A Wildfire of Daisies

One: Cordelia

He was late. Again.

For a person who was a strong believer in vintage pocketwatches and cream-colored RSVP notices, James Herondale was late. He always seemed to be late, the boy who was so caught up in the lives of others that he never spent a minute on himself.

The lives of everyone but me, Cordelia thought with a frown. She flopped backward into her bed, covered in every combination of outfit she had thought of. The pre-date jitters were getting to her. An hour before the time James said he would pick her up, she'd FaceTime-d Lucie and asked for all the fashion expertise she had. Maybe it would have been smarter to go on a date with Lucie, rather than her quiet older brother.

The colon on her alarm clock blinked with each passing second. Each second that James wasn't at her apartment.

He wasn't an awful person. Cordelia liked him, although the excitement in her began to die down. The fear was always there. That he wouldn't show, that he would eventually arrive at her door with bad news. There's someone else, she imagined him saying. Someone better than you, someone I love more. Love was something finicky and rare. Cordelia was unsure if she could ever love James. She knew she loved Lucie, who loved her just the same. With James, it was different. Everything with James was different—how he hid in the corners of parties, how he seemed to melt into the shadows. If he had been a different boy, then Cordelia might have thought of him as unlovable. In Lucie's stories, she might have written him to be a boy of few words and loves. In Cordelia's reality, she just liked him. Simply, truthfully, honestly. She liked him. And it tore her apart, to be waiting around in her apartment like some sort of caged animal.

She got up and went to mope somewhere else. It would have been a nice night. Although winter in London was eternally gray and cold, the city had come to life with lights and cars. It was the London she wanted to share with James. A beautiful city with a beautiful boy.

It pained her just to think about it. Cordelia sat on her sofa, pulled her phone out from her purse, and called Lucie.

"Cordelia?" Lucie's voice was quiet and tinged with annoyance. "I thought James was picking you up at eight. It's . . ."

"It's eight-thirty," Cordelia said before Lucie could. Being a minute late was acceptable, ten was pushing it. "Thirty minutes past the set time means he's not showing. Tell your brother to get a grip."

Usually Cordelia hated mentioning Lucie's delinquent brother around her. They tended to skirt around the issue. Cordelia was infatuated with James; Cordelia was Lucie's other half. She was inextricably linked to the Herondale family. Somehow just saying it out loud reminded her how tangled she was with the two of them. Cordelia, James, Cordelia, Lucie, James, Lucie. They were in a web that only the three of them understood. Well. Maybe James would know more if he actually showed up for one of them.

"I'm sorry, Daisy." Lucie sounded pissed, but Cordelia knew her best friend was tamping down her frustration just for her. There. More complication. Anger at James, sympathy for Cordelia. "Do you want me to come over? I'll see your fit in person, we can get ice cream, watch a movie?"

Cordelia shook her head, even though she knew Lucie couldn't see. "He's James," she said, looking at the door. "He'll show up for me."

It was an odd sort of truth. Even if James wasn't there for her romantically, he was still part of their trio. He called her Daisy, just as they did when they were children. Cordelia reminded herself that these sorts of affection cannot disappear so easily.

"My brother can be such a dick," Lucie said.

Cordelia didn't remove her gaze from the door. "Maybe," she said distantly. "I'm going to go. Clean up my room. It's a hurricane in there."

"Get some sleep! Love you. Bye, Daisy. And I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for. I love you." She hung up and tossed her phone onto the sofa. The night was going downhill, even if it had begun with high hopes. Although she hated to admit it to herself, she was hoping that this time, this one time, James would return her affection. That he would be as equally infatuated in her as she was in him. That her years spent pining after him weren't for nothing.

At some point, she had to give up. Move on. Find another boy that wasn't James, but reminded her of him. It was more terrifying to do that than spend the rest of her life waiting for him.

He'd asked her on a date at the beginning of the week. They had been sitting in the corner of Maggie's Bookstore and Café, having bought books for each other. She'd bought him a collection of poems, ones that were flowery and simple. He'd bought her a fantasy epic, nearly a thousand pages, about dragons and swords. They were friends at that moment. Cordelia could have been satisfied with just friendship. It was easy, being friends with James. She could have gone the rest of her life being just friends if it meant keeping him in her life.

"We should go out this weekend," he'd said without preamble. He was ignoring his iced coffee and was going through the book he'd just bought Cordelia, dog-earring the pages he liked or underlining passages with a pen. It felt more intimate, reading his annotated books. Like she was stepping into his mind and knowing what moved him. "This Friday. Eight o'clock. What do you think?"

Cordelia had taken a sip of her own iced coffee. "Why?" He couldn't have seen, but she'd been bouncing her leg up and down, a nervous reflex that seemed to happen especially around James.

"I don't know," he'd said, waving his pen around. "We never go out out."

"We're out right now."

"You know what I mean. Right now we're in a café at eleven a.m. buying each other books. That's not exactly going out. And you should have more fun on the weekends."

She'd scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean? I have plenty of fun."

"You mean watching romance films with my little sister and sharing a tissue box. I don't think it's much fun."

"You're just jealous that you don't understand The Notebook."

"I don't. Anyway," he'd said, as if he could sense himself falling into a tangent. "Go out. With me. It would be fun, me and you."

The suggestion had tugged at her heart. It did a double take, first reacting to his words, then realizing what he truly meant. James Herondale liked her. Or he liked her enough to suggest a night out together. Or as he'd put it, me and you. Part of their own web, one without Lucie, where they were a pair.

"Sure," she said, choosing a word that was neutral. Her emotions were anything but. "Eight. Friday."

James had closed the fantasy book shut and slid it over to her. "Now you may read it. But you have to tell me all your reactions. Unless you hate the book, then don't tell me anything."

She'd laughed and slipped the book into her tote. Later, she would run her fingers over the dog-eared pages, the lines in ink that were precious to James. "I'll like it. But only for you."

Now, as she sat on the sofa, facing the door, willing it to open, she wondered if that day had been real. It was too perfect. Maybe he'd misspoken and said something else. Or that she misinterpreted what he meant. It was all so terrible.

Cordelia
You don't think he was messing with me, do you?

Lucie
of course not. and if he was, i'm going to kill him. no one messes with cordelia carstairs and survives, because either you're going to kill them, or i'll kill them for you.

Cordelia
Oh, what would I be without you?

Lucie
probably a person without an appreciation for a good rom-com. sure you don't want to stream one together?

Cordelia
I'm sure.

Lucie
take care of yourself. he doesn't deserve you.

Cordelia couldn't help but wonder what type of person James did deserve. How could someone be less than her and still end up with James Herondale? Maybe in this universe, she was too good for him. But she couldn't help but wonder what kind of person was low enough to attract James, and how she could become them.