Yoohoo! How are we all this fine Saturday evening? Or whatever time of day it is where you are. Or whatever day, for that matter. How are things right now at the exact moment you are reading this? I hope everyone is well.

So, this is the last chapter I'll ever be uploading WHILST BEING A TEENAGER. I turn the big two-oh on Wednesday which is frankly quite terrifying, but worry not, I'm sure it will have no effect at all on this fic. Unless, there's some magical transformation that takes place as you enter the third decade of life that I am as yet unaware of. So be prepared for the possibility of me returning next week...a changed woman.

Aha, as if.

Enjoy the chapter ;) Oh and thank you to those of you who reviewed the last one! Especially the live reaction review where you added your thoughts as you were reading and posted the whole thing at the end. I haven't had many of those before and it was thoroughly enjoyable to read, so if anyone else wants to give that a go, feel free!

Disclaimer: I do not own TMI, TID or any of their characters. But for now I am a teenager like Clary. For now.

A Tale Of Two…

Ultimatums

18th January

Irresponsible. Incompetent. Immature.

Those were the three words Imogen had used to describe her grandsons.

The Herondale family had been sitting around the grand dining table on Christmas Day, with Imogen at the head and her son Edmund on the other end. Linette sat next to her husband with their eldest daughter - Ella - to the left side of her, and her own husband of three weeks, Ragnor Fell to the left of her. Directly opposite sat Cecily, Will and Jace.

The conversation had initially been civil. At least, as civil as could be when the four Herondale siblings got together. The boys had exchanged pleasantries with Ragnor, spoken politely to their father and Cecily hadn't stabbed anyone with a fork. All in all, everything was fine.

Until Jace slipped up.

His mother had been asking him about how his best friend Jonathan was doing at university and at the time, Jace had been too engaged in a staring contest with Will to pay attention to what he was saying. Needless to say, it had come as a surprise to the entire family when he accidentally revealed how the two of them had dropped out of Bristol.

After that, civil was the last word you'd use for the rest of the evening.

Edmund had stormed off in a rage, Linette was distraught, Ella and Cecily sunk lower in their chairs and Ragnor looked like someone had dropped a bucket over his head as Imogen proceeded to scream the house down.

Irresponsible, incompetent and immature.

That's what she'd called him and unwittingly, Will had also managed to land himself in the firing line by saying, "He's still young, he'll figure it out."

"Just like you're still figuring it all out?" Imogen had yelled. For someone so small, she had an incredibly large voice. "You're twenty-two and practically unemployed. Being a writer alone won't pay the bills."

And then she'd whipped out a laptop and brought up the Facebook photos. Album after album of the boys' nights out. They couldn't believe she'd managed to find them in the first place. They thought they had the highest privacy and didn't dare accept a request from anyone remotely Herondale.

"Irresponsible," she'd said again, pointing to a picture of Will lining up vodka shots. His best friend Gabriel was on the floor next to him, completely plastered already. "Incompetent." This time it was one of Jace holding up a Psychology essay. He was smiling, but Imogen didn't find the 'Fail' stamp quite as funny. "Immature." The last one was of both of the brothers from their recent trip to LA. Will and Jace were taking strategically placed pictures of each other on the beach, though the majority of the frames were focussed on the assets of the girls sunbathing beside them. She didn't seem to mind that their cousin, Mark Blackthorn was also part of it. Apparently as the older ones, they were the bad influence.

"You're both disgraces to the good Herondale name," she'd said, finally putting the laptop away. "For years and years I hoped it would change, but no. You're both too much like your father and far too susceptible to the same vices. And as such," she took a deep breath. "I'm handing all rights to your trust funds over to your sisters."

"What?" Will exclaimed, the brothers bolting out of their chairs. Since their grandfather, Marcus, had passed away a decade ago, a part of his savings had been divided equally between the four grandchildren. As the only ones over twenty-one, Ella and Will had so far had sole access to the money and it was the only thing getting Will by. In less than two weeks, Jace should have had it too. "You can't do that!"

