Tightrope

Don't Be Jealous of Our Love

"Uh, so is it like... awkward for me to stay for dinner now?"

Jace and I had eventually gone back to working on our project, a slow slog of brainstorming and writing and attempts to ignore the stifling awkwardness because we'd been making out right there not that long ago, and I still kind of hated him.

Thankfully, Knight was an excellent diffuser of tension. Not because he was good at changing the topic or making light conversation, but because he kept commenting on how awkward we were being until it was more awkward to be awkward.

Which is why, when Jace asked to stay for dinner, Knight replied. "Oh, definitely, super awkward. You should for sure do it."

I glared at him as he picked over the remaining remnants of Jace's platter. I remember you said that all food tastes better when it's on a platter.

"Why aren't you back in the closet again?" I asked.

Knight grinned. "Our Jacey would miss me, and also—" he shot a look at the pair of us, and made a vague gesture with his hand "—this whole thing would be super awkward if I left."

I didn't deign him with a response, because, like, yeah. It would be. How are you even supposed to react around your enemy-slash-hook up? Who was being weirdly nice to you? If Knight wasn't here—eating all our food and annoying me with his commentary—I probably would've thrown myself from the window.

Jace and Knight shared a solemn fist bump.

"I would miss you so much, bro," said Jace with seriousness, and I couldn't even tell if he was joking.

Knight grinned and made a mock kissy face at Jace.

I groaned.

"Don't be jealous of our love," Knight admonished. Jace blew him a kiss.

I couldn't help but reveal a faint smile, smothered before it could truly bloom, like the sun peeking from behind the clouds on an overcast day before being swallowed by the puffs of grey. Jace definitely caught sight of it, though, because his answering appreciative grin was not one of an overcast day, but a bright and gentle spring morning. It was surprisingly soft. Making eyes with Knight had clearly left him sappy and romantic. I'm sure they would look dashing together.

Though, eh, Knight could probably do better. He could probably step up a tier to scrape, like, a small-town heroin addict, or a low-level demon spawn.

"So, anyway. Dinner?" said Jace, returning to the topic at hand. He wrung his hands as he said it, nervous, the question hanging in the hair like a bated breath.

I shrugged; easy, nonchalant. Inwardly, my chest was a fiery ball of hellish screams. I'd made out with Hartley. Would inviting him for dinner send the wrong message? Did he think I could tolerate him now? Or, oh god, even worse... did he think I liked him now? He could hold that over my head forever. It would be completely mortifying if he thought I liked him. I would rather die. But, if I didn't invite him over for dinner, did that suggest that I couldn't handle it? That the awkwardness had gotten to me? Or, god forbid, did not inviting him suggest I was so nervous in his presence because I liked him?

Choosing between designer handbags was far easier than this. This decision made me want to rip out my hair. Sadly, I didn't have time to make a pros and cons list. "Uh, sure. Stay for dinner. You can help me smuggle leftovers for Knight."

Knight seemed delighted by this. "Oh, please bring the good food. Lena always brings me the vegetables."

"Yeah, because that's always what's left over, because they're gross."