Hey! I've missed you all. I've missed updating so, so much.

Special thanks to my freaking amazing beta: HeronFrayWood, who took the time to edit this long-as-hell chapter.

And it makes me so sad to say this story is coming to a close rather quickly. Originally, I was going to write to separate chapters, one to kind of make Clace's relationship official, and then another for Clary's birthday...but then they just kind of ended up merging together and I think it worked out beautifully.

I'd really love to know what you all think because this might be the last chapter besides the epilogue. I want to be selfish so much and drag this story out as long as I possibly can because...well...okay lets start from the beginning.

So this was my first ever story that I wrote-the very first one I uploaded to the site. And then I had tones of inspiration and kept updating, and I was just amazed by the response and how it was all unfolding and utterly speechless at the fact that I was developing writing skills. And then...my inspiration just kind of died out. And I couldn't get the words out. It sucked so much. But I pushed myself to update-and that gave you the last two or so chapters. And once I got further into this chapter, I just couldn't stop writing, and then later when I had finally finished it at around 7673 words, I was going over it, editing small things, I realized this could quite possibly be the last chapter if I wanted it to be, though I refused to acknowledge this. And then when HeronFrayWood said it after she'd finished beta-ing it, it sunk in, like really sunk in: I just wrote my very first story. And it's all coming to a close.

So, I guess all that's left to promise you is an epilogue (that will leave you in tears) and to thank you all for the patience and support you've shown me. It encouraged me to continue writing.

Go, my youngling, and read the last chapter.

Clary felt immensely stupid. Why would she say such a thing? And if Jace's shocked silence was any indication, he was more surprised than she was by her slip up. She wanted to slap herself on the upside of the head, but Jace did not laugh. He did not look at her as though she had lost her less-than-stable mind, either.

She wanted to say something, but her voice would come out squeaky and her face would turn redder than it already was and—

Jace turned to her, colour high in his cheeks. "I-I think I love you, too," he stuttered, looking, in Clary's opinion, adorably flustered.

Clary regarded her bustling, chatting friends with distaste. Not exactly her friends, but what they were talking about—what they were rushing about to accomplish: her birthday party.

Clary had never really bothered with her birthday before, never really cared, to be quite frank. But nowadays, with Isabelle all but breathing down her neck, she had no choice but to grin and bear each and every party.

"What do you think, blue, gold and white, or blue, purple, and white?"

"How many streamers do you think we'll need?"

"How much glitter should I put in my hair the night of?"

"Cupcakes or a full-on cake?"

The words flew from her friends mouths like bullets from a fully-loaded machinegun—with backup ammunition—and she caught none of them, only bits and pieces here and there. "Isn't this a bit much?" Clary piped up after sitting in the exact same spot for three hours, having been told not to move in the rare case that Isabelle or Magnus, or—heaven forbid—Alec needed her opinion and or help with something. And what was worse than sitting in a chair, stiff as board for three hours, afraid to move for fear of being hit by the things being thrown around every few seconds, was the fact that Jace wasn't even there to keep her company—he had gone to pick up dinner for all of them, seeing as how none of them wanted to cook, and none of them were willing to risk eating any of Isabelle's food.

Isabelle loosed a sharp, piercing gasp. "How dare you? A bit much is the amount of glitter Magnus uses on a daily basis, not—"

"A bit much? How dare you, Isabelle Sophia—"

"Oh, I dare, Magnus Bane—more like bane of my existence—"

"Shut up!" Alec bellowed, hammering his fist down on the counter adjacent to him. His electric blue eyes penetrating through both Isabelle and Magnus, both mid-argument. His sister's glossed lips agape ever so slightly, pink colouring her cheekbones, while his boyfriend's blue-and-black hair hung down untidily, covering his purple-rimmed eyes.

"Okay," Clary let out an exaggerated sigh, blowing a strand of scarlet hair away from her face—only to have it drop back down into her line of view this time. "Magnus, you do use an unhealthy amount of glitter on a daily basis. And Isabelle, this is all a bit much—I'm only turning eighteen—"

"That's exactly my point!" Isabelle wailed, throwing her head back in exasperation, her arms outstretched in disbelief. "You only turn eighteen once, and—"

"I think she knows that, Izzy," Alec interjected, his lips pursing into a thin line of resignation when the raven-haired beauty shot him a deathly glare, her charcoal eyes narrowing menacingly at her older brother.

"As I was saying, you only turn eighteen once, and you're technically an adult now—well almost." Isabelle gestured with her hands, expressing her frustration at Alec and Clary's obvious lack of common sense with an ostentatious groan. The older girl threw herself down in the nearest seat, which happened to be the seat Clary had vacated not five minutes ago.

Alec snorted. "Izzy, she's not an adult—and neither are you."

"How would you know?" Isabelle raised a challenging eyebrow at him.

"Because—," Alec laughed sharply. "You're barely out of high school and couldn't support yourself if your life depended on it, Isabelle." His penetrating gaze seemed to anger Isabelle to no end, her face turning what would have been, in other circumstances, an alarming shade of red. The colour rivaled Clary's hair for the reddest thing in the room.

