Lunch was chaos.
I found an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria and settled in with a sad excuse for a sandwich. I'd barely taken a bite when a girl with fiery red curls slid into the seat across from me like we were lifelong friends.
"You're new, right?" she asked, eyes scanning me like I was a puzzle she was dying to solve.
"Elena," I said carefully. "Cross."
"Layla," she grinned. "I've already made up your backstory, by the way. Transferred after breaking hearts and setting your old school on fire. Am I close?"
I choked on my water. "Not even a little."
"Shame. It would've been iconic." She leaned in. "Okay, real question—have you met him yet?"
I blinked. "Who?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, her eyes darted across the cafeteria — and landed on a table near the back where a few guys were laughing over something on a phone. Sitting in the middle of them, headphones around his neck and a devil-may-care smirk on his face, was Jace Carter.
"He's… a walking complication," Layla said, lowering her voice. "The kind your mom warns you about and your heart still runs straight toward."
I looked at him. He didn't seem to notice me — or anyone else, really. Like he was here but somewhere far away at the same time.
"He doesn't talk to people," she added. "Doesn't date. Doesn't even post on social media. But somehow, he's everywhere."
I turned back to her. "Why are you telling me this?"
She smiled, but there was something serious in her eyes now. "Because you're new. And new people always end up drawn to him. Just… don't."
"I'm not planning to," I said quickly.
But it was a lie. Because even if I didn't want to be curious… I already was.
Later that day, I was heading to my locker when I nearly walked right into him.
Jace‼️‼️.
He stepped back, eyes locking onto mine like he'd been expecting me.
"You should watch where you're going," he said quietly, voice low and smooth.
"You were the one standing in the middle of the hallway," I replied, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.
Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement? Annoyance?
Then he leaned in just a little, voice dropping even lower.
"You don't want to get involved with me, Elena."
I stiffened. "I didn't say I was going to."
"You don't have to." He took a step back, hands in his pockets. "Just… stay away."
And with that, he turned and walked off — leaving behind a swirl of questions I wasn't sure I wanted the answers to.
But part of me already knew:
I wasn't going to listen.