Chapter Two — Familiar Stranger
636 Words
Dinner feels like a performance I didn’t audition for.
Mom’s chatting away, Noah’s devouring his second plate of pasta, and Jace—of course—is sitting right across from me. Fully dressed this time, thank God, but still impossibly confident. His hair is damp, curling over his forehead, and there’s that smug, relaxed grin that’s always made me want to throw a napkin at his face.
Except now, it doesn’t feel smug. It feels… dangerous.
“So, Harper,” Mom says cheerfully, “how was Italy? Did you eat your weight in gelato?”
“Pretty much,” I say with a small smile. “And pasta. And croissants. And maybe a few questionable espressos that could’ve powered a jet.”
Jace snorts softly. “Sounds like heaven.”
“It was,” I reply, meeting his eyes before I can stop myself. The look he gives me is unreadable—half teasing, half something else. Something that makes my pulse skip.
Noah clears his throat. “Jace helped out around here while you were gone,” he says, as if that explains everything. “He fixed the gutters, helped Dad with the garage, and kept the house from falling apart.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And in return, you let him move into my room?”
Noah shrugs, oblivious. “You weren’t using it. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Jace smirks. “If it helps, I made the bed.”
“Barely,” I mutter, stabbing my pasta. “You also left your towel on my chair.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Mom laughs. “You two sound like you’re twelve again.”
Oh, if only she knew how not twelve Jace looks now.
⸻
After dinner, Noah disappears to play video games, and Mom heads to the laundry room. I linger in the kitchen, rinsing dishes, when I hear Jace behind me.
“Need help?” he asks, his voice low.
“I think I’ve got it.” I keep my tone light, though I can feel the warmth of him at my back.
He leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “So… Italy, huh? You’ve been busy growing up.”
I glance over my shoulder. “You say that like I wasn’t going to eventually.”
He grins. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I do.”
His eyes flicker down briefly, then back up. “You’re different. More confident. You used to blush just making eye contact.”
I roll my eyes, though he’s not wrong. “And you used to wear shirts that said ‘Bro Code Enforcer.’ People change.”
That earns a laugh from him — a real one, warm and unguarded. “Touché.”
The sound of Noah’s game explodes from the living room, and we both flinch. The spell breaks.
Jace straightens, running a hand through his hair. “Anyway, it’s good you’re back. The house was quiet without you.”
Something in his tone makes my chest tighten. “You mean without Noah,” I tease.
He pauses. “Sure. Without Noah.”
He leaves after that, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth, and I’m left staring at the dishwater like it holds the answers to every confusing feeling I’ve ever had.
⸻
Later that night, I sit on my bed, notebook open. I haven’t written in weeks. But the words come easily now.
“She didn’t recognize him at first—not because he’d changed, but because she had. And for the first time, the boy she’d known her whole life didn’t look at her like a sister. He looked at her like a secret.”
My pen hovers over the page. My heart beats too fast.
Because I know exactly who I’m writing about.
- Writer
