Chapter 18 – The Sound of Still Water
868 Words
The lake was exactly how Jace described it: quiet, dark, and wrapped in a kind of eerie calm that made Lena feel like they had stepped out of the real world and into something between a dream and a secret.
The moon hung low, big and gold and almost full, casting a shimmering glow across the still water. Trees framed the shoreline, their branches swaying in the soft breeze, and the only sounds were the faint chirps of crickets and the occasional ripple from some unseen fish.
Lena stood on the dock, hugging her arms to herself.
“I’ve never been out here before,” she said softly.
Jace cut the engine and hopped off the bike, pulling off his helmet with a smooth roll of his shoulders.
“Didn’t think you had,” he said, walking up beside her. “This place doesn’t scream Lena Owens.”
“No,” she agreed. “But tonight, neither do I.”
He looked at her then—really looked at her—and something in his expression shifted. Not the usual teasing smirk or bad boy charm. Something softer. Quieter. Like he was trying to memorize her exactly as she was in this moment: wild-haired, moonlit, eyes wide with wonder and uncertainty.
“You’re full of surprises lately,” he said.
“So are you.”
They stood in silence for a beat.
Then Lena asked, “Why here?”
Jace shrugged. “When things got too loud—home, school, my head—I’d come here. Pretend I wasn’t any of the things people said I was.”
Lena turned toward him. “And what did you say you were?”
He hesitated. Then gave a small, almost broken laugh. “Someone different. Someone worth something.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing his. “You are.”
He didn’t answer. Just looked down at their hands, like he couldn’t believe she still wanted to touch him.
“I know I scare you,” he said.
“You don’t.”
“I scare myself sometimes. With how much I want this.”
Lena’s breath caught. “This?”
“You.” His voice was low, gravel and vulnerability. “The way you look at me like I’m not already broken. The way you see me. And the way I’d burn everything down just to keep that look on your face.”
“Jace…”
“I’m not a good guy, Lena.”
She stepped closer. “I’m not asking for a good guy. I’m asking for you.”
He closed the space between them in one step, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Then you’ve got me.”
And just like that, the air changed.
Electric. Charged. Intimate.
He leaned down, and she met him halfway.
The kiss was soft at first. Slow. A question she answered with every part of her.
But then—like a match to gasoline—it deepened.
Jace’s hands slid around her waist, tugging her closer until there was no room for air between them. Lena’s fingers threaded through his hair, and her knees nearly buckled when his lips found the edge of her jaw, then down to her throat.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the first time you snapped at me,” he murmured against her skin.
She laughed breathlessly. “You have a weird way of showing affection.”
“Yeah, well…” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. “I never learned the soft way to want someone.”
Her heart slammed in her chest.
Neither of them spoke.
There was just breath and heat and the dizzying realization that this—this—was the moment.
The one where caution didn’t matter.
Where the past, the whispers, the rules—they all faded.
And there was only them.
Jace kissed her again, slower this time. Like he didn’t want to rush. Like he needed her to know this wasn’t just heat—it was reverence.
“Lena,” he whispered against her lips, “tell me to stop.”
She didn’t.
She couldn’t.
Instead, she whispered, “Don’t you dare.”
And when he led her to the edge of the dock, when they sank into the shadows and let the moonlight witness what came next, Lena realized something terrifying and beautiful at once:
She wasn’t falling anymore.
She’d already fallen.
And she didn’t want to get back up.
⸻
Later, they lay side by side, the wooden boards of the dock beneath them and the stars stretching endlessly above.
Lena’s head rested on his chest, and his fingers traced lazy patterns across her spine.
“I think I’m ruined now,” he said after a long stretch of silence.
“For what?”
“For anyone else.”
She smiled into his shirt. “Good.”
Jace laughed softly. “That was possessive.”
“You like it.”
“I do.”
More silence. Comfortable now.
Then Lena whispered, “This doesn’t feel like a mistake.”
Jace tightened his arm around her. “That’s because it’s not.”
And for once, she believed him.
Completely.
- Writer
