Hey so I'm going to take over this story as Be The Crayon is unfortunately leaving FanFiction and I couldn't bear to let this story o unfinished. The first four chapters are completely the property and work of Be The Crayon and I will be continuing from there with my own work. If I start using slightly different words to Be The Crayon I'm sorry but I am British so if there is a word you don't really know just give me a buzz. Also could someone please tell me how old you are in each grade because I have no idea and it could prove useful to know how old Clary and Jace are at different points in the flashback, like I said, I'm British, sue me. Anyhow, enjoy, R&R and I hope you find my continuation as interesting as you found Be The Crayon's part.

Unscenced

By The Shore

Summary: Clary and Izzy have rented out a cottage every summer for the past two years. This year, they meet some new neighbours, one of whom Clary has a past with. As they reconnect with each other in the beautiful surroundings of Miami, they uncover life changing secrets from their past. But will these secrets bring them closer, or tear them apart... forever.

Chapter One: Stranded

"Love is like the ocean waves, it either has it high or low times and when it's high, it just drowns you all together."

Clary POV

It's funny. People seem to have these notions about the ocean, these thoughts or beliefs that all seem to relate. They say that the ocean is a magical place, that it provides wisdom and advice to whoever visits.

I can see how one may think this. Its glassy silver-blue waves hypnotise the visitor, distracting them from what lies beneath the surface. In fact, the moment that I stepped onto its hot sandy shore, I felt like I was a person stranded that had finally come home.

But the ocean hides things. Deep below its surface lie secrets that aren't meant to be discovered, secrets that are meant to hide from the world. Every once in a while, somebody stumbles across these long forgotten secrets, and they discover things about their past that could change their lives.

Forever.

I breathed deeply as I set foot on the gravel, my legs wobbly from long hours spent in the car. The air here smelled all salty and fresh, a far cry the chemical scent of New York.

Shutting the door silently, I made my way over to the trunk of my car, preparing to bear the heavy load of the bags that I knew were just waiting to be unpacked.

Just as I had popped the trunk, Izzy came round the corner, squealing in delight when she saw me.

"Clary!" She shouted, the force of her hug making me stumble backwards, "I'm so glad that you're finally here!" Around two years ago, Izzy and I's mom had decided to rent a cottage out for the summer. Eventually, they got tired of going and let us come up by ourselves. Ever since that one year, we had all but forced them to rent out the cottage for the following summers.

We usually only stayed for a couple of weeks, but since it was our last summer before university, we decided to stay there for the whole entire summer.

"My plane was late getting off the tarmac, and the traffic on the way up was absolutely horrible. Who knew that such a small town could be so crowded?" I replied, explaining my late arrival.

"Never mind how long the journey took, just be glad you're finally here." Izzy said, taking two of the four suitcases that I had brought. Grabbing the rest, I closed the trunk and hurried after her, wanting to get settled in as soon as possible.

The cottage itself was like something out of a fairy tale. It was small and delicate, white painted wood nestled in a patch of flowers of with a wide range of hues, varying from pale pink to an electric orange , with birds and bees buzzing everywhere. There was a stone path that lead to a set of long winding stairs that would eventually lead you down to the ocean.

What was great about this cottage though, was the fact that this section of the ocean was privately owned, so only the members of the neighbouring cottages were allowed down. It must have cost a hell of a lot of money on our parent's part, but it was my guess that they were quite happy with their investment.

I waited with wide eyes as Izzy pushed the door open with a creak and stepped inside, me right on her tail.

It was so exciting to be able to finally see the cottage again, and I surveyed the room contentedly as we passed the wide and airy living room, complete with a large window wall with gauzy white curtains looking out onto the bright blue ocean. I had painted that picture far too many times.

Peeking into the tiny kitchen, I saw that utensils were strewn everywhere, and an ominous burnt black blob was currently being used as a centrepiece. Having known Izzy for a better part of my life, I knew that it was probably one of her attempts at a "meal".

Not wanting to let Izzy get too far ahead, I dashed up three wooden steps that led you to a narrow hallway with four doors. Behind each door was a bedroom with a bathroom attached, two a bit larger than the others.

Izzy took one of the bigger bedrooms, but I had decided on the smaller one a while ago. The wide bay window allowed a view of the ocean, and when the sun set at night, it made a picturesque scene that was perfect for drawing.

Seeing that the door to my room was already open, I walked in to see Izzy collapsed on my bed, suitcases strewn haphazardly around the room. I threw mine down and collapsed right next to her, feeling like an actor from a movie about the values of friendship by the way we were positioned. Even if the said actors were huffing and puffing so much that it seemed as though we should have been smoke addicts blowing smoke rings into the sky.

"I really need to start exercising if I'm getting worn out by a couple of suitcases." Izzy commented, her breathing laboured and harsh.

I agreed with a shake of my head, promising myself that I would go swimming every day while here.

A few moments passed before I asked Izzy the question that had been on my mind for a while.

"So, are we going to go visit Mrs. Willard and her husband before I start to unpack?"

