Here it is, the epilogue to my first story. Wow.
This is the Prom playlist:
Somebody Told Me by The Killers
Hey Mama by David Guetta
Summertime Sadness (remix) by Lana Del Rey
Moon by The Cab
Just Dance by Lady Gaga
Dessert by Dawin
Irresistible by Fall Out Boy (feat Demi Lovato)
Clothes Off by Ria Mae
S&M by Rihanna
Only Girl (In The World) by Rihanna
Gimme More by Britney Spears
Butterfly by Crazy Town
If U Seek Amy by Britney Spears
Uma Thurman by Fall Out Boy
Get Ugly by Jason Derulo
Freaks by Timmy Trumpet
Let It Rock by Kevin Rudolf
Victorious by Panic! At The Disco
GDFR by Flo Rida (feat Sage The Gemini)
Low by Flo Rida (feat T-Pain)
Talk Dirty by Jason Derulo (feat 2 Chainz)
Huge thanks to my beta, HeronFrayWood, who, as you guys probably already know, is awesome.
Thanks so much for all the support guys.
New York felt so distant than what she remembered. It wasn't necessarily that she didn't like being back home, it was just that it was so different from where she had spent the last two months, give or take. It was the place where she had fallen in love, but at the same time, it wasn't.
But it would most definitely be the place where her heart would shatter and be walked upon by the thousands of feet in New York. And it didn't seem to matter whether those feet were heeled or bare, cautious or careless, for she would still have her heart reduced to broken, jagged shards either way.
He hadn't even loaded his car down with boxes upon boxes and her chest already ached with a preview of the pain that awaited her after their separation. God, she felt like one of those cliché, melodramatic girls in romance movies—fake sobs and all.
Why could she not be a genius like Jon? That way, she would be heading off to college for the coming school year, as well, and maybe, just maybe, she would be distracted enough to forget about Jace.
Then again, senior year was really going to kick her ass.
And her dearest friend Isabelle did not hesitate to remind her that college applications were due in the fall; exactly what she needed.
She only had Isabelle left. And it broke her heart. Not that there was anything wrong with just having Izzy, but she was so close with Magnus and Simon and Jace, and even Alec, whom she hadn't really spent a great deal of time with. But they were all her friends and it sucked more than anything to see them going off to college while her and Isabelle were stuck finishing up high school.
Clary wasn't quite sure how she was going to hold back the waterworks display that wanted to so desperately escape her when they all went their separate ways.
"What're we doing? You have to get up early and—"
"I don't care." Jace nuzzled his face into Clary's neck.
"Jace," it came out as a whine.
"Yes?"
Clary turned to face him, one hand resting on his chest. "Why did you ask me to come over, only to lie in bed?"
The blonde sighed. "Clary, I love you, and you know I'm leaving tomorrow for school. Can't I want to go to sleep with you in my arms and wake up the same way?"
"I guess," Clary sighed melodramatically, unable to help the smile that spread across her lips. Clary registered somewhere in the back of her mind the fact that both Magnus and Alec were also leaving tomorrow morning for college, but she ignored it.
The more she allowed her resolve to slip, and allowed herself to fall into Jace's arms, the more she did not care—did not want to care. Because he smelled like lemon and laundry soap and sunshine, she just absolutely could not force herself to care. Nor did she care that what they had together would be so brutally ripped away from them in the span of a year. The redhead knew all too well that things could change in a year—looking back on their summer vacation to Virginia, which, mind you, had been only two months long, a whole lot of things had changed.
But still, she laid her head back down on Jace's chest, sighing in content and allowing the darkness to wash over her like a wave crashing down on the shore.
Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe they would all be okay, in the long run.
Or maybe not.
Clary sighed, frustrated, staring at the clock. The hands ticked and ticked and ticked around in the same circle over and over again—and yet, she was no closer to being free than she had been last year.
And like some weird voodoo Déjà vu, a piece of abused, balled up paper landed on her desk. Isabelle's head snapped forward as though she'd never turned it in the first place. Clary smirked a little, unfolding the paper as noisily as she pleased. It was the last day of her senior year—what were they going to do? Prevent her from graduating tomorrow when she'd already earned all her credits and had a fitting for the cap and gown? The redhead highly doubted it.
