Chapter 23
SILENCE BEFALLS US – PALPABLE, THICK. Awkward. That sudden, noticeable shift in tension removes an invisible veil, probing at the realization that we're here alone with no one to interrupt us.
I see it on his face all the same just as I feel it through our bond. The profound realization that anything could happen. The teasing feeling that he wants it.
His cheeks flush, color creeping along his neck. Seconds tick away, the longer we're silent, the heavier grows the proverbial elephant. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, rubbing the side of his reddening neck, looking everywhere else but at me.
"Don't tell me you're being weird because I teased you earlier."
He shoots me a dirty side eye. "I still have no idea how you can be so shameless and carelessly say such things."
"It's part of my charm."
But seriously, why else would I tease him so much if I didn't enjoy his reactions? Why else would I continue to entertain him – bond or not – if I genuinely didn't enjoy his company?
His lips form a tight line. "You have no shame."
I fake nonchalance over it. Wanting to test the waters, to see how much he's willing to reveal.
I need confirmation, because what I feel through the bond isn't enough.
I need him to say it, to say something. I don't fancy the idea of forcing myself on him let alone making him the slightest bit uncomfortable.
"I don't see what the big deal is. You're taking it on too much. You shouldn't be that bothered by it unless –" I deliberately leave the implication hanging, gauging his attempt to carefully mask what he's feeling.
The sudden stiffness of his shoulders, the way he freezes up, his face turning outright red, and the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth gives it all away. He understands the insinuation. All that's been on my mind is no longer wishful thinking.
He'll talk my ear off sometimes. I've never heard him talk that much while at school.
I don't know what he's like around those popular assholes outside of school, but when he talks to me, there's a sprightliness about him that entrances me.
He'll tell me every little detail about every little thing going on in his life – a joke his dad told him, the new book his mom bought him.
He'll me about something he really wants to do, some place he wants to visit.
He tells me so much that it actually hurts my heart because it feels like I'm seeing a side of him no one else gets to.
And earlier today, he didn't care about his safety. He was concerned about me, about the hot water my actions could land me in, the injury on my side that ripped open and bled out.
"Jace, do you like me?"
He turns, looking like a doe-eyed fawn. "You're shameless." He scoffs, stomping into the kitchen. The sliding doors to the patio open and he goes across the deck, down the two steps and out to the pool.
When I join him outside, the cool night air a blast to the face, he's already slipping off his shoes and rolling his socks up. He puts them out of reach of the pool, rolls up the legs of his jeans, and plops down on the edge, his feet swishing through the water.
"Are you mad at me?"
He doesn't respond, doing his best to ignore me. His knuckles whiten with the way he grips the pool's edge so tightly.
I crouch beside him, wishing he would look at me. Tell me what's on his mind, tell me his terrible secret he's so afraid of sharing.
"Not going to talk to me? You know, I was just joking."
A shuddery sigh slips out of him, gaze downcast into the ripples in the water he makes with his feet. "You shouldn't make jokes like that. Someone could get the wrong idea and end up getting hurt."
I sit down next to him, unintentionally brushing our arms against the other's. Tiny shocks, soft and pleasurable, spark between us. If Jace feels them, he doesn't react physically.
"What if, hypothetically, I'm not joking? What if I want to know?"
He turns slowly, staring at me for the longest time.
His eyes reflect the storm, the battle raging within, reaching out to me through the bond.
I feel his confliction, the tug-of-war he's playing, a vicious battle he's careful to keep from showing on his face.
It's a violent clash of desire and refusal, the tumult of his emotions, his exhaustion and sadness, his desire and heartbreak crashing into me.
What is he hiding? What is so terrible that he'll wear an expression like that?
Is he afraid his feelings won't be reciprocated or is it shame? The bond has served its main purpose. What happens going forward is within our control – if we move past this into something deeper or if we fall apart.
Sometimes fated pairings fall apart – not because the people don't fit – but because they don't try to make it work. They don't fight for it. And I want us to work. In all my life, I've never wanted something or someone as much as I want Jace.
My mother's death was brutal. Tragic and grotesque.
It left a gaping void inside of me the night I realized she wasn't invincible, that all it takes to snuff out a precious life is a few seconds.
It broke me in more ways than I imagined, leaving me scarred, festering my fear into a breathing entity that makes me fearful of losing those I love.
It makes me fearful of possessing a single shred of weakness.
Jace is human. My world is dangerous in ways that his world isn't but there is cruelty and danger no matter where we turn. It's up to me to decide whether I let that fear conquer me, or whether I should fight it.
And Goddess knows, I want to fight it.
He turns back to the water, moving his legs through it – though more aggressively than before, creating larger ripples that fan out to the far edges. "Shut up. You can't say things like that."
