Chapter 6 CROSSING LINES

The rain started just after midnight.

Zara sat curled on her bed, her laptop open but long forgotten, as thunder rolled low across the sky and rain streaked the window beside her. The soft hum of lo-fi music played in the background, but her thoughts were louder-twisting, turning, refusing to settle.

She hadn't talked to Jace in two days.

That had never happened before.

Even when they fought, even when finals turned them into ghost versions of themselves, they always checked in. A meme. A voice note. A late-night "you alive?" text. Something. But this silence? It was sharp. Purposeful.

And it was killing her.

Zara reached for her phone. Her thumb hovered over his name. She hesitated.

Just as she was about to type something, the sound of knocking echoed through her apartment. Urgent. Steady. Familiar.

She blinked, startled.

The storm cracked overhead.

Another knock. This time louder.

She padded to the door, barefoot, heart racing. And when she opened it-

There he was.

Soaked to the skin.

Jace stood in the hallway, curls dripping water down his forehead, his hoodie clinging to his chest, his breathing a little ragged like he'd been walking fast. His eyes locked on hers instantly.

Neither spoke.

The thunder boomed again.

Zara stepped aside wordlessly. He entered.

She shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a second longer than necessary before turning to face him.

"Were you walking in that?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He nodded. "Didn't realize it was gonna pour until I was halfway here."

"You could've texted."

"You could've too."

Her breath caught.

"I didn't want to argue over messages," he added softly. "I needed to see you."

Zara swallowed hard. "You're dripping on my rug."

Jace gave a tired half-smile and tugged the hoodie off over his head. The fabric clung, revealing a plain black t-shirt plastered to his body. Zara's eyes flicked down, caught the way it clung to the lines of his chest, then back up.

Focus.

"I'll get you a towel," she murmured, disappearing into the bathroom.

By the time she came back, he was sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows on his knees, shirt clinging to him like a second skin. She handed him the towel. He dried his hair, then looked up at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, sitting next to him. "About the party. About what I said. I didn't mean to snap."

He didn't answer right away. His eyes studied her-quiet, patient, careful.

"You're allowed to feel things, Z," he said finally. "Even if you don't say them out loud."

Zara looked down at her hands.

"I don't know how to do this," she admitted. "Any of it."

"Do what?"

"This...thing. Wanting someone. Needing someone."

Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn't hide it this time.

"I've always had to take care of everything-my mom, my sister, myself. I don't know how to letsomeone take care of me. It feels wrong."

Jace exhaled slowly. "You don't have to let me do everything. Just... let me be there. That's all I want."

Zara turned to look at him. His hair was damp, his jaw tense, but his eyes-those damn eyes-held nothing but softness.

Before she could stop herself, she reached up and brushed a wet curl off his forehead.

He didn't move. Didn't even blink.

Her hand lingered, fingertips grazing his temple.

He leaned into her touch-just barely.

Zara's pulse thundered in her ears. She didn't move her hand. Not even when her thumb drifted down the edge of his cheekbone, tracing the faint stubble at his jaw.

Their faces were so close now she could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes.

"Zara," he breathed, voice hoarse.

Her breath hitched. "Yeah?"

"Tell me to stop."

She didn't.

Instead, her fingers curled around the back of his neck. His forehead leaned into hers. They sat there, breathing the same air, chests rising and falling in sync.

And then-

A single brush of lips.

Not a kiss. Not yet.

Just a whisper. A test. A promise.

Zara's lips parted.

But before either of them could close the distance, lightning cracked outside the window, and the room blinked into darkness.

Power outage.

Zara pulled back instinctively, heart hammering.

Jace cursed under his breath. "Shit."

She stood too quickly. "I'll find a candle or something-"

"No," he said, reaching for her hand. "Wait."

She froze.

He didn't let go.

The room was silent except for the storm outside, and the hum of their breathing in the dark.

"You don't have to be scared," he said gently.

"I'm not."

"You are. Of this. Of us."

Zara clenched her jaw. "Because it means something. And I don't want to lose what we have."

"You won't," he said firmly. "Not if we're honest."

She looked down at their hands. His thumb was stroking slow, soft circles on her palm.

"Stay," she whispered. "Just tonight."

"I wasn't planning on leaving."

⸻

They lay in her bed, both facing the ceiling. Neither touching. But not apart.

Zara wore an old sleep shirt. Jace was shirtless now, his jeans traded for the spare sweats he'd left in her drawer weeks ago-the ones that made her chest tighten every time she saw them.

"Can't sleep?" he murmured into the dark.

"Nope."

"Still overthinking?"

"Always."

A beat.

"Do you want me to hold you?"

Zara's breath caught.

Then: "Yeah. I do."

Jace shifted, strong arms sliding around her as she rolled into him, her back to his chest. His warmth settled around her like a blanket. One arm wrapped around her waist. His other hand slipped under her shirt-but only to rest against the bare skin of her stomach. No pressure. No heat.

Just closeness.

His lips brushed her shoulder once, barely there.

And finally, finally, she breathed.