Mila Wilson is quiet, anxious and a little bit of a mess. Panic attacks have ruled her life for as long as she can remember - but starting college is her chance to take control. Love? Not something she believes she's built for.
Then she meets Jace E...
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At the bottom of the stairs, Jace gets caught in a web of goodbyes—shoulder claps, short hugs, easy laughter—and I hover off to the side, quietly grateful to be invisible. No one notices me, and that's a relief. The buzz in my head is fading into the kind of tired that makes your body feel heavy, and all I can think about is the silence waiting in Jace's car.
The moment we step outside, the cool night air hits my face like a balm. I inhale deeply, greedily, as if I've been holding my breath for hours, and soon after, we slide into his Audi like it's second nature.
"Home it is?" Jace glances at me, his voice the only thing breaking the still.
I nod, but I hesitate. There's a flicker of something inside me—a subtle panic at the idea of this night ending. It's irrational, maybe even needy, but I find myself searching for an excuse to stretch this moment just a little longer. As if on cue, my stomach growls. An idea clicks into place.
"You know," I say, my voice laced with mischief, "I have one rule."
Jace tilts his head, intrigued. "Oh yeah?"
"I only eat McDonald's when I've been drinking. Want to grab some food?" My grin is borderline childish.
His laugh, warm and easy, is the only answer I need. "Sure. Let's go."
The drive is short—five minutes, tops—and we fill the time with soft music and unspoken thoughts. I hum along to the music, not caring if he hears. It feels intimate, somehow, like we're floating in our own little bubble of stillness and headlights.
At the drive-thru speaker, a chipper voice greets us. I nudge Jace and signal for fries. He orders a burger and a milkshake for himself.
"All you want is fries?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah," I confirm with a grin. "Also, I'm a vegetarian."
He lets out an exaggerated sigh. "I feared the worst," he says bluntly, before flashing me a smirk.
We decide to stay in the car to eat, perched in the warm cocoon of the Audi, windows slightly fogged from the contrast between the cold night and our shared space.
"So why the McDonald's rule?" he asks as he unwraps his burger.
"I try to avoid fast food in general. The rule makes it feel... ceremonial."
He chuckles, already halfway through a fry. "Let me guess—you order salad at restaurants too?"
"I do enjoy a good salad very much" I admit proudly, and he laughs again, the sound somehow both teasing and kind.
When we finish, I lean back with a long, contented sigh. "I'm so tired," I murmur, watching the city lights blur beyond the window.
"You know," he says casually, "my apartment's just around the corner. You could crash there if you don't want to head back. You'd be safe. And not alone."