"I am not a child, Alexander!" She spoke with such venom, such hatred laced her words. Clary had only had the displeasure of meeting this Isabelle a few times, and though she could not deny that Alec deserved what was to come—because he, unlike most people, knew that challenging Isabelle and or hurting her pride was just asking to pay the ultimate price—Clary would not wish his fate upon any other.

"God, Isabelle!" Alec scoffed angrily, throwing his lengthy arms out to the sides, Magnus narrowly avoiding his boyfriend's swinging arms. "Why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

"Well, after all, I am nothing but a child, Alec. Shouldn't you expect less from a child?" Isabelle snapped her head away from Alec, her pin-straight locks following the action, collecting on her right shoulder.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it, Isabelle."

"Look at you, Alec, arguing with a child—how petty." Should looks have suddenly gained the ability to slowly, torturously kill someone, that's exactly what Isabelle's intense glare at her brother would have done to the Lightwood boy.

"Come on, Biscuit," Magnus situated his tan hand around the redhead's waist, gently tugging away his friend. "They'll be at it all night," Magnus sighed, and Clary regarded him with a blank stare. He looked older than he had when they had first arrived a month and a half ago in Virginia.

Clary only hoped that she hadn't been the cause of the sudden aged look in his eyes.

Clary and Jace ate in silence, the only sound being their quiet breathing and the occasional loud slurp as Jace ate his moo shu pork. Clary had picked at her Pad Thai, using her fork to push the food around the interior of the white takeout container for a long while before resigning and setting the aforementioned takeout container on the island between herself and Jace.

"Clary," Jace sighed, pushing away his own food. "It's not your fault."

The redhead only shrugged, keeping her eyes focused solely on her hands, laced together in what felt a delicately sewn pattern that could unravel with the slightest tug on one of her many loose threads.

Technically, she had started the fight still raging on between Isabelle and Alec. She immensely regretted opening up her mouth in the first place, and it now seemed best to leave said mouth closed.

"Clary, look at me." Still she refused, and refused again when she felt Jace's hand softly caressing her cheek. Her instinct was to lean into the touch, but she held herself back, her posture remaining stiff and rigid. Jace made a sound, somewhere between annoyance and irritation. Without warning, Jace's hand was holding her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. She tried her best to keep her eyes away from the heated tawny pools in front of her, roaming around the empty kitchen.

"Look at me, Clary." Unlike moments ago when he had first spoke the words, these were not a warning. She wasn't sure what the words meant this time around, and frankly, she did not care. Clary jerked out his grip, muttering something about being tired and retreating up the stairs, unbeknownst of the way Jace stared at her as she walked. He wasn't quite sure what his words had meant, either. And what seemed worse, he knew about as much about where he stood with Clary as he did about extraterrestrial life.

The next morning, Clary was not awoken by Jace. As she passed his room on her way out the door, adjusting her bikini top, she heard no sound coming from his small, boxy bedroom. Not even the faintest intake of breath. And despite how little she had cared about Jace at the beginning of summer, she cared now, and she hated the worry that weighed her down like an anchor in her stomach.

But it seemed only natural she care, right? After all, she had told him she loved him yesterday, and he had spoken the same words back to her. Though what if he had just said the words in the heat of the moment, as much as she had, but didn't truly mean them? If that was the case, Clary could not imagine anything more devastating, as corny and cliché as it sounded.

If Jace could pretend it didn't happen nor did it affect him, then Clary could too. It was these words that she repeated like the chorus of a song stuck in her head as she marched down to the beach, towel hanging off of one arm, sketchbook and pencils gripped tightly in her left hand.

The sun was hot, as per usual, and the sky was an impossible turquoise colour. Clary deemed it the perfect day for drawing. And just as she had imagined what felt like years ago, the breeze lifted her hair off of her bare shoulders, caressing her freckled skin gently, refreshingly.

"Clary?" Someone called out in disbelief, making her jump—though she would have never admitted it. She was only glad that the voice calling out to her hadn't made her jerk her hand, otherwise she would have had to start her drawing all over again—something she would not have been so very pleased about, as, if she did say so herself, her drawing looked amazing.

Clary's gaze wandered upwards, stopping on a bright face, all but beaming down at her. The redhead returned the smile with ease. "Sebastian?" She gave him a disbelieving grin, though she wasn't sure why; he worked at the bakery in town, so why should she be surprised to see him at the beach?

Sebastian nodded, his long legs reaching her spot on the beach as she patted the empty space on her rather large towel for him to sit. He sat cross-legged, leaning forward, palms flat on the worn material of the Ironman towel. "What're you doing here, all alone, no less?"

