Dark Hearts (Light in the Dark 3)

I step into the shower and he follows behind me.

“I really do have to get to class,” I tell him.

His arms wrap around me from the back, and I lean my head behind me onto his chest so I can look up at him. He bends and presses a tender kiss to my shoulder. I shiver, his tenderness surprising.

“I know,” he murmurs against my skin.

He washes me then, from head to toe, his touch light and almost sweet.

When he finishes, he dries me, staring into my eyes the whole time.

Have you ever felt like someone sees you? Really sees you? Not the you

that the world sees, but the stripped version? The real you? The chaos of your thoughts and the impurities of your heart? I think Jace can see right through me, to the darkness beneath that saturates my heart. That fact both terrifies and exhilarates me. It awakens something in me I long ago thought dormant. It reminds me that I’m alive and that the world keeps spinning even if we stand still.

“Go get dressed,” he commands, kissing me tenderly, completely unaware of the storm of thoughts rolling through my mind.

I nod once and scatter out of the bathroom, the tension popping like a pin into a balloon. I wonder if he noticed. I hope he was unaware but I see no way he didn’t feel it too.

In the safety of my room, I close the door and lock it—better safe than sorry; I can’t trust myself when it comes to Jace.

I dress quickly and look at the time. I do need to get to class, but I have some time to spare, so I grab my notebook and sit on the edge of my bed, writing furiously. I can’t get the words out of me fast enough.

Dear Owen,

It’s been too long since I wrote to you and for that I’m sorry. I promise it’s not because I forgot about you—nothing could ever make that a true statement because you’re always on my mind.

I think about you every day. Mostly when I’m about to fall asleep.

I think about the color of your eyes and the softness of your hair beneath my fingers.

It breaks my heart that you can’t think of me in the same way.

I’m a ghost to you.

I don’t exist.

That’s what hurts the most.

Love,

Nova

I finish the letter, rip it out of my notebook, and fold it up, sticking it with the others where it will remain forever.

***

I appraise my costume in the bathroom mirror.

I turn side to side, checking every angle.

I think I did a damn good job.

My green hair is curled and fluffed so it’s a wild mess, while my face is covered in white makeup, with tattoos drawn onto my face and down my neck. My lips are a vibrant red and I’ve purposely smeared it around. My eyes are surrounded with a smoky gray color and I’ve slathered the mascara on. My outfit consist of purple pants, a white button down shirt with a green vest over top, and a long purple jacket.

The Joker is hardly an original costume, but since I had the green hair already it seemed a natural fit.

“Nova.” Jace bangs a fist against the door. “I need your help.”