21.

"JASMINE, LET'S GO!"

I rolled my eyes, shutting my front door and grabbing my bike. Jace slammed on the car horn again, sticking his head out the open window to yell, "Hurry up!"

"I'm coming!" I shouted, deliberately slowing down to annoy him. "You really need to learn some patience."

I slowed at the steps, taking them one at a time before pausing. "Oops, forgot my helmet!"

"Jaaas," he whined, frowning. I laughed, hopping back up the porch to grab my bike helmet and strapping it onto my head.

"Why are you in such a hurry to get to school?" I hopped onto my bike, slowly pedalling down the driveway and to the path beside Jace's car.

He tapped on the steering wheel, glancing at the time on his dashboard before stepping on the accelerator. "We'll be late."

"We're early."

"For now," he chastised, raising a brow.

I snorted. "You are such a dork."

He grinned, shoving a hand through his brown hair, and sending me a half-shrug. "Your favourite dork."

I hummed. "I don't know about that."

He cut me a look, his eyes narrowing. "How many other dorks do you know?"

"Counting you?" He nodded. "One."

"So, I'm your favourite by default." He beamed at me through the window.

I laughed, pedalling my bike harder up the small hill. "I don't know about that."

"I'm truly hurt," Jace said finally, shaking his head. He released a small chuckle before sobering and saying, "I have to get to school early because I'm trying out for the track team."

I almost flew off my bike. I threw him a bewildered look, glancing frantically between him and the road ahead of me to ensure I didn't run over any pedestrians.

"Track team?" I repeated.

He nodded, eyes glued to the road. "Yeah. I actually used to run track back in Cali."

"Are you sure your leg's okay?" I asked. "I mean, you just started driving again –" he hit a pothole and I snorted – "and barely even that."

"I've been jogging recently. Building up my stamina." His voice faltered and he released a breath. "Honestly, I wasn't really planning to run track again, at least not so soon. But my mom was so happy to see me jogging again. And I started running in the mornings and evenings, and I felt the wind in my hair and the adrenaline in my blood – and I realised how much I missed it. The freedom of just running until you can't anymore."

I stayed quiet. I had never been much of an athlete. I played volleyball in middle school, but running? Just the thought of it made me feel out of breath.

But I could understand the idea. I felt the same way on my bike. Some days, I pedalled as fast as I could just to hear the wind whipping in my ears and feel my heart pumping. I felt free.

It didn't stop me from worrying, though. Just a few weeks ago, he was walking with a limp, crutches stuffed beneath his arms, wobbling with each step. And now he wanted to run track? It sounded like a recipe for permanent muscle damage.

After a moment, Jace spoke again.

"You know, I was in a wheelchair for a while."

I blinked, spinning to meet his eye. He kept his gaze steady on the road, though he must have felt my surprise because he released a bitter laugh and nodded.

"After my attempt, I woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed. I had IVs in my arms, and they were scared I'd rip them out or do something else stupid. They even handcuffed me to my wheelchair for a while." He paused and a shadow fell over his face. The usual glittering honey in his eyes turned to something dark. "They were wrong, though. When I woke up, the first thing I felt was guilt. Disappointment. Shame. My parents were there, you know? Waiting for me."

My breath caught in my throat and my pedalling slowed. I couldn't imagine the kind of conversation that would come after something like that. Jace let up on the gas pedal to match my speed, and he gave me a grim smile.

"I felt so ashamed, all I wanted to do was lie in bed," he continued. "Even after my legs healed and I didn't need the wheelchair anymore, I didn't put any effort into my physio sessions. I never tried to walk again. I skipped most of my doctor appointments when I could."

He laughed and when I didn't join in, he threw me a look, his eyes glimmering, and a brow raised. "I was such a little shit."

"No," I said quickly. "No, you weren't. I can't imagine how it would feel to be in that situation. I'm sure it's a normal reaction."

He considered, glancing at me through the corner of his eye, and shrugged. "I guess so. Whatever it was, it made my mom start smothering me, watching my every move. I can't really complain – I deserved it."

"Is that why she picks you up from physio every week?"

He nodded. "She thinks I'll skip or doing something stupid."

He glowered and I knew what he meant by that – attempt again.

"And I'm grateful to have a mother who worries for me, but it can feel so – so – suffocating, you know? Like – Like I can't do anything without worrying everyone around me. And then the guilt starts to eat at me and –" Jace sighed, releasing a breathy laugh. "I got really off-topic, didn't I?"

I shook my head. "No, no. I get it. My mom is exactly the same. It's like – if I miss one day at the physio centre or I'm late to one class, I'm off the rails. She worries and freaks out and I feel so guilty. I feel so guilty, because I know what she's thinking. I know she's remembering the day of the accident, and the weeks of misery that followed. And I'm lucky, but God, it can be exhausting."

"Right?" Jace sighed.

We continued in silence for a while. The school was in view now and we both deliberately slowed down, not wanting the conversation to end – not wanting each other's company to end.

"My point is," Jace eventually said. "I was stuck in that wheelchair for so long that for a while... I thought I'd never walk again. I thought, maybe I'd never run."

"But look at you now," I said, smiling.

He grinned, winking at me. "Look at me now."

"You recovered really quickly," I remarked.

"It was hard at first. You know? Because I didn't want to get better. It wasn't until I decided that I was sick of being sick that I started to get better." He hesitated, cutting me a look. "Not that it was easy. God, I had more bad days than good days. But I started attending my appointments and showing up to my therapy sessions. I found a therapist that helped and actually listened to her. I learned to walk again. And now, all I want is to run again. Run like I used to, before that stupid wheelchair."

I snorted. "I'm glad it worked for you, Jace, but I tried therapy and it didn't work."

He frowned, throwing me a sad look. "You never know, Jasmine."