Clary shook her head, lips pursed. "If you met my friends, you'd know there's only so much time you can spend with them before wanting to stab them each about three-hundred and eighty-nine times." Sebastian cocked his head at her, dark eyes bulging at what must have been the vivid image she painted in his mind. Liking his reaction, Clary continued on. "But then I start thinking about how tedious and messy the clean up process would be, stabbing four people that many times. God," she groaned for effect. "They would bleed out on the hardwood and stain it—do you know how hard it is to get blood stains out of hardwood?" Clary demanded. Sebastian simply regarded her as though she were a psychopath whose company he very much enjoyed, smiling faintly.

"And how would you know how hard blood stains are to get out of hardwood?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Clary looked back to him, tapping out a rhythm with her pencil on the sketchbook page. "I nearly bled out on hardwood once, so, you know." She shrugged, trying to push down the awful memories that flooded her mind, the familiar feeling of being lightheaded and oh-so very dizzy at once coming back to her with all the force of a raging hurricane.

"Seriously?" The midnight-haired boy gaped at her, and it was only then, in her slightly lightheaded state, that Clary noticed his lack of shirt. He had abs, much like Jace, and—stop. Clary could not wrap her head around the need to always compare other boys to Jace that seemed to consume her. Jace consumed her, plaguing her thoughts asleep or awake.

Clary nodded her head at the pale boy, envious of how the sun glaring down at them seemed to make his ashen skin glow, while hers simply burned like kindling. "Yeah, I've got the scar to prove it—I think somewhere near my forehead or the top of my head...?"

Sebastian demanded to see, because he didn't believe that such a thing could happen to such a "sweet girl" like herself. And they went on like that, laughing and talking, the sun getting higher in the sky with every minute they passed together by the waves.

~Jace~

He pushed himself harder. It was always harder, faster, further. His legs burned with the effort he was putting forth, sweat beaded on his tan skin with the energy he poured into the activity. He could run miles—and he already had—but she was still stuck in his head, refusing any notion he made for her to leave. And even if she did leave, she would always be there, branded onto his skin whether it was visible or not. The appendage in his chest, beating wildly as his breathing became heavier, seemed to beat faster, wilder, restlessly when she was around, when she graced her fingers across his skin, when her lips pressed against his.

He was screwed, and he knew it. He was completely, utterly, irrevocably screwed.

Jace ran and ran, until he spotted something in his peripherals vision: a flash of red. He knew—he knew damn well—he should stop assuming everything red was Clary. But, still, Jace turned his head to see, just to see if it could be—

He nearly tripped over his own feet, his mind telling him to stop but his body wanting to keep going.

Because there was Clary—his Clary, sitting beside a dark-haired boy, talking animatedly, throwing her head back with laughter. Something like jealousy coursed through him, something more powerful and hungry than mere jealousy alone. Without the slightest idea what he was doing—or what he was to say when he did reach Clary—he changed direction, walking further into the powdery, dry sand. The sand that was beginning to stick in between his toes certainly did not improve his mood, nor did it do anything to sublimate the swelling anger within him.

"—yeah, and then Isabelle made me wear these heels—they were ridiculous, if you would have seen them I'm positive you would have run away like the little boy we both know you are—and then she tried to teach me how to walk in them," Clary let out a groan, covering her face with her hands, peeking out at the boy through her slim fingers.

The closer Jace got to her, the better he could hear them, the more panic fluttered in his chest: what was he going to say? Technically, he had no claim on her, they weren't even dating, despite the meek I love you they had traded.

"Clary," he called breathlessly. And then, to his complete astonishment, she turned to him with a wide smile. It was the kind of smile that split your face in two, the kind of smile that was so bright the sun would pout in sheer envy, the kind of smile that made you smile, too, no matter what mood you had been in before.

"Jace," She said, seeming just as breathless as he, despite sitting still. Jace took a place beside Clary, even if he was slightly over the edge of her towel and sitting in the sand.

"Seb, this is Jace my—"

"Boyfriend," Jace wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. He felt her stiffen for a beat before ultimately turning to face Sebastian, blushing through her slowly forming sunburn.

Sebastian smiled at Jace, though there was something in his eyes that Clary might have missed, or passed off as something else, but Jace saw it—he saw it and squeezed Clary tighter to him. "Ah, the infamous Jace I've heard so much about," Sebastian grinned good-naturedly, though Jace was having next to none of it.

"Funny, I've heard nothing about you," Jace murmured, shooting Sebastian a pointed smirk. He felt victorious for whatever reason—and Clary was his prize.

Clary slapped his chest. "I told you about Sebastian plenty of times, idiot. You just refused to listen," Clary stated firmly, though she does not shake off his arm like he expected her to do. It makes him smile softly into the crown of her head as he presses a soft kiss there. He feels Clary move closer to him, the sun beating down relentlessly, warming their skin.

"How much longer are you here for?" Sebastian rounds his attention back to Clary, popping his jaw.

Clary looked up at Jace, shrugging. "I think we're leaving just after my birthday?"

Sebastian simply nods his understanding, before opening his mouth once more. "When is your birthday?"

"The twenty-third."

