Chapter 12

We stayed by the creek for another hour last night, and during that time, we talked. Well, I talked and Jace listened. I talked about my brother in ways I hadn't since… ever. It's a shame, really, because when Harley was alive, the last thing I wanted to do was talk about him. Everyone around me did it enough that anything I could add to the conversation just seemed pointless. But those people—the ones in the past—they spoke of him as an athlete. They talked about his achievements as if state records or scoreboards or stats made him a good person.

They didn't.

And yet, Harley was the best person I'd ever known. And I wish, more than anything, that I got the chance to tell him that before his broken heart did the same to all the hearts around him.

Jace stayed silent, but I knew he was listening. He held my hand, our fingers linked, and when the pain of my grief became overwhelming, he squeezed just enough to let me know he was right there beside me.

It was everything I needed, exactly when I needed it.

And then he drove me home, waited until I was inside, and drove away.

Now, it's the next morning, and I'm sitting on my porch steps, constantly checking the time on my phone so I'm not late for school. He didn't say that he'd pick me up, but one would assume, right? I tried looking for his van from my bedroom window, but I couldn't see it, and now that I think about it, I rarely see it there.

After waiting long enough, I get on my bike and ride over to his house.

His van is nowhere to be seen.

It really shouldn't surprise me, but it does.

And it sure as hell shouldn't disappoint me, but again… it does.

I guess the one upside to attending a school as small as Knox Heights is that it's impossible not to find someone. Or run into them. Which is exactly what happened when I entered the classroom this morning. I ran straight into a solid brick wall, also known as Jace Rivera. His hand settled on my elbow to help keep me upright. "You good?" he murmured.

My heart faltered a beat, because what? Was what happened between us last night a fever-dream?

I stared at him, trying to make sense of his words and the way his eyes held the same emptiness from the first night I met him. But, before I could speak, he released me and walked back to his solitary fortitude in the back of the room like the lonely little loner he was.

I almost followed him, but thankfully, I left that version of crazy back in Dallas.

Or so I thought.

Because the more time that passes, the more confused I get, and that confusion takes over all other emotions, until I feel like I'm drowning in it.

It's not as if the boy had his way with me, then discarded me. That, I could possibly handle—which, unfortunately, says a lot about me. But, if anything, I used him. I should be the one embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

By the time lunch rolls around, I'm so deep in my confusion I can't even force myself to be present for the conversation between Sammy and Jeannie. Instead, I glare at the boy I spent most of the night thinking about, all while he messes around on his phone, completely oblivious to what's going on around him. Suddenly, Jace pockets his phone, pushes his tray of food away, and stands up.

I find myself standing too, unsure of exactly what I plan to do. It's not until I've followed him out into the courtyard that I find my voice, call out his name. He turns swiftly, his eyes on mine for only a split second before they shift again—over my head, beside me, at my feet, anywhere but on me—you know, the usual. I keep my eye roll in check and step up to him. "I waited for you this morning."

His nose scrunches, almost as if he's irritated that I exist and that I'm talking to him. "Waited for what?"

He can't be serious. "A ride."

"To school?"

"No, to the planet formally known as Pluto."

He shakes his head. "I never agreed to that."

"But I?—"

"Look," he interrupts. "About last night…" And here we go… "I think we may have gotten our wires crossed."

"You were the one who kissed me," I retort, pulling back an inch. "You were the one who asked me if we were still faking it."

"I know," he says, hands out in front of him as if trying to keep me calm. I am calm. "And I shouldn't have kissed you like that or told you it was real, because it's not. Or, at least, it can't be."

I stare at him, unblinking, refusing to show my true emotions.

"I crossed a line," he adds after a beat. "Faking it is all I can give you right now."

"Right." I drop my gaze and nod slowly, mad at myself for not being able to see this coming. "Well, can you fake give me a ride home? It's a thousand degrees out, and I'm sick of my legs sticking to the shitty leather on the bus."

"No."

"No?"

He heaves out a sigh, so done with my presence. "If I do this once, you're going to expect it always and I don't want to be responsible for that."

"Wow…"

"Or for you."

"Holy shit," I mumble.

He shrugs. "What if I'm sick and I don't tell you and you're late to school and you miss out on a test or something? Or what if you're sick and you don't tell me, and I'm late to practice? Or worse—a game."

"See, they invented these things called phones. You know, that thing that you were just on, and you can do things like text and call on those?—"

"Your friends are watching."

I puff out a breath, frustrated, and cross my arms. "And?"

"Should I kiss you or something?" This boy is delusional.

"No." I drop my hands to my sides and step closer. So close I can feel the heat radiating off him. Then I settle my palm on his chest, feel his pulse beat heavily beneath my flesh, before rising to my toes so my mouth is almost to his ear. A smile tugs on my lips when I whisper, "But, you know what you should do?"

His exhale is shaky, inhale the same. "What?"

"Go fuck yourself."