Chapter 5
The weather in the county grows more unpredictable, crazier, the closer it gets to summer.
It's both a blessing and a curse. One day, there's scorching hot sun with heat that drives a man mad, seeking refuge in air-conditioned rooms, or running toward the nearest source of water.
The next day, raging thunderstorms and heavy rains would keep the temperature cool, other times, it'll cause severe flooding.
For the last two and a half weeks, Schrattner's County faced scorching hot sun and high temperatures that could kill humans with heat strokes.
But now, thunder clouds are rolling in, and the low drone and boom of distant thunder announces the approach of heavy rains foretelling possible flooding in isolated parts of Schrattner's County.
The clouds are swollen and grey, on the verge of bursting. The place has grown darker and there's a quietness that's settled over the town in anticipation of the coming torrent.
The calm before the storm.
I thought to cancel tutoring sessions with Jace. If the rains come and flooding occurs, he might be stranded in Marcana.
But seeing a post on his Instagram with his little girlfriend draped all over him shot that idea in the head. The tutoring and the coming storm – hopefully – would play perfectly into my plan. I have to make a move before the chance slips away.
My leg bounces with anticipation and excitement because he'll be arriving shortly.
I took the liberty of heading to the supermarket after school to purchase snacks and drinks.
The agreed-upon length of each study session is three hours, and with each minute that ticks by, the temperature drops, the place grows darker, and the quietness of the approaching storm grows heavier.
It's half past five when Jace's car turns into the driveway.
I hear his fussing and hurried footfalls from the car to the front door as the rains descend, beginning as a light drizzle and into a downpour announced by a howling breeze and cold draft.
The doorbell rings. I stall as if I haven't been pacing the living for the last fifteen minutes.
Finding my mate is a huge deal!
With Lativa's talks of peace, and Jessop's re-entry into our lives, these study sessions with Jace, and Jace in general could bring some light into the glum reality of my life. I look forward to peeling back those layers to find the real Jace Conner.
I'm still wondering if there is any truth to Carter's words.
Is Jace a decent guy? He has to be if he could agree to tutor me.
If he's so nice – like Carter claims – then why is he such a douche at school? Is it all part of a gimmick to fit into the popular crowd or is he overcompensating for something?
So many unanswered questions. Jace Conner is becoming more of an enticing mystery.
We've known each other all our lives. Been in the same grade, and in many of the same classes, yet I know little about him.
The reality is a harsh pill to swallow, and the guilt goes down like a lump of acidic stone because the main reason I'm giving him a second thought is the mate bond.
Before, I truly didn't give a passing thought to Jace. Once he was out of sight, he was out of mind.
Maybe tonight would be the turning point.
"Took you long enough!" he greets with a stink eye, swatting tiny droplets of rainwater from his brow. "What were you doing? I've been out here for ten minutes!" Jace rants. He runs his fingers through his dirty blonde hair, swatting away little droplets of rainwater as I lean against the frame.
"You've literally been out here for less than a minute."
Jace scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Are you going to let me in, or would you prefer if I tutored you out here?"
Sucking in a deep breath to leash the bubbling anger, shoving down the immediate regret over setting up this agreement, I lock him in place with a glare.
I refuse to believe I'm mated to a stuck-up, entitled brat.
"Yeah, I don't remember asking for the attitude when I asked you to tutor me. I can find somebody else if you're going to be a bitch about standing on my porch for one minute, tops. You can leave if you'd like."
He doesn't expect such a response and hostility. He looks at me – when I don't really want him here anymore – as if seeing me for the first time.
He shakes his head. "What's the point of that?" He's disposed of the bratty attitude and dialed it back by a million. "I'm already here, aren't I?" He steps forward with the intention of barging into my home uninvited, but I block his path with an outstretched arm.
He's caught in a daze, the lingering touch of his eyes tracing the muscles of bare my arm, sure, intense, trailing up to my face. His pupils dilate and his breathing hitches.
"If you're coming in here, mind your attitude, Conner. I don't want an insolent brat here while my father is home." My words cut him, but he's quick to mask it behind a nod.
I won't allow him to conduct himself rudely while Dad is home and might pop in. I don't need him hearing our bickering and questioning me about it later.
