Chapter 10: The Almost Sleepover
738 Words
Lena didn’t do spontaneous.
Her calendar was color-coded. Her weekends were planned two weeks in advance. She had reminders for her reminders.
So when Jace texted her at 8:43 PM on a Thursday with:
“Emergency. I need help. Come over. Bring snacks.”
…she almost deleted the message on principle.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she was standing outside his house at 9:05 PM, clutching a bag of sour gummies, protein bars, and—God help her—a carton of chocolate milk.
The front door swung open before she could knock.
“Hey,” Jace said, barefoot and wearing plaid pajama pants and the softest white T-shirt she’d ever seen. His hair was a little messy. His grin was dangerous.
“You said emergency,” she said, stepping inside.
“It is.”
“What, did you run out of sarcasm and bad decisions?”
He shut the door behind her. “Worse. My sister’s school project is due tomorrow, and she needs help editing it. My mom’s working late, and I don’t trust myself with commas.”
Lena blinked. “Wait. You have a little sister?”
He nodded. “Sophie. Age ten. Chaos goblin. She’s asleep now, but she wrote this whole thing on marine biology and—look, I need the Grammar Queen.”
She blinked again, caught between the soft surprise and the surge of warm in her chest.
“You could’ve just said that instead of ‘emergency.’”
He grinned. “Would you have come?”
“…Maybe.”
Jace led her to the kitchen where the report sat, handwritten, covered in dolphin stickers. Lena scanned it, then slid into problem-solving mode while Jace leaned against the counter, watching her like she was the most interesting movie he’d ever seen.
“You’re staring,” she said, not looking up.
“Can’t help it.”
“Why not?”
“You look cute when you’re focused.”
Her pen froze mid-word.
She didn’t respond. Couldn’t. But her ears went red, and he definitely noticed.
⸻
They finished editing after an hour. Then Jace heated up two sad microwave burritos and they sat cross-legged on his living room floor, eating like post-midterm survivors.
“You didn’t have to come, you know,” he said softly.
“I know.”
“But you did.”
She looked at him. “So?”
“So… that means something.”
Lena didn’t answer. Her heart was too loud in her ears.
The lights were low. The world was quiet. And something about being here—just the two of them, late at night, in his home—felt different. Vulnerable. Intimate.
Too intimate.
“I should go,” she said, standing too fast.
“You could stay.”
She stared.
“I mean—not like stay stay,” he added quickly. “Just for a bit. We could watch something dumb. You’re safe here, I swear.”
She hesitated.
Then: “Okay. Just one episode.”
⸻
One episode turned into two.
She ended up on his couch, legs tucked under her, wearing his spare hoodie again because of course he offered it.
Jace sat beside her, closer than was reasonable, and when their shoulders touched, neither of them moved.
Lena didn’t know who broke first.
All she knew was that one minute they were watching some show with laugh tracks and bad dialogue—and the next, they were facing each other. Breath mingling. Eyes locked.
“I want to kiss you,” Jace whispered. “But not if you’re unsure.”
Her heart cracked in her chest.
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“I’ll go slow.”
“I’ve never done this.”
“Then we’ll figure it out together.”
His hand brushed her cheek.
And then—soft, tentative, real—he kissed her.
It wasn’t fireworks or violin swells.
It was something better.
It was right.
When they pulled back, Lena’s head was spinning and her fingers were curled in the fabric of his hoodie.
“I should still go,” she whispered.
Jace nodded. “Okay.”
But he walked her to her car like a gentleman. Held the door open. Waited until she was safely inside.
And as she pulled away, she looked in the rearview mirror.
He was still standing there.
Watching her go.
And for the first time, she kind of wanted to come back.
- Writer
