44. Kieran
KIERAN
Producer: “Since you won’t give us any details on how you two already know each other, what’s your favorite thing about Jace that you knew from before the show?”
Kieran: Don’t say his ass from all the catcher’s squatting. “Um, he’s always been very passionate.”
Jace seems like a completely different person than he was in high school. More like the person he was when we were in the woods together, except even more genuine and more comfortably himself.
But I remind myself that I told him to act, and just like back when we were eighteen, he’s nailing it.
He’s been all over me today.
Every time I sat down, he was there. Reaching for my hand while filming, asking me to cuddle on the couch, thigh pressed against mine while we were eating dinner.
All. Damn. Day. And the worst part? I couldn’t call him out on it because the cameras were always rolling, and we’d already been warned not to hole up in the bedroom or they’d put cameras in there too.
I forced myself to play nice and pretend it didn’t irritate the hell out of me, mostly because if it was anyone else…
I think I would love it. But it’s Jace. I can’t forget that.
By the time he wrapped himself around me while I was cleaning up dinner, I was wound so tight I could barely see straight.
I’ve officially had enough.
“Ready for bed?” I ask him with my best pleasant I’m-on-camera voice.
“I sure am,” Jace says with a beaming smile, eyes lit up behind his glasses. And goddamn does he look good with glasses.
He follows as I lead the way, and the second he closes the door, I snap, letting all my pent-up emotions out.
“What the fuck was that?”
Jace stares at me, blinking innocently as if he has no idea what I’m talking about. “What was what?”
I throw my hands up. “You. All over me. All. Day. What was that?”
His eyebrows pull together in mock surprise.
“Uh, yeah. That’s what couples do. You told me to make us look like ‘couple goals,’ remember?
In my mind, ‘couple goals’ involves touching.
We talked about our love languages, how mine is physical touch.
If I’m in a relationship, then I want to be with that person, to touch my partner, and feel the proof of our connection. ”
“Well, that’s not what I meant.” Heat prickles the back of my neck. “You don’t need to… to—” I gesture vaguely because he should get it. That was too much. Casual contact is one thing, but this was constant.
No one has ever touched me that much at home. Not even the people I’ve actually dated.
But Jace? He’s draping himself all over me and holding my hand as we walk through the hallways because he wants to? Or because he thinks I want him to? I don’t know, and the fact that I’m questioning his motivation at all makes everything even more confusing. It’s for the cameras, I remind myself.
The fact that he’s the first one giving me attention in this way is pissing me off even more though. It feels too easy, too normal—too fucking dangerous when a part of me doesn’t hate it at all.
“I didn’t ask for all of that,” I finally huff out after a moment.
“I thought you wanted it to look real. I’m sorry, Kieran. I didn’t mean to overstep,” he concedes, and it adds another irritating itch under my skin at how apologetic he truly seems.
Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.
Am I mad at him or at myself for letting my exes convince me their bare-minimum attention was love?
Mad because he got under my skin so fast after nearly thirteen years of not seeing each other?
Mad because he’s seemed so honest in all his actions and apologies, and I can’t help but wonder if he might have really changed?
Until I remind myself not to go there again.
“You don’t have to touch me that much.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend. “Okay?”
“Is it the way I look? I know I’ve gained some weight since high school,” he asks quietly. The steady confidence he’s had this whole time is gone as he looks down at the floor.
Heat flares through my body, and I roll my eyes, trying not to look at his perfect body. “No, god. I’ve already told you how hot you still are. You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me, because I can’t know what I’m doing wrong unless you tell me,” he pleads, looking back at me.
I hold his gaze, not even sure what I’m hoping to find there. My head’s spinning after the day I’ve had with Jace all over me. “I don’t owe you an explanation,” I finally huff. “I already said less touching.”
“Then stop glaring at me like I crossed some secret line,” he demands, and for the first time since the big reveal that JR was Jace, he isn’t tripping over himself to please me.
It reminds me of the way things were in the very beginning, back when he was just my bully as he goes on, stepping closer to me.
“You asked me to pretend, and I’m just trying to make you happy. You wanted a perfect story for the cameras and your fans. Well, newsflash, K—if we want people to think we’re getting married by the end of this, that’s going to involve some touching.”
