My dear little broccolis💚💚💚

~ I know I am late in updating this chapter, and that I should have updated Friday night, but its a pretty long chapter as well, so ... sorry?

~ Also, I decided to tell you on Sunday's update of Road Tripping' which stories have been updated. Do go and check them out. And if you like them, don't forget to follow/favourite/review. So here it is:

— City of Supernatural (Pilot)

— Not Another Teen Story (chap 5)

— In The Welfare Of War (chap 1) (I'm so excited about this one. And its better if you read it all over again)

— Road Trippin' (chap 11)

Love💚💚💚

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Chapter 11: Waltz on Memory Lane (6,8K)

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Clary's PoV.

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Warily, I look at Izzy's reflection as she dangerously and painfully tries to tame my hair. I should have been more indicative when she proposed to help me dress for tonight, because right now, I only feel like she is going to scalp me.

Now that I really think about it, this is all Jace's fault. If he hadn't insisted that we go to the restaurant tonight, I wouldn't have to play dress up with his sister. And Izzy actually sold him out on this one, because she told me that Jace strongly opposed to the idea of her cooking, which results with all of us going to a fancy restaurant that they are quite fond of. To be honest, I think that Jace is overreacting. I know that cooks have a nasty reputation of being horrible guests because they critique everything going into their mouths, but I am not even a cook to begin with. I bake, Jace only knows that I cook because he ate at my place a couple of times. I don't think it's enough for him to place me in the category of 'annoying professional cooks impossible to invite over for dinner.'

Izzy seemed so upset by Jace's restriction that I promised her that we would make cookies together tomorrow morning, to which she responded with a lot of squealing and incidental hair pulling. I swear this girl is trying to scalp me!

I guess that it's because her hair is so flawless that she doesn't realise how useless it is to try any sophisticated hairdo on mine. She has long and silky raven hair, straight and yet voluminous, and it goes perfectly well with her creamy pale complexion. She reminds me of Snow-White somehow. You know, ebony hair, pale skin and red lips. I can tell that she's a girl like Kaelie who likes to have makeup on her, but like Kaelie, it's not something overbearing. Just a little bit of mascara and lipstick- I guess when you're confident in your skin, you can do whatever you want, because you know that it will only make you feel even better about yourself.

Izzy is actually really tall. She's taller than Max (though he didn't finish growing up), and definitely taller than me. But then again, both Maryse and Robert are tall, so it must be in her genes, she didn't have a choice in the matter. I don't know if my father is (was?) tall or not, but my mother is rather short. When I was fifteen, I was taller than her by a single centimetre, which I consider a personal achievement, however ridiculous that sounds.

With my hair still being pulled and styled in all different kinds of ways, I glance down at my reflection, and once again, I frown with displeasure when I see the top of the dress Izzy lent me. Like I said, this is all Jace's fault. Weekend in the countryside implies that you should pack ripped jeans and meaningless shirts, not fancy outfits to go to fancy restaurants. Stupid serial killer.

So Izzy had to lend me an old dress of hers,appreciating her decision to refuse to throw away her favorite old clothes when her Mom asked her to. Though, if Jace wasn't so picky, we wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. I already had to refuse Izzy the idea of her trying to doll me up to the point of makeup. I don't know, I just don't feel comfortable with the idea of wearing any kind of makeup …

"Jace likes you," Izzy suddenly says, matter-of-factly as she takes out of her drawer a straightener and takes another approach on my hair.

I blink at the improbability of her words, my eyes searching her deep brown ones in the mirror to see if she's being serious, but her focus is completely on my hair. There's even a slight frown clouding her brows as she attempts to tame the wild creature that is my hair.

I restrain myself from shaking my head as I can't help but thinking that Kaelie and Izzy are on the same delusional cloud, and I internally pray that the two girls will never meet. I am sure that they could write a whole book series about my supposed love-life with Jace if they ever do.