Jace mutters under his breath.
"Do we understand one another? You're on my turf, Conner, and I won't hesitate to kick your ass out. Understand?"
"Crystal," he grits out, shooting me a glare from under deep blonde, almost black eyelashes.
I let him in and close the door, imagining the curves of his body hidden beneath the soft material of the long-sleeved jersey while he takes off his wet shoes.
"Come on," I say, averting my attention from his backside and leading him to the living room where he continues observing his surroundings.
His attire is a drastic difference to how he dresses for school. It's usually nice clothing: jeans, shirts, tees, and jackets that are tailored to accent and compliment his figure. Outside of that, I've only seen him in his basketball uniform or jacket.
Right now, he's wearing dark jeans – blessed be those legs – and a sweater that's last least one size too big. He looks comfortable. And cute. And I realize I like him this way – dressed in comfort and not to impress.
"Your Dad's okay with this, right?"
"So long as you remain respectful. He might pop by to check on my progress since I told him about you."
Well, not everything. He knows I'm failing Maths miserably and enlisted help from the brightest student in class but nothing about why I chose Jace Conner specifically.
I could have hired anyone. Like that one girl from the next class who's super shy but enviously smart.
Or hell! I could have asked Ash. As long as sex was in the deal, I wouldn't have to pay him.
Unfortunately, I'm heading down the road of celibacy if I want to get anywhere with my mate. Even if he has a girlfriend.
Since the bond manifested itself, I know he hasn't slept with her. There's been no pain which would be the truest, most heartbreaking revelation of his betrayal.
Not that he would know, anyway.
Jace rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Where are we set up?"
I take the lead and gesture to the dining table. An island counter separates the kitchen from the dining area where my notebook and textbook are laid out. Jace slides into the chair on my left, placing his bookbag on the floor.
He raises an eyebrow when he sees that on top of the textbook and notebook, there's only an eraser and a mechanical pencil.
"First thing: I need to see where you're at. Bring me your notes, and any past test papers or quizzes that you haven't tossed."
This little...
The more he talks, the less I want him around, and the greater the temptation grows to throw him out. Who does he think he is to walk into my home and speak to me that way?
"No need to be a condescending prick, Conner. What makes you think I threw it away?"
Jace looks around at the kitchen's interior, letting out a small puff of breath as if the idea of speaking to me exhausts him. He turns back to me. "You've never been serious about school."
The judgment is as sharp as a knife's edge, and he never breaks eye contact. Clearly, he's never thought highly of me. The verbal slaughter doesn't stop as he tilts his head, studying me like I'm the court fucking jester.
"You use your family's status as a measuring stick for social interactions and school grounds like a brothel. We've been in the same class since kindergarten, but you've never once shown interest in your academics. I'm having a really hard time figuring out your ulterior motives. Tutoring, really?"
I'm left speechless, like a fish out of water that's just been dumped into sizzling oil.
It's not that Jace can't stand me or thinks lowly of me. He might actually hate me.
"You've seen my grade. You know I need the help," I say, shuffling closer and pushing my notebook across the table.
"That might be true, but why me? Why not somebody else who's doing just fine or a senior looking for extra credit?"
"Why not you? What's wrong with having you be my tutor?"
The sudden flip takes him by surprise, and he seems to realize something. He blinks and asks, "You really asked me to do this because you want better grades? You're not...I don't know...stirring up shit in the background?"
Well, I do have ulterior motives for this arrangement but I'm not some irredeemable monster who'll go out of my way to make someone miserable because I'm bored.
If I have to ruin someone's life, it'll be for a reason.
"Yes," I reply – exasperated. "And I'll prove it."
I tell him to stay put and go upstairs to retrieve the required material.
His chewing me out plays like a broken record the entire time.
He's not wrong in the slightest – I've never prioritized school the way most others do.
My grades are shamefully bad that I feel conscious about letting him see it.
He'll realize I'm an idiot and my chances with him would immediately go kapoof! It can only end in disaster – a straight A student like Jace dating a complete idiot like me.
When I return, he already has his notes, a calculator, pencil, and pen stacked neatly off to the side next to a ream of printing paper.
