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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The alarm hits at 6:45 a.m., blaring through the soft silence like a brick shattering glass. I groan into my pillow, fumble for my phone, and shut it off with more force than necessary. My first class starts at eight, and for one perfect, foolish second, I let myself imagine skipping it entirely, but I can't. I'm barely a few weeks into college.
I reach across the bed, searching instinctively for the warmth of Jace. This time, my hand doesn't meet empty sheets — it finds something solid. Warm skin. Him. Shirtless. Slowly, I open my eyes and turn to see his back facing me, bare and rising gently with each breath. My fingertips move on their own, trailing gently across his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine. I expect a groggy protest, a grumble like mine — but instead, Jace lets out a soft, contented hum. He rolls over, eyes still heavy with sleep, and meets my gaze. "Hey," he says in his low, raspy morning voice.
"Hey," I echo, just as quietly. "When did you get back last night?" I ask, though I already know I missed it.
"Fifteen minutes later, like I said," he murmurs, rubbing his eyes slowly. I take the moment to admire him — his messy hair, the way his lips part in a yawn, the sleep still clinging to his lashes. Like this, he doesn't look like someone with secrets or scars. Just soft, and... mine. But thinking about it — about what he left to do — makes that uneasy weight appear in my stomach again. I push it away. In these quiet morning moments, there's no shadow to him. Just softness. I lift my hand to his face and gently run my fingers across his cheek. Sometimes, I still can't believe he's mine. "You have class too?" I ask him gently, barely above a whisper.
"Yeah." He lets out a long breath. "Let's skip. Stay in bed with me all day," he says, finally opening his eyes. One of his arms wraps around me, pulling me close, pressing me to the warmth of his body.
"I can't," I whisper, although I want to. The idea tempts me more than I want to admit.
"I know." Then he starts kissing my neck. Gently. Intimately. He doesn't have to search—he finds that one spot that makes my body melt into his. "I can be pretty convincing though," he whispers against my skin.
I giggle, body already betraying me. "I know. That's the problem." My hands cradle his face and bring his lips to mine, stealing a kiss before I can get carried away. I hum against his mouth, then pull back, breathless. "I have to shower," I whisper, even though every cell in my body screams otherwise.
"I'm coming," he says, glancing at his phone before tossing the covers off with a groan. I do the same, and together we slip into the bathroom.
Thirty minutes—and two more failed attempts by Jace to convince me to stay home—later, we're ready and sliding into his car. We still have time to stop for coffee before class. I lean back in my seat, already feeling the weight of the day pressing in on me. We pull into the parking lot. I open my door, bracing myself.
"Ready?" Jace asks, watching me with a small smile.
"Ready," I nod, forcing a breath in. And then—he grabs my hand. His much larger fingers curl around mine naturally, his grip warm and steady. I look up at him, eyes wide in disbelief. He doesn't even glance at me.
