LANE SIX

Too Close To Burn

Rain tapped softly against the empty bleachers, turning Blackwater’s stadium into something quieter, almost intimate.

I should’ve left.

That was the logical choice.

But logic had stopped working the second Jace Donovan stood too close to me in the rain like he didn’t understand personal space laws existed.

Now I was sitting beside him on the lower bleachers, pretending I wasn’t aware of every inch of distance between us.

Which was basically none.

“You’re thinking too loud again,” Jace said.

I turned my head slowly. “Is that a skill you have now? Hearing thoughts?”

“No,” he replied. “But you get expressive when you spiral.”

“I don’t spiral.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I analyze,” I corrected.

“Same thing.”

“It’s not.”

Jace leaned back slightly, stretching his legs out in front of him like he owned the stadium. His hoodie was damp from the rain, and his dark curls fell messily across his forehead.

He looked annoyingly calm for someone who had just been standing in a rainstorm having… whatever that moment was.

I refused to think about it.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he added quietly.

My fingers paused around the edge of my water bottle. “Which part?”

His eyes flicked toward me briefly. “That something about your story doesn’t add up.”

I swallowed once carefully.

“You’ve known me for what,” I said lightly, “less than a week?”

“And yet,” he said, “people don’t usually get destroyed online for no reason.”

My chest tightened.

I forced a laugh. “You’re very optimistic for someone who called me a distraction yesterday.”

“I still think you’re a distraction.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“But not for the reason I thought.”

That made me go still.

Rainwater slid down the edge of the bleachers in thin streams. Somewhere far off, thunder muttered like it was thinking about coming closer.

I didn’t look at him.

“I don’t need your investigation,” I said flatly.

“It’s not an investigation.”

“Then what is it?”

There was a long pause.

“I’m curious,” he admitted.

That word did something annoying to my stomach guess the word curious sounded worse somehow.

“Don’t be,” I said quickly.

Jace turned his head toward me fully now. “Why?”

I met his gaze before I could stop myself and that was a big mistake because up close, his expression wasn’t mocking anymore.

It wasn’t cold either but it was focused like I was the only thing in his line of sight.

“Because,” I said slowly, “people who get curious about me usually end up disappointed.”

Something shifted in his jaw.

“Try me.”

My breath caught slightly at how simple he made that sound.

Try me. Like it was nothing, like I wasn’t sitting there carrying something heavy enough to drown me if I opened my mouth.

I looked away first.

“Practice is over,” I said instead. “We should go.”

Jace didn’t move immediately.

Neither did I.

The silence stretched between us again, but this time it felt different.

Like something unspoken had settled there and neither of us knew how to remove it.

Finally, he stood.

“Next relay drill,” he said, “you’re not falling again.”

I scoffed, standing too. “I didn’t fall.”

“You almost did.”

“Almost doesn’t count.”

“It does in races.”

I grabbed my bag from the ground. “You’re annoying in a very consistent way.”

Jace slung his bag over his shoulder. “You’re still talking to me.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again.

Because unfortunately, he had a point.

We walked back toward the main field together in silence.

Not awkward but aware and that low-key felt worse.

The stadium lights had started flickering on as the sky darkened further, casting long reflections across the wet track.

Halfway across the field, I felt it again.

Eyes. I didn’t need to turn around to know.

It was Elena. She stood near the entrance to the stands holding Jace’s hoodie from earlier, watching us approach with that same calm expression she always wore.

But her eyes weren’t calm they were calculating.

Jace noticed her at the same time I did and the shift in him was immediate not guilt exactly but awareness.

Like he’d just remembered a rule he was supposed to be following.

“Hey,” Elena said when we reached her.

Her voice was soft, controlled, and perfect.

“Coach said you left early.”

“Rain stopped practice,” Jace replied.

Her gaze flicked to me for half a second.

Then back to him.

“I waited,” she said.

“I know.”

That was all he gave her, I should’ve left I really should’ve but my feet didn’t move.

Elena stepped closer to him, adjusting the strap of his bag like it was normal. Like I wasn’t standing right there.

“We’re still on for tomorrow?” she asked.

Jace hesitated just slightly.

“Yeah,” he said finally.

Something in my chest tightened in a way I didn’t like.

Elena smiled but didn’t reach her eyes.

“Good,” she said.

Then she looked at me fully for the first time.

“Try not to overwork him,” she added lightly.

It sounded polite but it wasn’t.

Jace’s head turned slightly. “Elena—”

“I’m joking,” she said quickly, cutting him off.

Except she wasn’t.

I gave a small nod. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in overworking anyone.”

Her smile sharpened.

“Glad to hear it.”

Jace shifted slightly between us like he was trying to break something invisible.

Then he looked at me just once, long enough that I felt it in my chest.

“See you at practice,” he said.

He said that not to her but to me.

And then he walked away with Elena beside him.

I stayed standing there a second longer than I needed to.

Rain had stopped completely now.

But somehow everything still felt wet.