Hey, guys! I was planning on having this up a bit sooner, but it's been a busy week, and I was at my friend's house until, like, an hour ago. So, here you go…Chapter 5. Edited by the wonderful MaxWaylandGrey, who helps me deal with my every day live AND reads my crap. ;D It's amazing what this girl does, really. A shout-out to everyone who reviews! I love you guys AND your feedback! But mostly to PinkGoesWithEverything, (POTAAAAATOOOOOOOOOOES!) who will be MOVING AWAY in a few days, LEAVING ME ALONE IN ASSHOLE LAND FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS. …until college. Another shout-out to SportyNo1, for being there all the time, and to firelady101 and frizzyhead101, for being awesome and talking to me about random stuff. :3

Hope you like this chapter, guys.

…Review?

Dinner was going to happen.

Those were the last and only words Maryse said to Jace when he asked about the dinner. He stood in front of a mirror, eyeing his clothing. His simple black shirt and black pants were always enough, but he added a hoodie that day for no reason.

"Jace?" Isabelle's head poked inside his room. "They're here." When she saw his face, however, she practically ran up to him and said, "What happened? You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging himself off of her and walking on the opposite direction. "It's none of your business."

"Clary?"

"Fine," Jace said through gritted teeth. "Kaelie and I are over. Happy?"

"Tremendously," Isabelle said with a grin. Her grin slowly faded as she saw how grim her brother remained. Sighing, she shut the door and sat on his bed. "What is it?"

"It's her." Jace ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do. I've never been like this. It's like—it's electrifying, but it isn't all good," he said, trying to explain to his sister how he felt about her, but it was all coming out wrong. "I don't know." He sighed, giving up.

"If you like her this much," Isabelle said, waiting a long time before continuing her sentence, "don't give up. It has to be hard. From what I've seen, she detests you, but not really. There is something, like she does it for show." She shrugged. "Maybe I'm imagining things."

"Maybe," Jace echoed pensively. "Anyway, I'll just suck it up, get laid, and forget her. Can't be that bad, right?"

"Use condoms," his sister said. "Don't get drunk. And don't think you can just forget her. She's—different. I like her. I think she'll help you become a decent member of society."

With that, she exited the room.

With one last look at his appearance, he stormed down the stairs and waited. And waited. And waited.

And then there was Kaelie, who was all bright and shiny and smiley. She reeked of alcohol, cigarettes, mint and perfume. She'd had sex multiple times, he could tell. He didn't mind, not at all. He just steered clear from her.

Everything was going fine. The food was great, the conversations were appropriate, and Kaelie hadn't tried to shoot him.

". . . her daughter Clary, who is very beautiful," Jace's mom, Celine, said from the other end of the table. Kaelie visibly flinched at the mention of Clary, her body turning rigid. Celine continued anyway, saying, "She's Jocelyn's daughter, the ones coming over on Saturday."

They were coming over on Saturday?

A set of chills ran up to his spine.

He would see her again, as soon as Saturday.

"Oh," Kaelie said. "Are we coming to that?" She faced her parents, batting her eyelashes at them. They turned to the Lightwoods, and they nodded. Jace was having a hard time swallowing. His ex-girlfriend and the girl he was currently crazy about, both in the same house.

"Yes," her father said with a nod. A silent agreement had happened between the two families just then, and there was nothing Jace could do about it.

"May I be excused?" He stood up from his chair.

Maryse eyed him up and down. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just—I forgot to do something earlier. I have to head out."

"Okay." Maryse patted his shoulder and stood. "I'll walk you out."

"Mom, it's fine," Jace said, but his mother wouldn't hear it.

"Come on," she said, dragging him across the room and out the door. Before he could utter a word, she said, "You two are over, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Jace shuffled his feet and looked at the ground awkwardly, something he never did, not since he was little. "I guess."

"You guess?" Maryse shook her head in a disapproving manner. "Am I supposed to tell her parents?"

"That'd be nice."

"Jace." She shook her head. "Fine," she said after a few minutes. "I'll talk. Now go."

"To where?"

"Find the girl," Maryse said with a wink. "And let her know."

"Let her know what?"

"Everything she needs to know."

And then he was alone, in the darkness, with no choice but to take the keys out of his pockets and climb inside the car. Then he reminded himself of the look in her eyes when she looked at the ocean. He climbed out of the car and walked on the shoreline for almost an hour. He knocked on her door.

Two seconds later, not nearly enough for anyone to register there had been a knock on the door, someone stumbled into him. Green eyes met his golden ones, the green ones narrowing into slits as soon as they registered whose eyes the golden ones were from.

Jace.

And he hated himself for being him.

He hated that he had to be conceited and cocky and fancy and everything she wasn't because he wanted her to like him. Not that desperately, of course. He wouldn't change.

He wouldn't.

He told this to himself various times.

"What are you doing here?" she asked angrily. "Honestly." She stormed off with a huff, leaving the door half-open. After Jace shut it, he ran after her.

"Wait," he said, panting as he caught up to her.

"I have to go, Jace," she said, climbing into her car. Just as she was about to speed away, right after she waved, he climbed in through the open window. Maybe she'd done it on purpose, he thought with wonder.

"Un-fucking-believable," she muttered.

Okay, so she hadn't done it on purpose. "What? Can't be seen with a hottie like me? Afraid it'll ruin your bad girl reputation?"

"No. In fact, I'm scared I'll ruin yours."

"Oh, but you've forgotten one thing," he said, much to her irritation.

"What?"

"I don't care what other people think." He shrugged.

"Good." She paused. "Why'd you climb into my car?"

"You won't hear me out," Jace replied, shrugged again, and stared out the window.

"Then, tell me," she said. "I'll listen."