Fuck. Him.
Every emotion coursing through me feels like a contradiction, and I don’t know what to do with any of them. My chest is heaving as I try to breathe, try to think, but all I can do is hold Jace’s molten stare.
We’re standing mere inches apart, and I’m brought back to that bathroom at the Halloween party.
The bathroom at school when he thought I had a hickey.
We’re behind another locked door, away from where anyone can see us.
The tension between us is a palpable thing, and my control is slipping.
I need it back. And the only way I know how to grab it back from him is to fight.
“Just so we’re clear—I still hate you, Jace. Cameras or not, I don’t suddenly like you just because you’re a good actor. What we said out there isn’t true, I can’t forgive and forget everything you did to me. You’re not fooling me this time. Okay? I. Fucking. Hate. You,” I seethe.
Even though I don’t know if that’s true.
It doesn’t feel true.
Fuck.
What is he doing to me?
“Kieran—” Something that looks a lot like hurt flashes in his eyes, but I can’t even trust that.
“No,” I cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
His jaw works like he’s holding something back as he looks me up and down, but when I think he might finally concede, walk away and end this confrontation, he does the opposite, taking another step even closer.
“You keep saying you hate me,” Jace grits out, his own frustration boiling over. “But you don’t act like it.”
That makes me laugh, harsh and bitter. “Oh, you think you know me? You don’t,” I spit, stepping closer to him on instinct to show him he can’t intimidate me. But he doesn’t move back, and suddenly, we feel far too close.
My pulse spikes at the tension between us. I should shove him and walk away. Instead, my hand snags the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric in my fist to keep him there, where I won’t admit I want him.
“Oh, but I do,” he mutters, and his hand clamps over mine. The heat of his grip shoots straight through me. “Go ahead, Kieran, tell me again how you hate me. Lie to my face and tell me you don’t want me.”
I tighten my fist in his shirt, pulling him closer even though every nerve in me screams to shove him away. My voice comes out low, ragged. “It isn’t a lie. You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
He smirks. “Then why are you shaking?”
“I’m not,” I grit out, though we both feel the tremor in my hand where it’s locked against his chest.
“Sure you’re not.” He’s acting smug now. “You can lie about that all you want, but you can’t lie about this,” he says as he reaches his hand down, his knuckles grazing the front of my jeans. “Why are you hard, Kieran?”
My heart is pounding, and it really is like we’re back in the bathroom all those years ago when I was taunting him to give in. I swallow down the emotion in my throat, frozen in place.
“You want me to stop?” he asks, rough and mocking, like he already knows the answer.
I can’t think, too overwhelmed by the memories and the lust and the anger warring for my attention now. I’m not capable of conscious decision. The only thing I can do is press harder against him, grinding out the words through clenched teeth. “Fuck you.”
“Gladly,” he shoots back, squeezing my aching cock.
I attempt to shove him back, but he doesn’t budge—and I hate that I’m relieved.
Instead, his large hand closes around my wrist and changes our position so my back is now against the wall.
He pins that arm above my head as he wedges his thigh between mine.
The entire time, our eyes are locked, like he’s daring me to look away, to tell him to stop.
“Say it again,” he taunts, grinding against me and adding friction exactly where I want him.
“I hate you,” I snarl, twisting his shirt in my free fist again. My voice comes out raw, not half as convincing as I want it to be.
“You don’t sound so sure,” he whispers. His mouth hovers close enough to mine for his exhale to caress my lips. His gaze flicks to my mouth.
“Don’t,” I say harshly, setting the boundary. Kissing is the line we never crossed, and I’m not going to let him start now.
He chuckles low, shifting his mouth way too close to my ear. “Fine. No kissing.” His teeth scrape along my jaw instead. His thigh presses harder between mine, grinding me against the wall, and I can hardly think.
Fuck, he feels good pressed against me.
“What do you need, K?”
“I need you to shut the fuck up,” I hiss.
“You have a better way I could be using my mouth? One where you wouldn’t have to hear the annoying sound of my voice? Gonna use me, Kieran?” he taunts. “I’d like that; you have no idea how much.”
His words make my pulse stutter. How is he using my own words against me all these years later? Why do we both remember them so clearly? “God, you talk too much,” I complain.