“Jace. Don’t." She reached up and covered his hand with hers, folding his fingers into her own. "It’s pointless.”
”That’s not true." There was desperation in his voice. "If we both feel the same way—”
”It doesn’t matter what we feel. There’s nothing we can do." She heard her voice as if a stranger were speaking: remote, miserable. "Where would we go to be together? How could we live?”
”We could keep it a secret.”
"People would find out. And I don’t want to lie to my family, do you?"
His reply was bitter. “What family? The Lightwoods hate me anyway.”
"No, they don’t. And I could never tell Luke. And my mother, what if she woke up, what would we say to her? This, what we want, it would be sickening to everyone we care about—”
”Sickening?" He dropped his hands from her face as if she’d pushed him away. He sounded stunned. "What we feel—what I feel—it’s sickening to you?”
She caught her breath at the look on his face. “Maybe,” she said, in a whisper. “I don’t know.”
"Then you should have said that to begin with."
"Jace—"But he was gone from her, his expression shut and locked like a door. It was hard to believe he’d ever looked at her another way.
”I’m sorry I said anything, then." His voice was stiff, formal. "I won’t be kissing you again. You can count on that.”