Chapter 8 LINES REWRITTEN

Zara hadn't planned on seeing him today.

She had planned to go to class, pick up Thai takeout on her way back, and bury herself in notes until the inevitable panic attack that preceded every midterm.

But plans never held up when Jace was involved.

He texted her while she was halfway through her pad thai.

Jace: Need help. Come to the studio?

Zara: Art or life emergency?

Jace: Architecture. But also life.

Jace: Please? I'll feed you.

It was the "please" that did her in. It always was.

So now she stood in the back room of the campus architecture studio, surrounded by sketches and foam board towers, watching Jace wrestle with a model that clearly hated him.

He looked like a walking sin-white t-shirt rolled at the sleeves, black joggers sitting low on his hips, jaw tense in that way that made Zara forget how to spell.

"You said help," she said, arms crossed. "Not 'watch me get into a fist fight with cardboard.'"

Jace glanced up, a pencil between his lips. "This is part of the process."

"Destruction?"

"Controlled chaos."

She snorted. "You're so dramatic."

"You love it," he shot back, smirking.

Zara rolled her eyes, trying not to let her gaze linger too long on the curve of his biceps as he leaned over the desk. He was too close, too casual, too him. And she hated how easily her body responded to it.

"You're staring," he said without looking up.

"I am not."

"You are. It's okay. I'm hot."

"Wow. Humble too."

He straightened, wiping his hands on a towel and walking toward her slowly, that signature Jace swagger in full effect.

Zara tensed. "Don't come any closer."

"Why?"

"Because you look like that and I'm already annoyed."

His grin widened. "You missed me."

"Nope."

"Liar."

He stopped right in front of her, their bodies close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Tell me something," he said, eyes fixed on hers.

Zara raised a brow. "What?"

"If I kissed you right now... would you stop me?"

Her breath caught.

She should have said yes.

Should've shoved him back, rolled her eyes, pretended this wasn't driving her mad. But her body gave her away. Her chest rose a little faster. Her lips parted. Her fingers twitched like they wanted to grab his shirt.

"I..." she whispered.

Jace leaned closer, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. "You're not saying no."

She shivered.

Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back.

Zara blinked. "What-?"

"I'm giving you space," he said with a wink, already walking back to his model. "Like you asked."

"Asshole," she muttered, flustered.

"You love me."

The words hit her differently this time.

She didn't answer.

⸻

She ended up staying for three hours.

She helped him sketch out elevations, passed him tools, threw chips at his head when he made bad puns. They bickered, laughed, touched-accidentally but too often for it to be innocent.

At one point, she leaned over his shoulder to reach a ruler, and he looked up-mouth grazing her collarbone, just barely.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them apologized.

The room buzzed with everything unsaid.

⸻

It was dark when they left. He offered to walk her home, and she didn't say no.

The walk was quiet. Close. Their fingers brushed once, then again. Finally, they linked. No words. Just the steady press of skin to skin.

At her door, Zara turned to him.

"Thanks," she said softly.

"For what?"

"For today. For... not pushing."

Jace's hand slid along her jaw, featherlight. "I don't need to push. You'll come to me when you're ready."

She nodded. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned forward-just a little-and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

It wasn't flirty. It wasn't teasing.

It was real.

He closed his eyes like that one soft kiss ruined him.

And when she stepped inside, her heart was beating like it finally knew what it wanted.

⸻

Later that night, Zara lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The kiss wasn't a big moment. But it felt big. Like a line had been redrawn-no longer between friends and lovers, but something far more dangerous:

When, not if.

And she was so scared. But even more than that-she was ready.