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“Don’t get in your head, Mal,” Julia says softly. “Maybe I’m not the only one who sees the wonderful woman you are.”
Julia’s words hit home, exposing the raw nerve of my insecurities. I’ve spent so long trying to reinvent myself, to prove I’m more than my past. But in doing so, have I lost sight of who I really am? And more importantly, is that person someone Jace could actually want?
She nudges me toward the door, where Jace is waiting for me on the other side. I take a deep breath before pulling it open. The sight of him takes my breath away.
He’s not wearing his usual band tee with a pair of ripped jeans. Instead, he’s got a nice button-up on, which looks brand new, and a pair of dark wash jeans that mold beautifully to his hips. His hair is slicked back but still has that tousled look to it, and my fingers twitch with the need to run my fingers through the strands.
Not right now.
Jace silently trails his gaze over my frame, eyes taking in every inch of me, and I fidget under the stare. It’s like he’s undressing me with a simple gaze, setting my skin aflame, and a bead of sweat forms on my forehead.
“You look… beautiful,” he manages to say, then holds a hand out to me with a small smile. “Ready?”
I place my palm into his and take a deep breath, only glancing back at Julia briefly, who’s got a bright smile on her face with her thumbs up in the air. “As I’ll ever be.”
We’re silent, his fingers still thread through mine, as he leads the way down the stairs and through a door that opens at an alley at the back of our hotel. There’s a car waiting for us, its LED headlights nearly blinding me, and I let Jace pull me toward the back door as I dart my gaze along the darkened stretch of pavement.
There’s no one watching us, so that’s a good thing.
If only that would ease the worries deep in my gut, but that doesn’t stop me from sliding into the back seat, with Jace following closely behind me.
***
The restaurant is a hidden gem, tucked away from the bustling city streets. Soft jazz music floats through the air, mingling with the clinking of glasses and murmur of conversations. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the dark wood tables and plush velvet seats. It's elegant without being stuffy, intimate without feeling cramped. Jace guides me to a table in a secluded corner, partially hidden by a lush potted plant. It's the perfect spot for two people who aren't supposed to be seen together.
“I hope this is okay,” Jace says once we’re seated at a table located in a far corner, away from prying eyes.
It’s not completely hidden, still giving a few patrons a view of us if they wanted to look around, but it’s secluded enough that some of my earlier worries fade slightly. Jace has been doing this for a while, so I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s doing, and my worries are nothing more than overthinking.
“It’s great.”
“How has work been going?”
I sigh heavily and shrug my shoulders. “Good.”
Trevor likes to talk about his family, and he was telling me all about a talk he had with his little brother over the phone that had me laughing hysterically. Apparently, the little dude is a lady’s man, always coming home to talk about his latest girlfriend — he’s only in elementary school, so it’s harmless and adorable.
The memory fades as I refocus on the present, realizing I've been lost in thought during my dinner with Jace. His voice pulls me back to reality, reminding me of where I am and who I'm with.
“You seem to be deep in thought,” Jace announces as he leans back in his chair with a brow raised. “I must not be doing good if you can’t focus on our dinner.”
I shake my head, giving him a small smile. “It’s nothing, just something Hilary said to be the other day.”
“I’m all ears.”
“She made a comment about me flirting with Trevor, told me it was unprofessional, even though that’s the last thing I would do.”
Jace nods. “Is it?”
I pause, caught off guard by the intensity in Jace's eyes. "No, it's not," I admit. "But sometimes I wonder if that's all people see when they look at me - the flirt, the party girl. Like I'm incapable of being professional."
Jace leans forward, his voice low. "Is that why you've been pushing yourself so hard? To prove them wrong?"
His question hits close to home. I fidget with my napkin, avoiding his gaze. "Maybe. Is that so bad?"
"Not bad," he says softly. "But exhausting, I'd imagine. Always trying to be someone else."
His words hang in the air between us, loaded with meaning. I wonder if he sees through my carefully constructed facade, if he understands the battle raging inside me. And if he does, why does that both thrill and scare me?
