Disclaimer : Cassandra Clare owns these characters.

Sitting on the counter in the enormous kitchen of the house I was in, I looked around at the various alcohols that surrounded me. I held a red cup in my hand. Not that I was drinking from it — I wasn't. It was thrust into my hand the minute I walked through the kitchen doors. That was about twenty minutes ago. I have been sitting here ever since.

Stupid Simon, I thought. If it wasn't for him I could be in my bed watching Netflix.

"C'mon, Clary! Please? Pretty please with a new sketchbook on top?" Simon was kneeling down, begging at this point, and I found it very amusing.

"You're seriously bribing me? Simon, you don't even like parties," I told him, throwing my hands up in the air.

"I don't, But I do like Isabelle. She invited me! I can't just not go," he had gotten up off the ground, but his voice was still desperate.

I knew how much he liked Isabelle Lightwood, and from what I had seen, she liked him back just as much. I was happy for him, but I did NOT want to go to this party.

"Why can't you go without me? Why do I have to be there?" I asked him, but in my head I had already accepted my fate.

"Because I don't want it to be awkward. With you there it won't be awkward."

"Sorry to disappoint, Si, but with me there it will probably be more awkward."

He sighed.

"Please, Clary."

Damnit.

The party wasn't being held by someone we went to school with. I don't know much about the guy, except for the fact that he is the Lightwood's cousin. And that he lived in a house bigger than Central Park. Okay, maybe not that big, but it was big. The guy was loaded.

Walking in, we were met with blaring music, loud laughter, and at least a hundred drunk teenagers writhing around on black and white marble floor. There was a winding staircase and balcony leading to the second floor, and suddenly I was curious to explore every room of this massive place. Unfortunately, Simon took my hand and dragged me to the right, through a tall door, and I was in a kitchen.

It had gotten considerably quieter, but I could still hear the music. There were only a few people in the kitchen, one of them (to my surprise) was Isabelle Lightwood. I looked over at Simon, to ask him how he had known where to find her. But I was cut off by the dark haired girl as she walked over to us. She held a red cup in her hand, and was wearing a silver dress that clung to her curves. I looked down at my severely ripped jeans and dirty white converse. I suddenly felt very underdressed.

"Simon! You're here! Thank god, I don't think I can take any more of this small talk," she smiled at him, but all he did was stare like an idiot. I snorted, and elbowed him in the ribs.

"HEY IZZY!" he blurted out, his face going red.

Isabelle only smiled, though, and handed me her red cup.

"Here take this, Clary. It's Clary, right? Simon and I are gonna go dance."

And with that they were gone. Damn Simon. Now I was alone at a party with people I didn't know. Fantastic.

I swung my feet back and forth while sitting on the kitchen counter, and glared down at the blue liquid in the cup Isabelle had given me. I didn't know what it was, but it smelled like artificial fruit.

Maybe if I glared at it long enough it would magically turn into coffee.

My red curls fell down around the sides of my face, shielding my view of the room partially. It was just me in the kitchen now, as everyone else had left to dance, or makeout, or whatever people do. Hopefully it would stay that way.

The kitchen door opened, though, letting in the sounds of the party for a second, until it was closed again. My hopes of being alone for the rest of the night vanished.

Simon is so dead.

I didn't look up to see who had come in, thinking maybe if I didn't acknowledge them, they would just ignore me. I was wrong.

"What did that drink ever do to you?" I looked up and saw the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on. Not that I'd ever say that outloud, but really. He was gorgeous. Golden hair, and tan skin layered over lean muscle. He wore a black shirt that fit him in the right places.

I quickly realized I was staring, so I looked down before looking him in the eyes. Golden.

His eyebrows were raised, and I remembered he had asked me a question.

"What?" I asked him dumbly. Now I felt bad for laughing at Simon earlier.

"I asked you why you were glaring at your drink," he walked a couple steps closer to me, so we were only five or so feet apart. He was chuckling.

I didn't really know what to say, so I just told the truth,

"I was thinking that maybe if I stared at it long enough it would turn into a coffee," I told him, moving the cup in my hands so the liquid was swirling.

"What's wrong with it?" His expression was curious, but his voice still held a laugh.

"Probably nothing. I wouldn't know, I'm not much of a drinker," I said.

"Why are you here, then? You don't look like you're enjoying yourself very much."

"God, No. My friend dragged me here."

"And where is this friend?"

"He's dancing," I told him bitterly. "Just like everyone else at this goddamn party."

He laughed, a real laugh this time, not just a chuckle. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and I saw that one of his teeth had a chip in it.

"So I'm guessing you're not much of a dancer either?" he asked me. He put his hands in his back pockets.

"Dancing is fine, just not much of a partier, really. Especially this one."

"Oh yeah? And what's so horrible about this one?" He looked even more amused now, his tawny eyes sparkling.

"Too over the top," I started, "there has to be at least a hundred people here. Why anyone would ever feel the need to throw a party this scale is beyond me. Think about how long it's going to take to clean this place up tomorrow morning…" My voice had trailed off into a horrified whisper by the end of my sentence. "Plus," I added, "whoever chose this music has horrible taste."

My new acquaintance just nodded, looking a bit lost in thought.

"You have a point…" he finally told me, bringing his eyes back to mine, "this place will take hours to clean. It's always my least favorite part of these things."

I nodded in consolation, then froze. Why would he be cleaning up tomorrow?

