Chapter 2 JUST FRIENDS

The hallway leading to Zara's apartment was dim, lit only by the flickering overhead lights that buzzed softly above them. The silence between her and Jace wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't light either. It pressed in-thick with unspoken things.

Zara glanced over at him as they walked. He was quiet, more than usual. His hands were stuffed in his hoodie pocket, his steps matching hers like second nature.

"You okay over there, Mr. Broody?" she asked, breaking the silence.

He looked down at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I'm always broody. It's part of my charm."

"Yeah, okay. You and your tragic eyebrows."

He laughed, a short huff through his nose, and Zara felt something inside her unclench. That was the thing with Jace-he could ground her with one sound, one smirk, one look. She hated how much she depended on that.

They reached her door, and she fumbled for her keys, suddenly overly aware of how close he was behind her. She could feel the heat of his body at her back. When she pushed open the door, the familiar smell of vanilla candles and jasmine hit them both.

Home.

Zara stepped inside and turned to face him. "You coming in or what?"

He hesitated just long enough to make her heartbeat tick up before nodding. "Yeah. For a bit."

Zara tried not to read into it. Tried not to notice how his gaze scanned the room like it always did-habitually, protectively. He set the pizza box on the kitchen counter while she flopped onto the couch with a groan.

"Ugh. I have three papers due next week. And my group partner for ethics is basically a hologram."

Jace raised a brow. "Want me to fight him?"

"Honestly? Yes. Or at least intimidate him with your bone structure."

"I am very intimidating," he said, straight-faced, then cracked a grin when she threw a pillow at him.

He sat down beside her and, for a second, everything was just...normal again. Their usual rhythm. But Zara felt that tension again-just beneath her skin. The way he leaned back into the couch, legs spread, arm resting on the back cushion behind her shoulders. He was too close. Or maybe she was too aware.

She hated that her brain noticed this kind of stuff now. The way his voice dropped when he was tired. The way his fingers tapped against his thigh when he was holding something back. The way his scent-woodsy, clean, unmistakably him-clung to the fabric of her couch after he left.

She hated it because it was easier when they were just best friends.

"What's going on with your mom?" he asked suddenly.

Zara stiffened.

She didn't look at him. Instead, she reached for the remote, flicked on some low-volume sitcom rerun as background noise. "Same old stuff. She wants me to come home for the weekend."

"You going?"

She shrugged. "Don't know."

Jace was quiet for a beat. Then: "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. You know that, right?"

Zara finally looked at him. His eyes were soft, steady. She swallowed hard.

"I know," she said, voice quieter than she meant it to be.

Her mom had always been...complicated. Overworked. Stressed. Emotionally distant. Zara had spent more of her childhood being the adult than actually being a kid. It wasn't something she liked to talk about. Especially not with Jace. Not because she didn't trust him-God, she trusted him more than anyone-but because she didn't want to look weak in front of him.

Because sometimes, she was afraid he'd see through her.

"I'm just tired," she murmured, sinking further into the couch. "Tired of feeling like I'm responsible for everything. For everyone."

Jace didn't speak. He didn't need to. He just shifted closer and gently pulled her into his side, his arm curling around her shoulders like it belonged there.

And maybe it did.

Zara let herself lean into him, her cheek against his chest, eyes fluttering shut. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear. Warm. Real.

He always made her feel safe.

"You ever wish we could just...run away?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"All the time," Jace said instantly.

She smiled faintly. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere," he said. "A beach town with no cell service. Or a cabin in the mountains. Somewhere no one expects anything from us."

"No pressure. No family drama."

"No group projects," he added, making her laugh.

They stayed like that-pressed close, the glow from the TV painting soft shadows around them. Zara didn't know how long they sat there, wrapped in something tender and wordless. But when she blinked again, her lashes felt heavy and her limbs warm and limp.

"Zara," Jace said softly.

She stirred. "Mmh?"

"You're falling asleep on me."

"Shh," she murmured. "You're warm."

He chuckled under his breath but didn't move. His hand smoothed over her back slowly, fingers tracing soothing circles. Zara's body melted deeper into him, and somewhere in the haze of sleep, she thought: This feels like something.

But they were just friends.

Right?