"Clary, do you realize that's on Sunday? It's Friday today—there's literally two days until your birthday!" Sebastian exclaimed, throwing his hands in the hair, manifestly frustrated but more over, exasperated with his friend. "You must think I'm sort of creative genius with the ability of super-speed to give me only two days to make you a cake!"

"You have Maia," Clary shrugged once more. The names were as unfamiliar to Jace as was the notion that Sebastian was to make Clary's birthday cake; had Isabelle planned that? Looking at Sebastian now, though, Jace could vaguely remember seeing him at the bakery yesterday when he and Clary went on their date type thing. Truthfully, most of yesterday's events barely held a candle to the bright light that was Clary saying the one thing he had always wanted to hear come from her mouth in more than a platonic fashion. I love you. The words still sang through him. Jace was positive that not even a diet of energy drinks could bring him this electric feeling.

"Jace," Clary nudged him with her elbow. "Jace, wake up."

"Hmm?" He hummed, ghosting his fingers up and down her bare waist. She shivered at the touch.

"Sebastian had to leave—," Jace hadn't even noticed, "—do you want to go swimming? You're all sweaty." She made face, scrunching up her nose. Jace loosed a deep chuckle that resonated through Clary. In response to her question, Jace stood, extending his hand to the petite girl still sitting with her legs comfortably folded beneath her. She took his hand, allowing Jace to pull her to her feet, quickly shedding her three-button shorts. Jace grinned at her, feeling his pulse quicken as he tugged her along and into the clear blue water.

~Clary~

"You are not getting out of this. Accept it. Embrace it." Magnus let his eyes flutter closed, mock-meditating, taking a few deep breaths.

Isabelle bumped him aside with her hip. "To Edom with acceptance and embracing her fate! Just sit still and we won't have a problem."

"Edom?" Clary raised her eyebrows, and thinking how that if she could have just one birthday wish, it would be to be capable of raising just one at a time.

"It's a synonym for Hell...I think." Isabelle tapped the end of her makeup brush against her jaw, staring up at the bland ceiling stuck in thought. "Pick up a book, Clarissa," she finally tsked. Magnus gave a throaty laugh, swinging his curling wand about—despite the fact that it was heated to over four-hundred degrees—and yes, his curling wand. Apparently Magnus needed a curling wand, and she'd left it at that, not wanting to know—or caring—how managed to curl his own hair.

"I'm going to sit still just for fear that Magnus will not hesitate to burn me with that thing." Clary pointed a now-polished and painted finger at him accusingly.

Magnus grinned wildly at her in return. "You bet, Biscuit." At this, Clary's eyes widened to a point that should not have been possible, though she did not move as Magnus set to work brushing out her natural—and stubborn—curls. He would then proceed to wrap a strand of hair around the curling wand, and when he moved onto another strand, the previous was left frizz-less and shiny. Clary tried to twirl one of the curls around her finger, only to have the heat of her hair scorch her finger. She yelped, squeezing her finger to try and ease the pain. "I told you to sit still," Magnus simply hummed in reply, not bothered in the least by her interruption.

There was also the fact that Isabelle would hiss angrily at her every time she did something as simple as blink. So between Magnus and Isabelle, Clary had her hands tied—quite literally, Isabelle had promised if she did not stop moving and fidgeting or just making any normal movements in general.

Not to mention the fact that it was seven-thirty in the morning, on her birthday.

For all the suffering, Clary thought she looked amazing. She'd earned minimal verbal lashings from Magnus and Izzy, which she knew was partly because it was her birthday.

Eighteen, Clary thought, staring back at the girl in the mirror; she didn't look any different, nor did she feel any different. And she didn't believe her brother would look much different than he did yesterday, either. The first thing she had done that morning before being tied down by Magnus and Izzy was call Jonathan and wish him a happy birthday.

"Happy Birthday, Clare," Isabelle's eyes shone as she turned Clary by the shoulders, smiling faintly. The redhead could tell her friend was trying to keep her expression blank, but was failing horribly.

"What? What did you do?" Clary smiled, unable to help herself.

Isabelle bit her lip. "Come on," Clary followed hot on Izzy's heels down the stairs, her eagerness fuelling every step in her pinstripe leggings.

Clary heard voices. She heard a voice she shouldn't have heard—that shouldn't have been there. At the bottom of the stairs, was Simon. Simon with his shaggy brown hair falling into his chocolate eyes, Simon with his glasses and his band-tee.

She launched herself into Simon's arms, not caring about whether or not they'd end up on the floor, laughing in disbelief. Wasn't he supposed to be in Miami with his mom and sister all summer? Simon hugged her back with just as much fervour as she hugged him, squeezing her just as tight, if not tighter than she held him.

"Hey, Clare-bear."

"I missed you, but you didn't have to come all the way here for me." Clary spoke into his chest, refusing to let go of her best friend.

"I'd do anything for you."

She spent all morning with Simon. Whether it was visiting the record shop they had in town, or just making stupid jokes, she enjoyed his company immensely after being without it for so long.

