MY GANGSTER CRUSH

Chapter Four: Sparks in the Hallway

The hallways of Westfield Academy had taken on a life of their own. Every corner seemed alive with whispers, every locker door a source of gossip. I tried to keep my head down, moving with purpose between classes, but it was impossible. Somehow, the universe, or maybe just Jace, always found a way to throw me into situations that left my heart pounding and my thoughts scrambled.

I was walking toward my next class when a group of girls from my history class nudged each other and whispered loudly enough for me to hear.

“Did you see her with him yesterday? The new girl and… him?”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. I tried to ignore them, but every word was like a flame licking at my skin.

With him?

Yes. With him.

I turned the corner and froze. There he was, leaning against the lockers, one foot propped up casually, that same crooked smirk tugging at his lips. Tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, dark eyes scanning the students around him with a dangerous calm. My chest skipped a beat.

“Princess,” he said, voice low, teasing, as if he’d known I’d be there.

I swallowed, forcing myself to respond. “J-Jace…”

“Walking alone again?” he asked, stepping closer, deliberately close enough that the air between us felt charged.

“I… I just…” My words faltered. Every instinct screamed at me, every nerve ending screamed stay back, but my body betrayed me, moving just a fraction closer.

He tilted his head, eyes scanning my face as though trying to read every thought. “Careful,” he said, voice softening slightly. “People here love to talk.”

I nodded, aware of the whispers trailing behind us, but my attention was locked on him. There was something mesmerizing about the way he carried himself, the confidence, the danger, the faint flicker of softness beneath the rough exterior.

And then it happened.

A student carrying a stack of books bumped into me from behind. I staggered, reaching out instinctively, and my hand collided with his.

The world seemed to stop. His skin was warm, firm, grounding. I jerked my hand back, cheeks flaming.

“Relax,” he said, voice low, teasing, but there was a glint in his eyes that made my stomach flutter. “It’s just a touch.”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my pulse, but my mind refused to cooperate. Just a touch? It felt like fire had raced up my arm, through my chest, and lodged somewhere between my ribs.

“You’re… dangerous,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

He smirked, leaning just slightly closer, enough that I could smell the faint scent of leather and something else, something intoxicatingly him. “Maybe. But only to the people who deserve it.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him he was reckless, untouchable, impossible. But instead, I found myself laughing nervously, heart hammering, cheeks hot.

Then the bell rang, snapping us back into reality. Students surged past, rushing toward the next class, but Jace didn’t move immediately. He watched me, smirk never leaving his face, and for a brief second, it felt like we were the only two people in the hallway.

“See you around, princess,” he said finally, pushing off the lockers and disappearing into the crowd, leaving me dizzy, breathless, and craving more.

For the rest of the day, I couldn’t focus. Every class, every lecture, every scribble in my notebook was a blur. My mind replayed the accidental touch, the way he had looked at me, the teasing softness beneath that dangerous exterior.

By the time school ended, I was exhausted, but exhilarated. I walked toward the courtyard, hoping for a moment of solitude, only to find him waiting.

“Following me?” I asked, trying to sound casual, though my voice trembled slightly.

He chuckled, that low, dangerous sound that made my knees weak. “Maybe,” he said, eyes glinting. “Maybe I like knowing where my princess goes.”

I froze. Princess. The word echoed in my mind, and I realized with a shiver that I had no idea what it meant for him, if it was teasing, warning, or something else entirely.

“Why… why me?” I asked, heart pounding.

He tilted his head, studying me as if trying to weigh the words carefully. “Because you’re different,” he said finally, voice softer now, almost unguarded. “Most people here… they’re loud, fake, or scared. You… you’re not like them.”

Heat surged through me at his words. Different? Again? Somehow, it felt like a compliment this time, a dangerous, thrilling one that made my chest ache.

Before I could respond, he stepped closer, and the wind shifted, carrying a faint smell of smoke and leather. My fingers brushed against his arm accidentally, and I froze. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just that fleeting touch.

“You feel that?” he asked, voice low, teasing.

“I… feel… nothing,” I stammered, though my chest betrayed me with a rapid, uneven beat.

He smirked knowingly. “Sure you do, princess. You just don’t know it yet.”

And then he turned, walking away before I could say another word, leaving me with fluttering thoughts, a racing heart, and an ache I didn’t fully understand.

That evening, I found myself replaying the moments over and over in my head, the accidental touches, the teasing words, the smirk that seemed to follow me wherever I went. Somehow, I knew I was already hooked, even though every part of me screamed caution.

I was walking a tightrope, caught between fear and fascination, danger and desire. And with Jace, every step promised both.

By the time I got home, I realized something terrifying and exhilarating all at once: I was already drawn into his world, and I couldn’t imagine wanting to get out.