Contrast [ A One Direction AU ]

chapter two: clary

chapter two

• Clarisse •

I tap my foot on the wooden floor of the empty lobby impatiently, glancing through the glass door and around the street outside for the familiar blonde head. Where the hell was she?

I glance at my watch, and run a hand through my hair. I had about 15 minutes before my interview with BBC Radio 1 began, and I had, stupidly, left all my legal documents at home. Bella was supposed to be bringing them some time now, but I had yet to see her. I bit down on my nail, worrying about the documents.

This was the potentially the biggest interview of my life, and I was freaking out. If I impressed whoever was interviewing me, I could get an internship here, and hopefully a job. My dream about becoming a radio DJ had begun ever since I was a child, and now here was my chance.

I just hope I won't mess it up.

I check my watch again. 12 minutes to go.

I huff, and take out my phone, checking to see if I had any messages from Bella. Nada. Zilch. I began pacing around the lobby, humming nervously under my breath. I quickly run over the things I could say in the interview, and remind myself not to panic or stumble on my words. Those do not make for an attractive DJ.

The wail of police sirens catches my attention, and I glance up, looking out at the street once more. All I see are busy Londoners rushing around, walking briskly in a crowd. I look away, disinterested, and continue my pacing.

My train of thought is interrupted by the glass doors sliding open, bringing in a wave of noise from the outside street. I look up sharply, expecting to see the delicate features and flyaway hair of my roommate. What I do see however, is not red-cheeked Bella, but a complete stranger who looks as if he's about to collapse from his hard panting.

"I-" he says, gasping for air, his shoulders weighed down by a heavy bag. His dark hair was messy, and extremely windswept. He wore full-body black attire, baring very little skin. His wide eyes keep darting to the street outside, as the wails of the police sirens grow increasingly louder.

Suddenly, it clicked. This boy was on the run from the police, and from the sounds of it, he was very close to getting caught. I take in his appearance with a quick once-over, and say quietly, "You're not a murderer, are you?"

He looks taken aback, but quickly shakes his head no.

"Okay." I say, and look around the lobby. Empty. I guess the secretary was still on her coffee break. Quickly striding forward, I grab his wrist and drag him behind me. I had noticed a side corridor, which had a small broom cupboard next to the restrooms while I was waiting, and I prayed to God that it was unlocked.

I push down on the handle, and to my great relief, it clicked open. I push the stranger inside, glancing out at the street behind me. No sign of the police quite yet, though the sirens were louder than ever. I look back to the supply closet, and meet the gaze of this unidentified felon. I quirk an eyebrow at him and say, "You're not a thief either, are you?"

To my surprise, he laughs. It's a carefree laugh, not the laugh you'd expect from a guy on the run. "No," he says, "no I'm not." I scan his face quickly, looking for signs of deceit.

His wide eyes are a captivating brown colour, which sparkle even in the dark of the closet. His eyelashes are long, and brush the bottom of his eyelids when he blinks. His face is delicately structured, all sharp angles that are softened by his eyes and expressions.

Despite my no-boys resolve, I find myself undoubtedly attracted to this boy. I shake my head slightly to snap out of it. Stop, I think firmly, stop it.