I mean, I just cried in the guy's arms, for Christ's sake. And for no apparent reason! No sane and normal person cries their eyes out when you ask them about their family. But I did. Because we are friends, and that I am sure that friends do that at some point in their relationship. Help each other feel better, that is, not cry of course.

"Well, we are friends after all. I think it would be weird for us to be friends, and for him to despise me," I elude, proud of myself. I don't want to have this conversation all over again. Especially after … especially when I feel so weird when I think of the way Jace looked at me earlier today.

"I doubt that friends was the word he had in mind when I got in the kitchen an hour ago. Let me tell you that it didn't smell like baking, but like 'we-almost-kissed-and-you-guys-came-back-five-minutes-too-early'. I mean I get it, you're very pretty. I guess I would also want to kiss you if I were swinging this way and we were alone in my house."

I blush fiercly, not expecting this at all. First of all, was it that obvious that my crazy mind wanted to do that crazy thing? Second, this was the weirdest compliment I ever heard someone say. It seems like Izzy doesn't have a filter, and I end up being the only one embarrassed.

"You sure you don't want me to do your makeup? I won't go crazy, promise," She pouts, looking at my reflection, and I just shrug. I have completely no assurance. Why can't I simply tell her no? It's not that hard. "There's not much to do, anyway. Like I said you're very pretty. I wish I had your skin," She says, turning the chair, and I realize that she finished straightening my hair. But I didn't even get to see it, yet.

After telling me to close my eyes, Izzy searches for something in her drawer, all the while continuing her girly conversation in which I am doing my best to not get involved in: "When we're finished, you totally have to go downstairs in slow motion, like in movies. So we can all see Jace's jaw dropping to the floor."

"God, Iz! Leave the poor girl be. She's not your human size doll," A male voice suddenly says, coercing my eyes to snap open.

I see Alec leaning against the door frame of his sister's bedroom, as his blue eyes look at me with compassion. I think good-looking is a gene that Maryse passed on her four children. Because they all are so beautiful, it's indecent! Alec is tall (which is an understatement in this family) with piercing blue eyes, reminding me of the ocean. His hair is the same color and texture as his sister's, while the length is the same as Jace's. Jace is actually more muscular than him (where is the logic here? Why is the lawyer more buffed than anyone else?).

"Mom is asking for you downstairs. Something about a ridiculously long phone bill," Alec tells his sister, smirking at her with the same smirk Jace used when he said that he was going to rat his brother out. So this is probably a sibling smirk.

Izzy groans, throwing her head backward before thumping her way out of her room, but not without telling me that she would be back soon. I stay sitting on the chair, awkwardly peeping at the mirror to finally see what I look like with straight hair. And let me say that I look weird. I don't know … It's just not me …

"You know, if Iz is being overbearing, just send her to the bushes. It's okay," Alex says, and I realize that I actually whined when I saw my hair. I grimace, unable to look away from the mirror, before reassuring Alec about his sister:

"It's okay. I'm just not used seeing me like … this."

Alec chuckles, making me look his way, afraid of having said something wrong. But he just conciliately shakes his head as he utters: "You should see your face. Just go and rinse your hair out if you don't like it. I'll make sure Iz behaves like a normal being and not a fashion designer."

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As we enter the fancy restaurant that is so familiar to Jace's family, I consciously try to pull down my dress for the umpteenth time since I've put it on. I know that the dress isn't too short since it reaches my knees, but it's been such a long time since I've worn a dress. Since I discovered that it was making it easier for Michael to do his nasty business, to be exact. But I couldn't decently change outfits after having already ruined Izzy's hard work on my hair.

After Alec's wise words, I decided to rinse my hair out, because I really didn't like how straight hair made me look like a stranger in the mirror. Izzy didn't say anything, but I didn't have the heart to tell her that the dress was also too much for me. Especially when she praised it a lot saying that it was perfectly suiting my complexion. Though I don't think black and white can go wrong on anyone, no matter the colour of their skin. The dress is quite simple, with the top black and the skirt white, but it has some pretty bow design in the back, allowing me to wear it without any bra. Not that I really mind since I don't have that much to support, anyway; but it just feels weird.

