He has said this many times, Jace knows – more than he can count, really – but he is never, ever getting caught up in one of Isabelle's ridiculous schemes again. If he were to ask, he's sure that Alec feels the same way, but he doesn't dare to; it would open the floodgates to more – justified, this time – indignation than he could possibly bear without giving up on this entire ordeal.
So here he is, dutifully rereading his lines for the aforementioned Isabelle's play in her university drama club, doing his best to help her out with her sorely needed extra credits, entirely unsure of what he's doing.
"And you're really telling me no one else agreed to do this? At all?" His best friend's carefully collected – but still rather incredulous – voice comes from behind the curtain and Jace smiles to himself. He's not alone in his misery, at least.
"No one," Isabelle answers, with all the sickeningly sweet false innocence that Jace knows so well – the one that had let her get away with essentially anything through their entire childhoods, no matter how outrageous.
It's no wonder that her brother doesn't believe her.
"You're presenting a, what did you call it? Reimagined version of 'Romeo and Juliet', only you want a social message attached to it by making them a same-sex couple in our modern world, and there was no one more qualified who would agree to do that, to the point where you had to make us come all the way down here?" His voice lowers and for a moment, uncertainty spikes through Jace at the disbelief in Alec's tone, almost as if the idea alone is disgusting. It shouldn't be a big deal – he had repeated to himself time and time again that he wouldn't make it a big deal, because it's a favour for Isabelle and it's only a play and it's not real and Alec wouldn't take any of it seriously anyway. Therefore, it doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. "The two of us?"
"Yes, the two of you." Izzy's voice takes on a stubborn edge, though there's a hint of exhaustion there, too, before she grows quieter, too. There are supposed to be no secrets between them, but for a moment, Jace almost thinks they must be hiding something from him. "Don't fuck this up, Alec. You've got one chance to get it right."
"Right," his best friend drawls out, ever the sceptic. "Rather generous of you to assume Jace will respond the way you're hoping for in the first place."
"The way I'm hoping for? Don't make me laugh." Before he can respond, Jace starts as he watches his best friend be pushed through the curtain and directly in the same space as him, backstage. "Go get him, Alec."
And suddenly, he understands. This is what Isabelle is like, and for a moment, Jace almost loves her endless scheming – almost, because she shouldn't be meddling, but at the same time, he can't fault her when it's quite clear that neither of them would make the first step after so many years.
"Jace!" Alec says in lieu of a greeting as he turns the corner. "I thought we could go through our lines one more time."
"Sure thing." Romeo and Juliet. Of fucking course. What else could she possibly pick, other than the biggest cliché imaginable? "I thought you'd never ask."