"I don't want a one-night thing," Jace said to her, voice and eyes serious. "I want something that'll make me feel like I did something without a girl."

"Because you think you depend on them."

"I don't know what to depend on," he said.

"How about nothing?" she asked, eyes on the road, lips pursed.

"That's not fun, now is it?"

All she did was nothing; stare into distance as if it might know the answer.

/

Simon Lewis looked as he always had to Clary. His brown hair, his brown eyes, his glasses . . . all of him. He was shorter than Jace, whose eyes widened in mock horror when he saw Simon step inside the car.

"You've been cheating on me?" Jace had asked.

"What?" Simon asked, dumbfounded.

"He's an asshole," was Clary's explanation as she loaded his things into the trunk with his help. She shut it, climbed inside, and drove away.

"I'm Jace."

"Simon."

They shook hands while Clary shook her head, rolling her eyes at the boys.

"So, you're Clary's boyfriend." Jace looked at him, then back at her.

"No," said Simon, and Clary could've sworn she saw him blush. "Best friend. You?"

"A stranger," Clary said.

"You don't give rides to strangers," Simon reminded her. She wanted to die.

"Jocelyn and Luke know his family."

"Not a complete stranger, then," Simon said, leaning back in his chair, relaxing.

"I never said those words."

"They were implied," he replied.

"Hey, hey," said Jace. "No need to argue over me. Sure, I'm hot and all, but really." He flashed Clary his million-dollar grin.

With a smirk, she flipped him off. All Jace did was wink, followed by a snort from Simon.

"You two are adorable," he said.

"Don't," Clary said. "Don't, or I'll tell everyone about that third grade incident."

Simon sighed. "I guess I'll have to keep the teasing to myself."

"You bet," she replied.

"So," Jace said, "Simon, will you be staying at Clary's house all summer?"

Simon nodded and said, "Yeah, and then we go to boarding schoooool! Yet another one, that is."

"Oh, yay!" Clary said with mock enthusiasm. She kept her eyes on the road, never meeting Jace's curious stares. She didn't want him to know how much it hurt her that her mother didn't care enough to give her an actual home.

"Which one are you going to? Maybe we'll end up in the same one," Jace said.

"You go to boarding schools?"

"Not last year," he admitted. "But this year, I'm going back."

"Because . . . ?" Clary didn't want to be curious, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't. She wanted to know why. She wanted to know him, because he was different. He was . . . a player. But he had something that no one else had. He cared enough to follow her wherever. She found it creepy sometimes, but when you had a hot boy you may or may not like following you, thinking straight was never an option.

"Because," he said, shrugging. "I . . . like boarding schools."

"Liar," she said.

"You don't know me," he said, raising his eyebrows, daring her to say that she did know him.

"We'll have to change that, then." The words stumbled out of her mouth before she could register what she was saying, and when she did, she wanted to curl up in a ball and become invisible.

"I'll call," he replied with a wink.

"Oh, Jesus," said Simon from behind them. "Just hook up already. The sexual tension here is driving me insane."

Clary tried hard to hide the blush that crept to her cheeks. Jace, however, smirked and said, "As it should."

The rest of the drive was silent—most of it, at least. Simon decided to turn the radio up when they were halfway to Clary's house. The first song Clary recognized came after three pop songs she didn't know.

Just a small town girl,
Living in a lonely world,
She took the midnight train going anywhere.
Just a city boy,
Born and raised in South Detroit,
She took the midnight train going anywhere.

However awesome the original version of that song was, Clary hated the Glee version. She switched stations until she found a mildly interesting rock one. She switched that one, and the next, and the one after that . . . until she found the song she wanted, and she was surprised it was even playing. She didn't know she was looking for it. All she knew it was a woman talking about regretting the years she spent in love with a man that broke her heart.

"That is some depressing shit," commented Jace, but Clary noticed he knew the song by the way his eyes were closed and his lips formed the lyrics of the song. She smiled to herself and turned back to the road. He looked so peaceful. Ruining it would mean the actual Jace would be here, and she did not want that—or so she told herself. But, truthfully, she liked Jace's cocky side, too. There was something about him—about it—that made her feel like he was good enough.

Or maybe she was just insane. Who knew?

She shook her head and focused on getting home safely. Having just gotten her license a month before getting here, driving made her feel nervous. She kept her eyes on the road, fingers absentmindedly tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music.

"We're here," she announced as soon as her dimly lit porch came to view. She parked the car outside and hopped off, Simon trailing behind her.

"Um," Simon said, and he said nothing after that.

"I know, right? Some fancy shit they decided to buy this time." Clary rolled her eyes and walked over to the back of her trunk.

"Don't you have butlers?" Jace blurted out when he saw her unload Simon's things from the trunk.

"Yes, but unlike you, I'm not a spoiled brat. I like to do things myself," she said, slamming the trunk shut and carrying some bags inside along with Simon.

"No one said I didn't," Jace said, holding his hands up defensively, then sighed. "I don't suppose I can come in?" He looked at her with pleading eyes.

Clary bit her lip. "It's late, and I don't think Jocelyn would be happy, so . . . I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"See you tomorrow, then." He winked before jogging off into the direction of the ocean, then walking along the shoreline back to his home. Suddenly, Clary felt like calling his name, telling him he could stay, but she knew she couldn't. Not because of her mom, not at all. She could care less of what her mom thought, really. She only cared because of one reason, one that had to do with herself only.

She cared because if she gave her heart away, there would be nothing left of her, nothing at all.

I'm gonna say this because I'm bored.

**I do not own The Mortal Instruments. They belong to a super cool New York resident called Cassandra Clare, which I'm sure you've heard of. The lyrics belong to their respective authors. I own nothing but the storyline and the cool nose ring, okay? Otherwise, my life would be pretty damn awesome.**