He stops flipping through his notes as I hand over the papers. The surprise is evident as he starts skimming, more like counting the test sheets to see what I've 'misplaced' and what I've kept.
"Got nothing to say," I tease. Jace doesn't comment, just continues what he's doing. I cross my arms. "Look, just don't judge me, okay."
Jace nods with a small smile lingering on his lips. He knows I'm not talking about my character.
Minutes pass by with us sitting in silence, the only other sounds being that of the rain pouring outside, and the flipping of pages. He would frown, purse his lips, shake his head, and scribble down something on a sheet of blank paper, making a list.
After minutes of excruciating quiet that suffocates me, blowing holes the size of moon craters through my self-esteem and ego, he finally speaks.
"Wow," he drawls, earning him a narrowed, dry stare. "Your grades need more than Jesus."
"I told you not to judge me. Don't be an asshole, Conner."
He laughs softly causing fluttery feelings to explode in my chest. It's the first time he's genuinely laughed around me. He should do it more often. It makes him look lively and it distracts from the darkish circles beneath his eyes.
"Sorry. I think I understand what your problem is.
Your main problem comes in where there is Algebra, Trigs.
..or really anything to do with letters and numbers in an expression.
You try, but you apply the wrong rules and steps, so all your working is incorrect.
We'll start with Functions and recap the basics before we jump into Simultaneous Equations. Sound good?"
Who now?
As I've said, I'm stupid where mathematics is concerned.
Three bags of chips, four cans of soda, two visits from my father hoping to annoy and embarrass me, many sheets of printing pages written up on both sides, and at least fifteen minutes of continuous yawning on my end, Jace has started teaching me about Simultaneous Equations.
I had no idea so much work went into this shit and according to him, we've barely scratched the surface.
He's teaching me about solving equations using little tricks he's picked up, and we still have scary graph things to do under this topic alone.
"Just remember, when you find the value of the first variable, substitute it into the other equation to find for the second variable."
"What's a variable again?"
Jace's expression falls, and he looks genuinely insulted and hurt. It makes me laugh, and he shakes his head with a small smile.
"Just do this last one and we'll call it a night."
"Okay." I focus on solving the equation Jace pulled from the midterm while he tidies up our workspace. After all the practice, steps, and questions Jace drilled me on, solving the question is easy.
I get through quickly, confident with every line of solution because the entire time, Jace is silent. He hasn't interrupted to guide or correct or toss in a gentle reminder. I jot down the answer.
Tapping the pencil against the table, Jace set the used printing sheets aside, mentally correcting my work with a quick scan of the paper. His smile is encouraging as he slides the paper back.
"You learn fast. We can move forward in our next session. You can keep these," he says, sliding over the stack of used printing sheets. Grinning over the fact that I finally understand something in Maths, in no short thanks to my smart mate, I place a pencil tick next to the answer.
"How did you manage to get so good when our teacher is crap? You make him look like an underqualified old fart."
Jace laughs, packing away the last of his things.
I copy him, slamming my notebook shut. "I pay attention and take notes.
I don't understand everything but then I use the textbook, a few websites I stumbled across, and YouTube is my best friend.
" He leans closer, beckoning me with a little waggle of his finger.
"Want to know the secret to doing well in Maths? "
"What is it?"
"Good comprehension. It's all about the language."
Seriously?
"So basically, you figured it out on your own. Have you seen our teacher's grammar?" He shrugs and laughs in agreement. Our teacher isn't atrocious with English, but the phrasing of his worded problems shows he's better with numbers than he is at words. "That's pretty smart."
"Well, I want to be a doctor. Or maybe a Maths or Science teacher."
Talk about knowing what you want. There's no doubt he'll do just fine in any of those fields. He took a dummy and made him feel smarter within three hours. That's a fucking miracle.
"Thanks for doing this, Jace. I appreciate it. Anyway, a deal's a deal. Would you like your payment after every session?" The suggestive nature of 'payment' and 'session' in the same sentence isn't lost on me. I barely resist the urge to slap myself for that.
Jace doesn't seem to notice making me feel like a larger-than-life pervert. He's here helping me when he doesn't need to and I'm having indecent thoughts.
"I'm not in any rush to take your money. You can pay at the end of every week."