On the whole piece of paper, was only one word, followed by a question mark.
Excited?
Just like someone had flipped on a switch, Clary couldn't help the beaming smile that spread across her face and stayed there as she stared down at the paper.
She was finally free, to pursue whatever career path she chose (art, obviously), without the state saying she had to take certain classes if she desired to graduate. No more AP Biology, no more AP math classes, no more boys gawking not-so-discreetly as she walked down the hallway to her next class.
It would be quite the understatement—according to Isabelle, who had at some point during the year deemed herself all knowing—to say she looked different than she had during eleventh grade.
Even if she was not extremely gifted in the chest department, like a certain inky-haired girl who sat diagonally from her, it had gotten to the point where she could no longer wear but a simple sports bra every day. It would be a lie if Clary said that she hadn't panicked when one day she went to put on her jeans and they felt tighter than they usually did. But it was all right. Because she had a shape now and clothes fit her differently than they had the year before. She still wasn't quite used to it, even if she'd had the whole school year to adjust to her new figure.
Most importantly, though, was that she no longer looked like she belonged back in middle school. Because with her father's now-noticeable sharp bone structure, softened marginally by her mother's influence, and her wide, mesmerizing eyes, she looked like someone who belonged next to Isabelle, not sitting with a pack of crayons and safety scissors in pre-school.
The bell finally, mercifully, rang. Clary grinned, grabbing up her bag in one easy swoop low. She slung the strap over her shoulder, relishing in the cool air splaying across her bare arms as she walked down the rapidly crowding hall—it had been unrealistically hot in her class.
Isabelle strolled up beside her. "We don't need to stop at your locker, do we? Please say—"
"No," Clary cut off her friend, smiling faintly.
The midnight-eyed girl made a sound of relief, pretending to wipe sweat from her forehead. "Thank God. But moving on, you look hot. Capital H hot." Clary turned her face away from Isabelle, adjusting the strap of her backpack with one hand and fishing her phone from the side pocket of the aforementioned bag with the other.
"Yeah, well," Clary shrugged. "I had a good mentor, who, now that I think about it, drilled my current knowledge of fashion into my brain relentlessly." Clary cocked her head to the side, a sort of accusing smile on her face. Isabelle only threw her head back, in that typical Isabelle way, and laughed.
"Bye Clary, bye Isabelle!" Waved Aline Penhallow, a sweet Asian girl they had befriended half way through the first semester. Her face was all sharp angles and planes, with short, pin-straight hair (the same kind of pin-straight Izzy's hair used to be) that suited her perfectly. Clary itched for a pad of paper and a pencil, if only to capture the image of Aline smiling brightly and her deep brown eyes sparkling. This, besides graduation, would most likely be one of the last times she saw Aline.
In a way, graduating sucked, Clary realized.
"Bye, Aline," Clary waved back, fighting to keep the smile on her face as she walked by, Izzy still at her side, talking animatedly to anyone who waved or shouted anything to her.
Izzy nudged her shoulder. "What's wrong? Are you going to miss this hell hole?" Her tone was teasing, but Clary knew her friend was going to miss it, too.
"Do you realize," Clary started, "that this is the place where we've made so many memories? That this is where I met Simon, and got closer to you, that this—" She faltered.
"That this is what?" Isabelle prompted.
Clary shook her head, curls bouncing with the motion. "Nothing, it's just that this is the place where I spent so much time hating him." She picked at her paint-cloaked cuticles, avoiding Isabelle's gaze.
"Clare, you can't blame yourself for that, you didn't know—you didn't remember."
"But I should have known—all those head pains when he did something familiar, all the things he seemed to know about me, all the times everyone was uneasy around each other...I should have known Iz, and I just—"
"Shut up, would you? You remember now, and honestly, I see it as a good thing that you forgot, sometimes. You kind of just got to skip over the awkward phase of "are we dating yet" and frankly, Jace got lucky because you would have been a thousand times more pissed at him for what he did, had you not forgotten."