Izzy lent me a pair of black ballerina slippers because I couldn't decently go with my sneakers to the restaurant; and to be honest, right now, I feel like a little doll. You know, the freaky scary porcelain dolls we only see in horror movies. Especially since I let my hair wild instead of tying it up in some sort of bun as I usually do. Yup, definitely a scary doll. I wouldn't buy me to keep me on my shelves, that's for sure.

Contrary to Izzy's predictions, Jace's jaw did not hit the floor when he saw me. He just looked at me like he always does, though he did seem surprised for a second. Probably because he finally saw the mane I call hair unleashed. Or maybe because I was in a dress. I don't know. I know that during the walk to the restaurant, he walked with Izzy, the two of them having a hushed conversation, while I talked with the lovely people that are Alec and Robert.

I have to be honest, Maryse makes me feel awkward. She loves her children so much, and being around her is just … It makes me feel very awkward about myself. I know it's not her fault, but I still feel like that. Or maybe it's because something is wrong with me.

The restaurant is called Alicante (of course it would be some fancy name), and is exactly what I thought it would be. There's even a maître d'hôtel who comes to sit us! I've never been in such a place in my whole life! People are all talking quietly at their table, and I keep looking everywhere like a deer in the lights. There are so many waiters pretending to not be here, so much space between tables, so much bright lights (but not too bright so you won't be blind).

Finally we sit at a round table where there are eight sets, which makes me frown. We are only seven. Jace sits next to me, and Maryse on my other side; and I do my best to down this weird feeling inside me. Once we are all seated, a waitress hands us menus while Robert tells her 'The usual, Emma'. I don't open my menu right away, since no one does, and so concentrate on the table.

I never really wondered how much money Jace made because I never actually cared; and when we came to his parents, the question never crossed my mind about them either. But I realise now that they must be quite well-off. Which is completely understandable since Maryse is a heart surgeon and Robert a veterinarian. After all, they have a six bedrooms house, that alone should have rung a bell to me. But it's the restaurant that did it for me.

The table has a very elegant cream white tablecloth, with matching napkins ornamenting the plates and folded in forms of swans. The plates are obviously of some kind of china while the glasses seem way too nice to be simple glasses. Maybe they are made of crystal, but I wouldn't know so I can't be sure. But the thing that did it for me is the presence of more than one fork! That screams 'You're eating among the rich, just like in Titanic'!

I am torn out of my reverie by the waitress coming back to us with a bottle of rosé that she opens in front of Robert before making him taste it. We are so in a fancy restaurant! I mean, Robert does all those things that only happens in movie like glass waving and sipping barely a tiny bit of wine. Why didn't Jace tell me we were going to eat in the nineteenth century?

I turn my head to him, just so I can glare at him and internally scowl at him, and see that he is talking with a waiter, asking that he brings some soft drinks with the starters. Then, he looks at me with a small smile and gone are all thoughts of reprimanding him for making me feel like Jack Dawson from Titanic. I mean, he just ordered something non-alcoholic because he knew I wouldn't drink the wine. So I smile back to him, though my smile probably looks like a wreck.

"You know Clary, if you still want, we can go out tonight. There's a friend of mine who's throwing a party, and he'd die if he sees me with you," Max proposes, making me blush a brilliant pink while Jace glares at his little brother. This is beyond embarrassing. Jace opens his mouth to chide him or something, when Alec cuts him short, nonchalantly playing with one of his forks as he tells his younger brother:

"You know you're talking to a person, right? Not some trophy to make you look good?"

"It's the older chick thing. He just wants to brag that he got to be with an older chick," Izzy says with a sly smile, making Alec literally face palm himself. Seriously? I thought that only happened in cartoons.