His voice cracks. Bereft. The wave of pain that crashes into me so suddenly disorients me. It silences me for a full minute, and I'm left glaring at the water, at the ripples in it, trying to think of a way to move past it.
When I find my voice again, it's foreign to me. Quieter, edged.
"Is it so horrible if you have feelings for me?"
He stops moving beside me, the ripples in the pool ceasing. "No. I just don't like you the way you're thinking."
Why does he keep lying to me? I don't need the bond to tell me he's not being true in his words, to himself. I hear the way his heart beats harder, faster. I hear the subtle change in the rhythm of his breathing.
"Then, in what way do you like me?"
His shoulders slump. "As a friend, Sky. That's all we can ever be."
"Says who? You feel something for me. I can see it, so, why is it that friends is all we can be?"
He clasps his hands on his lap, tilting his gaze skyward. It feels like minutes pass before he finds his voice again – finds an answer to my question.
"I like you as only a friend. Besides, it's unfair to the person you like."
Apparently, I've not been transparent enough in my pursuit. I haven't been desperate enough. I haven't been obvious in the attention and care I pay him whenever he is around.
Call it irritation, call it desperation.
It seizes me all the same, sinking claws deep within and desire and need wins out, brought forward by a couple of things: his incessant need to keep denying his feelings, the raging animal instinct to claim him as mine, to touch, hold and caress him, to keep him protected at all costs, the fact that he's hurting something terrible and chooses to confine it to secrecy, the sadness – the dejection – of his eyes and voice that belie his lies.
I turn my body to him, one leg folded between us, pressed flush to his thigh.
The bond hums between us, sizzling beneath the surface.
My blood pumps hot. The heat of his body is torture on me, taking all of my strength not to pull him close and show him just how much of a friend I see him as.
"You are the person I like. You're the one I want."
His hands shake and ball to fists. His head lowers, jaw trembling, breathing shaky and shallow. Haywire emotions bombard me, his pain crashing into me violently, it feels like someone is cutting out my heart with the dullest blade they could find.
He's hurting so much. I wish he would tell me. I wish I knew what to do to make it go away.
"Why?" His voice is hoarse – soft – his struggle to rein in his emotions visible in clamped jaw and tightly shut lips. "Why would you say that?" There's anger and frustration in his voice as if I have no right to confess my feelings. As if by doing so, I've made things worse.
"I'm not ashamed of what I feel for you. I'm not a coward who will shy away from confessing how I feel."
Misty eyes flash holding me captive. The sight of his unshed tears send a sharp shooting pain through my chest, the disbelief on his face unmistakable.
"Is that what you think?" The words tremble on his lips. "You think I would deny my feelings because I'm ashamed of it?" The disbelief wipes away in favor for a glare so profound it shuts down all possible comebacks I could return.
I hate that. The way he looks at me, as if I'm his sworn enemy.
I instantly regret saying those harsh words.
And then, he laughs.
Sudden. Quiet.
Full of everything he denies admitting.
His fear. His desire. His regret.
His heartbreak.
"I guess you don't know me at all, then.
In your eyes, I'll always be the asshole who pretends to be someone he's not because he's too afraid of people finding out the truth," he sneers, glaring at me before his eyebrows even out and he shakes his head – dejected.
In a whisper, he says, "I was so wrong about you. "
The unspoken confession shatters something in me. It's like the day our bond manifested in class, when he pushed me away and the bond made itself known. Like the puzzle piece that had been missing that day, another piece clicks into place.
He loves me.
He loves me so much and yet, there's something he's not confessing. Something that stops him from doing just that, binding him from acting on his true feelings.
He moves, ready to stand up and leave but I don't give him the chance to put distance between us.
I can't let him go until he knows he doesn't need to be afraid. Not of me. Not of his feelings. And whatever scares him so terribly into denying his desires, he doesn't need to fear that either.
I grab his elbow, pulling him back down, closer, until there's hardly any vacant space between us. The heat of his body presses into me, teary eyes – wide and fearful – gazing up at me. Hidden within the green that stares back, I see hope so desperate that it shatters me all over again.
A single tear trickles down his cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb, fingers skimming over his cheekbone, the length of his nose, and finally, I trace the outline of his lips.
He leans into the touch, lips pressing against my thumb in a kiss so soft and innocent, it awakens a primal part of me.
The part that sees something worth cherishing, something I would kill for.
It sends my heart beating like crazy.
"You're not. I care so much about you. I told you last night that all I want is for you to be okay, and right now, you're not. You're hurting so much, but you won't tell me what's going on. I'm sure I can fix it. I hate seeing you this way."
Jace's eyes darken in a way I've not seen from him. One second, we're looking deeply at each other, the next, he's kissing me softly. My breath catches at his proximity, that he's initiating it, leaning into me as far as he can without tossing us both into the pool.
