Chapter 16 – Distance Has a Volume
807 Words
By Tuesday, “a minute” felt like a year.
Lena kept her head down, navigating the hallways like a ghost of herself. Not because she was avoiding Jace—okay, maybe a little—but because her brain wouldn’t shut up. And worse? Her heart kept rewinding that text:
Take your minute. I’ll be here when it’s over.
It had been twenty-eight hours. Twenty-eight hours since she’d asked for space. Since he’d agreed without protest. Since he’d waited, silently.
And somehow, that hurt more than if he’d fought her on it.
Because he wasn’t the type to give people space. He was the type to push back, to stir things up. His silence wasn’t just patience—it was vulnerability. And she hated that she might be hurting him by needing a breather.
She was halfway to AP Lit when she saw him.
Not from up close. Just… across the courtyard. Hoodie on. Leaning against the vending machine. Earbuds in.
Not looking for her.
Not looking at her.
Lena’s feet slowed. She couldn’t tell if she was relieved or gutted. Maybe both. Which was somehow worse.
“Wow. Cold shoulder much?”
Lena turned to see Riley beside her, holding a coffee and looking like she hadn’t missed a second of Lena’s internal crisis.
“I’m not giving him the cold shoulder,” Lena mumbled.
“You haven’t spoken to him in over a day. That’s arctic.”
“I needed space.”
“Sure. But did you actually communicate that need or just drop a vague text and hope for the best?”
Lena winced. “That bad, huh?”
Riley nodded. “Girl, you’ve got trust issues wrapped in academic ambition and perfectionism.”
“I’m a walking caution sign,” Lena muttered.
“No,” Riley said, nudging her. “You’re just scared.”
Lena exhaled. “Is it wrong that I want to be with him but also… want to think about being with him?”
“It’s only wrong if you freeze up and let him drift.”
Lena looked across the quad again.
But Jace was already gone.
⸻
By the time lunch rolled around, the silence was loud.
No texts.
No random glances in the hall.
No waiting by her locker.
Jace had vanished from her daily rhythm like he was erasing himself one moment at a time.
Lena hated it.
But she also didn’t know how to fix it without sounding like she was backpedaling. She couldn’t just walk up and say, “Hey, remember when I needed space? Never mind.”
Could she?
Before she could talk herself into or out of anything, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: Hey. You’re invited to Carly’s house Friday. Party. Midnight. Bring your dangerous boy.
Lena blinked. No name. No emojis. Just the kind of text that felt more like a dare than an invitation.
She typed back:
Lena: Who is this?
No response.
But a second later, Riley leaned over and said, “You got the Carly text too?”
Lena stared. “That was her?”
“Yup. Must’ve found your number from some group chat or yearbook committee list. She’s going rogue. Midnight bash. Total chaos.”
“I’ve never even spoken to her.”
Riley grinned. “Welcome to the circle. You’re officially someone.”
Lena wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a threat.
⸻
That night, Lena stared at the message for a long time.
Part of her screamed, Don’t go. Parties like that weren’t her scene. She was more library stacks than solo cups.
But another part—a louder, braver, wilder part—whispered, He’ll be there.
And more importantly: You need to be, too.
Because something was shifting between her and Jace. And if she didn’t show up—didn’t fight for whatever this thing was—they might both just drift apart like sand through fingers.
So she texted him.
Lena: Hey.
No response for two minutes. Then:
Jace: Hey.
She took a breath.
Lena: About that “minute”…
Nothing.
Then:
Jace: Still waiting.
Her heart squeezed.
Lena: There’s a party Friday night. Carly’s. Midnight.
Jace: You want me to take you?
Lena: No. I want you to meet me there. If you still want to.
A longer pause.
Then:
Jace: You better wear something that makes it hard for me to look at anything else.
Lena smiled.
Not because it was smooth.
But because it was him. His way of saying yes without needing to explain why.
Because maybe they weren’t perfect.
Maybe they were a thousand cracks glued together by longing and adrenaline and shared secrets.
But they still fit.
And on Friday night, under too many stars and not enough rules, she was going to remind both of them exactly why they couldn’t walk away.
- Writer
