Chapter Eight — Crossing Lines
537 Words
(Harper’s POV)
For three days, Jace doesn’t text.
No early morning coffee runs, no teasing messages about my “homework,” not even a sarcastic emoji. It’s like he’s erased himself from my orbit.
At first, I try to ignore it.
I throw myself into my writing — or at least, I try to. The new chapter in my book feels hollow, like every sentence is missing a heartbeat. I tell myself it’s just writer’s block. But every time I type a scene where my heroine’s love interest brushes her hand or looks at her too long, my stomach twists.
Because I keep thinking about him.
By the fourth day, Eli corners me at the coffee shop.
“Okay,” he says, sliding into the chair across from me. “Spill. You look like a sad extra in a music video.”
I give him a look. “I’m fine.”
“Liar. You only drink black coffee when you’re emotionally compromised.”
I sigh, stirring my cup. “It’s Jace.”
Eli raises a brow. “Ah. The forbidden muse.”
“Stop calling him that,” I groan.
“Can’t help it, honey. You’re giving tragic romance energy.”
I drop my head into my hands. “He’s been avoiding me ever since that night with Mason. I think I made it weird.”
Eli smirks. “Oh, you made it weird? Not the guy who showed up uninvited and practically growled at another man for existing?”
“Eli.”
“Fine,” he concedes. “But if he’s jealous, that means he cares. Whether he wants to admit it or not.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, I think.
Because caring means crossing a line we can’t uncross.
⸻
That night, I find him.
He’s in the garage with Noah, fixing up the old car they’ve been working on since high school. I hang back, waiting until my brother heads inside for tools.
“Hey,” I say softly.
Jace straightens, wiping grease off his hands. His expression flickers—surprise, then something unreadable. “Hey.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
He leans against the hood. “You’ve been imagining things.”
I step closer. “Don’t do that. Just… talk to me.”
He exhales. “Harper, what do you want me to say? That I can’t stop thinking about you? That every time I see your name pop up, I want to answer, but I know I shouldn’t?”
My breath catches. “Then why shouldn’t you?”
“Because you’re Noah’s sister,” he says, his voice low. “And because you deserve someone who’s not fighting every instinct to stay away.”
The silence stretches, heavy and full.
“I never asked you to stay away,” I whisper.
He laughs quietly, almost bitterly. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”
Before I can reply, Noah’s voice echoes from inside. “Jace! You still out there?”
He straightens, forcing his tone back to casual. “Yeah, coming!”
When he looks at me again, his eyes are softer but sad. “Go in the house, Harper.”
And even though I do—my heart doesn’t listen.
- Writer
