Page 34 of Wanna Bet?

He hesitated. He didn’t usually answer questions like that. Not real ones. Not ones that asked him to open something instead of deflecting it. But the rain whispered against the windows. The store was empty. The music was soft. And she was looking at him like she wasn’t asking out of curiosity but out of care.

“It makes me feel less alone,” he said quietly.

The words settled between them. She didn’t tease him or joke or brush him off. Instead she nodded once, slow and understanding, like she knew exactly what he meant.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

They stood like that for the length of the song, sharing the headphones, sharing the quiet, sharing a space that felt suddenly smaller and safer all at once. Outside, rain traced silver paths down the glass.

When the track ended, neither of them pulled apart right away. It was Myah who moved first, lifting her hand to slide the headphones down around her neck, but she didn’t step back. If anything she leaned a fraction closer, her eyes drifting to his mouth and then back up again with a softness that made his pulse stutter.

“That was really pretty,” she said.

“Yeah.” God he felt stupid with the short replies.

Her fingers toyed absently with the cord. “You always listen to music like that?”

“Mostly.”

“I think I get why now.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

She met his gaze, her expression open in a way that felt like trust. “Because it sounds like how you look when you think no one’s watching.”

His breath caught. He didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to deflect it or dodge it or tuck it safely away, because it landed too close to something true. For a second he just stood there, caught between the instinct to retreat and the unfamiliar urge to stay exactly where he was.

Her hand lifted, hesitant but deliberate, and brushed a strand of hair back from his forehead. The touch was light and careful and he felt his entire body go rigid.

“Myah,” he murmured.

She didn’t answer. She was already leaning in. This kiss was nothing like the last one. The last had been heat and surprise and impulse, a spark catching dry tinder and flaring fast. This one unfolded slowly, like a question asked in a whisper. Her lips touched his gently, testing, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to.

He didn’t. He leaned into it, one hand coming up to rest against the side of her neck, his thumb brushing the soft line of her jaw. Her mouth was warm, softer than he remembered, and she kissed him like she was savoring something rather than chasing it, her movements unhurried and sure.

Time stretched.

The rain hushed.

The record spun silently beside them, forgotten.

He kissed her back with equal care, letting himself feel it instead of rushing through it, letting himself notice the small things–the faint hitch in her breath, the way her fingers curled lightly into the front of his shirt, the way the world seemed to narrow until it was just her and the quiet space they shared.

When they parted, it wasn’t abrupt. It was gradual, their lips lingering close, their foreheads almost touching, both of them breathing a little deeper than before.

Her eyes opened slowly. “So,” she whispered.

“So,” he echoed.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, soft and pleased and a little shy in a way he hadn’t seen from her before.

They stayed close like that, neither of them stepping away, and Jace realized with a slow, dawning certainty that something inside him had shifted while he wasn’t paying attention. The feeling wasn’t fireworks or thunder or anything that obvious. It was quieter than that. Warmer. It felt like the first note of a song he already knew he was going to love.

And as he looked at her–at her rain-damp hair, her soft mouth, her eyes still half-lidded from the kiss–he had the sudden, unmistakable thought that he might be falling for her.

The realization didn’t scare him as much as it probably should have. It just settled in his chest, steady and sure, like music finding its rhythm.

Chapter Nine