I don't know how this conversation is making me feel. I mean, I feel very awkward, but I also feel kind of amused. I don't know … This situation is so improbable. Jace glances in my direction and I gently smile at him to reassure him that I don't mind that much. Maybe it's because Max is treating me like any other girl he would talk to, and that it makes me feel nice.

"Why am I hearing your annoying voices instead of Clary's?" Max complains, looking at me expectantly, and suddenly, all the funny side of the situation is gone. Now, I feel completely embarrassed and feel myself blushing as red as my hair, and so I mumble embarrassed by all the eyes cast on me:

"Hum … I'm not much of a party girl."

"Yeah, but what about the part that I'm sixteen. You don't mind that, right?" Max insists with pleading eyes and I repress a whimper. It was okay as long as he was only joking around, but now, this is getting really embarrassing. I'm about to tell him that I am not interested, when he suddenly cries out of pain.

"Ouch!" He says, reaching for his leg under the table and finally looking away from me to stare with a betrayed look at his sister. Izzy is glaring at him and so he defends himself: "What?! Jace said that they were just friends, right Jace? Several times. I heard him and Mom over the phone. He even said not to take out his old baby pictures."

"You're being embarrassing, Max," Robert says with a warning tone while my face still didn't decrease from this awful shade of red that coloured it a few moments ago.

From the corner of my eye, I can see that Maryse is looking at her son with the same warning in her blue eyes as the one that echoed in her husband's voice; and I feel suddenly bad for creating a tension like that within the family. Max pouts, putting his elbow on the table all the while grumbling: "Why is everyone ganging up on me? Maybe Clary doesn't mind?"

"What happened to Becky?" Jace asks, making Max turn crimson red. I'm sure even I never blushed that hard in my life.

But thankfully we are saved from this situation becoming more and more awkward by the waitress who brings two virgin cocktails for Jace and I, along with the starters. When the waitress leaves, Maryse presents me the plate of starters, her big blue eyes wide with concern as she says with that motherly tone of hers:

"You should eat up, Clary. You didn't eat much at lunch."

And this kind and affectionate gesture throws me back to a memory that I cherished and cursed at the same time. A memory that I buried deep in my heart because of the way it makes me feel, now.

(Just a reminder that Clary is 11 in this scene, so her memory is the one of a 11 years old. So her speech is more childish)

"Rissa, just eat up, sweetie. We'll be on our way as soon as you'll finish your food," Mom tells me, her voice quite shaky. She's been acting weird since this morning when she barged in my room and told me to quickly take a shower.

Though I was happy that her getaway weekend with her friends didn't last that long, I didn't tell her anything about Michael. I'm just so scared of what he can do to me, or to her, if I say something. Especially since he said that he would kill my mom if I ever said to anyone what happened between him and I. And I don't want my Mom to die. Especially because of me. I don't want anything to be my fault.

So now, it is just Mom and I in a fast-food restaurant, which is weird because it's barely eleven o'clock, and we usually eat more around 2 PM on weekends. But Mom has been acting weird this morning. First of all, she always lets me sleep in on weekends. And today, she abruptly woke me up before pressing me to get in the shower. When I got out of the shower, Mom was waiting for me with a bean bag, and we silently left the house without waking up Michael. Which is also weird , because Michael is always around ever since he came to live with us.

To be honest, I don't feel like eating. I feel like … I feel like curling up in a ball and crying until the end of times. Like I did all night long … I just want to cry again, and again, and again.

So I mindlessly play with a fry and the ketchup sauce on the side of my plate, hoping that Mom will just get tired of my attitude and we could go back home where I could just go back to crying in my bed … I hope that this is the last time I ever cry like that.

"Rissa, sweetie. Please, eat up. We have a long trip ahead," Mom pleads with me, and I jerk my head up to look at her.