I felt my smile slip off my lips and I opened my mouth to interject when his car slowed to an almost-halt. I blinked, turning to realise we'd arrived at the school gates. He flicked his blinker on, preparing to turn into the parking lot, but meeting my eyes first.

"I'll see you in class?" he asked.

I nodded quickly, forcing a smile onto my face. "Of course. Good luck with try outs."

He dipped his head in a way of nodding goodbye, shooting me one last wink before stepping on the gas pedal and continuing into the parking lot. I watched as the car stuttered forward, screeching to a halt before lurching forward, and I stifled a laugh.

He needed a lot more practice.

The car passed the main entrance, flooded with students chatting or lazing around on their phones, and my eyes drifted past the minivan towards Piper.

She stood at the doors, her hands gripping the straps on her backpack as she arched a brow at me. I blinked, meeting her eyes. Her gaze darted from mine, to Jace's car, then back to me, as if asking herself what the hell was that?

I released a breath – here come the questions.

My shoulders sagged and I continued forward, my steps lagging as I made my way towards Piper. As soon as I was in earshot, I heard her footsteps race towards me, then, "So..."

I looked up to meet her curious eyes. "So, what?"

"So," she repeated, raising her brows. "You're coming to school with Jace Wilson now? And in his car? Did I miss something? When did that happen?"

"Well, I didn't actually sit in his car," I said, nodding towards my bike.

She shook her head, deadpanning. "That didn't answer any of my questions."

I shrugged, tugging on my backpack, and letting out a light laugh. "I don't know," I said, because I didn't. It was all kind of a blur. One minute, Jace is the new kid at school with a limp and bad crutches, then the next we're racing to school together, and holding hands, and he's winking at me, as if he has no idea what that does to my heart rate.

"I don't know," I repeated after a second. "He's been practising his driving lately and he just... showed up."

"Showed up?" Piper echoed in disbelief. "Cute guys like Jace don't just show up to your door without a reason. He must like you, Jas!"

She squealed, gripping my arm tightly. I laughed, shaking her off and locking my bike up to the bike rack. I peeled my helmet off my head, holding it under my arm.

"We're just friends," I said. Don't get my hopes up. "We have physio twice a week together. It's only natural to become friends."

Piper lifted an unconvinced brow which I swiftly ignored, turning away to begin walking into the school.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it. I mean, we had almost kissed. I could still feel his fingers tightening around the skin of my wrist. I could still feel his breath sweet on my lips, and see his eyes golden and unwavering, flicking between my eyes and my mouth. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

But it also reminded me – he'd pulled away. He'd stopped it. If he wanted to kiss me, that had been the perfect opportunity. That had been the neon sign screaming kiss me, Jace Wilson! Except, he'd seen the sign, stared it in the face and said, no thanks. We'd better get to class.

If that wasn't a rejection, I didn't know what was.

And yet, he still drove to my house. He still winked at me and smirked foolishly. And sometimes, he'd get that same look in his eyes – the one when we were millimetres away from each other. The one of dark sap, bittersweet and sparkling with gold that I just wanted to drink in until I was bathed in honey.

"We're just friends," I repeated quietly, more to myself than to Piper.

Piper glanced at me. She gnawed on her bottom lip for a moment and I regained my composure, quickly slipping my neutral expression back into place.

"Nothing more," I added simply, shrugging with a complacent smile.

She frowned slightly, her lips dipping in disappointment. I ignored her look, marching forward. I pushed through the entrance, beginning down the tiled hallway. She caught up quickly, taking my elbow into her hand to grab my attention.

"But do you want to be more?" she asked.

Yes.

"No," I said. I shrugged her off, continuing towards my locker. "I'm fine with just being friends, Piper. Sure, he's cute, but he's probably got better things to do with his time than date me."

Piper shifted, her brow creasing. "Why do you say that like dating you is a bad thing?"

I released a heavy sigh. "I don't know, Piper. Because it is? I don't go to parties. I don't drink. Most days I just stay home. I can't even get into a stupid car. What would we do all day? Sit in the library? Walk to the park?"

"You're getting better," she pointed out.

Yes. Of course, I was, as you could probably tell by the purple bruising my under-eyes or the general tangled-ness of my hair. As you could probably tell by my messy room or my browser history – 90% of which was just searching up the next episode of America's Next Top Model. Didn't I just look so much better?

I shot her a tight smile. "Yes. You're right. Thanks, Piper."

She hesitated, sensing the tension in my voice. After a pause, she added quietly, "Any guy would be lucky to date you, Jas. As you are."

My steps shuddered to a stop and suddenly I found it hard to breathe. I turned to Piper. She watched me carefully, her eyebrows furrowed, though she sent me a small smile. She was worried for me. Of course, she was. Like I didn't feel bad enough that I wasn't getting better. That nothing was working.

But then her smile grew, and for a moment, I remembered the girl who sat next to me in a hospital bed every day, holding my hand. The girl who held my hand as I learned to walk again. The girl who held my hand at Amber's funeral.

I swallowed thickly, nodding. She was worried about her best friend. She had left behind our days of partying and drinking; she'd left behind our old friends and superficial groups. She'd stayed by my side, no matter how ungrateful I seemed or how far into the hole of depression I fell.

Sure, she didn't completely understand. How could she? She wasn't there. She didn't see Amber die in front of her. She wasn't as close to her as I was. Her throat didn't tighten every time the colour red flashed past her eyes, or a car engine roared in the distance. She didn't wake up, her throat raw from the nightmares, reliving that fateful night.

But she tried, and that was all she could really do.

So, I released a sigh and sent her a smile – a genuine one.

"Thank you," I said. "Really."

She smiled back.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and discovering a little more about Jace and Piper! Leave your predictions in the comments! Next one's big 😁