"As the sole beneficiary of your grandfather's Will, yes I can," she replied, her expression stony. "He said he'd always leave it up to me to decide what to do with the money since his own judgement couldn't always be trusted. His entire fortune went to me and then I was the one who decided to share the money with you kids. I am the guarantor of your funds and therefore, I can revoke them as and when I see fit. You're lucky you got to make use of them already, William, but as for you Jonathan, you'll never see that money."

The boys fell back into their seats, their mouths wide open.

"Unless," she finally added, placing her hands on the table as she leaned towards them. "You can persuade me otherwise."

And that was all the lifeline they needed.

Since that fateful dinner, changing their grandmother's opinion was the only thing on the brothers' minds.

They'd relied too much on the money, or at least, the promise of it in Jace's case, to prepare for a future without it. Ella claimed Imogen was actually doing them a favour and that the experience would do them some good, but Jace wasn't convinced. He'd hoped she'd been bluffing but when he visited the bank a week ago on his twenty-first birthday, there was nothing. The large amount that had suddenly become available to his brother almost two years before was nowhere to be found.

Imogen meant business and now the Herondale boys had to step up.

The first two conditions were easy enough to overcome. By moving into the city and becoming self-sufficient, Jace and Will hoped that they'd be able to show that they could be responsible. Will had managed to get a job with an online-magazine and Jace was still planning on setting up his tattoo business with Jonathan. They could earn a living for themselves and cope on their own. If by the next time they saw her the two of them were still alive and well, that would prove they were competent.

It was the third part they'd initially struggled with.

How could they prove they were mature?

Jace couldn't exactly phone her up and start slating the youth of today in the hope it would make him look better. Will had already tried that.

In the end, it was Cecily who had figured it out.

"Who is Gran's favourite?" She'd asked them on the night before the big move. "Besides me, obviously."

"Me," the two boys had both replied automatically, but Cecily simply shook her head.

"Look, I can't help you if you don't want to be helped. If anything, I'll be twice as rich because of this, so I hope you both fail…"

"Okay, wait!" Will called as she started walking out of the room. "It's Ella. Obviously, it's Ella."

"Right," Cecily nodded. "And why is it Ella? What does she have that you two don't have?"

"…breasts?" Jace raised his eyebrows.

Cecily strode over to him, began to smile so that he would too, then slapped him upside the head.

"Idiot."

"Yeah, Jace," Will tutted. "You're so immature."

"You're both immature," Cecily huffed. "That's why you're in this situation. If Ella and I were the only grandkids, I bet Gran would have lowered the age limit to eighteen and then I could already have my share. I'm having to wait three extra years because she's always known that you two would be trouble."

"Then tell us," Jace countered. "If we're so stupid, spell it out for us. What does Ella have?"

"Ragnor," she stated as if it were the most obvious answer in the universe. "She has Ragnor."

"I don't see how that would help us," Jace pursed his lips. "Firstly, I don't think he bats for our team, if you get my meaning. And secondly, he's sort of married."

"You're missing the point."

"Married." Will perked up. "They're married. Wait, do you think she wants us to get married?"

Cecily shrugged.

"No way!" Jace stood up. "I'm in my prime. I can't tie myself to just one girl when I've got a whole world of them falling over me."

"And that's your problem," she said. "I'm not saying you have to get married per se, but what Ella has that neither of you have ever had is a long-term relationship."

"What would you define as long term?"

"At least a month."

The boys groaned.

"But," she continued. "Can you see how that would change things for you? If, by some miracle, the two of you managed to stay with the same girl for more than a month, that's all Gran would need to see you're worthy of the trust funds again. Mature adults have mature, committed relationships. You're already moving out. You're getting jobs. Add an actual girlfriend to that and you're set."

"We may as well start picking our plots in the cemetery," Jace sighed.

"Somewhere sunny," Will remarked. "I want to blind people with the glare from my pure-gold gravestone."

"And they'll have to etch the words, 'Responsible. Competent. Mature.' onto it."

"Maybe a drawing of a briefcase to reinforce that."

"And Granny pants. Perhaps Gran's actual pants."

"Ah yes, embossed into the gold," Will nodded. "I can see it now."