I didn't know that we were going somewhere. We never go anywhere just the two of us. Not ever since Michael came in the picture. It's been him, Mom and I for the last four years. Sometimes Michael would go out with his friends, or Mom have her girl's nights, but that's it.

"We're going somewhere?" I ask with a ridiculously small voice. I should stop that. Mom will know something is wrong if I keep acting weird. And if she gets suspicious, she'll ask question, and I won't be able to lie upfront and so I'll talk, and Michael will know that I talked. And … I don't even want to think of what he will do.

I inhale deeply, thinking that I should just be stronger.

"We're going to meet your father," She tells me with a small smile all the while gently caressing my cheek, and I look dumfounded at her.

I know that she ran out on my biological father when I wasn't even born. She told me so when I started asking questions why I didn't have a Dad like anyone else at school. She said that she didn't know at the time that she was pregnant with me, and that after, she never took contact with my father because it didn't seem right. I was four when she told me that, and she was dating a guy named Eric who had always been nice to me. So I didn't ask more, and when I grew up I understood that she didn't like talking about this decision she made to deny me a father. Maybe she regrets it, or she feels bad for me. I don't know. I try to pretend that I'm okay with it, though I'm not really. I wish I had his name. At least his name.

"You have his smile," She says, replacing a lock of my hair behind my ear, and I only then realize that I've been smiling. I thought I'd never smile again after yesterday night, but … I'm going to meet my father! Maybe he'll even become my Dad. Oh, how I wish it will be so.

"What is he like?" I ask, full of hopes.

Mom smiles, her eyes look deeply into mine before getting lost into space, tears threatening to spill:

"I don't know about now, like I told you I cut contacts long before you were born. But back then, he was … the best person you could ask for. Caring, loving, delicate, handsome, dedicated. He was quite a catch, to be honest. He was the kind of person to put other's needs before his, but I … I still left him in the end."

"Why did you leave him?"

"Because I wanted something that he didn't give me. I wanted to … not be left behind. You have to understand that your father was the kind of man to put his job first, and at first I thought that I could be one of those women. But after one too many dates cancelled, after one too many night spent alone in our flat, I packed and left, with a note saying that it was over. I figured that he wouldn't miss me much since he wasn't home much to begin with. Of course, had I known that I was pregnant with you back then, I would have done things differently."

Her eyes are still lost into space before she looks back at me and caresses my cheek once again. She smiles at me, her expression sad, reminiscing her memories, and then she gives me the thing I craved for the eleven years of my life: "Valentine. His name is Valentine Morgenstern."

I'm about to ask more about him, about this man that seems so wonderful and that I will finally meet- when Michael's fake sugary sweet voice echoes behind me: "Girls! You should have waited for me to eat out. After all, we're a family, aren't we?"

I shudder away the memory, doing my best to forget the unwanted memory and banish it to the dark corners of my mind. It's painful to think back to the time when I was close to my Mom, to think back to the time when she was still my Mom, that time when I still thought I could count on her.

Even though I am not looking at him, I can tell that Jace is looking at me, and I can literally feel his concern for me. From the corner of my eye, I see that he's about to reach for my hand, so I busy my hands my grabbing one of the numerous forks in front of me and pretend to be oh-so-concentrated on the food in my plate. Though food is the least thing I want at this moment. This memory made me lose all my appetite, but I can't decently say that to the Lightwoods. It'd be very rude. I'll just have to check if they have some kind of soup, and order that. Yeah … Soup should be great.

"Are you alright, Clary?" Maryse worriedly asks me, and I put on my best smile, reassuring her the best I can.

She frowns a little, apparently not fooled by my act; but I keep on smiling, hoping that she'll drop it. I see her quickly glancing at Jace, before her husband saves me … sort of: "Maybe dancing will do you some good. We have a sort of a tradition about never leaving this restaurant without having hit the dance floor."

Izzy squeals at those words, clapping her hands, while her blond brother growls on my side, mumbling something under his breath about not forcing their family traditions on his friends. See, here's that word again. Friends. Izzy and Kaelie are completely delusional. Jace and I are just friends, and they're just trying to confuse me by mixing the meaning of the liking we have toward one another.