He must have seen the confusion on my face, because he opened his mouth to say something, a small smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. But right before he could speak, he was cut off by the kitchen door opening. Isabelle was walking towards us, Simon a bit behind her.

"Clary!" She exclaimed, "I see you've met Jace. I hope he hasn't been too dreadfully annoying." With her last word she sent the guy — Jace, I guess — a withering look.

Jace scoffed, "Ye of little faith, Isabelle, We were just making conversation."

Everyone looked back at me, still sitting on the counter, so I felt the need to say something.

"Uhh… yeah, he was… fine," I said, slowly, still not quite understanding the situation. These two know each other somehow, obviously. Simon, behind Isabelle, looked as confused as I felt.

"You two know each other?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed. I sensed a hint of jealousy from him.

"Of course," Isabelle said, in a tone that implied he was an idiot for even asking the question. "This is my cousin, Jace, the one who's party we're at?"

Oh. Oh.

Shit, I had been sitting here for the past five minutes insulting this party, to the face of the very person who threw it! I looked at Jace, Horrified, but he just smirked at me. A smug, but knowing look graced his features.

"Honestly Simon, you can be so slow," Isabelle said to Simon again, but this time her voice was teasing. Simon went a bit red in the face, but looked otherwise calm. Nothing like the panic that was happening in myself.

Simon replied, "Oh, yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. I just didn't put two and two together."

Clearing my throat a bit, I spoke up, "It's okay, Simon, neither did I."

At that, Jace laughed outright, and Simon and Izzy looked at him, confused. Then back at me, and the defeated look that must have been on my face.

"Are we missing something?" Isabelle asked.

"Oh no," Jace told her, still laughing a bit, "nothing at all, dear cousin."

She looked at me, but I chose to stay silent, just meeting her eye in a look I hoped conveyed 'please don't make me explain this.'

"Okay… we'll just leave you to it then…" She told us, then snatched a half full bottle off the large island, took Simon's hand, and promptly left the kitchen. Leaving Jace and I alone again.

I pursed my lips and looked down at my feet, feeling more awkward than I had all night. From the corner of my eye, I watched Jace hop up to sit on the island across from me. It was silent until he cleared his throat, dragging my attention away from my shoes. I looked up at him, eyebrows raised, but he just gave me a cheeky smile.

I narrowed my eyes, suddenly annoyed by his perfect face and stupid smile. How could he just let me make a fool out of myself like he did? What an ass.

Seeing my glare, his smile got even bigger

"What?" I snapped

He whistled, a low and steady sound, "Man, you have quite a temper don't you? What could I have possibly done to offend you?" His voice was teasing.

"Oh, shut it. You know why I'm mad."

"Do I?"

Ugh. Asshole.

"This isn't all my fault!" I told him, "You could have introduced yourself, instead of just letting me bash on you without even knowing it! How could I have known who you were?"

"But where would be the fun in that?" The stupid smirk hadn't still hadn't left his face, which kind of distracted me (why did he have to be so damn attractive?).

His words caught me off guard. "...Fun?" I echoed, doubt lacing my tone.

"Yeah, fun. You know. Enjoyment, amusement—"

I cut him off. "I KNOW what fun is," I told him, giving him a look. "I thought you were mad at me."

This time, he was the one caught off guard. He sat up straighter, and I couldn't help but notice the way his chest and shoulders filled out his black shirt. The smirk left his face, replaced with a look of surprise.

"Mad? I wasn't mad," he shook his head. "I was just teasing you. I thought you realized."

The sincerity in his eyes took away any doubt I had. He looked like he meant what he said. And while I knew that didn't always mean the truth from some people, something about Jace made me trust him.

"Oh.." I replied. "I guess I'm sorry then. For insulting your party and all that."

This brought the smile back to his face. "I accept your apology."

It was silent again, but it wasn't uncomfortable this time. We just looked at each other, until—

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked him, a bit unnerved by his small grin and attentive eyes.

"Like what?"

"Like… Like that!" I waved my hand in his direction. "That look on your face is creepy!"

"CREEPY?" He exclaimed. "It is not."

"Yes it is," but I couldn't hide my own smile, a result of our banter. I could tell that he noticed, but he didn't comment on it.

He bit his lip, hesitating, which I suspected was unlike him, before saying, "I have a look on my face because I think you're cute."

What? WHAT? For a moment I thought I had misheard him. I certainly was not expecting this when I agreed to come here with Simon. I was happy, but I didn't know what to say. I was never quite sure how to receive compliments. And normally, the only people calling me cute were creepy old men on the subway.

I must have been silent for too long, because Jace started to look a bit worried. "Which I mean totally respectfully of course," he hesitated, "Umm…"

"No! No, I mean, I know what you meant, I.. uh, Thanks? I think you're cute too."

I heard the words that came out of my mouth after I had already said them, and it was too late to change them. I felt a blush forming, and dropped my head into my hands.

Thankfully, Jace seemed to realize what I meant, and just laughed.

"Do you want to go out with me, sometime?" He asked me.

I just looked at him for a second, then mirrored his smile. "Sure, as long you don't take me to another party."

My answer earned a wider grin, and he replied, "Don't worry, Clary, I have better taste than that. And to be honest, these types of gatherings aren't my favorite either. I just have a reputation to uphold and everything, you know how it is." He sounded playful, but I detected a hint of truth in his words.

Either way, I liked the way my name sounded when he said it, and I was exponentially happier than I was when I first walked through the kitchen doors.

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