Dark Hearts (Light in the Dark 3)

Thea: If I don’t keep him on his toes he’ll get bored. Can’t have that.

I shake my head.

Me: You’re a nut.

Thea: I know it. ;)

I lay my phone on the bed and sit up. The shower has cut off in the bathroom, and I can hear him rummaging around in the bathroom.

My palms begin to sweat.

I’m itching to talk to him about the kiss, to understand his motives, and if it was a one-time thing or if he wants it to happen again as much as I do.

I know I won’t talk to him about it, though.

I can’t, because if his head isn’t in the same place as mine then I’ll be devastated.

Besides, I don’t know what I think or want.

Lie.

Yeah, such a fucking lie.

I’ve known for months that my feelings for Jace were growing, and I’ve tried to pretend that they didn’t exist. But in pretending I’ve only allowed it to get out of control.

And now … Now it’s all a mess.

The small hotel room suddenly becomes too much to bear, and I jump from the bed and scurry for the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony. It’s barely big enough to stand on, but it’s something, and that’s all that matters.

I lean against the metal railing, inhaling a lungful of air.

The cool morning air tickles my skin and helps to calm me. On the street below, a car passes by and the palm trees sway in the wind.

Everything is peaceful and calm, not at all like the roiling chaos inside me.

The door slides open behind me, and I jump like I’ve been shot.

“What are you doing out here?” Jace asks. His brows are drawn in confusion and his hair is damp from the shower, looking more brown than blond for the moment. He’s changed into a ratty pair of jeans, white t-shirt, and boots.

“I needed some air,” I reply, and I hate how breathy my voice sounds.

He looks me over and steps out fully, closing the door behind him.

“I could smoke,” he mumbles.

I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. The balcony is already small as it is, and with Jace’s tall and looming presence it’s downright suffocating.

Although, it’s probably less to do with the small space and everything to do with him.

He leans his hip against the railing beside me, watching me with narrowed eyes as he taps out a cigarette. He puts it between his lips and cups his hands around it as he lights it.

He inhales a lungful of smoke, holds it in for a second, and then turns to blow it out away from my face. His gaze drifts back to mine and his lips quirk up a bit at the corners.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The words leave me before I even know what I’m saying. Once I realize what I’ve said, I want to kick myself.

“Like what?” he prompts. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way, am I?” He looks me up and down, his eyes leaving a trail of fire.

“Stop it,” I hiss. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”