Fair enough.
Comfortable silence douses us as Jace turns his focus to the sliding doors that lead onto the patio and pool.
The rain is still falling heavily showing no sign of letting up.
The weather's particularly bad with distant roaring winds, thunder, and lightning.
Up in the attic, the echo of roaring winds whoosh and swoosh.
It wouldn't surprise me if drivers are warned to stay off the road and there are isolated flooding incidents throughout the county.
Jace drove here. I can't let him leave in weather like this.
"Hey –"
His phone rings, interrupting the start of my request. He turns away from the sliding patio doors to answer.
"Mom?"
I sit quietly, eavesdropping on the conversation out of sheer concern that he would be driving home in this awful weather.
"Jace, sweetie! Where are you? Tell me you are not driving home in this weather!"
"No, Mom. We just wrapped up the tutoring."
"Oh, thank God! Jace, baby, is Sky around, or even his father? The weather's so bad tonight that they've told us to stay off the road. There's flooding in some parts of town and there was a landslide nearby. I'd rather you not drive home in this awful weather. Can you put one of them on?"
"Hold on, Mom," he replies, holding the phone to me. "My mother wants to speak to you." I accept the phone call, feigning obliviousness on why she'd ask to speak with me.
"Mrs. Conner? It's Sky."
She tells me what I already know, asking if my father and I are willing to host her son for the night. I could tell she truly is worried for his safety and could think of nothing worse than having her only child drive home in the storm.
Not like I'm going to let him.
"Mrs. Conner, I'll get back to you. Let me run it by my dad."
Returning his phone, I excuse myself to seek out Dad from his hiding place.
I find him holed up in his home office, a room typical of a middle-aged man.
All dark wood with red-painted walls, black couches, and exceptionally good lighting.
Dad lies on the sofa against the wall with an open book covering his face.
"Dad?" I call, walking over. He doesn't stir, and from beneath the paperback, I hear his light snores. "Dad!" I repeat with more force.
He jolts awake dazed and confused, the book sliding off his face to the couch. "Hey, buddy," he acknowledges, grimacing as he sits up. He likes to think he's still young and in the prime of his life, but the bones don't lie.
"Did your friend leave yet?" He rubs his nose, stifling a yawn.
"The storm's bad. They've warned everyone to stay off the road. There's been some flooding and a landslide. His parents don't want him on the road and asked if we could host him for tonight."
"I don't see a problem. I'll have to notify Isaiah, so he doesn't think Jace is trespassing."
With a nod of thanks, I turn to leave but stop when an idea comes. Not considering the storm and the time of night, Alpha Isaiah wouldn't mind Jace's presence if he knows the truth. Since Carter found his mate in Kelly Dalton, the next three successors are under close watch.
Dale found his. It's only Asher and me.
Technically, only Ash.
I sit down next to Dad. His questioning, curious stare burns into the side of my face but he's patient. He doesn't rush me to explain myself.
"There's something you should know about Jace. Everyone will know who he is and won't accuse him of trespassing."
"Okay," Dad drawls.
I'm wondering how to tell him. I'm not one to beat around the bush often.
Only when I feel like being a prick. I should come out and say it since he won't object the bond or reject the idea of my mate being male.
I'm no saint, and he knows I have a sex life.
He knew about Ash and me before I ever said a word.
It's how he'll react to my having a human mate that worries me. It rarely happens but with my animal instincts and rank, putting Jace in that spotlight puts an unwanted target on his back.
With Lativa back in our lives after twelve years, and Jessop irritating the shit out of me, I don't want many people knowing about Jace. I especially don't want the wrong people finding out.
"He's my mate. The bond manifested last Thursday, but I guess, thinking about it, it would explain why he got on my nerves more than anyone."
There's a heavy pause, and suddenly, the deep brown carpeted flooring and my fingers are the most interesting things. The behavior alone is uncharacteristic of my nature, and I know Dad's sniffed out my nervousness.
I need to know what he thinks. I need him to assure me that accepting Jace or possibly rejecting him is the best course of action. A human in a werewolf's world is all sorts of trouble. They're inferior to us and after what happened to my mother that night...
She wasn't human. A Were like us and a strong one but she wasn't Wonder Woman.
