Chapter 11 – Trouble in Technicolor
1138 Words
Lena Carter had never skipped a class before.
Until today.
Her backpack dangled from one shoulder like an afterthought, and her polished flats clicked over the concrete as she crossed the school’s back parking lot—each step echoing the sound of her impulsiveness. Her heart beat in her ears, louder than it had any right to, considering she was technically just walking.
But this wasn’t just a walk.
It was rebellion.
And she was going to meet him.
Jace Blackwood.
God, even the thought of his name in her mind made her skin feel like it was too tight, like her nerves had taken a double shot of espresso. He’d texted her ten minutes into Chemistry: “Ditch with me. Back parking lot. You in, Carter?”
She stared at that text for five full minutes.
She wasn’t the kind of girl who skipped class. She was the kind of girl who emailed the teacher if she coughed twice in the same period. But something about him—about the way he challenged her without even trying—felt like an itch under her skin that needed scratching.
And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to scratch back.
When she spotted him leaning against his motorcycle, leather jacket on despite the warm afternoon, a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his dark curls, she almost turned around and ran back inside.
Almost.
“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” he said, smirking as she approached. His voice was low and lazy, like the world was a joke and he was the punchline.
“Well, you caught me in a moment of weakness,” Lena said, adjusting the strap of her bag like it could hold her backbone steady.
Jace pushed off the bike with the kind of effortless confidence that made her insides feel like warm jelly. “Don’t worry, Carter. I don’t bite.”
She gave him a dry look. “That’s exactly what someone who bites would say.”
He laughed, and it was warm and deep, the kind of laugh that made you want to earn it again.
“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” he said.
Lena shrugged, not trusting her voice. She was pretty sure her tongue was currently glued to the roof of her mouth.
“So,” he continued, gesturing to the open road behind the school. “You ever ditch class before?”
“Never.”
“You nervous?”
“A little.”
“Good.” His grin widened. “It means you’re alive.”
⸻
The ride was terrifying and exhilarating. Jace had handed her a helmet, helped her on, and then took off down the road like he hadn’t just put Lena Carter—the straight-A, rule-following Lena—on the back of a motorcycle in the middle of a school day.
Her arms wrapped around his waist tightly, more out of survival instinct than affection. But she couldn’t help noticing how warm he was. Or how natural it felt, like her body had known exactly how to fit against his without any rehearsal.
They stopped at a small overlook just past the edge of town, where the road curved like a ribbon through hills and woods. The town looked miniature from here, like something out of a snow globe.
He pulled off his helmet and looked over his shoulder at her. “Still breathing?”
“Barely,” she said, letting out a shaky laugh. “I’m probably going to regret this later.”
“But not now?”
“No. Not right now.”
They sat down on a patch of dry grass, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. Lena watched the trees, the curve of the sky, the clouds rolling in slow, lazy shapes. And she could feel Jace watching her.
“You look different out here,” he said finally.
Lena turned to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t flinch. “Less like a tightly wound spring. More like a person.”
She frowned. “So I don’t usually look like a person?”
Jace chuckled. “You usually look like you’re trying so hard not to fall apart, it’s exhausting to watch.”
That hit her right in the chest. And what made it worse was that he wasn’t wrong.
“I don’t have the luxury of falling apart,” she said softly.
“You think I do?” Jace’s voice changed—less teasing, more raw. “You think my life has room for that?”
She looked at him, really looked at him. There was something in his eyes—something hollow and tired.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think you do either.”
They were quiet again, but this time, it felt like shared silence. Like something had cracked open between them.
“I take care of my sister,” Jace said eventually. “She’s ten. Likes jelly sandwiches and thinks I’m some kind of superhero because I make grilled cheese without burning it. If she ever found out half the stuff I’ve done…”
He trailed off, his jaw tight.
Lena’s voice was small. “What have you done?”
He shrugged. “Stuff I’m not proud of. Stuff I won’t tell you until you really know me.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He blinked. “Okay?”
“I’m not asking for the whole truth right now,” she said, her throat tightening. “Just… let me stay here with you a while.”
His expression changed—something softer, something surprised. Then he reached over, slow and careful, and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
“God, Carter,” he murmured. “You’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”
She didn’t trust herself to respond. Not with his hand still ghosting the edge of her jaw.
Then he leaned in—close enough to feel the heat between them spark. But he paused, his breath mingling with hers.
“You can tell me to stop,” he whispered.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
So he kissed her.
And Lena Carter’s world tilted on its axis.
It wasn’t a sweet, chaste kiss. It was a claim, a promise, a dare all wrapped into one moment. His hand cupped the back of her neck, her fingers fisted the edge of his jacket, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t care who she was supposed to be.
She only cared about him.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and dizzy, Jace rested his forehead against hers.
“Well,” he said, voice husky. “That was definitely against the rules.”
She smiled, heart pounding. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m hanging out with a rebel, then.”
- Writer