I take my alcohol-free cocktail and sip on it, hoping that it will somehow divert the attention from me; but I see that all the Lightwoods are finally looking away from me. Jace abruptly gets up, and walks to a man who is brightly smiling at him. The two of them share this weird bromance hug with a lot of smiles and back tapping as Jace says: "Man! It's been quite a long time since we've all been together. I think the last time was when Iz tried to poison us with her ratatouille."

The girl in question cries out with indignation while I stare at her with incomprehension. How can you manage to poison people with a dish as simple as ratatouille? Maybe Jace wasn't being such an idiot when he prohibited his sister from entering the kitchen. Oh well, I'll see tomorrow morning when we make those cookies.

The newcomer comes to the table, greeting everyone according to their gender and age; but when it comes to me, he doesn't reach to kiss my cheek or shake my hand. He simply nods at me, his eyes analyzing me with a small smile spreading on his lips. And so I do the same. He has brown shaggy hair that seems to be untameable, and yet very soft. He's rather tall, though he's corny (you know, the way Jace is supposed to be!); and he dresses really nice. I mean, he's in a suit and all. His face kind of remind me of Harry Potter, actually-but with brown eyes. It's probably because he's wearing round glasses. Though I have to admit, he's more good-looking than Harry Potter.

Maybe the good-looking gene isn't actually a gene, but a virus that spread in their town… Maybe a nuclear central that no-one knew about that exploded years ago in this town, turning everyone in ridiculously good-looking people.

"You must be Clary. I'm Simon," The man tells me with a smile that says it all.

Jace talked plenty about me to him. I guess it's only normal, after all, Simon is his best friend. Jace talked a few times about his best friend who was inheriting his parents' company and learning to be a CEO, which probably explains why he came a couple times to our town, making Jace cancel plans with me, but I didn't really mind. Well, to be honest, he proposed that I tagged along, and I refused, letting him bond with his friend. I think that if I'd have anyone I was that close to, I'd also want to just catch up with them without having to think of other, newer friends.

I don't have the time to answer the polite and casual Simon, when Izzy gets up and yanks him away as she orders: "Si, let's go dancing!"

Simon shrugs to excuse himself from our company and leads Izzy to the dance floor under my disbelieving eyes. I turn to see if anyone saw what I just saw, but they are all acting as if everything was completely normal. Am I the only one who noticed the way Simon smiled at Izzy, or the way Izzy touched him? Or is this something completely normal for the Lightwoods?

Jace sits back next to me, and I notice that his chair is a little bit closer to mine this time. As I can feel Maryse's eyes back on me, I take a bite of my appetizer; when Max says: "Clary? Would you like to dance?"

"That's it! How about we go hit the bar," Alec snaps, getting up and forcing his baby brother to do the same, and a part of my mind registers that the Lightwoods say absolutely nothing about their younger child going off to consume alcohol.

So now, it's just the four of us; and I suddenly wish I had taken Max on his proposal. The way Maryse looks at me is reminding me too much of my mother. She even says with concern: "You two should join Simon and Izzy. It will give you back some colours, Clary. You look quite pale. Did you sleep well this afternoon?"

I reassure her with a smile and a nod before getting up, stressed out by having a mother fussing over me. I don't like how nostalgic it makes me feel. I look at Jace expectantly, and he gets up with grace before walking me to the dance floor. As soon as we are out of his parents' hearing range, he softly tells me: "You don't have to do this to please my parents, Clary."

"It's okay, Jace. I want to dance,"-a white lie. I mostly don't want to stay alone with his loving parents. There's too much love around there.

"Clary … Waltzing involves touching," Jace tells me warily, and I swallow hard, putting my hands on his ridiculously large shoulders. Why are they so large and muscular? Does he swim?