"It would add a nice personal touch. Literally."

"Kids love interactive displays. We'll be the talk of the graveyard."

"I'm so glad I don't have to live with you two anymore." Cecily rolled her eyes and left them to their elaborate funeral planning.

But they knew she was right. Neither of them had ever managed to keep the same girl for longer than a couple of days. It was no wonder Imogen doubted their ability to not blow thousands of pounds in the same time.

And so, their third mission was decided.

Along with the flat, Will and Jace were going to take themselves off the market.

As soon as possible.

-o-O-o-

Tessa felt absolutely horrid.

Every time she thought of how she'd behaved in the bookstore, a sick, twisting feeling seized her gut. She didn't think it was possible for her to be so ashamed of herself. Aloysius had brought her up to be a thoughtful, respectful and patient young woman.

What would her great-grandfather say if he'd seen her the other day?

How would he feel about the fact that she had yelled at a customer, called him a dim-witted fool and then dragged him out of the shop by his wrist? It was practically assault.

Granted, Will had deeply offended her, but she realised now how irrational she'd been. How was he to know that Charles Dickens was her favourite author and that A Tale Of Two Cities was the most important book she'd ever read? No one but Tessa knew that it was the one she clutched to herself whenever she remembered her parents' death, silent tears falling onto her pillow.

How could he have known that by drowning herself in the life and pain of Lucie Manette, she had always been able to distance herself from the real world? A world without car accidents and brothers who didn't care enough to stay with you.

How was he to know that working in the bookstore wasn't just a bill-payer for her, but rather that books were her whole life? They were the world that she had chosen to live in since at times, they offered one so much better than her own.

She felt far better now, of course. The painful memories of a decade ago had slowly slipped into the background. Though she hadn't known Aloysius well when she'd been sent to live with him, she'd grown to love him dearly. Having her around the house had made him feel truly alive again. Like he still mattered. And having him around assured Tessa that she wasn't truly alone. Nathaniel was already sixteen when they'd been orphaned so he had the choice to move out and live on his own and he took it. Tessa had despised him at the time, but she'd learned to come to terms with his decision.

Everyone dealt with grief in their own way and the last thing he needed was a ten-year old sister to take care of. He knew she'd be alright in Yorkshire, but there wasn't much he could have done there. The isolation of the Starkweather mansion meant job opportunities were few and he'd never cared much for books, so the boredom would have driven him insane if their austere great-grandfather hadn't managed to.

And to top all of that, she was still nursing a broken heart. The first man she'd truly let into her life after Aloysius had bailed on her too. As with Nathaniel, Tessa had been nothing but a hindrance to Jem. She was holding him back from his dream but in letting her go, he'd shattered all of her own.

No, she thought. There was no way Will could have known all this.

She'd simply taken out her building frustration with the male species on this poor stranger who'd only been asking for her help, with a book of all things. It was hard to see how he was really feeling behind that mask of amusement, but she was sure he must have been devastated. She was rude and abrupt and hadn't taken the advice she'd grown to live by.

She'd judged him by his cover.

Tessa let her head fall into her hands as a fresh wave of nausea overcame her.

Who knew guilt could be this potent?

"Tessa?" Sophie put down the books she was holding and came over to the till. "Tessa, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she shook her head weakly. "Just remembering what an awful human being I am."

"Is this about that guy again?" Sophie rolled her eyes. When Tessa had almost refused to come into the bookstore the day before, she'd forced the story out of her. Missing a shift was almost a crime as far as Tessa was usually concerned. Sophie had actually found the whole situation pretty hilarious, but Tessa wasn't as pleased. She wanted him to come back so she could apologise to him properly, but he hadn't turned up since.

"I've scared him away for good," Tessa sighed, her hand finding its way to Jem's pendant as it always did when she needed comfort. "He's never coming back. He's probably lost all trust in the literary world now and he may even quit writing. Oh goodness," she inhaled. "I've ruined his career. He'll be out on the street and it'll be all my fault."

"Stop being so dramatic," Sophie laughed. "You're starting to sound like Jessamine."