"Please say something."
I need his approval. I need his advice.
"What can I say, buddy? He's your mate. I hope you aren't planning anything foolish like rejecting him. That's not our family's practice."
"Of course, I won't reject him. I thought about it but that's unfair to him. He'd be clueless and it isn't right. I just..."
Bringing my hands onto my lap, I pick at my palm. How can I tell my father that his prideful, fearless son has suddenly been reduced to a small, fickle being afraid of the world? When too many minutes pass by, I think he isn't going to say anything.
He slumps against the sofa, propping his cheek by a fist. "Having a human mate doesn't make you weak, kiddo. It just means you'll have to be smarter."
That's what scares me.
"What if I'm not strong enough? What if he ends up like Mom because I'm not smart enough to stop it?"
Dad's smile is melancholic – no doubt he's remembering Mom.
When next he speaks, his tone is full of the reassurance I'm looking for.
"That's why you boys have us. It's not like when we were young, prideful, and overestimated our strength.
Not like before when Jessop had the upper hand to spring a surprise attack.
Now we know what he's capable of and how lowly he'll stoop.
While Ezra rebuilds his pack, the Council and Marcana will monitor Jessop's movements. One slip up, and –"
Dad trails off, dragging a thumb over his neck and making the dramatic sound effect of a slit throat. He pats my back.
"I'll notify Isaiah on this. In the meantime, work on controlling those animal instincts and strengthening your mate bond. Let us worry about Jessop."
I toss and turn for the millionth time. The rain continues to pour, part of me feeling bad for those assigned to border patrol.
Lightning flashes and thunder booms, some so loud that it rattles the windows and vibrates the floors.
The temperature is cool, cold to some but honestly, we don't need air conditioning.
Giving up trying to fall asleep, I sit up and glance over. Jace lies under the thick duvet, curled up in comfort sleeping the night away as if there isn't a horrendous storm raging outside.
I'm not so lucky. The vibrations from the thunder, the lightning, and the hardwood floor keep me awake. My spine is ramrod stiff and I ache to crawl into my bed but that would be a big no-no. Jace will freak if he finds me cuddled up next to him.
Since he's staying the night, I've given him a set of fresh clothing I haven't used and offered him my bed. Dad and I converted the spare guest room into a den complete with a television, stereo and gaming system, and a pool table one year after Mom passed.
We grieved in our own ways for months. There for one another when it mattered with Dad obsessing over my safety. But things weren't the same.
He threw himself into his duties as Councilman and head of pack security, into his job at Aegean Industries.
I threw myself into school and hanging out with my best friends, sometimes wondering why Dad never had time for me.
Repurposing the guest bedroom had been the project we needed to rekindle our fractured father-son relationship and patch the gaping wound left in the wake of Mom's death.
When I offered Jace my bed, he was bashful and sweet. Said it's rude to take my bed away and it'll be an inconvenience for me to sleep on the floor.
It is an inconvenience, but I'm not about to be a whiny prick and kick him out. I'll endure the cold, hardwood floor for as long as he needs, if it means he's comfortable. It won't matter anyhow. With sleep nowhere close by, I doubt a soft mattress would eviscerate insomnia.
Rubbing my face, I sit up and lean on my palms. Trying to sleep is a waste of time.
The meeting with Lativa and my conversation with Dad lingers. An undeniable weight. Jessop still holds a grudge against us deep enough to put me on edge.
It feels almost criminal pulling Jace into my world with danger lurking. It will always dance on the fringes of my life the longer Jessop continues to live, and I don't think I'm selfish enough to put my mate in harm's way.
Jace is ignorant to my world. He has no idea about the secrets in Jasper Falls and what creatures crawl about, dominating most corners of the town, and the county as a whole.
A frustrated sigh breaks my trance and the mound on my bed shifts. The body under it turns, candy-apple green eyes widening in surprise to see me up.
"Is the storm bothering you?" he asks, pulling the duvet closer to his shoulders, tucking the pillow under his head. We're at eye-level, and he looks perfect, curled up under the covers as if he's made to belong in my bed.
"Kind of. I've got a lot on my mind. You?" I return, grabbing my phone to check the time. 1:53 AM.