Clary shrugged again. "I guess you're right, but I don't know—we broke up before he left Izzy. He's probably got another girlfriend by now and—"
"Maybe he's got a boyfriend," Isabelle interjected, raising her neatly trimmed brows suggestively.
Clary glowered at her friend. "—and by now he's probably got another girlfriend, one way prettier and hotter, and cooler, and nicer, and funnier, and more charming than me. So, in conclusion, it doesn't matter, because I'm me, and he's him."
Isabelle shook her head, somewhat impatiently. "That's the stupidest thing I've heard all day, and I had to sit with Sebastian Verlac in Biology all semester."
"Yeah, well..." Clary trailed off as they exited the school. She turned and looked up at the building that had seemed to be the focal point of her universe for four years. She was eighteen, she was an adult, she was leaving her high school days behind her and yet—she was going to miss it, for some reason.
"Honey, come here—" Jocelyn spoke through a mouthful of Cheerios, which she'd abandoned as soon as Clary had exited her bedroom, clad in a white sequined tulle flouncing dress, her darkening red hair curled with much more care than she usually took.
"Mom, what are you—?" Clary stopped herself, looking down as her mother adjusted her hair and looked up through flickering copper lashes.
"You look so gorgeous, so much—so much...like me." Jocelyn gushed, clasping her hands over her mouth. "You're all grown up—you and Jon."
Clary heard Jon's bedroom door shut behind her—she had never let her mother clean out the room, even when she had thought her twin was dead—and whirled around, her dress spinning around her legs. Typically, she never wore dresses, and she had to admit, it felt lovely.
Jon walked over, his bright white hair contrasting elegantly against the black material of his suit. He grinned widely at his sister, picking her up by the midriff, swinging her around. "You look beautiful," he told her, letting her down and holding her tightly to his chest.
"And you look dashing," Clary laughed, adjusting the position of his tie. The bright flash of a camera nearly blinded Clary.
"Got it," Jocelyn grinned, tucking the camera into her purse, motioning for her children to join her at the door.
This is it, Clary thought, I'm graduating.
The cap made her itchy, and the gown felt weird with her dress underneath of it. She cursed very, very, loudly. Three heads, including Isabelle's, turned to look at her. Though only two of those three laughed.
"Jace would be proud," Isabelle noted, tilting her head to the side ever so slightly.
Clary nodded in acknowledgment of her friend's comment, though she turned her head away so Isabelle couldn't see her expression. Jace and she may have broken up nearly a year ago, but it still hurt like a fresh wound. Her chest ached at his name, sometimes, though she would never tell anyone that.
Not even Isabelle.
"Aline," Clary cleared her throat, stepping away from the dark-haired beauty, even if it was just for a moment. She needed breathing space, and all the memories that resided in Isabelle's obsidian eyes only prevailed to strangle the oxygen in the room.
Aline gave a friendly smile. "You look really pretty, Clary," the short-haired girl admired Clary's hair and makeup, her dress hidden from view underneath of the dark blue gown.
"Me?" Clary's eyes widened considerably. "You look gorgeous, Aline!" The other girl blushed, turning her other cheek to the redhead for a moment.
Clary and Aline talked and talked, about whatever suited them at that moment, Isabelle joining the conversation soon after. And thankfully, there was not one more mention of Clary's tawny-eyed ex.
The ceremony was over much faster than Clary had imagined it might be. And by the time even the teachers and parents who took way too many pictures of their children in too many different poses had abandoned the stage set out in the centre of the football field, night had fallen. Bright stars pierced the veil of darkness, light pollution dulling their glow. What had it been like, before all of this?Clary wondered, staring up at the sky from a gym window.
She looked over her shoulder, smiling ridiculously wide at the sight of her friends, dancing stupidly. Not only Jon, but Simon, Magnus, and Alec had returned from college to witness her and Isabelle graduating. According to Simon, it was a "monumental event that simply could not be missed—or avoided—and I need to come home or the world will explode." And according to Magnus, it was a "perfect chance to get all glittered up for a special someone," and then he had proceeded to waggle his blue eyebrows suggestively at her over Skype, to which she had simply rolled her eyes. And then there was Alec who was somewhat a normal human being, and had said it was his "moral obligation" to come watch his little sister and close friend graduate.
