Chapter 1 THE WAY WE WERE

The music from the quad echoed faintly in the distance-laughter, bass, the clinking of Solo cups-and yet the only thing Zara could focus on was Jace Carter's ridiculous side profile as he shoved a whole slice of pizza into his mouth without folding it.

"You're disgusting," she said, scrunching her nose with a grin as she plopped down next to him on the blanket.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave her a lazy smirk. "You say that like it's new information."

Zara rolled her eyes and leaned back on her elbows, staring up at the soft orange sky fading into dusk. A breeze teased the edges of her curls, and the smell of grass mixed with greasy pizza and whatever cheap cologne Jace had half-heartedly sprayed on before meeting her.

This was their thing. Thursdays on the lawn. Cheap food. Endless banter. No pressure. No drama.

Just them.

They'd started it freshman year-two broke students desperate to escape roommates, assignments, and the relentless noise of college life. Somehow, this became sacred: blanket, junk food, and unfiltered conversations under the open sky.

Jace reached into the box and held out a slice to her. "Want?"

She took it with a wink. "Only if you promise not to breathe on me while I eat it."

"Harsh."

"Truth."

He chuckled, leaning back beside her. Their shoulders brushed. Neither moved away.

She let the moment stretch, let the air thicken around them. Jace had a way of making silence feel full instead of empty. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was chewing lazily, his eyes squinting against the last light of the sun. His curls were a little longer than usual, brushing his temples in soft waves. His arms, resting on his knees, looked stronger lately. Sharper.

When the hell had her best friend gotten hot?

Zara looked away quickly, taking an aggressive bite of her pizza. Nope. Not going there.

"You ever think about how weird it is?" she said after a minute. "That we met because I knocked over your coffee in line freshman year, and now I can't go a single day without your annoying face?"

"Admit it," Jace said, turning his head toward her. "You were into me the second you saw me."

Zara snorted. "Please. You looked like a lost baby deer in that oversized hoodie."

"It was vintage," he said, offended.

"It was tragic."

Their laughter mixed together, curling warm between them like smoke. It felt like home-comfortable, familiar. But there was something else underneath it now. Something restless. Zara felt it in the way her skin prickled where their arms touched. In the way his laugh made something stir deep in her chest.

She didn't know when that had started. Or maybe she did and just didn't want to admit it.

"Remember when you thought I was pre-med?" he said suddenly.

"I had hope for you."

Jace laughed again, shaking his head. "Nah. Architecture was always the plan. You just weren't paying attention."

"I was too busy being disappointed in your fashion choices."

He leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek. "And yet here we are, three years later, and you still can't stay away."

Zara's heart skipped.

She turned to him slowly, their faces inches apart. "Who said I wasn't just here for the pizza?"

He smiled-but softer this time. The kind that reached his eyes and settled low in her stomach. "You know, sometimes I wish we'd met differently."

Zara blinked. "What do you mean?"

He looked away, out across the lawn where a few students were playing frisbee, their laughter carried on the wind. "Like... not as kids with backpacks and anxiety. Maybe older. Grown."

"Why?"

He hesitated. Then shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I think about how things would've been if the timing was different."

The words sat between them, heavy and unspoken. Zara felt her throat tighten, a sudden ache blooming in her chest.

Timing. God, wasn't that always the problem?

She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, her phone buzzed. One look at the screen made her stiffen.

Mom.

She silenced it without answering.

Jace noticed. Of course he did. He didn't ask-he never did-but the change in her energy was obvious.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

She nodded too fast. "Yeah. Just... tired."

Jace reached for the last slice but didn't eat it. His fingers idly toyed with the crust, and then-gently-his other hand found hers where it lay between them on the blanket.

His touch was light, tentative. Not quite holding, not quite letting go.

Zara stared at their hands, heart thudding so hard she thought he might hear it.

He always did this-knew when she needed grounding without her saying a word. But it wasn't just comfort she felt now. It was tension. Want. Confusion.

And she hated that she wanted more.

She hated that some part of her wanted to tangle her fingers through his and hold on tighter.

Zara swallowed hard. "You ever think about the future?"

Jace tilted his head, studying her. "Sometimes."

"What do you see?"

He paused. Then: "A house with tall windows. Somewhere quiet. Music playing. I'm sketching. There's someone in the kitchen, humming off-key. And I'm happy."

Zara smiled faintly. "Sounds romantic."

"I'm a romantic guy."

"You flirt with anything that breathes."

He smirked. "Not true. I'm selective."

She gave him a look. "Lies."

"I haven't flirted with you in years."

She arched a brow. "You think this isn't flirting?"

He looked her dead in the eyes. "No. With you, it's different."

Her breath caught.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over their blanket. Zara shifted slightly, pulling her hand away under the guise of stretching. Her skin tingled where he'd touched her.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes as night settled over the lawn. Streetlights flickered on in the distance. The voices from the party grew louder, echoing off the brick walls of nearby dorms.

Zara stood, brushing crumbs from her jeans. "Walk me back?"

Jace grabbed the empty pizza box and slung his backpack over one shoulder. "Always."

They walked side by side, close but not touching. The silence between them now wasn't empty-it was thick, stretched tight with everything they weren't saying.

Everything they never said.