One minute I'm glaring at him, a fierce warning on my face. Don't you dare come near me, sopping wet, straight out of the pool, eyes brimming with sparkling mischief. And then he pounces. I'm flailing over his shoulder, slapping at his back, but of course he just laughs and races back to the pool, propelling us both into the screaming cold waters.

And then I'm sputtering out water, bobbing up in an exasperated woosh. There he is, only a foot away. I launch myself at him, eager to exact revenge but he's prepared for it and easily holds me back. He is more than a foot taller than me and clearly has the brute strength to handle way more force than I can exert but we're both wet and slippery and I slip through his grasp, dive back into the water and pull his legs back, flinging him face first into the water.

It's not much of a victory but I'll take it. He's back up on his legs again, shaking the water out of his blonde locks and grinning fiendishly.

"Truce, truce!" he bellows out, hands lifted and ready to throw down if I don't concede.

"I didn't want to get in the pool, you ass," I gripe but I'm in no mood for further tussling. I head back to the pool's edge, heavy streams of water dripping off the curls I had left long and loose against my back. I give him one quick murderous look to make sure he isn't preparing a sneak assault before I turn around and swing myself out. I can't help but register his long, lean, sinewy form and his longish hair already framing his face in wetly gleaming golden ringlets. They would undoubtedly dry straighter and into a perfectly tousled head of flaxen hair around a well-tanned, sculpted face that I seriously just want to grab and smack around a few times.

He seems to have some evil sixth sense. It's like whenever I think I've actually managed to get a killer vibe going on, he pops up to muss my hair, toss me around until I'm dizzy or throw me into a pool of water.

"Don't get all pissy," he calls out his version of an apology. "We're at a pool, you're supposed to get wet."

"Damn you, Jace Herondale," I mutter. I know it's pointless. I can never really stay mad at him. As much as I'd like to smack him half the time he's within reaching distance, he's also my best friend.

He gives me a winning smile. I wrap my towel around myself and survey the growing crowd.

"Relax, your platinum stallion hasn't graced us with his presence yet," Jace proceeds to be his charming self. He gracefully springs out of the pool, then turns and sits at the ledge. "He won't care you're all wet, anyway. In fact," he smirks, "I'm pretty sure he'll like you better this way."

I wish I could deny it but Jace knows me too well for that. It's not like I ever acknowledge it but Jace can pretty much read my face and I don't know what it's saying but every time I see Jonathan Morgenstern I know my heart starts beating double time. Plus, I suppose it doesn't help that Jace found my sketch of Jonathan, his white blonde hair windblown and perfectly framing his face as he poses majestically on top of a pure white horse.

"Shut up," I grouse.

Jace may know about Jonathan but I'm pretty sure I've kept this crush a secret otherwise. Jace laughs knowingly and turns his eyes away to scan the growing crowd.

"Picking out your next victim?" I ask while I pull a towel over my hair.

"You mean the lucky winner? Not really," he shrugs, "but I'll let you know if I see anything interesting."

There's something in his tone that tells me his attention is already piqued. I look up at him and am momentarily distracted by the shine in his golden eyes. OK, I can admit it in the deep, dark recesses of my own mind. Jace is a babe. Not like Jonathan, of course. I mean obviously I don't think about Jace like that but seeing as how we are besties and that is pretty common knowledge among our high school populace, I've been approached more times than I can count by some random female pumping me for his details. Is he seeing anyone? Who's his type? Can you give him my number? So, all that to say, yeah, Jace is attractive and he knows it.

"Ah ha," a wolfish grin forms over his mouth. "The games are beginning."

I turn away from him and follow his gaze. A bristling crowd has formed by the patio behind Sienna's large white house. I've been here enough times for the parties Sienna throws monthly but it's not like I'm exactly used to the place.

Sienna Lee is fabulously rich and beautiful. Everyone calls her Seelie and it's general knowledge that her parties are the place to be and when you enter her domain it's her court. So, Seelie is used to being Queen Bee and this queen has a particular penchant for randomly obnoxious games that most partiers consider a hoot unitl they find themselves in her veritable crosshairs. I suppose the girl who has it all has to get her kicks somehow. Unfortunately for us mere mortals permitted in her presence, Seelie has a sixth sense for sniffing out a person's vulnerable spots and gets her perverse rocks off exposing them for her amusement.

I'm really not interested in whatever spectacle Seelie has in mind and am about to say as much to Jace when he swings an arm around my shoulders and hustles me toward the action.

"Jace," I silently warn through the side of my mouth. He should be able to tell I'm not happy but he just shoots me a lopsided grin.

"Oh, come on. I think I spotted you know who over there," he lifts an eyebrow suggestively and suddenly I'm not so resistant.

I'm distracted now, scanning across the sunstreaked heads, tanned limbs, a motley of sun kissed youths jostling together, all the while Jace keeps pushing us forward. Before I know it, he's right there maybe two yards away looking like he just stepped out of some glossy fashion shoot. His shining white blonde hair is tied back behind his perfectly molded head. He could be a Grecian god but so much better than any I've ever seen cast in marble models or renaissance paintings. He's just the perfection that artists strive for but can never quite capture. They probably think this level of hotness can't possibly exist. The unique pallor of his hair is set off by the deepest blackest eyes that sweep briefly past me and my breath catches in my throat.