Slowly, carefully, Jace puts a hand on my smaller back -his palm touching my bare skin- while he takes my right hand in his other. His eyes are steady on mine; and suddenly, the idea of waltzing feels really stupid. I should have gone to the bathroom. That was a safer action. Definitely.

"You'll have to let go for once, and let me lead," Jace warns me, and I whimper in the internally. Why didn't I think of the bathroom? You know, the 'I need to powder my nose' excuse. Stupid, stupid Clary! Why indeed? Stupid me! Really!

With a little yank, Jace brings me closer to him, and I'm sure he can feel my heart beating since we're so close now. But I don't say anything. I just let him lead the way. Mostly because I don't know how to waltz. After a minute of us silently dancing, I look down, because I can't stand the way his golden eyes are looking at me. It feels like he's reading my soul. My very very ugly soul.

"I'm sorry about Max. He's just annoying like that, though we tried everything in our power to change him with Alec and Izzy," Jace apologises, and I shake my head to reassure him.

To be honest it's not much that I mind, it's just that it was embarrassing and awkward. I'm sure that if I had been less damaged, I would have snapped some witty comebacks at Max instead of blushing all over the place. So I let Jace know: "It's okay, Jace. I'm okay."

"Are you really, though?" Jace retorts, holding me a little bit closer to him while his left palm is sweetly burning on my back. I know that he's expecting me to look up at him. And for the first time in my life, I'm so happy to be that small, because even if I look straight, I don't see his face. Hurrah to my petiteness!

"I don't like seeing you like that," He whispers in my hair, and I can't help but look up. He's looking very concerned, and I can tell he wants to ask questions, but he's holding himself back. Our bodies are so close, right now, that there's no more space between us. He's definitely feeling my heart beat like a drum. But I can't look away, or feel weird about our closeness, and so I shrug and explain:

"Your parents love you very much. You're very lucky to have them."

That makes him inhale deeply through his nose. He looks at me for a long time, before he stops waltzing in the middle of the dance floor; and then he walks us toward the exit. I start to protest, claiming that dinner hasn't even been ordered, but he just takes us to the parking lot.

Once there, he looks back at me and tells me: "No one is listening, now. No one is around us. There is just you and I. So, tell me, what happened for you to look so scared?"

"Scared?" I repeat. I look scared? I didn't even realize. I instinctively wrap my arms around myself, this word bringing me to a time when I was always scared. Am I scared, right now?

"Do you want to go back home?" He proposes, his tone so sweet that I feel like I don't deserve it. How can a man of Jace's stature and profession conjure such a gentle tone? Especially for someone like me?

"Home?" I repeat again. He can't seriously think about ditching his family. For me!?

"We can drive by night, and you'll be back at your place in the morning. Somewhere you feel safe and sound," He explains and his words finally makes me understand my own feelings. I don't feel scared. Not as long as I have this promise of being away from Michael. I do not feel scared, even if I feel another threatening feeling.

"I don't feel threatened here, Jace," I let him know, and he shakes his head with disillusion, voicing my feelings for me:

"But you don't feel safe."

And this is the truth. But it's not his fault. I never feel safe. I'm just better at pretending otherwise when I don't have all this family love around me. But how do I explain that to him? He wouldn't understand. How can I explain to him that I envy him his family, no matter how blue it makes me feel.

"Come on, let's go back before Izzy starts poking her nose everywhere looking for us. We'll leave after dinner," He says, directing us back to the restaurant.

I should tell him that I'm okay, but I can't. I'm actually longing for this alone time I'll have with Jace in his car. This time when it would be the two of us and we could mindlessly talk about everything and nothing, with no awkwardness around us. Still, I can't help but notice that Jace has his hand resting on my smaller back all the way back to our table. And strangely, I don't mind.

As soon as we're seating back at the table, Jace tells his parents: "We're heading back tonight. The office called for a fillin'."

I can't believe he's lying to his family because of me. I'm the worst person on the planet. I'm going to end up in hell because of that!

