Chapter Seven — The Jealous Type
635 Words
(Harper’s POV)
Eli insists I need “fresh air and socialization,” which is his code for a night out in civilization that doesn’t involve your laptop.
So here I am, at a crowded little patio downtown, surrounded by the hum of laughter and string lights, trying to remember how to be normal.
He’s halfway through a story about one of his disastrous dates when a shadow falls over our table.
“Harper Lane?”
I glance up. It’s Mason Walker—one of Noah’s old teammates. Broad smile, kind eyes, and the kind of easy confidence that makes people stop and look.
“Mason! Hey.”
“Didn’t know you were back in town.” He nods at the empty chair beside me. “Mind if I—?”
Before I can answer, Eli kicks me lightly under the table. His grin says Say yes, dummy.
“Sure,” I say, motioning to the seat.
Mason starts talking—about college, mutual friends, the usual small-town stuff—and I find myself laughing more than I expected. It’s harmless. Nice. Simple.
Until my phone buzzes.
JACE: where are you?
JACE: noah said you went out.
I hesitate, typing back quickly.
ME: just with eli.
His reply comes fast.
JACE: alone?
My stomach tightens.
ME: and mason, i think you know him?
A long pause. Then—
JACE: i’m on my way.
“What’s wrong?” Eli whispers.
“Nothing,” I mutter, shoving my phone face down. But my heart’s already racing.
⸻
Jace shows up fifteen minutes later. He spots me instantly, cutting through the crowd like he’s on a mission. His jaw’s set, his eyes sharp, and when he reaches our table, he doesn’t even look at Mason.
“Hey, Harper,” he says, his tone light but forced. “Didn’t know you were having a party without me.”
I blink. “It’s not a party, it’s—”
He pulls up a chair. “Mind if I join?”
Mason gestures vaguely. “Uh, sure, man.”
The conversation that follows could qualify as an Olympic sport in awkwardness. Every time Mason asks me something, Jace answers for me. Every time I laugh, Jace’s expression tightens just a little more.
Finally, Mason stands. “Well, I should get going. Good seeing you, Harper.”
“Yeah, you too,” I say, meaning it.
He leaves, and as soon as he’s out of sight, I turn to Jace. “What was that?”
“What?” he says innocently.
“You practically scared him off!”
He shrugs. “Didn’t like how he was looking at you.”
“Looking at me?” I echo, incredulous. “He was being polite.”
“Polite doesn’t look like that.”
I cross my arms. “You don’t get to decide who I talk to, Jace.”
His jaw flexes. “I’m just saying—”
“No,” I interrupt. “You’re being jealous.”
He meets my eyes, something raw flickering there. “Maybe I am.”
The air between us stills.
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is exactly why I said we needed rules. Because the second someone else looks at you, I—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Forget it.”
I soften, my anger slipping into confusion. “Jace…”
He looks at me then, really looks, and for a moment there’s nothing left of the teasing or the boundaries—just quiet honesty.
“Go home, Harper,” he says softly. “Before I do something I shouldn’t.”
He turns and walks away, leaving me alone beneath the string lights, heart pounding, realizing that whatever this is—it stopped being just research a long time ago.
- Writer
