he said and slipped into the car. I shook my head as I remembered that not everybody's door handle is broken like Jace's. If I didn't know any better I would almost say I felt disappointed that Simon hadn't opened the door for me especially as my date, but slapped myself at the conceited thought and sat in the deep upholstered seat. After all, we've been on plenty of car rides together.

He stared down at my cleavage from the corner of his eye while I buckled my seatbelt. Goosebumps spread through me again instead of the warmth that Jace induced earlier. A bad feeling prickled the back of my mind—rooted to my worry for my fathers safety.

We drove down the road slow, so slow that I felt the need to fidget with my puzzle cube but I left it at home. Instead, my fingers bit into the cushion below my thighs.

"So, what's going on?" he asked, gripping the steering wheel but never going above the speed limit, a habit he formed to cater to me and my trauma. I bounced my knee.

"Valentine usually texts me when he gets home and he hasn't, so I just need to go check on him, but I'm sure he's ok," I said dismissively as if I wasn't worried—but I was so worried I held back tears. He gave a shrug.

After a few agonizingly slow minutes, we stopped at the curb of my dads house. The light blue building was a modest, single floor, two bedroom house that I spent my entire childhood living in. I loved reliving some of the memories on sleepless nights but my mind would eventually turn dark, remembering the abundance of bad memories.

"Are you ok?" Simon asked from beside me, pulling me from my mental strain.

"Uh, yeah, I'm good," I said with a smile.

"Do you want me to…?" He trailed off, pointing at my door handle. My cheeks flushed.

"Sorry. Thanks for tonight, it was fun," I said, feeling my smile fade with every expectation I had of this date going out the window.

"Wait," he said, gripping my elbow with firm fingertips and yanking me back into the car seat a bit too hard, surprising me.

"Whoa, sorry," he chuckled low, leaning close to my face. My nerves shook as he leaned even closer, just a breath away. I had too much on my plate to do this right now.

Before I could back out, he leaned all the way until his mouth pressed into mine awkwardly. I relaxed slightly and disconnected after a few seconds before it could progress. A satisfied glint shone in his milk chocolate eyes when he sat straight in his seat again.

"See you Monday," I mumbled before stepping out. My Converse stepped in a recently accumulated rain puddle, flooding my sock with dirty gutter water. Yet another reason to hate tonight.

"Maybe I'll see you before then?" he asked, leaning over to catch my gaze with his as I stood.

"I have a busy weekend but I'll text you," I said shortly with a forced smile before closing the car door with a click. Jace's words swirled in my head.

Do I really like Simon?

He's a bit…strange and not very gentlemanlike. At this point, Jace treated me better as my friend than Simon treated me as a date. I was unsure whether that meant I had to raise my standards for dates or mark Jace as an extremely rare breed; an outlier of sorts.

I hadn't been more than three feet from the car before Simon drove off. With the light from his headlights gone, the street was dark with barely helpful street lamps. I shivered and rolled my eyes at his lack of effort.

I think I will just see him on Monday, then.

I stepped up to the navy blue door and peeked through its large oval window, but the privacy film prevented me from gathering any clues of my father's whereabouts. The code protected lock on the deadbolt beeped with each number I pressed, it clicked open with a green flash.

"Dad?" I called, setting my bag on the shoe bench. The hallway was dark, the only light emanated from the living room around the corner past the kitchen as well as distant voices from the television.

No answer.

I walked through the hallway, flicking on the light and bringing a less eerie feel to the house that once carried so much warmth. The kitchen came into view, it was clean aside from an empty tv dinner box sitting on top of the stove under the hanging microwave. The top of the box had a small puddle of water with small ice shards.

So dad had to be home.

"Dad," I called again, beelining for the living room with my heart in my throat, my alcohol buzz completely burned away from pure adrenaline. As I rounded the corner, I felt my body go icy as I saw my dad laying sideways on the couch with a needle in his arm, out cold.

"Dad!" I shrieked, dropping to my knees at the crumbled man on the cushions. I carefully pulled the needle out and set it back into his black fix kit beside him. A small amount of brackish fluid remained in the syringe.

"Hey, daddy? Wake up," I begged, shaking his blonde head in my hands. His eyelids fluttered open slowly. I released a breath. "Let's get you to bed."

His face changed suddenly. Wild bloodshot eyes stared daggers into me as he sat up angrily. Steam practically blew out of his ears.

"Under my own fucking roof," he hissed, his words slurred together as topshelf Black Tar coursed through his veins. He stood and walked a few steps towards me. I backed away with my hands up to appear less threatening.

"Dad, please don't," I said firmly, tears forming in my eyes. He lunged suddenly, his hands enveloped my throat and shoved me against a wall. A picture of my third grade graduation ceremony shattered behind my head and fell to the ground. He squeezed until I felt blood collect in my neck above his hands.

"With Clary in the house? What sick, sadistic shit did you expose her to?" He whispered angrily, complete pain and torment shown through his eyes.

"Dad, it's me," I croaked, desperately scratching at the backs of his hands. Black seeped into the corners of my vision. He refused to listen.

My brain reminded me of exactly what was to my left. I stuck my hand out and wrapped my fingers around an aluminum trophy I won from getting first place in the Oregon Chess Tournament when I was 10.

I swung the heavy metal as hard as I could into the side of his head. The hands around my throat disappeared completely as the heavyset man crumpled to the carpet unconscious with shallow breathing. I hunched over and gasped for breath, coughing through my traumatized windpipe. When my breathing and sight came back, I hooked my arms under his armpits and dragged his body through the hallway to the master bedroom.

My lungs burned as I overextended myself, huffing with each step until I was able to bring him to the side of his bed. I set him down and placed my hands on my hips.

How was I going to get a 230lbs man of muscle into bed without injuring myself?

I can't—so I opted for placing his pillow under his head and throwing his gray comforter down onto him.

"Fuck," I wheezed, already feeling soreness on my throat.

That will leave a bruise—again.