Chapter 19
JULIAN POLE
When we finally pulled into his driveway, I got out without waiting for him to open the door like he usually does.
He followed behind quietly. I know his passcode by heart, but I waited for him to punch it in anyway.
When the lock clicked open, I walked straight inside, pretending like I owned the place, even though my heart was trying to break through my ribs.
I went straight to the table he got for when we first started the tutoring sessions—my spot.
I unpacked my bag, took out my notes, and sat cross-legged on the floor like always. Routine. Familiar. Safe.
When I finally looked up, he was standing at the entrance to the living room, fingers tugging nervously at his tie.
He was fidgeting.
Jace. The man who terrifies everyone with a single stare, standing there like a boy caught doing sothing wrong.
Oh my god.
He looked... soft. Like a giant puppy who doesn’t know where to put his paws. It’s strange how soone so tall, so intimidating, can look so small all of a sudden.
I guess that’s what love does to people.
Does he love ?
I shove the thought away before it can bloom into sothing dangerous
Co here," I said softly.
He ca without hesitation, like an obedient boy.
There’s sothing about how Jace moves when it’s just us. The man who commands rooms and silences chaos suddenly becos quiet, almost fragile.
Around , he’s all warmth and hesitation; outside, he’s cold steel.
I don’t ever want to take advantage of that, but I can’t lie—I like it. The control. The tenderness. The way he lets see him when no one else can.
He sat down beside , close enough that his knee brushed mine.
His hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for but wasn’t sure if he should.
I closed the gap first, sliding my hand toward him, and he caught it instantly, his much larger fingers wrapping around mine, squeezing tight, like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.
He still wouldn’t look at . His gaze stayed fixed sowhere on the floor, his jaw tense, and that hurt more than I expected.
"I don’t know what I did," he whispered—barely audible, like the words were scraping his throat. His voice cracked at the edges, and I could tell he was holding back tears.
"I don’t feel good when people I like stay mad at ," he said, inching closer until our knees brushed. He took my hand and pressed a soft kiss against my skin. "What did I do wrong?" Finally, his eyes lifted to et mine, and it nearly broke .
"You ignored today," I managed to say, my voice smaller than I intended.
Am I overacting?. Maybe I am.
He looked confused, so I went on. "When I saw you this morning, I waved and smiled—you ignored . In class, you didn’t even look at . You kept turning down every ti I raised my hand, like I wasn’t even there. I was hurt, I thought maybe you didn’t really like ."
He sighed, his brows knitting together. "I’m not guilty of that last part," he said quietly. "But the rest? Yeah, I am."
"I see you." He whispered.
"Before you even notice . My eyes find you first, every damn ti. I can sll your scent from across the room, and it drives crazy. I kept stealing glances at you in class, hoping you wouldn’t catch . But I was scared, scared I’d stare too long, lose control, and do sothing you wouldn’t like."
He squeezed my hand tighter. "I’m sorry. I was selfish."
"No, you’re not," I said, surprised by how small my voice sounded. "You were just thinking better of ."
I didn’t even know what to say.
Everything he’d just said hit deeper than I expected.
All this ti, I thought he was being cold, distant—but no.
He was thinking about .
About how I’d feel.
About what I might think of him.
He was holding himself back for my sake, and now I just sat there, lost in the realization.
"I’m sorry," I finally said, my voice small, almost shy.
"No, no, no," he whispered, moving even closer until his breath brushed my skin. It felt like he wanted to bury himself inside my warmth, like being near was the only thing keeping him together.
"I made assumptions," I murmured, feeling the guilt crawl up my throat.
"It’s okay," he said softly, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. "I would have, too, if you ignored ." Then he leaned down and kissed the back of my hand again, slower this ti, and smiled against my skin.
I nodded, my heart thudding like it wanted out.
"So..." he tilted his head, eyes hopeful, voice almost boyish, "are you no longer mad at ?"
A tiny smile tugged at my lips, one of those that creeps up without permission, and I gave it to him. My best smile. The one that says, You’re forgiven, even before you asked
"I wasn’t mad," I confessed. "I was just... sulking. Which is so stupid, considering how you put first."
That earned another quiet kiss on my hand. Then he chuckled. "You looked so cute while we were driving here. All pouty, arms crossed, pretending you didn’t care."
"You saw?" I asked, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. I wasn’t a kid, but next to Jace, tall and broad and solid, I felt so small, almost fragile.
"I see everything about you," he said, voice low, a spark lighting in his eyes.
"Let’s start," I said quickly, clearing my throat before it betrayed . "Before we do sothing stupid."
"Mmm," he humd, that dangerous smirk curving his lips. "And what kind of stupid are we talking about?
I think I’m in hell. Because I’m heating up with the way he’s looking at .
Heat and sothing else rush through my body, curling low in my stomach and settling lower, which is not good.
I think... I think I’m having a tent in my trousers—
and I swear he saw it.
I jerk back, clearing my throat like it’ll clear the air too.
"Let’s start, Jace."
He groans.
Oh my God.
"Say that again," he says, eyes falling shut, voice low and almost broken.
"What?"
"My na."
"Jace?" I whisper, unsure.
"Again."
"Jace."
He inhales, deep and heavy, and pulls back toward him, tucking his face into the crook of my neck. His breath hits my skin, hot and shaky, and it sends a shiver racing down my spine.
"I’m going to miss you," he murmurs into my neck.
"What?" I whisper, confused.
"I’m going out of town for the weekend," he says, brushing his lips against my skin with a sigh. "I won’t be back until Tuesday."
Oh.
I wanted to invite him to my art exhibit. I wanted him to see in that space, under those lights.
Guess I can’t now.
"Oh," I exhale, trying to sound neutral but failing miserably.
He lifts his head, cups my face in those big, careful hands.
"Is there sothing wrong?"
"No," I smile, small and soft. "I just thought we might hang out this weekend."
"We can," he says, smiling faintly, "when I co back. I promise."
I nod.
He leans in and kisses , gentle but certain, and when he pulls back, his thumb traces my lower lip like he’s morizing it.
Then he smiles.
And I smile.
And for a few seconds, it’s just that—two smiles, hanging between us like sothing fragile and almost too beautiful to touch.
Who could have guessed that behind these beautiful smiles lies a price to pay.
Reviews
All reviews (0)