Dad and I have decided against a new alarm clock. It's pointless if I might fly into another mood and destroy it.
"Unfamiliar surroundings," he responds which is almost drowned beneath an unusual growl emanating from under the duvet. Part of me melts when he blushes and hides his face behind the cover.
"You're hungry," I point out, smiling like a giddy ten-year-old. I'm seeing a side of Jace Conner I didn't think existed. This night has shown me many things about his personality, and I'm quickly reminded how little I know about him.
He's smart, patient and understanding. He's also bashful and thoughtful.
So why does he put up that front at school?
One night with him and I find it hard to believe this is the same person who mocks those supposedly beneath his status and not within his immediate circle of friends.
I find it hard to believe this is the same person who pushed Laken in the school halls and proceeded to insult one half of the future alpha couple.
The boy in front of me is nothing short of sweet and now, more than ever, I'm determined to get closer. Weasel my way past those walls he puts up. Past the douchebag fa?ade deflecting a truth he thinks is so awful that it's better kept hidden.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes softly, still hiding behind the duvet I dragged out for his sole use.
The gods have a twisted sense of humor. There's no way this is the same Jace Conner.
His tummy rumbles again and it's all the command I need to get up. No mate of mine will go to bed on an empty stomach.
"In the mood for anything specific?" I query, cursing myself for the lustful undertone. He's doing things to me that I don't appreciate. Coy mannerisms that are so unlike him stroke the animal side, conjuring sinful images but also those of a deeply intimate scenario where our bond is unbreakable.
I like this side of him. The real Jace Conner.
I clear my throat, pretending it's groggy from sleep. Jace emerges from his cocoon, face flushed with embarrassment, biting his bottom lip, thinking about the question. He opens his mouth but closes it again, giving his head a small shake.
"I don't want to be a bother. It's late."
"It's fine, Jace." When he sits up, I pretend not to notice the full-body scan he does of me, slipping my phone into my pocket.
Two times in one night. That can't be a coincidence.
"I can't sleep. Might as well do something instead of dying of boredom on my bedroom floor."
He nibbles his bottom lip and part of me aches to reach over and kiss them.
"So?"
"I'm craving pancakes," he informs with a severe blush, embarrassed about his midnight munchies. There's nothing to be ashamed of. We all do it, sneaking down to the kitchen at three in the morning to grab a bite of the forbidden goodies we're not allowed after midnight.
"Any particular flavor?"
"I like fluffy, vanilla pancakes with maple syrup."
Inviting his company with a wave of my hand, I say, "Let's get to it, then. Want to help?"
"Is that okay?" he asks, following me down the steps.
"You need to stop being so sweet, Jace. You're making me think you're someone else entirely." We step into the kitchen, and I flip the light switch.
He laughs nervously, looking everywhere else, awkwardly fiddling with the sleeves of the sweater I gave him. I'm larger than him, so the sleeves go past his fingertips making him appear sinfully delectable in my clothing.
I open the nearest cabinet with more force than necessary, reprimanding those creeping perverted thoughts.
"Sorry," he apologizes hardly above a whisper though I'm not sure for what he's apologizing.
"Why do you act that way at school but so different now?"
"About those pancakes? I'm starving!" he blurts suddenly, diverting from the topic with the least amount of grace.
For whatever reason, he doesn't want to disclose that information.
We're not friends, but he is spending a night in my house, and I'm owed an explanation for his asshole behavior towards Laken and those of a lower social standing.
He is mine, after all.
Can't have him embarrassing the Daniels' name.
Mumbling a "Whatever," under my breath, I set to work gathering all the ingredients to make pancakes from scratch.
We have the packaged mix, but it's reserved for when we're far too lazy to put much effort into cooking breakfast. That rarely happens because as Weres, we eat a lot and making meals without ready-made mixes is a cost-saver.
I mentally check off the ingredient list: flour, eggs, sugar, milk, vanilla bean to give it that extra burst of sweetness.
Jace comes up to the counter, standing in front of me and peering into the bowl I'm sifting flour into. He watches everything I do. Doesn't move when I'm done with the flour and begin adding sugar.
"Can I help do anything? I feel awkward since I'm the one who's hungry."