"I haven't seen her again either! Oh, what must she think of me…"

"Tessa, seriously. You need to stop doing this to yourself. Firstly, for Jessamine to ever think you were anything less than a goody-two shoes you'd have to rob a charity shop or something."

"Sophie Collins," Tessa gasped. "That is absolutely despicable!"

"My point exactly," she smiled. "And secondly, I'm sure our writer friend is just fine. He probably deserved it and if he does end up needing a place to stay, he may as well crash at mine. Apparently we're a refuge for the annoying and destitute these days." Sophie didn't seem so pleased at the last part.

"What do you mean?"

"The honeymoon period is well and truly over," she groaned. "Gideon's younger brother has woodworm at his apartment or something, so he's coming to live with us for a bit. I have two days left with my boyfriend and then things are going to get very awkward."

"Oh dear," Tessa patted her on the head. "Well, if you need to get away at any point, you're more than welcome to come back to mine. Clary's got your old room now but I've got plenty of space upstairs."

"I may take you up on that. So, are you feeling better now?"

"Marginally," Tessa shrugged, but smiled anyway. "Better now that I know he'll have a place to go to."

"Glad to be of service," Sophie bowed. "Now, why don't I take the till for a bit? You've got too much time to think just sitting around."

"I agree. Thank you, Collins." Tessa jumped off the stool and took the pile of books that Sophie had been sorting out.

"You're welcome, Gray."

Tessa saluted and pushed her way through the doors at the back of the shop to the storage room.

She loved living with Clary, but there were times she definitely missed having Sophie around. With Sophie she didn't have to be protective or be the responsible one. She was anyway, but it wasn't a compulsion as it was with Clary. Tessa could offload all of her worries and leave them in her old flatmate's very capable hands, safe in the knowledge she'd be able to deal with them. Perhaps it was because the Fray girl was younger or that she simply looked more fragile, but Tessa had automatically adopted the big sister role when they became friends. She knew Clary was probably able to handle as much as Sophie, but Tessa always felt guilty for getting her involved in her own problems.

Regardless, she knew she was lucky to have both of the girls in her life. Clary brought out her wilder side and Sophie was there to keep her grounded. Even Jessamine belonged in her dysfunctional group of friends.

Tessa smiled to herself as she put away the last of the books. Things weren't so bad. It would have helped if she were able to apologise to Will, but it wouldn't be the end of the world if she never saw him again. Perhaps the guilt would remind her to hold her tongue in the future.

"Where is it?" She mumbled to herself, searching for the new shipment of textbooks they'd just had in. She could faintly hear the ringing of the shop bell from the other room.

Probably just Luke. He'd said he would be late today so the girls had to hold the fort until he turned up.

"Ah!" Tessa spotted the package in the corner and scooped it up, nudging her way back through to the store.

She was initially surprised to see that Sophie was no longer at the till, but then she heard a shockingly familiar voice.

"You see, there's this character called Georgina and she's the executive of a multimedia company." Tessa froze in her tracks as the man went on. "Very affluent. Very sharp. She loves to read, but I'm not sure I could do the mind of a mature, sophisticated woman justice, so I was hoping that you, a mature, sophisticated woman might be able to tell me what books Georgina would find intriguing."

"Well," she heard Sophie laugh. "I can think of a few, but you'd probably be better off asking…"

The box fell from Tessa's hands as the pair of them came into sight, landing on the floor with a resounding wallop.

There was Sophie, taken aback by the look of horror on Tessa's face and behind her, as she'd expected, was Will.

"Just Tessa!" He raised his eyebrows before breaking into a toothy grin.

"Georgina?!" She said in response.

"Actually, it's Will," he replied, his eyes narrowing the slightest.

"You lied to me." Tessa couldn't believe it. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed.

"I don't think so," he shook his head. His smile hadn't faltered. "My name is definitely still Will. Okay, so technically it's William, but I didn't exactly deny that so…"

"Ren," Tessa continued, completely ignoring him. "You told me the character in your book was called Ren. Who is Georgina?"

"What?"

