Remember | The Mortal Instruments AU

Chapter Twenty Three: The Breathtaking Smile

My interview was in twenty minutes and I was about ten minutes away so really I was giving myself plenty of time which was very unlike me. I'd planned today down to the last letter because I was so nervous but bumping into that Simon, had really struck a nerve, he said he was a friend of Caroline's and then I ask her and she doesn't even know a Simon? Strange, to say the least.

Horrifying, to say the most.

Why did he?

Why did he do that?

Why would he lie about knowing Caroline?

Why-

Its only when I bump into someone that I realise I must have completely zoned out while I was thinking about Simon and even though I know it was my fault I still blurt out, "Can you watch where you're going?"

After a few seconds I realise he's made me drop my folder, the contents spilling out, and as I reach to grab it he tries to help me.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," he says but I can hear him quietly laughing. His laugh is breathy and shaky almost like he's nervous or maybe even scared.

His hands are moving extremely quickly - quicker than should of been humanly possible - to get all of my pieces of artwork before they go into the road and ruin any possibility of me getting into art college.

"Just- just please help me get my drawings, I need them," I sound so strange, my voice is shaking and I don't understand why. Why is my memory pulling at me, telling me I remember his voice but I don't know where from? I don't have any idea where his voice is from. I don't have any idea why I recognise it. I don't have any idea why I feel like I should recognise it.

"Here," he passes me back all of my drawings politely and carefully because he knows how important they are to me.

Wait, what am I talking about? He doesn't know how important they are to me. How could he?

I'm losing my mind.

I must be.

As he handed over the drawings, I had noticed the carefulness with which he held my art, that shows me he's used to handling delicate things- maybe he's a musician? His hands look delicate, even though they are marked with light scars. They look strong at the same time, like they could play an instrument beautifully with the care but also punch someone if he needed to. He's shaking slightly, ever so slightly though. He's trying to hide it.

On his left hand, is also a small cut as though he's just used hit something... or someone. I want to take his hands in mine and help heal him, I want to make sure he never has even a small cut again because even though it's just a small cut, it brings about a sensation in me that I didn't think could ever happen over a stranger.

I must be mad.

He's a stranger.

As I take my drawings from him, my fingers graze his and a spark of heat pours through my veins, my body, my soul. My body feels alive, for the first time in a long time, I feel as though I've been resurrected because for as long as I can remember, my body has never felt like this. Alive. Alive with electricity and heat and life.

What the hell is happening to me?

It's then that I realise I haven't looked him in the eyes. That I haven't even looked at him. So even though I'm sure I'm already blushing from the heat he surged through my body, I slowly look upwards. I first see a strong jaw, then a straight nose and then-