Chapter 6 His Rejection

Ava stood outside the old apartment above Whitmore Books-eyes locked on the door, her pulse thrumming like a drum solo beneath her skin.

She'd gotten the tip from Casey.

A guy matching Jace's description had been spotted slipping into the back alley three nights ago, limping. He hadn't left since.

Ava's hand trembled as she raised it to knock.

But the door swung open before she could.

There he was.

Jace.

Shirtless. Bruised. Tattooed. And staring at her like he hadn't breathed since the last time he saw her.

"Ava," he said, voice low.

She didn't speak.

Didn't breathe.

Just walked inside, past him.

He closed the door behind her.

⸻

The room was dim. The only light came from the sliver of sunset pouring in through the cracked window. Dust danced in it. So did tension.

She turned to him.

"I saw the fire on the news."

He nodded, slowly. "It wasn't supposed to go down like that."

"You saved two kids."

"And now I'm hiding again."

She folded her arms across her chest. "No more hiding."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't want you here."

"Well, I didn't want to fall for a boy who vanishes every time it gets hard. But here we are."

Silence.

She stepped closer. "Tell me everything, Jace. No half-truths. No cryptic poetry. Just you."

His shoulders rose and fell like the weight was too heavy to carry anymore.

Then-finally-he spoke.

⸻

"The night I first saw you, it wasn't in class."

Her brows furrowed.

"I was at a bar near campus. My crew dared me to get a number from the prettiest girl in the room. I laughed. Didn't care. Until you walked in. Glasses. Jean jacket. That ridiculous tote bag covered in quote stickers."

Her breath hitched.

"I told them I'd make you fall for me. Said it'd be easy-'good girls are predictable.' That was the bet."

Ava felt like the floor dropped beneath her.

"But I never asked for your number," he continued. "I followed you instead. To see what made you... you."

She stepped back, eyes stinging. "So this was all a game to you?"

"It was. At first."

His voice cracked.

"Then I saw how you held your books like armor. How you apologized to the barista when he got your order wrong. How you looked sad even when you smiled."

He took a step forward.

"And I hated myself for wanting to know you. Because you weren't a prize. You were a fucking miracle."

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"You let me believe we were something real-when all I was, was a dare."

"You became my reason," he said fiercely. "You made me want to be more than the kid who ruins everything he touches."

"Then why did you lie?"

"Because I didn't think I deserved you."

⸻

The air between them snapped like tension wire.

She turned to leave. Her hand hit the doorknob-

But his voice stopped her cold.

"You don't get it, Ava. I tried to walk away. I did. But I can't sleep without hearing your voice in my head. I can't touch anyone else because no one else fits like you. You ruined me right back."

She turned.

He was in front of her in seconds.

And then-they collided.

⸻

The kiss was fire.

But not soft this time. Not sweet.

It was angry. Raw. Desperate.

Their hands were everywhere. His mouth on her neck, her fingers in his hair, bodies pressed tight enough to hurt. She pulled his hoodie off, tossed it to the floor, her own jacket following.

Their breathing tangled like vines.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered against her collarbone.

She didn't.

He lifted her onto the old table, pulling her legs around his waist. She tugged his belt loose. He moaned into her mouth like the sound escaped him by accident.

"You still want this?" he breathed.

"I want you," she answered.

And that was all it took.

⸻

Later, when the storm had passed and the room fell silent but glowing, Ava lay curled in the space where his heartbeat lived.

He traced lazy circles on her bare back.

"Do you regret coming back?" he asked softly.

"No," she whispered. "But I don't know if I'll stay."

He nodded. Honest. Wrecked. Hopeful.

"I don't know what happens next," he said.

"Maybe you don't need to," she replied. "Maybe we just start with this. With now."

But even as she said it, her heart ached.

Because she knew what was coming.

⸻

The next day...

Ava packed her acceptance letter to Johns Hopkins into an envelope.

She didn't tell Jace yet.

But her plane ticket sat on the corner of her desk-departure: next week.

Boston was fading. Reality was calling.

And she was terrified to answer.