"The other day," she stalked up to him until Sophie was almost sandwiched in between the two of them. The shorter girl looked incredibly uncomfortable. "You came in here asking me for a book recommendation. You said there was a character in your book called Ren and that she loved to read, but that you didn't know what a 'normal, teenage girl' would like, so you asked me."

Tessa realised she must have sounded incredibly bitter, but she was past caring. She'd spent the past two days fretting over the last encounter that they'd had and feeling unbearably guilty about it, when it'd clearly had no effect on him at all.

Will looked just as obnoxiously amused as he had the last time.

"I did," he nodded.

It was obvious he'd played her. She doubted that he was even writing a book at all. This was probably just some elaborate way he'd come up with to woo poor, unsuspecting booksellers.

And on top of all that, why was it that the thing that hurt her most of all, was the fact that he'd compared her to Ren, a hare-brained schoolgirl, when he'd said Sophie was a mature, sophisticated woman?

"So you admit it!" Tessa fumed, pointing a finger at him. She narrowly missed poking Sophie in the eye.

"Tessa, what…" She began, but Tessa cut her off with a dark look.

"I believe I just did, yes," he nodded again, slowly this time.

Tessa momentarily lost her train of thought. Where was she going with this again?

"So who on earth is Georgina?"

Will winced at her unforgiving tone.

"How do you know…"

"I heard you two talking!" She tried and failed to lower her voice. "Now who is she?"

"Ren's older sister."

"Come again?"

"Georgina is Ren's older sister." Will looked at her as if she were a pipe about to burst, his blue eyes cautious. "She's also a character in my book. A different one. I may be wrong, but I figured people would prefer to read something which involved at least one other human being."

"Oh." Tessa took a step back. Her face fell. "I see."

Once again she'd gotten ahead of herself and judged him.

He hadn't been playing them after all. It made sense that he would ask two different people for advice on two different characters.

What was happening to her?

"Is everything okay here?" Sophie asked warily, looking between the two of them.

"Fine," Tessa whispered. "Sorry." Then she looked back up at Will as Sophie slipped out from between them, chagrin colouring her expression. "God, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. Not today or…before. I honestly don't know what came over me. There's just been so much going on and then…no." She shook her head. "No, there's no excuse. I'm sorry. I've behaved awfully towards you and though you have every reason not to, I hope you'll accept my apology."

She gazed at him through her eyelashes, anxiously awaiting his response.

"I do," he finally said, his mouth quirking up at the corner. "I accept it."

"Thank you," she breathed, her shoulders relaxing. It felt as if a great weight had just been lifted from her. "I hope we can…"

Tessa stopped herself.

She was about to say, 'I hope we can start over,' but then her gaze had drifted downwards and fallen on his t-shirt.

Unlike the last time, this one was black.

But across the front, in white lettering, were the words: Thomas makes me Hardy.

-o-O-o-

"So let me get this straight," Isabelle pulled Clary to the edge of the corridor. Simon stood to the side of her, the two of them towering over the redhead. "You're not even allowed to date?"

"Nope," Clary shook her head. "All romantic interactions are strictly forbidden."

"For a whole month?"

"For a whole month."

"Clary, what the hell were you thinking?" Isabelle's mouth dropped open.

"I don't know," she moaned, leaning back against the wall.

The pact had seemed like a great idea at the time. She was so angry at what Raphael and Jem had done to her and Tessa and the fact that they'd had the power to hurt them so much in the first place, that a month without men sounded like the perfect solution. But only four days in, she was already starting to regret it.

Now that she was bound by a pact to keep away from them, every guy she saw suddenly looked infinitely more appealing. It was the whole 'Forbidden Fruit' effect. Even her lecturers were beginning to look attractive.

And it's not like her new neighbour needed the extra help anyway.

Ah.

Jace.

Every time Clary thought of Jace she felt even more frustrated with herself. Why did everything have to be an ultimatum wherever she was concerned? Why couldn't she have just waited a couple of days, let herself calm down and then re-evaluated the situation?

Him moving in below her was the perfect set-up. She could have faked being locked out so he'd be forced to invite her in, or invented a myriad of other problems for him to come up and fix. The possibilities were endless. But instead, she was powerless. She was doomed to pine after him in secret and keep her feelings to herself.