His lips are hesitant against mine – soft and tantalizing.
All too soon, before I can properly taste his lips, he pulls away, green eyes shining in the light from the deck and around the pool.
"That's how I truly feel."
Those words are my undoing. Restraint flies out the window, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other slipping around his waist to draw him as close to me as humanly possible.
He falls flush to my body, and he supports himself with a hand on my shoulder, the other palm down on the ground beside me.
Our lips crash together in a hungry kiss – desperate, full of desire, and somehow communicating all the feelings words cannot.
It sends my mind reeling, the primal side clawing its way closer to the surface in a rash attempt to taste and savor.
I trace the shape of his bottom lip with my tongue, seeking permission which he grants a heartbeat later, opening his mouth as my tongue delves in, tasting as much as he's willing to give.
There's hesitation in his movement, so sweet and tortuous it pushes me to take control.
And just like that the spell breaks.
Jace stares across to me, eyes wide and shimmering, his lips red and swollen. His face is flushed, tiny puffs of breath falling from his mouth. He touches a finger to his lips and the regret that bombards me through the bond nearly tears me apart.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."
Jace scrambles to his feet, rushing to grab his shoes. He's already on the deck, nearly to the sliding doors when I catch up, spinning him around by the elbow.
His back hits the wall, wide eyes staring up at me.
"Jace, let's talk about this –"
"There's nothing to talk about. It was a mistake and it should've never happened.
" There's a noticeable tremble in his voice, his lips quivering.
Agitation curls through every fiber of my being as I fix him with a hard stare, boxing him in between me and the wall, my arms caging him from both sides.
"Why was it a mistake?"
"I have a girlfriend –"
"Bull-fucking-shit," I scoff. "What?
Did you forget you have a girlfriend when you initiated that kiss?
" I grab his hand. "We have something and you know it.
" Pressing his hand to my chest, the glistening of his eyes intensifies when he feels how my heart pounds for him.
"Don't tell me you don't feel this. Don't say there's nothing between us when this is what my heart sounds like when I'm with you. "
He pulls his hand away; glare fixed on me. "This doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the fact that this was a mistake or that I cheated on my girlfriend. I meant what I said. We can only ever be friends."
Jace pushes me away, using the space it creates to slip away. I don't let him. I can't let him.
He's come to mean so much to me that if he walks out, he'll break me completely. Though I get the feeling, it'll break him too and I can't bear the thought of him in any kind of pain.
Snatching his wrist, my hand slips into his when he turns around. I don't miss the subtle tremble of his fingers tightening around mine if only for a mere heartbeat.
"This isn't about Sasha. It's about what you're feeling for me. Why are you denying –"
"Because it can't happen, Sky!" he yells, freeing his hand from my grip, forcing me away. He gestures wildly – animatedly – between us. "It doesn't matter what we feel for each other or how great we could be! We can't ever be together so don't ask me why because we just cannot! It won't be right."
Stunned by the weight of those words, for the first time in front of him, the prick of tears burn my eyes. I don't let them fall, adamant in my desire to take us to the next level.
"That's bullshit," I sneer. "Why won't it be right? Because of your little girlfriend?"
"It's like you said. It's not about Sasha. Even if it were, we still can't be together." Defiance blazes in his firm stare. He doesn't look at me, more like somewhere near me. As if he can't bear to.
"So what? You want us to continue being friends?" The idea itself fills me with dread and disgust. I can't picture a world where all we'll ever be is friendly.
Jace doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.
His silence, the implication behind it is a painful stab to the heart.
Beneath his unwillingness to look me in the eye though every part of me wishes he would so he could see the result of his cruelty, I shatter for the third time tonight – but this time for a different reason.
He's killing me slowly and he doesn't realize it.
"I can't give you that," I say, hardly above a raspy whisper. "I never had any intention of being your friend."
"Sky –"
"No." I cut him off before he could say another word.
Before he could hurt me more. My voice carries a finality, strong despite the roiling chaos on the inside when I meet his teary eyes.
"I'll give you anything you want, Jace. No matter how impossible, I'll find a way.
" The tears brim, threatening to fall from his eyes because he hears the truth in what I say.
"But not this. Please don't ask me to act like it doesn't kill me when you're with her. "
His lips tremble and he presses them into a thin line to stop them.
It takes him a moment to regain control. "Then I won't."
The reality of what I have to do weighs me down, feeling like a ton of bricks was just chucked onto my shoulder. It suffocates me, strangles my throat with raw anguish, squeezing my heart so tightly, it hurts just breathing.
Shaking my head, I take a breath because at this point, there's not much except extreme focus and pure willpower that's keeping me together.
"I reject you, Jace Conner."