A/N: Er, I wrote a thing. I didn't really know what genre to list it under, so I put humor. I'm sorry you won't laugh.
Disclaimer: Characters, including –sadly– Jace, belong to Cassandra Clare.
Clary Fray had never been so nervous in her life as she was in that moment.
College was such a foreign concept to her. It was a foreign concept to anybody really, and her therapist that her mother, Jocelyn, had seen fit to send her to, had said it would be easier to get over her grief faster if she went back to normal life.
Normal life was now completely out of reach for her however. The very idea of doing something and not having Simon beside her –
No, she thought forcefully. I will not think of Simon.
Shouldering her backpack, she walked into NYU, heading towards the art department.
Doing her best not to get trampled by the stream of students heading to their classes, she turned into an astoundingly empty corridor and turned another corner, smacking right into someone's chest with such force that she fell back, hitting the cold stone floor.
She heard someone laugh above her and then a hand was held out in front of her face. She looked up and glared, into the face of a very golden boy. For real. From his brilliant gold hair that fell around his face to his honey gold skin and as she scrambled to her feet –blatantly ignoring his outstretched hand– she noticed that even his eyes were a soft gold.
Clary did her best not to stare at him, to maintain her angry composure and ignore the itch in her hand to whip out her sketch pad and pencil so she could draw him.
"Sorry. Wasn't really paying attention to much," he said, not sounding in the least bit apologetic but more amused. He was grinning, holding up a book that he had apparently been reading.
Tolstoy. He read Tolstoy. Of course he read Tolstoy.
"It's fine," she heard herself say, not sounding as angry as she had first intended to be.
"Further proof that you shouldn't read and walk. You look lost. Need some help?" he asked.
"Er, no. I mean yes. I mean –" she wasn't sure why she couldn't form a coherent sentence but Golden Boy just grinned wider.
"It's alright. My stunningly good looks tend to rend people speechless most of the time anyway."
His tone was light, but Clary had a really hard time believing that he meant it as a joke.
She could feel herself rolling her eyes. "A bit full of yourself, aren't you?"
"Not bragging if it's the truth," he said quickly.
"Anyone ever told you that you're quite arrogant?" she asked him. She was mildly shocked at herself. She was never this rude. Not to complete strangers anyway. She could practically hear Jocelyn telling her off for such rudeness.
Golden Boy didn't look offended though. "Nearly everyone I meet," he told her, once again sticking out his hand towards her. "Jace."
She shook it and nearly jerked her hand away. It was warm and soft but a spark of electricity seemed to travel from her fingers all the way to her back. Jace –what kind of name was Jace?– seemed to feel it to because he gave a slight start.
A/N: So yeah. That's the thing I wrote. I know it's ridiculously short and I'm not sure about continuing it or whatever. I sort of had it in my mind as a one-shot. But, I don't know. Let me know what you guys think. In the reviews. Where you can tell me. What you think. Oh angel, I need sleep. I'm leaving now.
Reviews is not waiting until August for the movie. (IS IT AUGUST YET I MEAN SERIOUSLY)
Love and oranges,