She hadn't run into him again since the night of the power-cut, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Especially since she lingered for a minute longer than necessary every time she passed his door.

Okay, so she couldn't have him. But the way she saw it, it didn't hurt to enjoy the view. And what a view it was…

"Well," Simon said, snapping her out of her lust-filled thoughts. "If you need any encouragement, I could always send you pictures of Eric skinny-dipping in the big Hyde Park pond. That'd be enough to put anyone off of men."

"Permanently," Isabelle added, grimacing.

When Clary looked at them questioningly he added, "It was a dare."

"Thanks guys," Clary laughed weakly. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd make stupid pacts that had no benefit whatsoever," Simon grinned.

"That was rhetorical," she glared at him, before pushing herself off the wall. "Right, as much as I love hearing you guys make fun of me, I'm going to be late for my lecture. If I can't have any proper dates, the least I can do is make it to one of Fade's sessions on time."

"Draw him some flowers or something," Isabelle winked. "I hear carnations are his favourite."

"I'll bear that in mind."

And with that, she made her way to the basement lecture theatre where Malcolm Fade would be running her evening art class. She knew she probably could have done without the extra help - she was easily one of the best artists on her course – but she was so taken by Malcolm the first time she met him that she couldn't help but turn up to everything he ran.

He was Clary's favourite lecturer, partly because she was his favourite student, but also due to his eccentricity. Her classmates thought he was as mad as a box of frogs, but she found his unorthodox teaching style quite refreshing.

As it turned out, he was late, so Clary simply took a seat on the fourth row up and settled back, closing her eyes.

And then, as she found herself doing so often of late, she thought of Jace.

She thought about the way he'd looked at her when she told him about the power cut. How he smiled without really smiling, the amusement plain in his golden eyes. They were such a peculiar colour. She'd seen people with light hazel eyes before, but his were too bright to be just hazel.

They shined like…well, gold.

And then there was the way he spoke.

That deep, sultry tone he used that was almost more attractive than his face.

Yes, Jace Herondale was definitely the new romantic interest of her hypothetical situations.

"Hey, trouble," he'd whisper to her, his voice loaded with suggestion.

"Hey, hot stuff," she'd reply, the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

"Steady on, Clary," he laughed. She loved the sound of his laugh, light and breathless. "We've only just met."

"Not in my head we haven't."

"Is that so?"

Clary froze as something brushed her arm and her eyes flew open. Just inches above her face, leaning over her, were the pair she'd been dreaming of.

"Jace?!" She flew out of her chair and managed to smack heads with him in the process.

"Ouch," he laughed again, rubbing at his forehead. He was sat in the row above her, directly behind her seat. Even though she was now standing she still managed to be shorter than him.

"Oh shit!" She gasped, clutching her own head. "Jace, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," he grinned, removing his hand. "No blood, no foul. See, I'm fine."

She thought that yes, he was very fine indeed.

"I'm such an idiot," she groaned. "As usual."

"I forgive you," he said, now trying to keep a straight face. "You didn't seem exactly…aware of your surroundings."

"Why do you say that?" Clary dropped into her seat, facing round so she could see him.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the top of her chair.

"I think you were asleep."

"Asleep? I wasn't asleep."

"Really? Because I heard you mumbling something and at first I thought you were talking back to me, but you seemed truly surprised when you actually saw me, so I figured you were probably…"

"Asleep!" Clary jutted in, her cheeks flushed red.

Oh God.

She'd said those things out loud.

She had actually just called Jace 'Hot stuff.'

"Yes, I was definitely asleep. I'm a really deep sleeper. Really deep. And sometimes I say absolutely ridiculous things that make no sense at all."

"I see," he said, but he didn't look like he believed her. "That must have been quite the dream you were having."

"Mmhmm," she squeaked, biting down on her lip. "I was in erm…an equatorial region. Somewhere like the Sahara Desert. Can you believe people actually live there? I mean, it's so hot."

"Right, of course," he nodded, but once again he didn't look convinced.

