Lena Torres had never felt more alive than when Jace Wilder touched her.
They were tangled in his bed, the sheets a mess, the world outside forgotten. His hands were fire and thunder, her skin humming with every trail he traced. Clothes had come off in whispers—her hoodie pulled over her head, his shirt thrown to the floor like it never mattered. And maybe it never did.
All that mattered was this.
The breathless way he said her name.
The ache in her chest when he looked at her like she was the only truth he knew.
She moved above him, their bodies finding a rhythm that felt like gravity giving in. His fingers dug into her waist, pulling her closer, grounding her in the moment. Their lips met again—fierce, hungry, desperate. This wasn't a quiet kind of love. It burned.
"I love you," Jace whispered, voice hoarse, eyes locked to hers like he was saying it for the last time.
Lena swallowed hard. "Say it again."
"I love you."
She kissed him like it was a promise. Like it meant forever.
But they both knew better.
Because love like theirs came with conditions. Secrets. A time limit.
When it was over, they lay there in silence, Lena's head on his chest, his fingers absentmindedly tracing letters on her back.
"What are you writing?" she asked, eyes half closed.
"Just... remembering," he said.
A beat passed.
"Promise me something?" she said.
"Anything."
"When everything goes wrong—don't lie to me."
He kissed her forehead. "Never."
But he already had.
The sound of distant laughter filtered through the cracked window, along with the faint echo of sneakers squeaking on the courtyard pavement. East Haven Academy was quiet this late—curfew was in twenty minutes—but rules never really meant much when you were good at breaking them.
Lena lay still, her fingers tangled in Jace's. He always held her like he was scared she'd disappear.
"Think your roommate's gonna walk in again?" she asked with a smirk.
Jace rolled his eyes. "Jovic knows better by now."
Just as he said it, there was a loud knock-knock-knock on the door. Then:
"Wrap it up, Romeo! Coach'll kill us if we're late to morning drills again," Jovic called through the door, his Serbian accent thick but teasing.
Jace groaned. "Speak of the devil."
Lena chuckled and rolled off the bed, grabbing her sweater from the floor. "You better go before he starts threatening you in three languages again."
"You love it when I get yelled at."
She kissed him quickly. "I love you when you don't make me late to night study group."
As Jace pulled on his hoodie and opened the door, Jovic leaned against the frame, tall and broad-shouldered, a permanent smirk playing on his face.
"Torres," he greeted Lena. "You're glowing. Dangerous."
"Jovic," she said sweetly. "You still here pretending to be a point guard?"
He clutched his chest in mock pain. "Why does no one respect my game?"
"Because you're all fouls and no follow-through."
Jace laughed and clapped him on the back. "She's not wrong."
The two boys disappeared down the hallway, shoving each other like brothers. Lena watched them go, heart warm—and slightly uneasy. Something in Jace's eyes tonight had lingered too long. Like he knew something she didn't.
Lena headed back to her own dorm, where Katelyn was lying on her stomach with a face mask on, half-asleep on top of a pile of psych textbooks.
"You're late," Katelyn mumbled without looking.
"You're nosy," Lena replied, flopping onto the bed beside her.
"I'm your roommate. It's my job."
Lena smiled, pulling her pillow close. "It was good. He was... real, tonight."
Katelyn turned her head, one eye open. "Real like 'sensitive artist Jace' or 'I think I saw him sneaking out of Coach's office again' real?"
"Shut up."
But something in Lena's voice cracked, just a little. Katelyn noticed. She always did.
"You love him too much, you know," she said softly.
Lena didn't respond.
Because love wasn't the problem.
The truth was.