Different

10.

My heart pounds as I reach for the doorknob. I pause for a moment, take another breath, and open it. There he is—Jace. His expression unreadable, except for that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Hey," he says casually.

"Come in," I reply, stepping aside.

He walks in slowly, his eyes raking over me. His gaze lingers at my yoga pants before moving on, as if filing the image away for later. I take him in, too. He's swapped the clothes from this morning for his usual black jeans and a dark grey shirt that clings just enough to his frame to be distracting.

"How's the hangover?" he asks, dropping himself onto my bed like he owns the place.

"I feel alright. Painkillers did their job," I say, moving to sit beside him—though not too close. There's still space between us, and I need that right now. Or at least, I think I do. "So..." I start, giving him a small, curious smile. "What are you doing here?"

"What, I can't come see you?"

"You didn't exactly give me a choice," I say, laughing lightly as he pulls a mock-offended face.

"I was bored," he shrugs, leaning back against the wall like he plans to stay awhile.

"Don't you have a lot of friends to keep you busy?"

"I told you. I'm pissed at them. Come on now," he replies, then—without warning—grabs my arm and pulls me closer. Much closer.

He spots my laptop still open beside us. "What are we watching?"

"Queer Eye," I tell him, settling in. "It's this feel-good show where five guys give people makeovers. It's... wholesome."

"Boring," he declares, stretching his arms behind his head.

I roll my eyes. "Then pick something else. Go ahead."

Jace grabs the laptop, scrolling through Netflix half-heartedly before sighing in frustration. "I can't decide. Screw it—let's just talk."

He shifts to face me fully, lying on his side on the narrow bed. I mimic his position after playing some music on the laptop, trying to ignore the fact that our faces are now only inches apart.

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You excited to start classes tomorrow?"

"Yes and no," I admit. "I'm nervous. But I think that's normal."

He nods. "Yeah, it is. Guess I came to distract you." And with that, he pulls me even closer, his arm slipping around my waist as if it belongs there. The room suddenly feels warmer.

"Do you want to know the real reason I came over?" he asks, his voice low now, nearly a whisper.

"Do I?" I ask, half-playful, half-serious.

Jace reaches out and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheek. "I can't stop thinking about you. About your warmth, your body laying next to mine last night."

The words linger between us, hanging in the stillness of the room. His gaze flickers to my lips. My breath hitches. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. I just look at him—searching his eyes for honesty, for something real. My hand finds his arm and I begin tracing lazy lines along it, the way I'd traced his tattoos the night before. Jace closes his eyes briefly, leaning into the touch. When he opens them again, they're filled with something raw. Need, maybe. Or something softer.

His hand slides to my waist, fingertips brushing under my shirt against my bare skin. My skin lights up like it's never been touched before. I keep tracing his tattoos, letting myself fall into the moment, but he stops me gently, taking my hand in his.

"I need to do this. Now," he murmurs, forehead pressed to mine. His other hand moves to my cheek again, his thumb brushing soft circles into my skin. I can feel his breath against my lips. Every inch of me is on fire.

"Is this okay?" he asks, voice barely audible. His eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. I nod.

He closes the gap slowly, and when our lips finally meet, it's like everything else disappears. His kiss is careful, but there's an urgency simmering beneath the surface—controlled, but barely. His lips are soft, sure. It's not rushed. It's not just desire. It's something more.

He pulls back, and I already miss him. As he opens his mouth to say something, I place my hand on the back of his neck and pull him back to me. This time, the kiss deepens. He reacts quickly, his tongue brushing against mine, asking permission, which I give. I melt into him as his hands roam my body with just enough restraint to drive me crazy. He's deliberate, slow, as if he wants to memorize the way I feel under his hands.

The fire inside me grows until I can't sit still anymore. Heart racing, I move to straddle him, my legs on either side of his lap. His hands tighten at my waist.

"Fuck," he breathes, sitting up straighter, his body tense beneath mine. He leans forward, trailing kisses down my neck. Each one sends sparks through my body, and a quiet sigh escapes my lips. My hands begin exploring him, moving up his arms, over his chest, down his torso. Every muscle, every line of him feels like it was carved just to fit me. But before I can go any further, he stops me.

In one quick motion, Jace flips us so I'm beneath him, his body hovering over mine. "Mila," he says, voice rough with restraint. His mouth is close to my ear. "You need to stop. Or I won't be able to." His words slam me back into reality.

He thinks he's the only one losing control, but he couldn't be more wrong. Suddenly self-conscious, I sit up slightly, brushing my hair back and avoiding his eyes. 

"Sorry, I..." I begin, not knowing how to finish that sentence. I don't even know what I'm apologizing for.

"Why are you apologizing?" he asks, almost amused, though he doesn't press.

Before I can answer, his phone buzzes loudly beneath us. He grabs it from where it fell, reads the messages, and sighs.

"Alright, well—I had fun, but I gotta go," he says, already moving toward the edge of the bed.

I sit up slowly, stunned. "Oh... okay."

He doesn't notice at first, but then he looks up and catches the disappointment on my face. "Have a good first day tomorrow," he says, standing.

"Yeah, thanks."

Jace hesitates for a second. Then he turns back, grabs my chin gently, and presses one last kiss against my lips—a kiss that's softer than before, maybe even apologetic. He offers a half-smile.

"See you around," he says, and just like that, he's gone.

See you around. What the hell does that even mean? I fall back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My lips are still tingling, my heart is a mess, and my brain won't stop replaying every second of the last hour. Maybe nothing really happened, but it sure as hell felt like it did.

With Jace Evans, I see only two possibilities: either he's the best thing that will ever happen to me... or he's the one who breaks me into a thousand tiny pieces. And right now, I'm already in too deep to pull myself out.

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Thank you for reading! You've made it to chapter 10, but there is muuuuch more to come :) Please leave a vote!