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Clary was in her room when Isabelle walked in and said, “No more moping. Come on. I’m gonna teach you Spanish.”
“Okay,” Clary said, confused and not necessarily feeling it. But she had nothing better to do, so she got up and followed Isabelle.
Isabelle took her down a few hallways, to a part of the Institute that Clary didn’t know. There was a small room with a bed and a couch, and Isabelle said, “This is where I come if I want to be alone for a while. Nobody really comes back here, and my family doesn’t know about it. So.” She sat down on the couch and patted next to her. “Come on.”
“Oh,” Clary moaned, it was the only thing she could think with Isabelle sucking on her neck, one hand on the back of her neck and the other scratching up and down her spine. Clary didn’t know what to do with her own hands, had curled them up in her lap when Isabelle started kissing her neck. The hand on Clary’s back moved, rested on her side, close to her chest, and that got Clary to say, “Um, Isabelle…”
Immediately, Isabelle pulled away. “¿Sí, Clary?” She was smiling. Her lipstick was smudged. Clary hadn’t ever been attracted to girls before, but she was definitely attracted to Isabelle. “Por favor, recuerde hablar español.” Now she was smiling playfully. Clary vaguely remembered that they were in the room under the pretense of a Spanish lesson.
And it had been, at first. And then Clary had noticed Isabelle getting closer, but dismissed it, and then Isabelle asked her if she’d ever kissed anyone, and if maybe she’d like to make out some, and Clary said yes without thinking about it, too distracted by her own thoughts, and then…
“This is nice,” she started, and saw the light in Isabelle’s eyes dim slightly. “It is,” she said, grabbing Isabelle’s hands. “It’s just… not what I was expecting. At all. Did you just bring me back here for this?”
“No!” Isabelle cleared her throat and corrected, “Well, not really. I just wanted to cheer you up. And you’re cute, and my best friend. And sometimes things happen.” Isabelle turned over their hands, then lifted them up to kiss Clary’s hand. “Y un beso no le hace mal a nadie. If you want to stop, we can. If you want to keep going…”
Clary swallowed the lump in her throat long enough to say, “And if I can’t decide?”
“Then,” Isabelle said, “podemos tomarse de las manos.”
“Okay.” Clary squeezed Isabelle’s fingers. “Let’s go with that one. Por ahora.”