“Whatever. I just didn’t want you to celebrate your birthday alone.”
The corners of my mouth turn up. I’ll have to remember to thank those aliens should they ever return. I like this Jace much better.
As night falls, we sit side by side with the credits toBreakfast at Tiffany’srolling in the background and half-eaten pizza at our feet. I don’t even care that it tastes the same as the cardboard box it came in. My heart feels full, and that’s what counts.
Now, I find myself curled against him, reeling from the amazing love story still buzzing through my head and the utter shock that he made the effort to download a movie from my past after only hearing a single mention of it. “This might have been my favorite birthday ever.”
I feel his smile against my forehead. “That’s kinda sad.”
I glance up to catch his profile from below. “I’m not sad.”
He shifts out from under me and rolls to his side. Face-to-face, I see every emotion scroll past his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“That article. Is it true?”
My stomach flutters. I lick my dry lips before nodding my head.
“Still?”
“Yeah.”
“Dang,” he whispers under his breath. “Why?”
I blow out from my nose, trying to formulate an answer he’ll understand. “Women often confuse sex and love. I guess I wanted to remove that confusion from the equation.”
“So you’re waiting for love, then?”
“I guess? I dunno. It was a long time ago, but when it finally happens, I want it to be on my terms. Not the other way around.” I talk a big game, but I’m a liar. Lying in his arms under the gently strung lights, I fear my resolve is crushing to dust. If hewere to take me under him now, I would happily plummet into hell as long as he holds my hand while he leads the way.
His fingertip traces my cheek and trails down the shell of my ear. “You’re a really strong person, El. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
His piercing stare and sweet words strip me bare. Jace Wilder is six feet of heartbreak. He’s a wicked smile with a body made for sin and eyes cut like brilliant blue diamonds. He’s a fantasy in dirty denim. A bad boy who’ll make you think he’s a good man. My heart’s already cracked. I don’t want to let him inside. “I’m not that strong,” I say, lowering my gaze.
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
“I’m a coward. I run from all my problems instead of facing them head-on.”
He sits up, pulling his knees to his chest. “Are you crazy? You buried your own mother, then moved two thousand miles to a new city with a strange family all by yourself. If that’s not strength, I dunno what is.”
“You lost a parent, too.”
He leans back on his elbow. “Yeah, but I still had my mom. I dunno if I coulda done it alone.”
His open honesty breaks me down. “You wanna see something I’ve never shown anyone else?”
A nervous laugh tumbles from my throat when he lifts a suggestive brow.
“Not that.” I push myself up and lean forward. Running my fingertip gently over my eye, I remove the lens hiding my shame. With my heart in my throat, I look up.
The look of shock as he moves in closer makes my chest hurt. “Your eyes are … tie-dye.”
“Waardenburg syndrome. It’s a genetic condition that affects the pigment of the eyes and hair. Some people have two differentcolors, and others have a split mix like me. Luckily, that’s all I have.”
He lifts his hand to my cheek. “Troy seen this?”
“No one has.”