HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS

Chapter 10 : Her eyes .

                                 Jax's POV :

She was beautiful tonight. Not in the way most people might notice—the loud kind of beauty that demands attention. No, Emma's beauty was quieter, something you caught when you really looked. The way her dark ginger hair caught the moonlight, the soft curve of her face, and those blue eyes, so guarded yet vulnerable. I wasn't used to paying attention like this, but with Emma, it was hard not to.

We were deep in conversation now, and I hadn't expected it to feel this easy. Normally, I wasn't one for serious talks. But something about Emma made me want to know more, to dig beneath the surface and figure out what was going on behind those eyes.

She told me about New York, about her life with her grandma, and how different everything felt here in Ridgeview. I could hear the loneliness in her voice, even if she wasn't saying it outright. It was like she was carrying something heavy, something she'd been holding onto for a while. I wanted to lighten that load, even if I didn't know how.

As the conversation flowed, I found myself watching her more closely—the way she bit her lip when she was unsure, how she tucked her hair behind her ear when she felt nervous. She didn't notice it, but those small things drew me in more than anything else.

And then, before I realized it, I brought up the one thing I shouldn't have.

"Is it because of your mom?"

The words slipped out, and as soon as they did, I regretted it. Her whole body tensed, and she looked up at me sharply, eyes wide with surprise, maybe even a little hurt. I could see the walls she'd been letting down start to go back up.

"I—" I started, trying to fix it, but the damage was already done.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tight.

I hesitated, realizing I'd screwed up. I hadn't meant to bring it up, but Miles had told me about the strained relationship she had with her mom last week. He'd mentioned how distant things had gotten between them, how Emma always seemed to feel like an outsider in her own family. And now, like an idiot, I'd just thrown it in her face.

"Miles mentioned it," I admitted, running a hand through my hair, feeling frustrated with myself. "He told me things weren't great between you two. I didn't mean to bring it up like that, though."

Emma looked down, her fingers tightening around the sleeves of my jacket. I could see her retreating .

"I didn't mean to push," I said, trying to fix the situation. "I know what it's like when things aren't perfect at home. Believe me."

She didn't say anything at first, just kept looking down, her guard going up. I could feel the distance between us growing, and I knew I had to do something to bring her back, to show her I wasn't just prying for no reason.

I took a deep breath, deciding to tell her something I hadn't really told many people. "Look, my life isn't as put together as it seems either. You know all this stuff—the parties, the friends, the house—it's just a distraction. After my mom died... when I was four... everything pretty much fell apart."

Emma looked up, her eyes softening as I continued.

"My dad? He wasn't always this distant. But after she died, he just... checked out. Threw himself into his business and left me with nannies or by myself most of the time. It was like he was trying to bury everything by staying busy and throwing money around. So yeah, I live in this big house and have all these people around, but it's pretty damn lonely sometimes."

I paused, unsure of what to say next. I wasn't used to talking about this, wasn't used to letting people in on the part of my life that wasn't perfect. But for some reason, standing there with Emma, I wanted her to know. Maybe because I could see a bit of the same loneliness in her eyes.

"I guess I'm just saying... it's okay if things aren't great with your mom," I added quietly. "You're not the only one who feels like that sometimes. Families are messy."

Emma was silent for a moment, but I could see the tension easing out of her shoulders, her grip on the jacket loosening. She looked up at me, her expression softer, more open than before.

"I didn't know that about your mom," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I replied. "I don't talk about it much."

She nodded, and for the first time, I felt like we were on the same page—two people who didn't have it all figured out, both carrying more than we let on.

"It's not easy with my mom," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "She remarried, and now it feels like she has this new family. She's so focused on Sophie and Miles, and I'm just... there. Like an afterthought."

I could hear the hurt in her voice, the weight of it. And even though I didn't know exactly what that felt like, I understood the feeling of being forgotten by someone who was supposed to care.

"I get that," I said, nodding. "It's like you're in the room, but no one really sees you."

She glanced up at me, her eyes meeting mine with a look that made my chest tighten. "Exactly."

We stood there in silence for a while, the cold breeze brushing against us, but it didn't feel awkward. It felt like we understood each other in a way no one else really could.