❝Oh yeah, can you recite every Nicolas Cage movie by heart? ❞
❝You know, sometimes I wish I never met you.❞
In which her world gets turned upside down after her best friend is bumped into by an invisible guy outside of a nightclub.
eventual female...
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"What if they don't like me?" Clary Fray asked for the umpteenth time that morning. Wren Holland rolled her eyes at her friend again as she loaded empty plates into the basin in her hands. She sighed as she looked at the mess that the customers who had previously resided at the table had made. The mess she would clean up because the person who was supposed to be working this shift, a girl named Emma, was running late. Again.
Sometimes, Wren really hated that her mom owned a restaurant.
When Helena Holland got The Spicy Angel up and running, Wren, who had been thirteen at the time, had been thrilled. She was happy that her mother's dream was finally coming true and that when she turned fifteen, she'd be able to work there. Five years later, she hates it. More than anything.
"Then they don't like you," Wren said with a shrug as she carried the basin with her as she walked to the restaurant's kitchen. "That isn't a very reassuring answer, Wren," Clary pointed out, her face showing distress. "Well when I gave you reassuring answers, you continued to ask that same question so, I'm all out of reassurances," Wren replied, handing the basin of dishes to Bobby to be cleaned. He made a face as he looked at the full basin. "I know," Wren told him, patting his shoulder and turning back to Clary.
"You're not supposed to be back here," Wren pointed out to her friend. "Wren, I'm freaking out about this interview with the Brooklyn Academy of Art and I could really use some encouraging words from my best friend," the redhead said. Wren rested her hands on her friend's shoulders. "You, Clarissa Adele Fray, have absolutely nothing to worry about. You're an incredible artist and crazy talented; more things to add to the list of why Clary Fray is so great," Wren said.
Clary sighed. "And those interviewers are gonna love you and your work because they'd be crazy not to," Wren said. Clary nodded her head as she thought over the blonde's words. "What if they're crazy?" The redhead asked next. Wren's hands fell from the girl's shoulders and she narrowed her eyes. "I can't with you, Clary. I literally can't," she muttered before moving past the girl and exiting the kitchen.
Clary followed after her friend, the distress never leaving her face. "But what if they are?" She asked again. "Then they're crazy," Wren replied. Clary's lips pursed. "Should I call Simon? He's always good at calming you down," Wren said. "No. Your reassurances are more than enough," Clary said. Wren gave her a look.
"Okay, maybe call Simon," Clary said. A smile spread across Wren's face and Clary smiled back before a light laugh left her lips. "Do you feel better now, Fray?" Wren asked as she made her way back to the table she was originally standing at. "Much," Clary replied. "Good, now go to your interview before you're late," Wren said.
