“Confession, I don’t even like these things.”
“What?” I ask, my voice spiking with confusion.
“These.” He holds out the cigarette and flicks the ash from the end.
My brows furrow. “If you don’t like them then why do you smoke?”
He smiles sardonically. “To piss off my dad.”
“Seems like a legit reason,” I say dryly.
He shrugs and takes another drag of the cigarette. The tips flares brighter for a moment.
“My life is pretty much one big fuck you to my old man,” Jace continues. I struggle to keep up with his long-legged stride as we cross the street, nearing the apartment.
“How so?” I question.
We don’t talk about our home lives, though I’ve gotten the impression his isn’t any better than mine, so the fact that he’s being so open surprises me. I’m dying to know more about him and that part of his life, so while he’s speaking, I want to get all the information I can.
He wets his lips, tilting his head toward the sky like the twinkling stars above hold all his answers. “He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and I refused.” It’s a vague answer, but it’s more than he usually gives me, so I’ll take it. “What about your parents?” he asks. “Did you stray from their grand plan?”
I snort. “I strayed a lot.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my coat, wishing I’d worn gloves or something. It might be early October, but it’s cold. “My parents are very …” I pause, searching for the right word. “Structured,” I finish. “They like things a certain way. The normal way. The right way,” I ramble. “Right in their eyes,” I add.
“I take it they wouldn’t approve of green hair?” He fights a smile.
I shake my head. “They’d definitely not approve of that. If my mom saw me with hair this color she’d march me back into the bathroom and rip out every individual strand of hair until I was bald.”
Jace looks at me sadly. “She sounds delightful.”
I sigh. “My parents aren’t good people, but they aren’t bad, either, if that makes sense. I don’t feel much love when it comes to them, too much has happened, but I know they’ve always done what they think is right. I tend to disagree and think it’s the wrong thing.”
“I think it’s only natural to disagree with your parents, but it’s especially easy to do when they’re an asshole about everything.”
“So, if your dad wanted you to follow in his footsteps, what was that exactly?” I ask, hoping to learn more.
He shakes his head. “I’m done talking about my dad.”
And shot down.
I nod. “Fair enough.”
We reach the building and he holds the door open for me.
The warmth floods over me and I rub my hands together. If it’s this cold already I don’t know how I’ll survive the winter.
Jace and I head to the elevator and then up to the apartment.
Once inside, we take our coats off and Jace heads straight for his guitar.
“Do you want some hot chocolate?” I ask while he sits on the couch, the guitar resting in his lap.
He nods. “That sounds great.”
I’m happy to have something to do so I get busy making the hot chocolate and pulling the marshmallows from the cabinet. Jace tunes his guitar while I do that, sitting on the couch looking way too hot for his own good.
“How many songs have you written about me?” I ask.
He presses his lips together, a telltale sign that he’s thinking. “Five.”