I walk into the small floral shop on main, unsure what exactly my intentions are. My parents- though obscenely wealthy- have made it their goal to force me out into the world, so they say, by making me get a summer job. My siblings have never had any issues fitting in or doing as they're told. 

Izzy is strong and fierce with a strict obsession with fashion. This allows her to fit in and bond with my mother, so much like Izzy yet so different. Izzy stands out in a crowd, her thick hair wild, framing her dark, alluring eyes. She stands with security in herself- something I've never been able to do. 

Jace resembles sunlight. Or spring, in general, the feeling of warmth and brightness surrounding him. He smiles welcomingly, all gleaming teeth and perfect lips, his eyes shimmering like sunbeams on a lake. His exudes confidence, his boldness charming and allowing him to get whatever he wants. 

My youngest brother, Max, is troublesome in a way that our parents see as endearing. He makes everyone laugh with his little antics, his bright eyes always glinting mischievously no matter what. 

So, as you can see, Izzy and Jace had little qualms about finding a summer job. In fact, they were ecstatic. Our family doesn't need the extra money, but our parents were appalled at the idea of the 3 of us lounging around doing nothing all summer. Izzy already got on at a high-end fashion boutique, her dream place to be, Jace working long days out in the sun at our father's Yacht club, cleaning boats and in the down time, suntanning on the hot sand. I, on the other hand, am struggling immensely. I don't fit in at all, I'm the one dull one in a family of brightness, the only one who doesn't have a way of making all eyes flicker to me. It's not that I mind, really, I prefer being on my own. This life is full of people who place far too much importance on materials and outward appearances, severely bereft of anything that matters. I'd much rather be quiet and alone than spend my time with people who are so shallow and vain it's ridiculous. 

The shop has a soft atmosphere, brightness exuding from every corner in the form of bright pink roses or yellow carnations, bouquets surrounding every inch of free space. The lady behind the counter looks up as the bell hanging above the door announces my entrance. Her hair is blonde, tied back into a ponytail. Her eyes are vibrant, a bright blue that nearly rivals the forget me nots in her hand. She's short, much shorter than I am, but she smiles at me fearlessly, carefully setting down the flowers on the dark wood counter in front of her. 

"Hello! My name's Lydia, can I help you with anything today?" She chimes, her voice like silver. My social anxiety bubbles up my throat and I swallow thickly before answering. 

"Uhm, hey, my name's Alexander. I was just hoping to drop a resume off with you," I walk towards the counter, holding the file out in front of me. Lydia smiles again, and I can tell she's the type of person that's pretty without trying. I like that in people. Effortless. Simple. 

"Great! I'll make sure the boss gets it. We should be hiring for the summer, so you're right on time!" I smile a bit at her, stuffing my hands in my pockets. 

"Cool, thank you," I reply awkwardly, leaning back on my heels a bit. She nods and I turn, making my way back out onto the busy street. People in suits with briefcases in hand rush around me, on their way to important meetings or something along those lines. I manoeuvre my way through the thicket of people, ignoring the hot New York sun that beats down on me. I could've taken a car, sure, or even called for a driver if I wanted to be that pretentious, but I prefer to walk. I also could've dropped my last name to Lydia and watched her make the phone call that would get me the job on the spot, but I hate the fact that I have that at my disposal. You see, my family is known to be wealthy, admired, beautiful people. And it's because of them I have no idea what the hell beauty is. 

A few days pass, my parents pestering me about job applications and I hope more than anything that the small shop will call me back. As I make my way downstairs on the first Monday of summer break, my cell phone rings. I lean against the bannister of the staircase, fishing my phone out of my jeans pocket and answering it. 

"Hello, this is Alexander,"

"Hey, my name is Adley Bane, I own Bloom, I was just calling to inform you that you got the job." I smile despite myself before answering. 

"That's great, thank you so much!" She laughs lightly over the line. 

"So are you good to start tomorrow? Say, 8? My son, Magnus will be training you." 

"That's sounds perfect, thanks again." I hang up, making my way into the kitchen to find my family seated around the dining table, pancakes on a platter in the centre, a bowl of fruit salad beside it, pitchers of water and juice spread out on the white table cloth. 

"Good morning, Alexander," my mother greets. Everything about my family is formal. I nod and take my seat. 

"Good morning, I have good news," I begin, piling a bit fruit salad on my plate. My father looks up from his newspaper to show me he's listening. 

"I got a job at Bloom, the floral shop on main street." My mother smiles, a tight-lipped mockery of a genuine smile, but my father actually grins.  

"That's great, Alec! When do you start?" I pile a couple of pancakes on my plate before spearing a strawberry. 

"Tomorrow at 8 am." 

