The Mortal Instruments (Book 1-3)

16. Midnight Confessions

In the half-light the big empty rooms they passed through on their way to the roof looked as deserted as stage sets, the white-draped furniture looming up out of the dimness like icebergs through fog.

When Jace opened the greenhouse door, the scent hit her, soft as the padded blow of a cat's paw: the rich dark smell of earth and the stronger, soapy scent of night-blooming flowers—moon-flowers, white angel's trumpet, four o'clocks, so many different plants that Daphne each knew by name.

Through the glass walls of the enclosure she could see the lights of Manhattan burning like cold jewels. "It's so beautiful here at night," Daphne admitted. "I've missed coming here."

"I'll never understand why Hodge got so mad the last time he caught us," Jace grumbled.

"As if the two of us needed to worry about the poisons up here," she agreed. "We didn't always sleep through those herbology lessons. And even if we did accidentally brush up against the wrong plant, it's not like it would've killed us."

"Or maybe it would've," considered Jace. "But that's part of the garden's delight, isn't it?"

Daphne smiled as they sat down on one of the benches. This was Jace's favorite spot in the whole Institute, she knew. She'd known ever since he showed it to her when they were eleven, two tiny, young Nephilim sneaking up past the Institute's strict adults, giggling and whispering between each another.

Jace took a napkin-wrapped package out of the bag he'd been carrying and offered half to her. "Cheese sandwich?" He raised a brow.

"How fancy of you," she took it with a laugh. 

"Oh, just wait," Jace purred. "I've got more."

Out of the paper bag he grabbed from the kitchen, he drew some apples, a bar of fruit, a chocolate bar, and a bottle of water.  Daphne laughed some more, holding onto her sides. "You sure know how to properly romance a girl," she teased once she was able to semi-compose herself.

"You know it," he winked. "Only the best for my dearest partner."

"Keep trying like this and you'll have me in your bed in no time," Daphne leered.

"Well, there's plenty more apples where that came from." Jace wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Daphne burst into laughter.

"You're ridiculous," she chortled, accepting the cheese sandwich he'd placed on a napkin between them.

"Ridiculously in love with you," Jace agreed. His eyes widened, and he snatched up the candy bar immediately when he recognized it. "I call the chocolate, though."

Daphne squinted her eyes. "I thought you were ridiculously in love with me," she accused. "Shouldn't I get the chocolate bar instead?" 

Jace shot her a look. "I'm not that in love with you."

Daphne made a sound of offense. Her parabatai grinned, the smug bastard. Whatever—she'd steal it from him later anyway; he hid the chocolate bar behind him, as though reading her mind.

(As if that would stop her, hah!)

She took a bite of the cheese sandwich in her napkin; it was warm and a little limp, but tasted fine. "Remember when we used to come up here as kids?" Jace mused, as he ate his own half. "We used to come up here every night."

"Just to watch the flowers bloom," Daphne agreed. "If only you hadn't gotten us caught by Hodge," she added, spitefully.

Jace reeled around, plainly affronted. "I got us caught?" He demanded. "You were the one who pushed me! I never would've fallen and made so much noise if you hadn't shoved me like the traitorous turncoat you are."