The library's fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above us, bathing the room in a pale, studious glow. I sat across from James, our books spread out between us like a barrier I wasn't sure I was ready to cross. He was explaining integrals, something about substitution and limits, his voice calm and steady. But my mind wandered back to the beach, to Alana's voice on that video, to the way James had looked holding her hand.
I didn't expect those memories to resurface..not now, not when things were finally starting to feel right with James.
Our study sessions had become our new normal. We'd meet in the library's quiet corner or sometimes in the empty common room and sometimes in the private study room, notes and textbooks spread around us like a fragile barrier. It wasn't always easy there were moments of silence too long, of glances too hesitant but something about the way he explained integrals or teased me for mixing up formulas made me feel... light again.
He even brought coffee the last few times. "One sugar, no cream. Just like you like it," he'd say, setting it next to my notebook with a smile that held a hint of the boy I used to dream about.
The spark was still there maybe fainter, but real. We were finding our rhythm again. And part of me had started wondering if maybe, just maybe, this was the new beginning we needed.
So why the hell was Alana still in my head?
Why did I keep thinking about her voice in that video, the way she'd said "our weekend getaway" like it was the most natural thing in the world? Why did I keep picturing her hand tangled with his, even now, even here, while he sat across from me, pen tapping thoughtfully against his cheek?
He caught me staring off and smiled gently. "Viola, you still with me?"
I blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just… thinking."
"About calculus, I hope?" he teased, then pointed to the problem I hadn't finished. "Come on, you've been improving. Don't let one bad paper rattle you."
I nodded, picking up my pencil, though the numbers swam before my eyes. He was trying, and part of me appreciated it. But another part, the one I kept trying to silence, couldn't shake the unease.
"Here," he said, reaching across the table, his hand lightly grazing mine as he rotated the notebook toward himself. The contact was fleeting, but enough to send a ripple through my chest.
He looked up, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes. I swallowed hard.
"James…"
He leaned forward slightly. "Yeah?"
My phone buzzed. I jumped, grateful for the interruption. Glancing at the screen, I saw Cami's name.
Cami: Emergency. Need to talk. Now.
"Sorry," I mumbled, already grabbing my bag. "It's Cami she says it's urgent."
James's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"
"I don't know. I'll call you later."
Without waiting for a reply, I hurried out of the library, heart pounding not from calculus, not from James, but from the dread blooming in my gut.
Cami was waiting near the dorms, pacing.
"Vee!" she rushed toward me. Her face was pale, eyes red.
"What happened?"
"It's Jace," she said. "His dad… he passed away this morning."
The words hung between us like heavy fog.
"What?" I whispered. "No. Are you..are you sure?"
She nodded. "His mom called me. Said he's not talking to anyone. I thought… you should know."
I sank onto the nearest bench, the world tilting slightly. I hadn't seen Jace since our confrontation at the cafeteria,since I'd walked away from both of them. I thought I was done. That it was over. But hearing this?
"Is he?..where is he now?"
"At home. I told her we'd come by."
I hesitated, then stood. "Okay. Let's go."
The drive to Jace's house was quiet, the air heavy with unspoken words. When we pulled into the driveway, his mother opened the door before we knocked.
"Oh girls," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for coming."
She hugged Cami first, then me. "He's in his room. Hasn't said much all day."
Cami glanced at me, then back at his mom. "Can we try?"
"Of course. He needs his friends."
We climbed the stairs slowly. At his door, Cami knocked. "Jace?"
No response.
She knocked again, a little louder. "It's me. And Vee's here too."
Still nothing.
"I don't think he'll open up," she whispered. "Not to both of us."
I placed a hand on her arm. "Let me try alone."
She hesitated, then nodded and stepped back.
I turned the knob and pushed gently. The door creaked open.
Jace sat on the edge of his bed, back to me, staring at something in his hands a photo maybe. His room was dim, curtains drawn. It smelled faintly of cologne and old wood.
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.
The room was dim, lit only by the afternoon light spilling in through the half-closed curtains. Shadows clung to the corners, and the air felt heavier in here like it hadn't been breathed in for hours.
"Jace?" I said quietly.
He was still sitting at the edge of his bed, back hunched, elbows on his knees, his fingers tangled together like he was holding himself in place. He didn't turn.
"I heard about your dad," I said softly, voice catching. "I'm so sorry."
Still, no response.
The silence throbbed between us like a wound.
I took a few careful steps forward but didn't go too far. I didn't want to crowd him. His grief was a wall, thick and jagged, and I didn't know if he'd let me scale it.
"I didn't know," I added, slower now. "Cami called me. She said you weren't answering anyone."
He ran a hand through his hair, still not looking up. His shoulders were stiff, like he was holding back an entire storm inside him.
I waited.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and raw. "I didn't ask her to."
"I know," I said gently. "But I wanted to come."
Silence again.
"You don't have to say anything," I added, my voice almost a whisper now. "I just… didn't want you to go through this alone."
That's when he looked at me.
His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with exhaustion and something deeper pain, maybe. Or fury. Or both.
"Too late for that," he said.
I swallowed hard. "You're not alone, Jace."
He gave a humorless laugh, sharp and bitter. "Really? Because it sure as hell feels like it."
My chest tightened. "You've got Cami. Me. Your mom."
His jaw tensed. "My mom's not even speaking. She's just… walking around the house like she's on autopilot. My cousins are in the living room talking about funeral arrangements like he was just some project to manage. No one even knows what he meant to me."
"I don't think they know how to process it either," I said carefully. "Everyone grieves differently."
He scoffed. "Well, I'm doing it this way."
He looked away again, gaze locked on a worn photo frame beside the bed. I followed his line of sight it was a picture of Jace and his dad, both smiling in front of an old car, arms around each other.
"I fought with him before it happened," Jace muttered. "I said he never listened. That he always pushed me too hard. I told him I hated being compared to him."
"Jace…"
"I told him I didn't even want to be anything like him."
His voice cracked at the end, and he looked down, pressing his fingers into his eyes like he could physically stop the tears.
"But you didn't mean it," I said quietly.
He shook his head, and the tears came anyway.
I moved then slowly, deliberately sitting beside him but not touching. Just close enough to share the silence.
He turned to me finally, his face twisted with grief. "He died thinking I hated him."
I felt something in my chest twist. "No. He died knowing you were his son. That you were hurting. That you were trying."
He looked at me like he wanted to believe that but couldn't.
I reached out, gently, placing my hand over his.
At first he tensed, but then finally he let out a shuddering breath, like he'd been holding it in for hours. He leaned his forehead against mine, just for a second.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, barely audible.
"Maybe not," I said. "But I am."
A beat passed.
Then another.
And before I could second-guess it, before I could remember all the reasons why this was a terrible idea he kissed me.
It wasn't soft or slow. It was desperate. Grief-laced. A kiss born of pain and memory and something unspoken.
I kissed him back.
Because for a moment, all the noise quieted.
And that part of me I'd buried the part that still ached for Jace rose to the surface.