I Hate You (IN EDITING)

Chapter 16

The morning had gone by quickly; waking from her seemingly endless nightmare, being forced to change into a bathing suit. It was the bright green one she'd worn last time they'd went swimming. Clary pulled a pair of shorts over top of the bottoms, her silver anklet catching her eye-she always seemed to forget about it-she never took it off. But the strange thing, she couldn't really remember who she'd gotten it from, or why. She usually shrugged it off, but kept her gaze on it a little longer, and tied her hair up into a pony tail. She took a look at herself in the mirror; there were dark circles under her eyes, and she just looked exhausted. Like she hadn't had a decent nights sleep in a while. Quickly, Clary applied some water-proof concealer to her under eyes. At least now, she didn't look like diseased racoon.

"Clary," Isabelle sing-songed from the other side of the bathroom door. "Hurry up, we'll leave with out you," she warned. Clary rolled her eyes. "I'm so worried," she replied, sarcasm dripping from every orifices of her body. She heard Isabelle let out an annoyed puff of air, and left the bathroom. The house was quiet, save for the opening of the front door. Clary slathered on some sunscreen, and snatched up her towel. Despite her lack of sleep, Clary dashed down the stairs, and swung open the front door, closing it behind herself.

Isabelle and Jonathan were waiting by the bottom of the stairs, silence surrounding them. Isabelle looked up, and let out a quiet breath of relief. "Where is Magnus?" Clary asked, looking towards the beach, thinking that perhaps they had decided to leave without Isabelle, Jonathan and her. But, no. There was no one wearing brightly-coloured swim shorts on the beach-not that she could see, anyway. Isabelle shrugged in reply, muttering something about a glitter shortage.

Clary could hear her phone ringing from the open upstairs window, but she had no intention of going to answer it. It was probably her mom, and she was angry with her, and the last thing she wanted to do was scream at her mom. Clary shook it off, exhaling a deep breath, and then she spoke, "What about Satan's off-spring?" Because, of course, Alec would have been dragged along to purchase more glitter. Jonathan laughed, but caught Isabelle's annoyed glare, and stopped. "I don't know, he went out early this morning. Haven't seen him since."

"Perfect, hopefully I won't have to see him anytime soon," Clary said, and began walking down to the beach.

-*#*-

Swimming had been dull, and lifeless without Magnus, it was almost sad how bored they got after only half an hour. So now, Clary found herself walking back to the bakery, Isabelle at her side, Jonathan trailing behind slightly. "Is this where you've been disappearing to?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow, as Clary pushed open the door to the bakery, subconsciously clutching tighter to her towel. "You tasted the cupcakes," Clary retorted. "That should be reason enough."

"Can't argue with that," Jonathan added, looking around the bakery. And-just in time-a mess of black hair, sneakers, and a messy apron stumbled through the side door, all but tripping on his feet. He looked up sheepishly, his eyes lighting up when he saw Clary. "I thought you didn't bake?" Clary motioned to his flour-covered apron, which may or may not have had a swatch of chocolate icing on it. She was faintly amused. He stuttered a little, searching for the words to reply to her. In response, though, he simply shrugged. And then, the girl-Maia, she'd learned-came through the door, too, wiping her hands off on her apron, she grinned when she saw Clary.

"Seb told me you wouldn't leave without paying him," she grinned even more, if that was possible. Clary felt a blush rising into her cheeks, and failed to stop it. "He told me that he couldn't bake to save his life," Clary retorted after a moment, as Jonathan seemingly admired the menu board overhead. Maia laughed hysterically at this, bending over, tears streaking her cheeks, the whole bit. She even went as far as to slap her thighs, and look up at Sebastian, and laugh even more. "Him-can't bake?" Maia asked, almost rhetorically. "I'm the one that can't bake. I just icing things."