It was around noon when they arrived back at the house, where Jace pulled her away from Simon, kissing her. Simon stared at the pair, dumbfounded: weren't they supposed to hate each other?

"Jace," Clary murmured against his lips. "Simon is right there."

Jace made a soft noise. "That's cute; you think I care."

"It's cute that you think I don't," Clary retorted, pushing Jace away. She was quite surprised when he didn't pout at the action. But then again, Jace wasn't one to typically show emotion if front of people that weren't her or Alec.

Simon stared, bewildered at his friend. "You two—dating—no way—I don't believe it—my brain is either going to explode or implode—I knew it!—How?"

Clary made a face, the corners of her mouth turning downwards despite the laugh she was trying to stifle and her eyebrows being sky-high. "Si, I think you need to breathe."

"I can't breath!" Simon exclaimed breathlessly, throwing his hands in the air as if asking the man in the sky for all the answers. "Clary Fairchild, dating Jace Herondale! That is news, if you hadn't noticed. And it is news that I have not heard up until now—how could you not think to mention it to me during one of our phone calls?!"

Jace rolled his aureate eyes. "Shut up, rat-boy."

Clary slapped him in the chest, scolding him with something along the lines of "be nice!"

"I will not shut up!" Simon stopped his foot indignantly, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose from where they had slipped—which ruined any effect his words might have had.

"Then maybe breath? Because you're turning a little blue," Jace offered insincerely. Simon huffed in response, crossing his arms like petulant child.

"Si, why don't you go see Izzy? She's been missing you," Clary offered in her ever-sweet voice, batting her copper lashes just ever so slightly to convince him.

Simon grumbled a response, his arms still crossed over his lean chest even as he trudged up the stairs reluctantly. Clary sighed, resting her head on Jace's chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart that she could have sworn jumped when she made contact with him.

Jace had taken her out for lunch, and from there on out, they did not have a plan. Not that Clary was complaining, as this allowed her many opportunities to steal kisses—to which Jace had no objections, either.

"When are you—," Clary swallowed, hardly able to get the words out. "When are you leaving for—for college?"

Jace refused to look her in the eye, suddenly very interested in the sale sign in a shop window across the street from them. "A few days after we get back to New York," he said finally, to which Clary nodded. Of course she had known that Jace had to leave for college—at some point, at least,—it was more so that she had not wanted to acknowledge the fact. Now she had no choice but to accept it and deal with it.

And she would do nothing but accept it and deal with; nothing but grin and bear it. She would not be the person to hold Jace back from the things he wanted to do, the last thing she would ever want was to be that person to him—to any one of her friends.

"If it was my choice, you know I wouldn't leave you. You know that, right?" Jace stopped walking, grabbing his other hand so that he held both of him in his larger, sun kissed ones. His thumb rubbed circles on her left hand, his tawny pools locked on their inter-wound hands.

"It's not my choice, Jace. I don't ever want it to be my choice; I hope you know that." Clary was thankful for the makeup she wore, for it felt like a shield. It was a shield that would block her emotions from reflecting onto her face. Because if she was honest with herself, she wanted to be selfish, to keep him with her always. She took a deep breath. I am not that person, I am Clary Fairchild: sweet, kind, giving, stubborn, fiercely loyal and selfless. She repeated the sentence like a chant in her head. Selfless, I am selfless.

"Are you alright?" Jace tilted her chin upwards, gold and green meeting. The tawny curls atop his head shone in the mid-afternoon sunlight. He was the most beautiful person she had ever met—and not just because of his Abercrombie & Fitch-worthy looks. It was his flaws, his quirks and mannerisms that made him beautiful.

I am Selfless. I will not be selfish with Jace.

"Yeah, fine. I just..." She faltered, turning her head to the left, watching as a woman pushed a brown and blue baby carriage. She could not look at Jace, for fear that a few traitorous tears would fall free and betray what it was she was feeling beneath her shield of makeup. "I just—my head, it hurts a little."

He pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of her head. "All right, come on, I think you've had enough sun for one day."

"Remind me why you're taking off all of the makeup you spent so much time on?"

"Because it'll all come off in the water, that's why." Isabelle clicked her tongue at the redhead.

"Whatever you say, boss lady." Clary mock saluted the girl kneeled in front of her, the fine-tipped liquid eyeliner brush poised professionally in her right hand.

"Don't move, or I'll castrate you." Isabelle warned, biting her lip as she brought the fine-tipped brush across Clary's lash line.

"I don't believe you can castrate a girl," Clary mused, trying her best not to move or let her eye twitch.

"I'll gut you like a fish, then. How's that?"

"Perfect."

They sat in comfortable silence as Isabelle worked determinedly. Clary still wasn't quite sure why she required waterproof makeup to go swimming and celebrate her birthday with a bonfire, but she kind of liked the way makeup made her look, even if she sucked at doing it herself.

