Chapter Eleven — Almost Confessions
474 Words
(Harper’s POV)
By Saturday, I’ve had enough.
Enough of the silence, the stolen glances, the way Jace pretends nothing’s happening while acting like everything is.
He’s in the backyard when I find him—leaning against the railing, sun painting gold across his shoulders, talking to Noah about something car-related. When my brother heads inside, I cross the grass before I can second-guess myself.
“Hey.”
He looks up, wary. “Hey.”
I stop in front of him, arms crossed. “We need to talk.”
He lets out a breath, half a laugh. “That’s never good.”
“Then maybe stop giving me reasons to corner you.”
He smirks, but it fades fast when he sees my expression. “What’s this about, Harper?”
“You,” I say bluntly. “And me. And whatever this is.”
He straightens. “There isn’t a ‘this.’”
“Oh, please,” I snap. “You show up wherever I go. You stare like I’m the only person in the room. You tell me not to talk to other guys and then act like I’m the crazy one for noticing.”
His jaw tightens. “You’re overthinking it.”
“Am I?” I step closer, close enough to see the pulse in his throat. “Because if I’m wrong, then look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel anything.”
He looks at me for a long, charged moment—and doesn’t say a word.
“That’s what I thought,” I whisper.
He rakes a hand through his hair, pacing a step away. “You don’t understand. If Noah ever—”
“This isn’t about Noah,” I cut in. “It’s about you. You act like you’re doing me a favor by keeping your distance, but all you’re doing is confusing me.”
He stops pacing, turns back. “I’m confusing myself.”
The words hang there, raw and unexpected.
My breath catches. “Then stop running from it.”
He looks at me then—really looks—and for a second, it feels like the world narrows down to just the two of us and the heartbeat between us.
He takes a small step forward. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Maybe I do,” I say quietly. “Maybe I want to stop pretending.”
The space between us hums with everything unsaid. His hand lifts slightly, like he’s about to reach for me—but then Noah’s voice shouts from inside, calling our names.
We both freeze.
Jace exhales sharply, stepping back. “Harper…”
I shake my head, blinking fast. “Don’t. Not now.”
He nods once, voice rough. “We’ll talk later.”
But we both know later keeps moving further away.
- Writer