Luckily for Clary, that was the point at which Professor Fade walked in. She shifted around in her seat to face the front, trying to ignore the hands that were still to the sides of her head.

"Sorry I'm late!" Malcolm announced, his white hair sticking up in tufts around his head. He couldn't have been much older than thirty, but he'd been unfortunate enough to start greying early. "I had a slight problem to rectify with err, Professor Loss. Just talk amongst yourselves until I set up the display."

Clary hoped Jace wouldn't take up the offer, but she wasn't exactly disappointed either when his face appeared over the top of her shoulder. His arms were crossed over behind her neck, lightly brushing the skin.

"I take it Professor Loss is his girlfriend?"

"Well," Clary shrugged, refusing to look back. "So we believe, but he can't exactly confirm it. Relationships within the faculty are sort of frowned upon."

"Any other rules I should know about?"

"No," she shuddered as he leaned in closer. "That's about it."

"Good."

"Actually, why are you here?" She glanced over at him, her tone coming out harsher than she intended.

"Wow, you could at least pretend you're happy to see me," he feigned hurt, his eyebrows pulling up in the middle.

"I didn't mean it like that," she sighed. "It's just weird that you're joining so late. I didn't even know you went to this university."

"I didn't," he nodded. "I still don't. I study Psychology at Bristol but I'm taking a break at the moment to focus on my business."

"Oh, what business?"

"My best friend and I are setting up a tattoo parlour called Jonathan-Squared."

"You're what?!"

So that was why Jonathan was in London. He'd left his degree in its last year to set up a tattoo business. She didn't think he could even draw!

Jace mistook her outrage for enthusiasm.

"Cool, right? We had a bit of interest back in Bristol, but we figured we'd have more luck in London if we were going to make something worthwhile out of it. That's why I took this class. I thought it might help me brush up on my skills."

"And what about your friend?" Clary tried to keep the suspicion out of her tone. It was weird to think that someone like Jace could be so close to her brother. Why couldn't he have made hot friends like that back in school? "Doesn't he want to brush up on his skills?"

"Nah, he says he's got it covered. And besides, how hard could it be? You mainly just trace over prints anyway. The best thing I'll be getting out of this course is some certificate to make our business look more legit."

"Wait, are you saying you've never taken art before?"

"I did it back in secondary school for a bit, obviously. Stopped in Year Nine."

"You didn't even take the GCSE?" Her eyes widened. Both Jonathan and Jace were clearly completely unqualified and yet they wanted to set up a business where they would be required to draw all day?

After everything she'd had to go through to persuade her father to let her take Art at university, she was actually quite irritated that these two were barging their way into her territory. How would Jace survive a university-level art class when he hadn't even had a proper lesson since he was fourteen?

"No, does it matter?"

"Of cou-"

"Clary!" Malcolm's boisterous voice interrupted her. She shuffled round in her seat and Jace bolted backwards. "What do you think, then?"

"Sorry, Professor?" She realised that he'd already started the lesson while they were still talking. Half the theatre had turned to look back at her.

"About the painting!" He pointed to an abstract picture on the display. Splashes of multi-coloured paint were haphazardly spread across a white background. "I always love to hear your insightful opinions."

"Well," she straightened up, trying to ignore all the sets of eyes faced her way. "I think it's a very interesting painting."

"Yes," Malcolm agreed. "Incredibly interesting. What do you think the painter was trying to say?"

"That he was…confused? The colours could represent his…" Clary thought on the spot. "Emotions."

"Hmmm," he nodded. "Yes, I can see that. His feelings are all over the place. Some positive, some negative, but neither winning through. Fascinating as usual, Clary. Thank you."

"No problem, Sir," she exhaled, relaxing.

"And what about your friend there?" Malcolm shifted his gaze up towards Jace. "Who are you, young man?"

"Jace, Sir," he replied, not sounding nervous at all. "I just transferred from Bristol."

"Oh!" The professor clapped his hands. "You're from the West Country. How exotic."

"That's one word for it," Jace laughed.

"So what do you think?"

"Sir?"