"I could eat too. It's not a problem," I reply, grabbing a clean pan to heat up the milk and vanilla bean.
"Please?"
Setting the lighter aside, I look him up and down. This has to be some twisted joke he's playing, pretending to be this sweet individual when he's such an asshole at school. But looking at him, I sense no falsity or deception. He's got this hopeful gleam in his eyes that I can't resist.
"Okay. Come around here and help me crack the eggs. Wash your hands, first."
His face lights up and he hurries around to the tap, rolling up the sweater sleeves. Under my supervision, Jace cracks the eggs and mixes all the ingredients into a batter once everything is prepped.
He makes idle conversations. I respond ever so often providing input as best I can preoccupied with figuring him out. Jace Conner is proving to be a mystery, but my question still stands.
What is with the fa?ade at school when this is who he truly is? Or is this the fa?ade?
The question floats around my mind while I cook the pancakes, Jace hovering, peering over my shoulder to watch the pancakes rise to fluffy vanilla goodness.
When it's done, the dirty dishes in the sink and four pancakes each stacked on a plate, Jace looks on in admiration as I drizzle maple syrup over the top, generously spray whipped cream atop each pile and around the bottom.
I place blueberries and strawberry slices at the center of the whipped cream with a flourish of confectionary sugar to finish.
Then I take a photo because it's a masterpiece that deserves its own post on my Instagram.
"You're like one of those cooks from the MasterChef shows," he comments, inspecting the two plates as I scroll through my phone to upload the photo.
I'm feeling particularly proud of myself.
"You're a pro at this." His hands are clasped behind his back while he bears a meaningful smile.
It takes sheer determination to ignore his cute ass and not kiss him.
"Well, I have been cooking since I was six," I supply.
"Did you learn from your Dad?" he asks when we sit down at the dining table. Before I take a bite of my own pancakes, I observe him, feeling a flutter of pride sweep through me.
Oblivious, he takes a forkful of pancake with some maple syrup, whipped cream, and a piece of strawberry, making a face full of delight.
He chews slowly, assessing the taste. It feels good knowing I can provide for my mate, and it boosts my ego something dangerous that he's enjoying something I made.
At least with me, he'll never go hungry.
"My Dad, the internet, cookbooks."
"Did you always like cooking? Because this is really good!" he follows, tacking on the compliment. He stabs at another piece.
"We needed to eat so it just came naturally. Why ask?"
He shrugs, distracted by the napkin holder. The next words out of his mouth are the last thing I expect to hear.
"You weren't the same after..." His voice softens as if unsure about voicing his thoughts, but he continues, finding the courage to power through. "After your Mom died."
He noticed that? I didn't think he cared, let alone noticed. We were so young then and kids tend to sometimes be oblivious to the world around them.
Then again, being born to one of the town's founding families, people know the names of everyone in your family. They know stuff about you, whether it's accurate or straight up bullshit. The news of my mother's sudden death was an unforgettable tragedy that shocked everyone.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes, as if he's been caught doing something wrong. "I shouldn't have said anything." Jace fiddles with the fork, playing with a blueberry on the plate.
"It was a long time ago. But since you feel bad, make amends and answer my question." His eyebrows furrow with confusion. "Why are you different at school? Since you got here, you've shown me the real you. Why the two-faced persona?"
He's quiet for a long time, the two of us eating our pancakes without disturbing the silence. I keep glancing his way, awaiting a reply. I want to know him.
He decides to grace me with his lovely voice by the time I'm done eating, but his answer is vague as hell. "Peer pressure, I guess."
He averts his gaze downward, putting all focus into finishing the last of the dessert. It's almost as if he doesn't want me to see his eyes. The longer I look at him, the longer he avoids it. It dawns on me that there's more to it than 'peer pressure'.
He's hiding something. For whatever reason, he doesn't want a lot of people knowing. The fa?ade is a wall. It's a defense mechanism he's thrown up to prevent people from finding out what it is.
But I'm making it my mission to find out what that thing is. What could be so bad that he'll throw up a mask of perfect conformity to the social norms of a fickle high school social pyramid, deceiving people just to safekeep a secret?
Well played, Jace Conner.
Now I'm totally interested.