"Biscuit," Magnus danced over to her smoothly, rotating his hips and doing jazz hands all at once. Clary thought it looked impeccably stupid, though it was flawlessly performed. "Come. Dance," he beckoned, rolling his yellow-green eyes when she shook her head, and grabbing her hand with one of his own and spinning her. She giggled musically, the skirt of her dress whirling around her in a white blur of tulle and sequins.
The redhead was beyond surprised that she hadn't fallen to her death in her heels yet. More than that, she was surprised she had yet to see her brother since he disappeared into the titanic swell of the crowd earlier in the night.
"That's it, Clare!" Simon laughed, clapping his hands a few times as he watched her twirl.
Isabelle cupped her hands around her mouth, tilting her head back as she cheered loudly for her best friend. It was as the last notes of Isabelle's loud cheer rang out and Clary spun into a pair of finely muscled arms that a new song began to blast through the speakers that had been set up for their prom.
Clary looked up in surprise, very ready to stomp on some guy's foot, when she stopped dead.
"Jace?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. She wasn't sure whether to kiss him or shove him away.
He grinned down at her, his chipped incisor still endearingly out of place yet perfect. His skin was just as tanned as she remembered his hair more sun bleached than she remembered. "Hey," he whispered back, his breath dancing across her skin—he smelled like laundry soap and a delicious cologne so unlike the Axe body spray that seemed to pollute the air after every gym period she had, and sunshine. Most off all, though, he smelled like Jace. Her Jace.
"Oh! Oh! Clary! Oh my God! Oh. My. God!" Isabelle tugged her out from the circle of Jace's arms, all but jumping up and down in her strappy royal blue heels. And that was when Clary recognized the song playing: Low by Flo Rida.
Magnus's eyes lit up in excitement, Clary grabbing his hand and allowing him to twirl her once more. Alec danced with his sister, who was shimmying up and down, her dress never once making her movements awkward or uncomfortable-looking. The lights strung up around the gym twinkled in the corner of Clary's eyes, other kids dancing and shouting and singing along loudly to the song.
Clary turned to Isabelle, Magnus by her side, and Simon by Izzy's. All four of them started singing along loudly, and quite shamelessly, to the song, Alec joining in after a beat of hesitation.
"Next thing you know
Shawty got low low low low low low low low
Them baggy sweat pants and the Reebok's with the straps (the straps)
She turned around and gave that big booty a smack (a smack)
She hit the floor
Next thing you know
Shawty got low low low low low low low low"
Jace stood off to the side, his aureate gaze burning a hole into the side of his ex girlfriend's head. He watched her dance, watched her laugh and have a good time with her friends. Why did I ever give her up? Jace wondered as their collective voices filled the empty space around them as they sang the next verse.
"I ain't never seen nuthin' that'll make me go, this crazy, all night spendin' my dough
Simon and Clary began fist pumping, Magnus, Izzy and Clary rapping the verse like pros.
Had a million dollar vibe and a bottle to go
Dem birthday cakes, they stole the show
So sexual, she was flexible
Alec dipped his little sister, and she laughed loudly, showing off a blindingly white smile in the process. Jace shook his head, pushing off of the wall where he had been attempting to hide in the shadows—which clearly wasn't working as a disguise, as the golden-haired man had acquired quite the fan club of formally dressed girls with fake eyelashes. Rolling his shoulders within the white tux he wore, he pushed off of the wall, heading directly for the gorgeous redhead dancing and rapping like it was nobody's business.
Professional, drinkin' X and O
Hold up wait a minute, do I see what I think I whoa
Did I think I seen shawty get low
Jace's long-legged strides brought him to stand in front of Clary. She looked surprised and shocked for a second before she frowned and tried to move past him. His long, scarred and calloused fingers—from hours of football practice, she presumed—wrapped around her shoulders and he pulled her to him, pressing their bodies close.
But he kept his mouth a few millimeters from hers, as if he were...scared.
Finally, Clary rolled her eyes, pulling him to her from the bunch of his tux she'd grasped with either hand. "Are you going to kiss me or not, jackass?"
With that, she pulled him to her, kissing him with all the pain and hurt and love she had harbored for him the past year.