"Done," Isabelle dropped her mascara onto her bed, unzipping one of the many bags that had been shoved away in some dark corner of the closet. Clary eyed the girl curiously, but kept silent. At long last, Isabelle freed a box from the bag, the corners dented and the blue bow tied on the box frayed at the ends and a little loose. With pride shining in her eyes, Isabelle handed the white box over to Clary.

"Izzy, you didn't—you shouldn't have gotten me anything." Clary stared at the white box perched in her lap.

"Just open it," Isabelle commanded excitedly. "You're going to love it, I know it."

Clary tugged on one of the frayed ends of the blue bow. It came loose easily, falling to the floor in a swirl of Caribbean blue. She pulled the top off of the box, gasping loudly, her eyes wide and searching Isabelle's. "Why would you get me something so expensive?" This time, it was Clary's turn to demand.

Isabelle dismissed her friend's words with a wave of her hand. "It's a polaroid camera, Clary. I wanted you to have more to remember your eighteenth birthday by than a few fuzzy memories—the camera will only ensure that doesn't happen."

Clary shook her head, allowing her fingers to ghost across the white plastic of the camera—her camera. She lifted it up, weighing it in her hand. Beside it lay a few packs of film. Clary smiled up at Isabelle, who was smiling softly herself.

"There's something else; look." Isabelle said softly, her voice unusually quiet.

Indeed there was: a white bikini. It was not just any bikini. Clary could remember pointing it out to Isabelle in a boutique in New York a few months before, wanting to buy it for their trip—this very trip—but the price had nearly made her choke on her coffee and so she had put it back on the rack. It was a white Milly bikini. Isabelle spoiled her. She didn't deserve such an amazing friend.

"Izzy," Clary whispered, wrapping her friend in a tight embrace.

"I want you to know, Clary, that I'm sorry—so, so, so sorry for everything I hid from you these past years." Isabelle's voice was thick with...with tears? Clary pulled away from the dark-eyed girl, baffled by the rather large droplets rolling down Izzy's cheeks. The long-legged girl used the pad of her thumb to swipe away the tears.

"I know that Iz, but why are you crying?"

"Because," Isabelle breathed a laugh, swiping away her tears once more. "I never thought all of us would make it to eighteen."

"What?" Clary laughed breathily.

"I thought someone would end up murdering Jace, I figured Magnus would get arrested for robbing stores of their glitter supply. Not to mention Alec—I thought he would break his neck if he managed to fall down the stairs another time, and I figured you would have...would have died in that crash." The tears returned to Isabelle's obsidian eyes, glossing them over.

"But we all made it—I guess the only thing we can do is wait and see if we all make it to twenty."

Clary was astounded. Absolutely, hands-down astounded by the effort her friends had put into her birthday party. There were pillows and blankets and towels covering the sand, all surrounding their previously-made fire pit. Fairy lights were strung through the branches of trees, and there was a plethora of food.

And then, there was her brother, sitting on the blankets, grinning madly at her. She tackled him in a hug, remembering a time when she would sulk in the dark, wishing with all her heart to just feel her brother's arms wrapped around her one more time.

Jonathan laughed, sitting them back up, Clary still hugging him tightly. She refused to let go. "Happy Birthday Jon," she murmured into his shoulder.

"It's not only my birthday, if I recall correctly. I think I have a twin somewhere."

"You're an idiot."

"I love you too." And with that, Clary let her brother go, resting her head against his shoulder, staring at the oh-so-carefully arranged wood in the fire pit. She was a little tempted to kick it all over with her foot an watch it fall down dominoes.

"Happy Birthday!" The voice startled her. She pivoted, her eyes meeting Sebastian's. He grinned happily at her, holding up a tall box. "Do you think you could let me inside?"

Clary giggled and nodded, hurrying to open the door for Sebastian who was threatening to topple over from the weight of the cake in his arms.

Cheering surrounded her, albeit it was quieter than what she had originally expected. "Happy Birthday, Biscuit!" Magnus engulfed her in a hug, smoke still swirling about faintly in the air from the eighteen candles on her enormous, three-story cake. Sebastian had truly outdone himself.

Alec handed her the now-dried photographs he had taken with her polaroid camera. The first was of her blowing out her candles, and, admittedly, it was a fairly good picture. The second photo was of her and Jace, his arm slung her waist, his lips pressed to the top of her head, while she was smiling widely, laughing at joke Sebastian had told.

"It's not just my birthday," Clary pointed out.

Sebastian cocked his head slightly. "Well, who else?"

Clary flung her arm around Jonathan's shoulders, grinning ear-to-ear at Sebastian. There was a bright flash and Clary knew that Alec—who had seemingly deemed himself their professional photographer—had taken another picture. She was positive she would love it. "Seb, meet my twin brother, la plus grand imbécile du siècle." Only Magnus laughed.

"Care to explain what's so funny?" Alec raised an eyebrow at his glittery boyfriend.

"She—just—called—him—the biggest—idiot—of the century," Magnus laughed, his breath coming in short, wheezing pants. Clary's brother in turn, in true Jonathan fashion, looked down to glare at her.