"About the painting. We've already heard Clary's delightful interpretation. I'd love to hear your more 'worldly' take on it."

Clary almost smiled with satisfaction. He'd acted all high and mighty up until this point, but now everyone would see how inexperienced Jace truly was.

"Well, of course," Jace gulped. "My take on it is indeed, very different."

I'll bet, Clary thought. For once, she had the upper hand.

"I think it represents…segregation in society."

Wow, Herondale.

"Yes?" Malcolm nodded eagerly. "Go on."

"…in the err, 1940s."

"Have you ever seen this painting before, Jace?"

"No."

The theatre was deathly silent. Clary had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

He was talking out of his arse. The brilliant, clever Jace Herondale who had mocked her knowledge of where a fuse box was, was finally getting his comeuppance.

How had she ever let him have such an effect on her?

Poor guy. He should've just stayed quiet.

But then.

"Incredible," Malcolm shook his head in awe. "Absolutely inspiring. I think we should all give the young man a round of applause."

The students began to clap awkwardly and Jace sunk into his seat a little. Even Clary joined in, though she felt a little bad for him. Sarcastic applause was rare for Malcolm.

"I take my hat off to you, Jace," Malcolm tipped his head forward as if he were brandishing an invisible hat. "For you to have never seen this painting before and correctly identified that it was from the abstract expressionism era that dominated post-World-War-Two America is simply amazing."

Clary's jaw hit the floor.

"And of course," he continued. "This was a particular time of reflection where people questioned what sentiments preceded the atrocities that had been committed. The segregation of society is exactly the sort of thing that prominent artists would have been trying to convey in their work."

She swivelled her head to see that Jace was just as shocked at what the professor was saying, confirming that he had been making it all up, but then he broke out into a triumphant grin.

"Fascinating, Jace. I'm honoured that we'll have the privilege of your insight in our class this term. I feel we can all learn so much from you, and hopefully – though I doubt it – we can find something to teach you along the way."

"I'm sure there's room for improvement, Professor," Jace chuckled, dismissing him with a bat of his hand.

"What a novel attitude to have, young man. You're lucky to have him as a friend, Clary. Very lucky."

Then Malcolm composed himself and carried on with the lesson, leaving Clary dumbstruck.

"Something wrong, my lucky friend?" Jace poked his head around the side of hers again.

"Nope," she snapped. One thing. Would it have been so hard for her to be better than him at just one thing? Where she'd found his self-confidence attractive before, now it was just grating on her. Perhaps staying away from him wouldn't be as hard as she initially thought it would be. "Nothing at all."

"Good. I think we're going to have some fun this term, don't you?"

"Lots of fun." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Now stop distracting me."

"Sorry. I'll leave the trouble-making up to you."

She looked at him in horror, wondering whether that was a reference to the conversation she'd unknowingly had with him earlier. She'd assumed it was one-sided at the time.

He stared at her for a little while, then just when she decided it must have been a coincidence after all, he winked.

And so the plot thickens.

It turns out the boys have a sneaky agenda of their own and for the first time in this fic, we have a cliffhanger! -throws confetti- It's all a slippery slope from now...

I actually had to do a lot more research for this chapter than I've ever done for any of my others. I didn't realise how many legal issues were involved with the whole trust fund thing so just in case any of you are lawyers, I hope I got the terms right :P

Thank you all for reading and I really hoped you enjoyed it. Regarding the last chapter, through some of the conversations I had with you guys, some really interesting things came up so now I'm curious about the rest of you. So, of Clary and Tessa, who would you say you most relate to? I'll give you my thoughts in the next chapter, but for now I'd love to hear what you all have to say. It's been pretty one-sided so far, but I'm sure there must be some of you out there who are like the other one.

Right, I'm off then. I'm in the middle of having a very teen sleepover with my bandmates and we've almost killed each other already over a game of Frustration so things are getting intense. Next round is twister.

My bassist would like to take this opportunity to tell you all that 'dental hygiene is very important, remember to floss.' My drummer would like to warn you off drugs and our vocalist says 'listen to the Canadian national anthem.' Wise words there.

Till the next time...

smim xx