We had first met the Willard's down at the beach our first summer. They had been extremely friendly, and we had bonded immediately. They were both old, but were very active physically. Not in a sexual way of course, they were old enough to be my grandparents, but in the sort of sports aspect. You would often find them doing laps in the ocean, and heading out for their daily jog at around six every morning.

Overall, I was looking very forward to be seeing them again.

"Actually, the Willard's aren't there anymore. I went to go say hi before you came, but this blonde guy and his two friends answered the door instead. He said something about being their nephew." She said, not sounding upset at all.

I, on the other hand, couldn't believe it. Mr and Mrs. Willard weren't there anymore? I felt a flash of sadness for my old friends, but my mood lightened considerably when a certain thought struck me.

"How old are they?" I asked, trying to sound casual but failing like a total nerd. I had never been known for my acting skills.

Izzy smirked knowingly at me before answering my question.

"They're about one year older than us, and they're all totally hot!" She gushed, excitement immediately seeping into her voice. "There's this one, and he has dark straight hair and glasses, and he must be the hottest guy that I've ever seen!" She nearly screamed, sitting up on the bed and bouncing excitedly.

"Well," I started, sitting up as well, "seeing as we're their new neighbours and all, it would only be appropriate if I got to greet them properly." I said, grinning mischievously.

"Of course, and it wouldn't be at all strange if I came in my bikini, seeing as it is a beach and all." Izzy responded, a glint of mischief in her eyes. We both laughed at our devious minds, and Izzy flounced off to her room to find a, no doubt, extremely scanty bikini that would make any sensible boy go crazy.

Poor guy, I thought bemusedly, he doesn't stand a chance against Izzy and wrath.

With those thoughts propelling me into action, I set off to find my own clothes, wanting to make a good first impression on these boys.

I ended up deciding on a pair of short blue boy shorts, and a white tank top that hugged my body nicely. I slipped on a pair of lime green flip flops, and headed to the porch swing while I waited for Izzy.

Plopping down on it, I realized how lucky I was to actually be here, and not in some run down MC Donald's taking peoples orders for a way to earn money for college. No, I was all set with a fully paid scholarship to my dream University, one that specialized in the arts. I knew that my artistic skills would soar to new heights under the watchful gazes of the highly trained Professors. And to top it off, I got to spend my summer where the air smelled of lilac and salt, and the warm breeze blew my hair in such a way that it almost felt comforting, all when I stared out over the ocean.

It was around midday, so the sun was shining bright and hot against the pale blue sky. I sat like that for a little while before Izzy came out, dressed in jean shorts and a silvery bikini top.

I laughed at her determined expression, and we started along the dirt path that led to our neighbour's cottage.

Their cottage was very similar to ours, the only difference being that it was a pale green colour, and that they had a palm tree beside their house, a few brown coconuts nestled up high in the tree's boughs.

We marched confidently up to the door, and waited patiently as Izzy knocked on the door.

The guy who answered had ice blue eyes and dark straight hair, but he had no glasses, so I knew immediately that this wasn't the guy that Izzy liked.

He leaned against the door frame casually and blew a strand of hair out of his face, looking bored.

"You again." He said quietly, staring at Izzy. "And you brought a friend this time." His eyes raked over me and I blushed, looking off into the distance.

"We just wanted a chance to formally introduce ourselves. The last time we met it was really awkward." He said nothing, but you could tell that we had his attention, so Izzy started to speak again.

"Okay, well, I'm Isabelle, and this is my friend, Clary." I waved and smiled at him, receiving a small smile in return.

He looked like he was about to say something, but was interrupted by a loud voice echoing through the cottage.

"Alec, who's at the door!" Someone shouted, his voice eventually getting louder as he approached.

When he arrived, I saw that his friend was at his side, his dark hair and glasses partially covering the blonde boy's face.

"They're our neighbours. They just came here so they could properly introduce themselves." The boy said, looking at the blonde with an emotion that I couldn't place. I decided to forget about it, and waited to be introduced.

"Jace, Simon, this is Isabelle," he said, gesturing over at Isabelle, "and that red head over there is Clary." My jaw dropped a little at the name Jace, but I quickly dismissed the thought. It couldn't be the Jace I was thinking about, I hadn't seen him for years.

But when the dark haired boy moved out of the way, absolute astonishment graced my features as I realized who I was staring at. He still had those same tawny eyes, that same sarcastic smirk, and that same golden hair that curled against his ears.

"Clary?" he asked in disbelief, the smirk vanishing when he got a closer look at me. "Is that really you?" He asked, peering closer at me.

"The one and only." I smiled, wrapping my arms around his body in a bold gesture, surprising even myself. I pulled back a little to stare into his eyes. "Long time no see."

A/N So, love it, hate it? I got this idea from a dream. And I have a very basic outline of where it might go. Don't be afraid to tell me how you feel, but just don't flame. It really serves no purpose.

Just a little note about Back to New York; I don't think that I'm going to be updating as often. The lack of reviews is kind of discouraging, so I'm starting to lose interest. I'll still finish the story, but updates are gonna come slower unless I start getting more requests.

LOVE YOU ALL!

xoxoxo Be the Crayon