"That's your brother?" Sebastian asked, slight shock and complete disbelief spread over his face.

"Mhmm," Clary hummed, choosing to ignore Jon's glare.

"Well, Happy Birthday, then," Sebastian smiled.

"Now, who wants to go swimming?" Isabelle grinned, and it was only then that Clary noticed just how much they had all been grinning that day, and how odd it seemed to have everyone so happy for her.

Clary loved her new bathing suit, period. And more than she loved the article of clothing itself, she loved the attention it drew from Jace. His warm chest was pressed against her back, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"You look so—," Jace pressed a kiss to her jaw, "—so beautiful."

"Stop," Clary murmured. Leaning her head back against his chest, she peered up at her boyfriend—boyfriend, even the word felt surreal.

"Alec, do you not know how to use a lighter? Jesus Christ, it isn't that complicated—" Alec glared at his sister, flicking the lighter, watching with something akin to smugness dancing in his eyes, as Isabelle stood across from him, her hands folded on her hips.

"Are you done gloating, Alec? Can we go swimming now? Or do we need to wait until you come out of the water to go in because your ego is so big?" Isabelle deadpanned, coercing Jace to throw his head back, a deep chuckle resonating through himself and Clary, and Magnus to snort rather loudly.

"Are you done Izzy?" Jace arched a fair brow at her.

"Screw off, Herondale. You might be dating my best friend, but that does not mean I'll bake you cookies and crap like that. As far as I'm concerned, you can still burn in Hell."

"Damn," Jonathan whistled, while Sebastian merely gaped at Isabelle who proceeded to flip her silky locks over her shoulder and turn away from Alec and Jace.

Clary shed her black-and-red flannel and caught up with Izzy, who was already half way down the beach. She only wished Simon hadn't had to go back to New York already. If only all of her friends—and her boyfriend—were the same age as her, life would be much easier.

But they weren't, and she would deal with it.

Magnus, Sebastian, Jace and Jonathan soon joined the girls at the shore. Clary absently wondered what Alec was doing when she heard the click of her camera and saw the soft shadow cast by the bright flash.

Isabelle turned to Clary, a small, barely-there smirk lifting one side of her face. And without warning or hesitation, Isabelle tugged Clary into the water. Clary, in turn, rather violently managed to pull both Jon and Sebastian in the water, as well.

Magnus joined in of his own accord, bringing a reluctant Alec with him.

Jace, however, seemed to need a little...persuasion.

Clary drifted over to Isabelle, who was floating starfish-style on her back, her hair spilled out around her head like an explosion of ink. She beckoned Isabelle to stand up. She did. Clary whispered her plan into Isabelle's ear.

"This is why we're friends," Isabelle grinned at Clary, letting her arm fall across the redhead girl's small shoulders. "This is so why were friends."

"Not because you like me at all?" Clary gave Isabelle a look.

"No, that's just stupid. Friends who scheme together die together."

"Funny. I always thought it was friends that hide bodies together die together."

"No, I think I'm right," Isabelle nodded her head.

"Um, s'cuse me, I'm right," Clary argued.

"Nope." It was at this point, that Clary gave up arguing, because she knew her and Isabelle could be at it all night, they could say they themselves were right until they were each oxygen-deprived and blue in the face.

But it hardly mattered anymore, because it was time to set Clary's plan into action.

Clary launched herself onto Sebastian's back. He didn't seem to mind save for the exclamation of startle—or shock. Clary wasn't sure which it was. He relaxed after a moment and helped Clary hoist herself onto his shoulders. Her action was quickly followed by Isabelle jumping onto Jonathan—and her brother did not seemed to mind. Not one bit.

Sebastian moved, closer to Jonathan and Izzy, who both wore these near-identical diabolical grins that Clary had a bad feeling about. So she returned the grin the best she could and grabbed Isabelle's hands in her own.

So began the chicken fight.

Clary pushed against Isabelle just as Jon attempted to kick Sebastian's legs out from underneath him with what Clary could tell would have been a perfect sweeping kick if not for the water slowing her brother's movements. Sebastian staggered, though Clary refused to ease her grip on Isabelle's hands.

"Christ," Isabelle ground out, her teeth clenched together tightly enough to cause pain.

Clary laughed, shoving against Isabelle's hands, coercing her to wobble on Jon's shoulders. Jonathan's hands snapped instantly to Izzy's ankles, holding them down to his chest, hoping to prevent her fall. Sebastian used his free hand, one remaining on Clary's thin ankle, to shove at Jonathan's own shoulder. His knees buckled slightly—though that slight buckle was enough to send both Izzy and Jon toppling over into the water.

Sebastian let out a howl of victory just as Clary dared a glance at Jace. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his jaw was clenched tightly, the breeze tousling his golden locks ever so lightly. And if Clary squinted just a little bit, she could see the faint pink colour high on his cheekbones. This made her smile victoriously. From the water below, Isabelle smirked up at her but said nothing more as she bobbed softly up and down in the waves.

