Chapter 3 TOO LONG TOUCH

Zara didn't remember falling asleep.

One minute, Jace's chest had been rising beneath her cheek, his fingers tracing calm circles into her back. The next, her eyes were blinking open to the soft glow of the TV still playing reruns in the darkened room. The volume was low, the laugh track distant and hollow in the quiet.

She was still tucked into Jace's side. His arm was heavy around her shoulders, hand resting lightly on her hip. His body was warm, solid, familiar. Her legs were curled under her, practically draped over his lap, and his other hand-

Zara froze.

His other hand was resting on her thigh. Not high. Not in a sexual way. But... there.

And it wasn't moving.

Her breath caught in her throat.

It wasn't the touch itself. They'd always been physically close-casual hugs, arms slung over shoulders, shared beds during late-night study sessions or sleepovers after long parties. But this felt different.

This was still. Heavy. Charged.

And she wasn't sure he was asleep.

Zara tilted her head just slightly, enough to see the side of his face in the TV's dim glow.

Eyes closed. Mouth relaxed. His brows were a little furrowed, like he was dreaming about something that made his chest rise and fall deeper than usual.

She studied him for a second longer than she should have.

Jace Carter was not the boy she met three years ago. Not really. The soft edges had sharpened. His face was more defined now, his jawline tighter, the muscles in his arms more obvious when he wore fitted sleeves. Even the way he moved had changed-less clumsy, more confident.

And somewhere along the way, her brain had started noticing.

Zara shut her eyes again and willed herself to breathe. It's just Jace. Your best friend. Your safe place. Don't overthink it.

But her body was already betraying her-heart thudding too loud in her chest, stomach twisting with something she didn't want to name.

She slowly tried to move, to shift away without waking him, but the second she did, his arm tightened around her.

His voice was a soft rasp. "Where you goin', Z?"

Her pulse jumped. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," he murmured, voice still sleepy. "Just resting my eyes."

She paused, still half in his arms. "You should probably go. It's late."

He didn't move. "You kicking me out?"

"I'm preserving boundaries."

His lips twitched into a smirk. "What boundaries?"

Zara gave him a look, but her face was warm. Too warm.

"The ones where you don't sleep on top of me," she said, shifting to sit upright. "This couch isn't built for two full-grown adults."

"You calling me fat?"

"I'm calling you unnecessary."

That made him laugh, and the tension eased-barely. He stretched, arms over his head, shirt riding up just slightly to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. Zara looked away quickly and stood, heading toward the kitchen. Distance. She needed distance.

"You want water?" she asked, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard.

"Sure."

She handed him a glass as he joined her, his shoulder brushing hers as he reached for the cabinet to grab chips like he owned the place. Like he always did.

Jace leaned against the counter beside her, crunching into a chip, eyes on her like he was thinking too hard about something.

Zara sipped her water. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

He shrugged, crunching slower. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

"About how you looked peaceful, sleeping on me like that. Haven't seen you that relaxed in a while."

Zara blinked, caught off-guard by the gentleness in his voice. "You were watching me?"

"Not in a creepy way," he said quickly, holding up a hand. "You just... looked like you could finally breathe. I liked seeing you like that."

Her stomach flipped.

Jace could be flirty. He could be sweet. But sometimes-sometimes-he said things like that. Soft things. Real things. And they always hit her like a punch to the chest.

She turned away, setting her glass down. "Well, don't get used to it."

"Too late," he said under his breath.

The silence stretched again. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. Smell his cologne, that same clean, woodsy scent that always lingered in her space too long after he left.

And then-stupidly-she looked up.

Jace's gaze was already on her.

He wasn't smiling now. His expression was unreadable. Focused. Like he was weighing something, hesitating, holding himself back by the skin of his teeth.

Zara felt her breath stall in her throat.

This wasn't a friend look.

This was something else.

Something that made her pulse thrum behind her ears.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the counter.

He leaned forward slightly, and for one heart-stopping second, she thought he was going to kiss her.

Her entire body went still.

But he didn't.

He blinked, like snapping out of a trance, and stepped back just enough to break whatever invisible thread had started to pull tight between them.

"You should get some sleep," he said, voice a little rough.

Zara nodded, too fast. "Yeah. You too."

He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and paused at the door.

"Night, Z," he said, his voice soft again.

"Night, Jace."

She closed the door behind him, leaned her forehead against the wood, and exhaled slowly.

What the hell was happening to her?