Ain't the same when it's up that close
Make it rain, I'm makin' it snow
"Get a room!" Isabelle shouted over the music, her hands once again cupped around her mouth.
Work the pole, I got the bank roll
I'ma say that I prefer them no clothes
I'm into that, I love women exposed
She threw it back at me, I gave her more
Cash ain't a problem, I know where it goes
Jace pulled away from Clary, grinning ear-to-ear. "I bet you missed me," he whispered against her ear, coercing her to shiver in delight. The sensations fizzing in her veins were familiar yet foreign all at once, and she couldn't say she didn't love the feeling if her life depended on it.
She scoffed, looking away briefly, at her friends, all laughing and dancing and having fun. "I bet you missed me more, you ass."
"I won't even deny it."
Clary pushed away Jace—along with all the thoughts of whether or not they were back together away, before they could tangle her brain into knots and tangles of confusion.
Even Alec, quiet, subdued Alec, joined in on the chaotic dancing. He picked Clary up and spun her around and all she could think, slightly light headed and drunk off of laughter, was that she was getting spun around a lot.
Clary giggled as Alec set her back down on the ground, narrowly avoiding stepping on the hem of her dress. Isabelle swiveled her hips lightly, walking over to stand at the redhead's side. "So, what's up with you and jackass over there?" She motioned her chin in Jace's general direction, grabbing onto both of Clary's hands with her own—and for once, it wasn't just Isabelle who had lacquer-clad nails—swinging their joined hands, swaying in her heels purposefully. The action made her dress—a lilac crystal and chiffon strapless sweetheart gown that suited her impeccably well—swish about her long legs.
With a mere shrug, her voice quiet, so much unlike the happy, bubbly girl she'd been all night long, did Clary say, "I'm not entirely sure myself."
"You sure did kiss him like—"
"I don't know, Izzy, okay?" Clary snapped, her green eyes, so much like her brother's—who had she had still not seen since he disappeared earlier—hardened and narrowed.
Isabelle dropped Clary's hands, holding hers up in surrender. "Calm down, tiger," she teased, her plum-painted lips quirking up into an equally teasing smirk. Clary scowled. "Oh, come on! Don't do that—what's the point of you doing your makeup all pretty only to ruin it by scowling?"
Once again, Clary shrugged her shoulders, feeling the material of her dress rub against her creamy skin. It was moments like these that she recalled just how unlike she was to the girl who had joined her friends and supposed worst enemy in Virginia nearly a whole year ago.
That girl would have never dressed up, nor done her makeup for such a pointless event—as she once thought it to be. But now she understood all the fuss, the need to make the night memorable.
Clary was near certain that she would not soon forget this night.
"That's right, there is no point! Now—," Isabelle led her back to the where their friends danced. "Dance with me, loser."
And she did. The now-high school graduate swung her hips, and twirled, and sang along to all the songs until her throat was near raw, until the gym had gotten slightly less cramped, and until Jace was holding her hips, dancing with her during a slow song. He told her she looked beautiful and gorgeous and all the above until she lost count of how many times he'd said it. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, his breath dancing across her freckle-spattered skin.
"I still love you," he told her finally, and that was all it took for the remainder of her resolve to not let him back in come crumbling down. She fisted her hands in his white jacket, tugging the blonde to her until they were kissing once more.
"This is not some fairy tale, Jace; you don't just get to come swooping in, kiss me, and live happily ever after," Clary said between kisses, her breath coming in something akin to gasps when he began kiss his way up her neck, along her jaw.
"I don't want that. I never wanted that." Jace said, looking down at her, his aureate eyes had darkened a few shades, and the look in them made Clary squirm under his burning gaze.
"Then what do you want?" She looked up at him from under lowered copper lashes, and he couldn't help but stare. Why had he given her up—how had he given her up?
"You," he said simply. And in that moment, Clary thought of spitting those three words at him—I hate you. So familiar-tasting on her tongue, it would be easy. But it wasn't real, what those three words meant. No, not at all. All these years, they had meant exactly what they weren't supposed to: I love you.
So that's it guys, I really hope you enjoyed reading I Hate You as much as I enjoyed writing it. :))