Chapter 3
1233 Words
Rina spent the rest of the morning pretending to listen in class while her mind replayed Jace Ezan’s every word… every look… every reckless promise he’d made with a voice too gentle for someone so dangerous.
Lunch. Pictures. Hand holding.
He’d said it so casually, like fake dating him was just another Tuesday.
By the time her last class ended, her chest felt like it was full of bees. She slipped out with her sketchbook pressed tight to her ribs, hoping Jace forgot or got busy or simply realized she wasn’t worth the public show.
No such luck.
He was waiting.
Leaning against the wall near the exit, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly down as if trying not to draw attention… pointless, since he naturally drew attention just by existing.
Rina froze.
He noticed immediately.
A slow, warm smile lifted the corner of his mouth. Not the charming athlete grin he gave cameras. Something quieter. Almost relieved.
“Took you long enough,” he said, pushing off the wall and walking toward her.
Her breath slipped out unevenly. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I said I would.”
“That doesn’t mean you had to.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to.”
Dangerous. Too dangerous.
Students drifted past them, whispering like the wind carried gossip.
“That’s really her.”
“He waited for her?”
“They look… kind of good together?”
The last one nearly made Rina trip.
Jace noticed, subtle concern sharpening in his gaze. “You okay?”
“Stop asking me that.”
“Then stop looking like you’re about to run.”
She glared. He smirked.
Somehow he always won these tiny battles.
He held out a hand, not touching her, just offering. “Ready?”
“For what?”
“For being my girlfriend,” he said quietly. “Or pretending to. Whichever helps you breathe.”
Her pulse stuttered.
But she nodded, slipping her hand into his before she could second-guess the choice.
His fingers wrapped around hers like it was the most natural thing in the world—warm, steady, grounding.
A cheer erupted somewhere behind them.
Rina nearly yanked her hand back, but Jace didn’t flinch. He lifted their joined hands just slightly, almost daring anyone to doubt the reality of what they were seeing.
He leaned down. “Ignore them.”
“You’re asking the impossible.”
“Then look at me instead.”
She swallowed. “That’s worse.”
He laughed softly, and it felt like a secret shared between them.
They walked toward the café, his grip confident, hers hesitant but not letting go. Every few steps his thumb brushed the back of her hand light, unintentional, devastating.
By the time they reached the café steps, her nerves were shredded.
Inside, it was worse.
Phones lifted.
Eyes followed.
A table of cheerleaders practically spun in their seats.
Rina stiffened. “Jace—”
“I’ve got you.” His voice droppedlow enough to settle her heartbeat. “Sit with me. If you want.”
He left the choice open. He always did.
It was weirdly disarming.
She nodded, and he led her to a corner booth—half private, half visible. Strategic. Safe enough for her; open enough to look real.
When she slid into the seat, he took the one beside her instead of across.
She shot him a look. “There are two sides, you know.”
“I know.”
“You’re sitting on mine.”
“Yeah.”
“Jace.”
“Rina.”
She tried not to smile; he tried not to look like he was waiting for her to.
A waiter appeared instantly, practically glowing. “Hey, uh… Jace. Rina. Wow. What can I… uh?… what will you two have?”
Rina blinked. You two.
Jace didn’t miss it. “Same as usual for me,” he said. “And she’ll have…”
He looked at her, giving her full control.
“Uh… iced mocha,” she murmured. “And a croissant.”
He nodded. “Iced mocha and a croissant. Got it.”
The waiter scurried away, probably texting the campus group chat already.
Rina slumped into the booth. “This is insane.”
“Yeah,” Jace said lightly, “but at least you get good coffee out of it.”
“You think this is funny?”
“I think it’s temporary,” he said, more serious now. “And survivable. Especially if we don’t let them get into your head.”
She lifted her eyes slowly. “You mean ‘our heads.’ This affects you, too.”
His jaw flexed. “Yeah. But I’m used to it.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t feel it.”
He looked at her like she’d said something he didn’t expect.
Before he could answer, someone approached their table footsteps heavy, purpose unmistakable.
Rina tensed.
Jace didn’t turn right away. He already knew who it was.
Dylan Maddox.
He stopped beside their booth, eyes flicking from their joined hands to Rina’s face to Jace’s unreadable expression.
“Well,” Dylan said quietly, “this is new.”
Jace’s grip tightened, subtle but firm. “Can we help you?”
Dylan ignored him, keeping his attention fully on Rina. “Are you okay?”
The question hit harder than it should’ve. It was too direct. Too perceptive. Too… different.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly.
“You sure?” he asked, softer this time.
Jace’s jaw ticked.
Rina cleared her throat. “Um… yes. Really.”
Dylan didn’t look convinced.
“Alright,” he said eventually, though his gaze lingered a little too long. “Good.”
He nodded once at her… and only then looked at Jace.
“We should talk.”
“No,” Jace said immediately.
Dylan’s lip twitched. “Of course. Later, then.”
He walked away, leaving a strange, charged silence behind him.
Rina let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “What was that?”
“Complication,” Jace muttered.
“Of what?”
He didn’t answer.
The waiter returned, breaking the tension as he set down their drinks and food. Jace thanked him absently, his attention still on Dylan’s retreating figure.
When the café finally settled, Rina took a shaky sip of her mocha.
“You didn’t have to be… like that,” she murmured.
“Like what?”
“Possessive.”
He turned his head toward her slowly. “I’m not possessive.”
“You nearly crushed my hand.”
He glanced down at their joined fingers, still locked, still warm.
“Sorry,” he said quietly though he didn’t let go.
She didn’t pull away.
They sat like that for a few seconds, breaths blending, tension threading between them like something fragile and new.
Then Jace spoke again gentle but serious.
“From now on, if anyone asks how we met, what we are, why we’re together… let me answer.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll tell the truth.”
She blinked. “And you won’t?”
He gave her a ghost of a smile, sharp, boyish, secretive.
“No,” he murmured. “I tell the story that keeps you safe.”
Something in her chest sank… and lifted… and twisted.
Because fake or not, for one terrifying second…
She believed him.
- Writer