Maryse is about to say something, when Jace cuts her off by saying something in French. She nods, and I promise myself that I would develop knowledge in foreign languages. I didn't even know Jace spoke French. Why does he even speaks French? I am going to end up having too many complex hanging around Jace!

We order our food, though Jace raises an eyebrow at me and my soup, I don't retort. My stomach is still stuck in my memory. The one memory when my mom gave me what I needed the most. My father's name. Maybe I should try to look for him once I'm back home. Or maybe not. What if he has a perfect life with a wife and kids? He won't need me ruining it for him. It's better if I stay alone and dream at night that I have a father. Better for everyone.

During the dinner, I don't speak much, but that doesn't stop me for noticing that Izzy and Simon seem … well, it's none of my business. Really. But yeah. It's there, all over the place. I wonder if Jace ever noticed that. Or if he minds. I know that it's a big fear of bothers to have their best friend and their wee sister fall in love. Or maybe it's just me seeing things like Kaelie and Izzy are seeing things between Jace and I?

When dinner is finished, Maryse convinces Jace to stay an hour more. Just so we can all eat the cake together at home. Jace agrees, and we wait for our coats at the restaurant. I miss a heartbeat when my eyes fixate on one of the waiters. His eyes grow wide as he recognizes me, his tray falling to the floor as I'm frozen on the spot.

He used to go to my school. This dude was in my school, he was a senior. Which means he should be in college now. Oh my god! What state are we in? They're going to find me! They're going to send me back to the hell house! The life I managed to make for myself is going to be shattered before my very eyes! No!

I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't do anything. I feel people around me, fussing over me, but I can't do anything. They're going to send me back to the hell hole. I'm going to fall back into oblivion. They're going to send me back to the hell hole. Darkness is thickening around me. I'm going to die. Good. Better death than going back there. I won't go back to the hell hole!

There's a deep and familiar voice calling my name several times as I'm falling into oblivion, when I'm suddenly brought back to reality by a slap across my face. I breathe in life like a drowning person, bringing my hand to my face; and I see Jace's family all around me, worried looks on their faces. Jace being right in front of me, kneeling by my side, a hand holding one of my arms to support me so I'm not completely on the floor.

"I want to go home, now," I say with the smallest voice ever. I'm not even sure anyone but him heard me.

If they're going to send me back to the hell hole, I want to enjoy my freedom as much as possible. Jace briefly nods, and helps me get up from the floor. Then, he throws his jacket over my shoulder, his hand firmly holding me up as I'm still shaking in my knees. I discreetly look for the waiter. I don't even know his name. I just know he was in my school. Because he tried to flirt with me. I was a shell, and he still tried to flirt with me.

Our gazes meet, and so I silently beg him to not sell me out. He looks at me for what seems like an infinity, before nodding, gathering his tray from the floor. And relief washes over me, making me fall limp as my brain stops functioning. I feel Jace picking me up in his arms, and then, oblivion.

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.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

💚Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed💚

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~ So, I hope that you really liked this chapter. Concerning the questions I know will come about Valentine, remember that Clary's first encounter with Valentine, she thought that he was trying to get in her pants (not something you want to associate your father with). And then, during her first date, Jace said that his boss's nam was Valentine, but he never gave his last name. And Clary was crushed, because she figured that Valentine was a frequent name and that she wouldn't find her father. So Valentine is just Valentine the DA to Clary.

~ And now, question time:

` 1. What do you think of Clary's reactions concerning Maryse?

` 2. What do you think of Max, now? Personally, he cracked me up.

` 3. What do you think of this glimpse of Jocelyn?

` 4. Is Clary right, and there is some clandestine Sizzy going on behind Jace's back?

Anyway, Cassandra Clare owns the names of the characters from the Mortal Instruments franchise, everything else is mine.

Kiss💋 Kiss💋 Bang🔫 Bang💋.