Boundaries
1078 Words
Avoiding Jace should have been easy.
That was the lie I told myself on Monday night after overhearing Elena and Sabrina behind the equipment shed.
Create distance.
Stop feeding the rumors.
Stop making things harder for everyone.
Simple.
Except nothing about Jace Donovan had ever been simple.
By Tuesday morning, I was already failing.
Not dramatically.
Not in a way anyone else would notice.
Just small things.
I left homeroom through a different hallway.
Skipped my usual stop at the courtyard.
Arrived at lunch five minutes later than normal.
Tiny changes.
Enough to avoid running into him.
At least that was the plan.
Unfortunately, the universe remained committed to ruining my life.
I had barely reached my table when Mason dropped into the seat beside me.
“You’re being weird.”
I didn’t even look up from my tray.
“Good morning to you too.”
“It’s noon.”
“Then good noon.”
Mason frowned.
“You know what I mean.”
Across the table, Kiara immediately became interested.
Traitor.
“What kind of weird?” she asked.
“The suspicious kind.”
I pointed my fork at him.
“That’s not a category.”
“It is now.”
Before the conversation could get worse, I stood.
“I have class.”
“You have twenty minutes.”
I ignored him and walked away.
The less time spent answering questions, the better.
The problem was that people noticed patterns.
And I had apparently become predictable.
The rest of the school day crawled by.
Every hallway felt crowded.
Every classroom felt hot.
Every thought led somewhere I didn’t want it to go.
By the time practice arrived, I had convinced myself I was handling things perfectly.
That confidence lasted exactly three minutes.
“Blake.”
Coach Daniels stood near lane six holding a stopwatch.
I sighed.
“Yes?”
“You’re late.”
I looked at the clock.
By thirty seconds.
“Sorry.”
Coach narrowed his eyes.
“Apology accepted. Run.”
Fair enough.
I joined the team and immediately focused on stretching.
Anything to avoid looking around.
Anything to avoid noticing whether Jace had arrived.
Which was why it was particularly annoying when his voice appeared beside me.
“You’re avoiding me.”
I nearly pulled a muscle.
Slowly, I turned.
Jace stood there with his arms crossed watching me.
Great. Exactly what I needed.
“I’m not.”
The lie sounded weak.
His expression suggested he agreed.
“Yes, you are.”
“No.”
“Naomi.”
“Jace.”
Neither of us moved.
The stare-off lasted several seconds.
Then Coach blew his whistle.
“Unless you’re planning to race with your mouths, get moving.”
Saved again temporarily.
The next hour became an exhausting cycle of drills.
Sprint. Recover. Repeat.
Normally I enjoyed training.
Today felt different.
Every time I ended up near Jace, I moved somewhere else.
Every time he approached, I found an excuse to leave.
It was childish, immature, and necessary.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
The worst part was that he noticed every single time.
By the end of practice, frustration radiated from him.
Coach finally dismissed everyone just after sunset.
Athletes immediately headed toward the locker rooms.
I grabbed my bag and started walking fast.
If I left quickly enough, maybe I could avoid another conversation.
Maybe.
“Naomi.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
The footsteps behind me grew closer.
Then stopped.
I turned reluctantly.
“What?”
Jace looked emotionally tired.
The realization bothered me.
“You’ve been doing this all day.”
“Doing what?”
“Avoiding me.”
I laughed once.
Humorless.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
The parking lot around us buzzed with activity.
Students loaded cars.
Teammates talked nearby.
Yet somehow the space between us felt strangely private.
That was dangerous. I tightened my grip on my bag.
“You’re imagining things.”
“No, I’m not.”
The certainty in his voice made my stomach twist because he wasn’t wrong.
And we both knew it.
Silence stretched between us heavy and uncomfortable.
Finally, he exhaled.
“Did I do something?”
The question caught me off guard completely.
For a second, I forgot my prepared answers.
Forgot my excuses.
Forgot everything.
Because he sounded genuinely worried.
And that made this harder.
“No.”
“Then what’s going on?”
Elena’s face flashed through my mind.
Her voice followed immediately.
Don’t give him a reason to choose.
I looked away.
Toward the athletic field.
Toward anything except him.
“You should be with your girlfriend.”
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Instantly, the air changed.
Jace went still.
When I finally looked back, confusion had replaced frustration.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
I hated that I didn’t know.
“She deserves better than rumors.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“This isn’t about rumors.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, Naomi.”
The way he said my name made my pulse stumble.
It was firm, certain, and dangerous.
I took a step backward needing space, need i H distance.
“Look, I just think we should keep things professional.”
The second the sentence left my mouth, I regretted it.
Because something shifted in his expression not anger or hurt but determination. And somehow that felt worse.
“Professional.”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
For several seconds, he simply stared at me.
Like he was trying to understand something.
Or maybe trying to decide whether I was worth arguing with.
Eventually, he nodded once alowly.
“Fine.”
The single word landed harder than it should have.
I waited for relief, for satisfaction, for proof that I had done the right thing.
None of it came.
Instead, an uncomfortable ache settled in my chest.
Jace adjusted the strap of his bag.
Then stepped aside.
Giving me a clear path toward the exit.
Exactly what I wanted.
Exactly what I had asked for.
“See you tomorrow, Naomi.”
His voice sounded too calm.
Before I could respond, he turned and walked away.
Like that, no argument, no protest or fight.
I watched him disappear across the parking lot.
The sinking feeling in my stomach grew.
Because for the first time since meeting him, Jace hadn’t looked back.
And somehow that felt a lot worse than I expected.
- Writer