"I'll leave the keys to one of the cars here for you," my father promises. I nod in thanks and let other conversation fill up the silence, not really paying much attention. Izzy carries on about some fashion line coming out this summer, Jace rolling his eyes but listening nonetheless. I focus on the food in front of me, feeling as out of place as I always do in my own home, sitting in the shadows while everyone else soaks up the light. 

Upon entering the shop, I see a boy about my age with spiked up hair and daring golden eyes. When he turns his head to look at me, something sparkles in his hair, glitter, I assume. His outfit consists of black skinny jeans and a maroon v-neck tee, chains hanging from his jeans, hitting him at the knees. His boots are brown, shiny, with a slight heel. When I meet his gaze, I notice the thin eyeliner surrounding his eyes. He's the unconventional type of pretty, the type often overlooked. He's something that, if I understood what beauty was, I might dare to call beautiful. But I don't. 

"Hey, you must be Alexander, my name's Magnus." He stretches his hand out across the counter towards me. I step forward, shaking it firmly in my own. He grins, so open and welcoming it almost catches me off guard. 

"You have the most wonderful eyes, Alexander." He comments nonchalantly. I feel the heat rising in my cheeks, so I lean down, coughing awkwardly into my hand. 

"Uh, thank you?" It comes out sounding more like a question than I intended, but Magnus just smiles. 

"Yeah, no problem. Are you always so shy?" And there he goes again, saying things to catch me off guard. "I mean, not that it's a bad thing, you just seem really uptight." He continues, not helping his case at all. 

"No, I just don't... I-"

"And you get all flustered. How adorable." He smirks, cocking his head coyly to the side. I feel unfamiliar rage burn inside me. It makes me do the unthinkable, say the one thing I swore I'd never say. 

"Don't you know who I am?" My voice is brimming with anger I try to bury, a little more fierce than I'd like. 

"Oh, I know who you are, Alexander. You're a Lightwood. All high and mighty-"

"If you really understood you wouldn't be talking to me like this. It's really disrespectful." I cross my arms defiantly in front of me, making it clear I'm not a fan of his attitude. Magnus rolls his eyes, leaning lazily on the counter. 

"I don't care about your name or where you come from. We're all just people, are we not? It doesn't matter to me that you're a Lightwood. You're just Alexander here. And I'm going to train you, got it?" I find myself more flustered than angry, unable to form words behind my confused expression, furrowing my brows together. 

"Great," he continues when I don't speak, clapping his hands together. "We open in an hour, so I suggest you learn how to use a till." 

Magnus shows me the ropes, gives me a cheat sheet to look off of in case I get confused. By the time I'm sure I can run the till we still have half an hour before opening. 

"Come on, my mother said I should show you how to wrap some bouquets if we had time." I nod and follow him, staying quiet, fearing we'll get into another argument I won't win. 

"So, I like to pair colours that create a bit of contrast, healthy contrast, that is. You want the bouquet to catch someone's eye." He looks at the vases around him. We're in a crowded back room, the shop still within our view through the doorway behind the till. His long fingers graze over a few flowers before settling on a white and purple orchid. He surrounds the flower with baby's breath and sprigs of greenery as he sets it down on the brown paper in front of him. Magnus doesn't speak while he works, his mind caught up in what his hands are doing, grabbing at some purple roses and forget me not's, incorporating them effortlessly into his arrangement. By the time he's finished, the bouquet is full of green, purple, white and blue, the colours melding together well, yet standing out all the same. He attaches a small container of water to the bottoms of the flowers, making sure it doesn't leak out.

"Now, you wrap it like this," he instructs, folding one end of the paper around it and tucking the tail up before rolling it all together and tying it with twine. "And there you go. Ready to sell." He grins at me. I smile back and nod, looking down at the pretty flowers. He shows me how to price them, another cheat sheet lying there for me. When he glances at the watch on his left wrist, he nods. 

"Okay, come on, we'll open up now." He guides me back into the store, flipping the sign and unlocking the door before perching on one of the two stools behind the counter. 

"So, in the meantime, you can take this watering can," he produces one from underneath the desk, "fill it up in the back room and water the flowers around the store." I nod, taking it from him and doing as I'm told, taking my time. Soon, customers flow in steadily. Magnus makes effortless small talk while I fiddle around the room, trying to look busy while staying out of the way. I don't do small talk. I don't do much talk, in general. Magnus seems to notice my discomfort, never asking me to interact with the customers. When the shops empties out for a moment, he makes his way around the counter and walks over to where I'm pruning a potted plant. 

"You don't like people much, do you?" He doesn't sugar coat anything, blunt and straight to the point. 

"I just am not really a people person," I reply shortly. Magnus nods and picks a dead bud off of a potted rose. 

"I get that. You'll come around, people who come in here are just looking for beauty to brighten their day." I nod and furrow my brows a bit. Magnus studies me for a moment before speaking again. "You're pretty beautiful yourself, Alexander," I feel heat flush my cheeks as I turn to him. 

"I wouldn't know it even if that were true."