How to Steal a Happy Ending

•forty two: part two• A match made in hell

A red velvet wedding cake that was blue on the inside instead of, well fucking red. It was an atrocity. An outrage. And I wouldn't have stood for it...if only it weren't so damn tasty.

"I swear, the things rich people come with." I finished that sentence a shake of the head and another spoon full of that godforsaken cake.

"Well, get used to it." James dove into my plate, not at all abashedly. "For I too will be rich and famous one day."

I snorted. "The only way that would happen is if you married their spawn." I nodded at the newly wed couple; a spineless deserter and his moneybags wife.

"To be honest, that wouldn't be half-bad. A bona fide part of the Heathrow family." His elbow nudged at my side as he claimed my plate as his own, thinking I wouldn't notice under all that fury I had on.

I totally did though; on my list of priorities, nothing would ever beat desert. Scooting both my chair and plate away, I told him exactly where he could shove that particular sentiment.

"Aww Clary, if it bothers you that much I could always marry you instead."

An unwanted blush forced me to turn away, scratching my nose in a futile attempt to hide that fact.

"All you have to do is ask," he teased, seemingly oblivious to the fact that my resolve was crumbling like the cake crumbs he'd left behind on his plate.

Coming at him with an eye roll, I played along. For nostalgia's sake of course. "Our dishes would be dirtier than our floors because see-"

"You'd be too busy doing me instead?" He jumped in before I could say as much. He gave me that lazy half-smile of his, leaning in a bit too close for it to be considered innocent. The brush of his shoulder against mine far too deliberate to be be ignored.

I mentally shook myself out of it, James was just baiting me like always. I mean, sure, there wasn't that tell-tale gleam in his eyes this time around; the invitation to dance around with him till either my feet or my feelings gave out. Today...today, he was almost too eager; almost anxious.

And I would've actually believed that look he gave me right then, if only logic hadn't won me over instead.

Adding feet to the inches that had separated us, I stood up. "I'm going to congratulate them, pretty sure my mom would kill me if don't."

Turning distance to dust, he rose from his seat. "Sure, lets go."

~~~~~

A/N: So what do you think? What's his deal- is he just trying to be a good friend or what~ ;-) this is how my mom makes smileys btw, then she complains about how it doesn't turn into the "yellow face" when she hits enter and im like just use that emoji thing on the keyboard??