MY GANGSTER CRUSH

Chapter Three: Whispers and Shadows

The hallways of Westfield Academy buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the occasional slam of locker doors. But as I walked through them, notebook clutched to my chest like a shield, I felt… watched. Every pair of eyes seemed to linger on me longer than necessary. Whispers trailed behind, growing louder when I passed certain groups.

“She’s the new rich girl.”

“Did you see her shoes? Expensive, obviously.”

“Is she really the one Jace…?”

My stomach flipped at the mention of his name. Of course they were talking about him. Of course they were gossiping about me. Somehow, even my life had become another story in the ongoing legend of Jace, the school’s infamous bad boy.

I tried to focus on class, but every glance out the window, every shadow in the hallway made my heart skip. And then, just like yesterday, I felt it: that awareness of someone near me. Not physically, but… present. Watching.

By lunchtime, I decided I needed air, a break from the gossip, the whispers, the scrutiny. I slipped out to the small garden courtyard behind the main building. It was quiet here, the kind of quiet that made the wind through the trees feel like the only sound in the world. I sank onto a bench, notebook on my lap, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

And there he was.

Jace, leaning against the edge of the fountain with that same nonchalant posture that made him look untouchable. He spotted me immediately, eyes dark and unreadable. My chest tightened. Somehow, I both wanted to run and wanted to melt into the ground beneath him.

“Princess,” he drawled, voice low and teasing as he approached. “You’re here early.”

“I… I needed some air,” I said softly, heart hammering. My fingers fidgeted with the edge of my notebook.

He studied me for a moment, then smirked. “You’re easy to find, you know. I could probably track you anywhere on campus.”

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. Is he teasing? Threatening? Or… just being him?

He crouched slightly to pick up a fallen leaf and twirled it between his fingers, eyes never leaving mine. “So, princess… do you always wander off alone?”

“I… I prefer quiet,” I admitted. “It’s… easier to think.”

He tilted his head, as if weighing my words. “Huh. Interesting.” Then, without warning, he leaned down slightly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. My breath hitched, and I froze. That small gesture, almost intimate in its casualness, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Relax,” he muttered, straightening. “I’m not going to bite. Yet.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him that his teasing drove me insane, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just sat there, cheeks burning, mind spinning.

For the next few minutes, we just sat together, the kind of silence that felt charged, electric and unbearable. I noticed things I hadn’t before: the faint scent of leather and smoke clinging to him, the way his tattoos peeked out from under the sleeves of his shirt, the subtle tension in his jaw as he watched the students passing by.

And then, unexpectedly, he spoke. “You’re not like the others.”

I blinked, unsure if I should respond. “What do you mean?”

He smirked slightly, gaze sharp. “Rich girls here… they either flaunt it or hide it behind fake smiles. You… you carry yourself differently. Not like you’re trying to impress anyone.”

My stomach fluttered. Different again? I whispered. “I… I don’t know how to… fit in.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping. “You don’t need to fit in. Not with me around.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. His words were simple, almost casual, but there was a weight to them I couldn’t ignore. And even though I wanted to fight it, my heart betrayed me with every beat.

Before I could respond, a shout came from across the courtyard. One of his so-called friends, probably more like followers, was waving, calling his name. Jace straightened instantly, masking any softness that might have lingered on his face.

“Duty calls,” he muttered.

I nodded, heart pounding. I watched as he walked away, shoulders relaxed, smirk back in place, and something about the way he moved made it impossible not to be drawn to him.

Over the next few days, I noticed a pattern. He seemed to appear wherever I went, sometimes silently, sometimes close enough that I could feel his presence without seeing him. And each time, my curiosity grew. I wanted to know him, really know him. The way he saved that freshman, the teasing, the small gestures—it all hinted at something beneath that dangerous exterior.

But the whispers didn’t stop. Every time I tried to focus on classes, someone would lean in, gossiping about Jace, about me, about the two of us.

“You’re asking for trouble, Ava.”

“You know he’s trouble, right? Stay away.”

Part of me wanted to obey them, wanted to step back and protect myself from the inevitable chaos. But another, stronger part of me… wanted him. Wanted the danger, the thrill, the possibility of discovering what made him who he was.

And then, one afternoon, it happened.

I was leaving the library, books in my arms, when someone brushed past me roughly. My notebook slipped from my hands and hit the ground with a thud.

Before I could bend to pick it up, a hand was there..., large, strong, and warm. I looked up to see Jace crouched in front of me, holding my notebook like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You drop this,” he said, voice low, teasing.

“I… thank you,” I stammered, reaching for it, only to have him hold it just out of reach for a second longer.

His smirk widened. “Careful, princess. Not everyone’s as lucky.”

I rolled my eyes, my cheeks heating. “I’m not a kid.”

He chuckled softly, leaning closer. “Maybe not. But I like seeing you flustered.”

That single moment, that teasing brush of proximity, made my heart race, my thoughts scatter. And I realized something dangerous: I wanted more.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Students poured into the hallways, but I lingered, trying to steady my racing pulse. He was gone before I could think of anything to say, leaving me with a mind full of questions, a heart full of longing, and the undeniable truth: he was no ordinary boy.

Jace was a storm. And somehow, I was already caught in it.