Chapter 3 The Detention Room Without the Detention

The door to Room 108 creaked open, and Avery immediately regretted arriving early.

Jace was already there.

Feet kicked up on a desk, headphones in, spinning a pencil like he was born bored.

Of course he was.

Avery cleared her throat.

Nothing.

She took a step closer. "We have ten weeks to plan prom. I suggest we start now."

He looked up lazily, tugged out one earbud. "Hi to you too, Lane. And here I thought we'd ease into this with some small talk. Maybe a charcuterie board."

"I brought spreadsheets," she said, dropping a manila folder onto the desk between them like it was a challenge.

Jace looked at it like it might bite him. "Of course you did."

Avery pulled out a chair. "Venue, theme options, catering vendors, projected budget. Everything's color-coded. Don't pretend you're not impressed."

He flipped open the folder and whistled low. "You do realize prom is supposed to be fun, right? Not a board meeting."

"It can be both. Unlike your grades and your attitude."

Jace gave her a sideways look. "You always this uptight, or do I bring it out of you?"

"You bring everything out of me. Most of it homicidal."

His grin came fast, too charming, and way too easy. "That's the spirit."

They worked in silence for a while-well, she worked. He stared at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, Avery sighed. "You're not even pretending to help."

Jace leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. "Tell you what. I'll pick the theme."

"No way."

"Why not?"

"Because your idea of a theme is probably 'Flames and Bad Decisions.'"

He snorted. "Not bad actually. But no-I was thinking retro carnival."

Avery blinked. "Wait... that's actually-"

"-fun? Surprising? Slightly genius?"

She closed her mouth, scowled. "I didn't say that."

But she wrote Retro Carnival? in the margins of her notebook anyway.

They fell into something like collaboration after that. Not smooth, not easy-but it was something.

And as Avery looked up and caught Jace watching her-curious, not smug-she felt something shift.

Not a lot.

Just a little.

Enough to scare her.