And then, just to seal the deal, Clary swooped low and pressed chaste kiss to Sebastian's cheek—of course, though, Jace didn't know that. The redhead looked up, her eyes alight with mischief—a feeling hardly foreign coursing through her veins—and smiled at Jace. He narrowed his molten eyes at her, trudging out into the water.

Clary stayed sitting on Sebastian's shoulders, resting her hands on the top of his head, the soft black strands hot from the setting summer sun.

"Clary," Jace ground out.

"Jace," she mocked, ever so amused by his—dare she say it?—jealous display.

The petite girl stayed seated atop Sebastian's broad shoulders until he let her off on the dock, where she was promptly shoved off by Magnus as soon as she was standing, who grinned as wide as the Cheshire cat and laughed like a hyena.

And when Clary broke the rippling surface of the water, sopping strands of hair pasted to her face, and falling in her eyes, arms corded with muscle caged her to a lean chest. "Are you done teasing me?" His breath fanned across her face, smelling distinctly like cream cheese icing.

"That depends," Clary looked up at him through her copper lashes, stuck together by water, small droplets of the liquid glittering in the sun against her pallid skin. "Are you done pouting, or brooding...or whatever it was that you were doing?"

"I suppose." Jace brought his mouth close to hers, so close she could hardly concentrate.

And when Jace was less than a millimetre from her lips, she turned her head to the side, his lips landing somewhere near her jaw. Jace pulled away, his lips adjusted to a pout. Clary simply smiled sweetly at him and swam away. The tawny-haired boy knew his girlfriend had the upper hand here, because he could never stay mad at her long, and she seemed to be picking up on this trait—more like curse—as she had once upon a time.

Water dripped down her back and left a big wet splotch on her shirt. But somehow, miraculously, Isabelle's dripping hair left only a wet dots on her shirt. However, the true miracle was the fact that Clary's makeup hadn't dripped off of her face as though she was made of wax and the sun was melting her.

"Who's hungry?" Magnus propositioned, holding up a jumbo bag of marshmallows in one hand and a bag of chocolate in the other, a package of graham crackers sitting untouched at his feet.

"Are you kidding me?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "Give me the damn chocolate." She grabbed for the bag of chocolate before Magnus quickly and easily pulled it away, leaving Isabelle laying across her brother's lap. She huffed her annoyance, sitting up and adjusting the bottom hem of her crop top.

Clary couldn't have been bothered to do anything but dry off, throw back on her flannel and twist her drying hair up into a sloppy bun. Jace did not seem to mind, as he had his arm wrapped around her waist, his calloused pianist fingers running up and down her exposed flesh. Clary shivered at the action.

"Smile!" Alec grinned, his face partially hidden behind the camera. Clary and Jace both did, going relatively blind for a moment after the flash went off.

"Oh, my turn!" Magnus tossed the bags of marshmallows and chocolate at his boyfriend, scurrying over across the blankets, around the fire, nudging Jace none too gently out of the way. He slung his arm around Clary's narrow shoulders.

"Wait," Isabelle allowed Clary's own arm to hang off the edge of her shoulder, Izzy's own head leaning against Clary's shoulder. "Okay go."

The flash left Clary slightly dazed, though mostly stunned. Magnus rubbed his glitter-covered eyes and Izzy let out a long, faintly high-pitched yawn. Clary leaned into both of her friends, her eyes resting upon Jace, who was smiling down at the photograph in his hand. Clary plucked it from his fingers. She couldn't help the wide smile that stretched across her lips when she saw the photo of herself and Jace; it was...amazing.

She met Jace's aureate eyes again, only to have him wink at her. She rolled her emerald eyes.

"Look at this Clary! We look hot," Isabelle dragged out the last syllable of the word, leaning her shoulder against Clary's. She looked down at the photograph, and wondered how it could possibly be her in that picture. It appeared like something she would see on Tumblr—not something that was real. Not something that she was a part of.

But she was.

Clary gazed around the fire, at Sebastian who was chatting animatedly to Jon who was always good at keeping conversation, and then she looked at Magnus and Alec, who were leaning close together, their hands linked together, and then she looked to Isabelle, digging her hand into the bag of chocolate and shovelling it into her mouth. Lastly, she looked to Jace, who was staring back at her with something akin to awe, something quite unfamiliar to the redhead sparkling in his tawny eyes. And not for the first time that day, she wondered how it was possible that she had gotten so lucky.

Hey guys! Sorry for the lack of updates, but I've been busy with other stories, and I've also been working-slowly, but surely-on this massive chapter. It's over 8000 words. So yeah.

I've been turning the idea over in my head, and...I'd like to write a sequel, depending on where the epilogue leaves us. Maybe, maybe not. I'll need ideas/inspiration from you all.

And when I say ideas/inspiration, I mean ideas that will inspire me to write the sequel.

The Author's Note at the beginning was really long winded, I get it.

This is officially the last chapter. You can expect the epilogue to come either during the weekend or the coming week!