Chapter 8
1372 Words
The second they step out of SunBite Café, the world detonates around them.
Not literally—but the shift is immediate enough to feel explosive.
The quad hums with noise, crowded in a way that makes Rina’s stomach twist. Students linger instead of passing through, clusters forming as if they’ve been waiting. Screens glint in the sunlight. The faint smell of coffee still clings to her hoodie, warm and misplaced. Murmurs ripple outward, tightening until they land on her.
Jace’s hand closes more firmly around hers—warm, steady, grounding—but the weight of the stares still burns.
“Are they serious right now?” someone mutters.
“That’s the girl from the locker room.”
“He told another girl to leave. I saw the video.”
“Oh my God… she’s right there.”
Rina’s throat tightens. She wonders, absurdly, if they can hear how loud her heart is.
Jace hears it too. His shoulders tense, jaw setting as he shifts closer, angling himself just enough to take the brunt of it without making her disappear behind him. The posture is deliberate—protective without spectacle, controlled but ready.
A camera flashes.
Then another.
“Jace!” someone calls. “Over here—Is she your girlfriend?”
Phones rise, pointed and expectant, like weapons disguised as curiosity.
Rina freezes. Her shoes feel suddenly too thin against the concrete, the ground harder than it should be.
The pressure hits all at once—heavy, breath-stealing. Eyes everywhere. Voices overlapping. Too many thoughts forming about her, too many conclusions already decided.
She tries to inhale, but the noise scrapes at her lungs. For a split second, she thinks she should be handling this better.
Jace steps in front of her slightly, lowering his voice so only she can hear.
“Hey. Look at me. Just me.”
She tries. God, she really does. But her vision blurs, the ground tipping beneath her feet, and all she can catch are fragments—
“Why her?”
“What does he even see in her?”
“He could do better.”
Her heart stutters so violently she sways.
Jace reacts instantly. His arm slides around her waist, firm and steady, pulling her against his chest like it’s instinct rather than thought. He holds her upright with practiced ease, as if he’s done this before.
“Hey,” he murmurs, forehead almost brushing hers. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”
Her fingers twist into his hoodie—not out of want, but necessity. The fabric bunches under her grip, solid, real. She just needs something that won’t move while everything else threatens to.
For a moment, the world is nothing but noise and light and pressure closing in from every direction—
—and then a voice cuts cleanly through it.
“Well. This is interesting.”
Dylan Maddox stands at the edge of the crowd, hands tucked into his pockets, his expression unreadable.
Students shift without realizing it, instinctively making space as he steps forward. The atmosphere feels different around him—quieter, sharper, like the air has been pulled tight.
His eyes find Rina first.
Concern flickers there. Real and unguarded.
Then his attention moves to Jace, something harder settling into his gaze.
Jace stiffens.
Dylan approaches calmly, his eyes scanning Rina’s face. “She doesn’t look well. You should get her out of here.”
“I was handling it,” Jace replies.
“Were you?”
The crowd hushes, sensing the tension—two opposing forces meeting, equal in weight, neither willing to yield.
Jace shifts, stepping fully into Dylan’s path. “Back up.”
Dylan’s jaw tightens. “Not until I know she’s okay.”
Rina feels the moment sharpen. The air seems warmer, tighter. People lean in, hungry for the spectacle, for something they can replay later.
She swallows. “I’m… fine.” Even to her own ears, it sounds thin.
Neither of them believes her.
Dylan lowers his voice. “Jace, she’s shaking.”
Jace glances down at her hands.
Only then does he notice the tremor she hadn’t even felt herself.
Something settles behind his eyes—a quiet decision locking into place.
Without another word, he draws her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and turning his back on the crowd, on Dylan, on the raised phones.
“We’re leaving.”
Dylan exhales through his nose, frustration flickering across his face, but he doesn’t interfere.
“Rina,” he says quietly, “if you need help, you know where to find me.”
Jace doesn’t look back.
“That won’t be necessary.”
Still, Dylan’s gaze follows them until the crowd closes in and swallows him whole.
Jace guides her through the remaining noise, keeping her tucked close at his side. Students step back instinctively as they pass—his expression alone clears a path.
He doesn’t stop until they reach the narrow space between the science hall and the art wing, where the sounds of the quad finally fall away. The air feels cooler here. Still. She hadn’t realized how hot her face was until now.
When he slows, he turns toward her.
The moment their eyes meet, the tension in his face cracks.
“Rina,” he says softly. “Look at me.”
She does—and something inside her loosens, just enough to breathe again.
He looks shaken.
Not from the crowd.
Not from Dylan.
From her.
From how close he came to losing her in all that noise.
His hands lift, hovering uncertainly before dropping back to his sides. “You were barely breathing out there.”
“I’m okay now,” she whispers, though part of her isn’t sure that’s entirely true.
“No, you’re not.” His voice is rough at the edges. “They scared you.”
She shakes her head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“The hell it wasn’t.”
He steps closer, studying her face as though he’s trying to memorize every detail she’s been trying to hide—the paleness, the tension, the fear she doesn’t want him to see.
“This isn’t what you signed up for.”
“It’s not your responsibility—”
“It is.”
The word lands hard enough to stop her cold.
His chest rises, falls, then steadies.
“It is,” he repeats, quieter. “I’m the one who dragged you into this.”
“Jace—”
“I should’ve been there sooner. I should’ve known today would be hell. I should’ve protected you—”
“You did.”
His gaze drops. “Not soon enough.”
The hurt in his voice hits harder than the noise ever did.
For a moment, he doesn’t speak. His fingers flex at his sides, restless, like he wants to reach for her but isn’t sure he should.
“I hate that they scared you.”
Silence settles between them—not heavy, just open.
Then, slowly, his hand lifts. His fingertips brush her arm, careful and light, as if she might disappear if he presses too hard.
“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs.
She should ask for space.
For distance.
For lines they were never supposed to cross.
Instead—
“I just… needed someone.”
Jace exhales, the tension easing out of him in a way she can feel more than see.
“You have me,” he says quietly. “I’m right here.”
For once, he doesn’t hide it.
The worry.
The fear.
The softness in his eyes when they stay on her.
He steps closer—not rushing, not claiming. Just close enough.
The world seems to quiet around them.
Just the two of them standing there, suspended in something neither is ready to name.
His fingers brush hers.
Not a grab.
Not a promise.
A question.
She answers by staying exactly where she is.
His breath shudders.
“Come on,” he says gently, lacing their fingers together. “Let’s go somewhere they can’t touch you.”
She doesn’t know where that place is.
But she follows him anyway.
Because for the first time, she isn’t backing away.
She’s walking forward—with him.
- Writer
