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I glared at him over my shoulder but was only met by his happy smile, so I stuck my middle finger up at him. He responded with another chuckle as I opened the door and stormed from his room.

“I’ll be in here waiting,” he called before I slammed the door shut behind me. So much for my April Fools’ revenge.

I felt even more embarrassed than I had when Aiden pranked me earlier. He’d reacted like he’d enjoyed my prank more than anything, and I felt like a total fool. I’d been an idiot to think I could outsmart our school’s biggest flirt and play him at his own game. I couldn’t understand why I thought it was a good idea in the first place.

I tore Aiden’s jersey from my shoulders as I entered my room and threw it back down on the weight bench where I’d found it. It landed in a scrunched ball, and I glared at the shirt. There wasn’t anyone else who irritated me as much as Aiden, and I was frustrated he wasn’t even slightly annoyed by me in return.

Seriously, did he really feel nothing in there? I despised the guy, but even I’d been confused by the flicker of attraction that had sparked when our lips nearly brushed. It had been a moment of insanity though, and I wanted to forget it ever happened. I didn’t want to recall how nice he’d smelled or how his body had felt beneath mine. I didn’t want to think about how my heart had been beating so quickly or how I’d been tempted to kiss him. Even now, a part of me wondered if it was really such a bad idea.

“Stop it, Clary,” I muttered to myself.No more thoughts of Aiden.

As I started to put on my pajamas, I couldn’t help but remember the way he’d looked at me when we came so close to kissing. His gaze and been tender, and he’d looked at me like I was the only girl in the world. I also couldn’t seem to shake the hint of hurt that had been in Aiden’s eyes when I rejected him. His smiled was a little too bright and slightly forced when he’d laughed the prank off, and a flare of guilt rushed through me at the thought.

There was no way Aiden was upset by my prank. Right?

11

Clary

“Morning, Clary,” Aiden said, as I walked out of my bedroom. He was lounging against his own doorway, his arms folded across his chest like he’d been waiting for me.

He seemed to have lost the shirt he’d been wearing last night, and I had to remember to look at his eyes rather than his bare muscles. It was far more challenging than I was willing to admit, especially since I’d felt how firm they were when I was in his room last night. I tried to push the memory from my mind.

Look at his face. Look at his face.

Zoey would be very disappointed if she knew I was wasting such a view.

“Morning.” I tightly smiled in reply and started toward the stairs. It was easier to avoid looking at Aiden’s body if we weren’t in the same room. I also wanted to avoid eye contact with him after my disastrous attempt at pranking him last night. It had taken me ages to get to sleep afterward. I couldn’t stop replaying the whole ordeal in my head, and my stupid heart had refused to quit fluttering.

I should have just gone with something simple like drawing a pair of devil horns on his forehead with permanent marker or something. Knowing Aiden though, he’d have somehow found a way to work those horns to his advantage.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“The kitchen.”

“Mind if I follow?”

I frowned. “Uh, sure.”

“Because my parents always told me to follow my dreams.”

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. I quickly restrained it though and tried to look unimpressed. “That’s really the best pickup line you’ve got this morning?”

He shrugged but smiled brightly at me. When he smiled that way, it was easy to forget he was such a player. His expression was genuine and natural—not what you’d expect from the playboy of Harford High.

He started to respond, but my phone began to ring in my pocket. I whipped it out before he could say another word, relieved to see my mom’s picture flashing across the screen.

“Finally,” I said as I answered the phone. “You guys didn’t call me back yesterday.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” I was surprised to hear my dad’s voice on the other end of the line rather than my mom’s. “We were trying to sort things out and didn’t want to worry you until we knew for sure what was happening.”

“What do you mean, worry?” My stomach dropped and twisted at the same time.

Dad drew in a long breath. “We’ve tried everything we can to get out of here, but we’ve finally run out of options. Our last attempt fell through this morning, and it looks like we’re going to have to stay put until the restrictions are lifted.”

It felt like the air had been stolen from my lungs. I took a step back against the wall and then sank down onto the carpeted floor. “You guys can’t get home?” The words were whispered, as though saying them too loud would make them more true.

“We can’t get home,” Dad confirmed. “Not yet.”