A diary with no drawings of me in it? Where are the torrid fantasies? The romance covers?

I was trying to make you jealous!" Simon screamed, right back. His hands were fisted at his sides. "You're so stupid, Clary. You're so stupid, can't you see anything?" She stared at him in bewilderment. What on earth did he mean? "Trying to make me jealous? Why would you try to do that?" She saw immediately that this was the worst thing she could have asked him. "Because," he said, so bitterly that it shocked her, "I've been in love with you for ten years, so I thought it seemed like the time to find out whether you felt the same about me. Which, I guess you don't.

This was a voice that drew out memories stretched thin by years of recollection, like paper unfolded and refolded too many times. A voice that brought back, like a wave, the memory of another time on this bridge, a night so long ago, everything black and silver and the river rushing away under her feet.

The witchlight made his skin paler, his eyes more intently blue. They were the color of the water in the North Atlantic, where the ice drifted on its blue-black surface like the snow clinging to the dark glass pane of a window.

At least Kyle wasn't home. That would be a hard one to explain to his new roomate. Nobody liked a guy who kept blood in the fridge.

She closed her hands around his and shut her eyes, imagining their bed cut free of this strange prison, floating through space or on the surface of the ocean, just the two of them alone.

Baby?" She perched beside him in the chair. "You're kidding me right?" "I was trying it out, no?" "no," she said firmly Simon & Clary