As if he can hear my totally transfixed, lustful attention, his gaze jumps back to me, locking eyes, and after a few thudding heartbeats hammering through my chest, the corners of his lips lift slightly. I think I might faint.

Before my head can clear up, Seelie's trilling voice cuts through the air.

"Today's frolic will include ten gentlemen and ten ladies of my choosing."

I can't help but appreciate the musical yet commanding sound of her voice. Also, any seventeen year old who can get away with saying frolic and describe the teenage horde at her pool party as gentlemen and ladies has got to get some respect. She grew up in some highfalutin English estate and her British accent seems to cement her royal status over all of us. Well, everyone except Jonathan. I mean royalty cannot surpass a god.

"I shall write the participants' names on these slips," Seelie waves lavender and sea green post its above her head in a grand fashion. "Boy's in green and girl's in violet," so now we're boys and girls. "They will be folded so the names are concealed."

I wonder at how she manages to appear bored and amused at the same time.

"All twenty names shall be placed in this glass bowl."

She lifts a domed fish bowl for us all to see, her green eyes glittering.

"I shall select each green slip and call out the boy's name. He will then come up and choose another slip from this bowl to pair up with," she pauses dramatically, then continues, "Each pair will couple up for the duration of this day. They must stay together and demonstrate a convincing show of affection while they are publicly mingling. They will also spend a private hour alone in the guest rooms. When they come out, they must both reveal a hickey ..."

There's a hint of smile on Seelie's face and the tips of her sharp incisors reveal themselves on her glossed lips.

"On their ass," she continues. She even manages to say 'ass' with flourishing formality.

She looks up at the sky thoughtfully, "or their inner thigh," she finishes.

She glances around us with a generous expression on her face.

I shrug and turn to walk away. I've never been voyeuristic enough to appreciate Seelie's side party antics but they're always a hot topic at school until her next blow out party. I don't even think it's so much a sex thing although this one's pushing it. Seelie usually has some exhibitionist display but hickeys on the nether regions is a little too far. Her game is usually more a 'reveal an intimate side of yourself that you had no intention of making public thing.' I inevitably feel sorry for the victims while everyone else seems to eat it up. I'm thinking I'm not alone in my assessment on this particular game when I see more than a few heads turning away.

I'm about to shuffle along when my movements are arrested by the sound of Jonathan's low mellow voice. "Why don't I select the girls?"

He's reaching over to take the purple post its from Seelie and it's hard to make out her reaction. She looks a little stiff, clearly not expecting an alteration to her plans.

"Don't tell me you can't hang with the big dogs," Jonathan's black eyes are fixed on Seelie and I can feel a collective in drawn breath all around me. "Besides, this has got to get boring for you. Just standing back and watching the rest of us. Maybe you should join in the fun." There's a clear challenge in his drawling sexy voice, in the lounging stance of his lean form.

"Very well, Jonathan," Seelie answers, slowly folding her hands into her arms. I can see she's relinquished the purple post its with the slips slightly waving in Jonathan's right hand. They're both still staring at each other and it's like we're all frozen, bearing witness to something … momentous.

"So," Seelie breaks the steely stare-down with Jonathan and sweeps her eyes over the crowd, "you all know the drill, if you're in my-or-our immediate sightline," she glances at Jonathan, "you're fair game. If you're too scared to play, away – now."

I'm mesmerized by the two of them, both so tall and perfect as if they were made for one another. I can't stop myself. I have to watch this play out. I want to watch this drama unfold like some Shakespearean tragedy. As beautiful as they both are, I can't imagine some romantic comedy unfold between them. It would have to be something much more about power than passion.

"Pair o' freaks, right?" Jace nudges me back to the here and now.

"Wha-?" I mutter.

Jace gives me a puzzled look, then pulls my hand. "Isn't it time to va-moosh?"

"You're leaving?" I answer, a little baffled.

Jace lifts a corner of his mouth and shrugs. "Yeah, this time I think I'll join you instead."

For as long as we've been attending Seelie's shindigs, Jace has always figured prominently in Seelie's games. I'm convinced the boy had no shame. As much as Seelie's tried, I've never seen him truly flustered. Once she had him running around in antler ears and in the barest speedos imaginable. He pretended some embarrassment but I could tell it didn't faze him. More galling than that was that these situations just elevated his popularity at school. Most of the kids consider him the epitome of cool and I if I'm being honest, there's a lot worse to see than Jace's bod in speedo thongs.

"C'mon," Jace emphasizes with a more fervent head shake away.

I move automatically away with Jace, my hand still shelved in his. I know I'll come back to see who Jonathan ends up with but Jace is right. I don't belong here.

We're trudging away when Seelie's voice rings out loudly with displeasure, "Jace Herondale, where are you going?"