Chapter 8: Tacos & Tension
633 Words
The taco place was a crime against modern health codes—and it was perfect.
The neon sign flickered like it was on its deathbed. The linoleum floor stuck slightly with every step. And the smell? Grease, cilantro, and something spicy enough to make your sinuses tap out.
Lena stared up at the faded chalkboard menu. “So. How many of these will try to kill me?”
Jace grinned. “All of them. That’s what makes it fun.”
“You’re trying to kill me with food now?”
“Nah. That’d be too easy. I prefer the slow-burn emotional kind of chaos.”
“Mission accomplished.”
He just smirked and ordered two carne asada tacos and a mystery soda from a machine older than her parents. Lena ordered the same—partly out of trust, partly out of spite.
They grabbed a corner booth by the window. The fake leather seats squeaked under Lena as she sat, pulling Jace’s hoodie tighter around herself like armor. She shouldn’t still be wearing it, but she was. It smelled like temptation and trouble and a version of herself she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
“You know,” Jace said, unwrapping his taco like it was a gift from the universe, “I can’t remember the last time I sat here with someone who wasn’t trying to hook up with me or get answers to a math test.”
Lena raised a brow. “I’m flattered.”
“You should be. I’m incredibly selective.”
“With your tacos or your hookups?”
He bit into one and winked. “Yes.”
She laughed—short, sharp, involuntary. His eyes sparkled like he’d just won a game he invented five seconds ago.
“You do that a lot,” she said, biting into hers.
“Do what?”
“Make people forget their guard.”
“You included?”
She paused. “Yeah. Me included.”
There was a beat of silence. Not awkward—just… loaded. Their legs brushed under the table. Neither moved.
“So,” he said, wiping his fingers. “You gonna tell me why a girl who triple-checks comma placement hangs out with a guy who once climbed the school roof to rescue a frisbee?”
“You’re that guy?”
“In the flesh.”
She shook her head, smiling into her napkin. “Honestly? I don’t know. You’re kind of a disaster.”
“But?”
“But,” she echoed, voice softer, “you see me.”
He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her like she was something rare. Breakable. Dangerous.
Then he leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I want to ask you something, and I don’t want you to overthink it.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Just try.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Can I kiss you?”
Lena froze.
There was no teasing in his voice. No smirk. Just quiet, patient heat.
She searched his face—half-expecting a joke, a punchline, an escape route. But all she saw was honesty. Raw and maybe a little scared.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t do this. I don’t—” She gestured vaguely between them. “Whatever this is.”
Jace nodded. “Then I’ll wait. Until you do.”
Lena’s chest ached in the most confusing, terrifying, beautiful way.
They finished their tacos in silence after that. Comfortable. Charged.
As they left, Jace held the door for her, brushing against her just slightly.
And when they stepped into the cold night air, she didn’t give his hoodie back.
She didn’t say goodbye, either.
But her hand brushed his when they walked to her car.
And she didn’t pull away.
- Writer
