Page 2

My eyes drop to the ground as if I'm searching the rubber playground flooring for something I didn't lose, now even more aware of how weird this whole surprise visitor situation is.

Jace has biology the period after me. One day during the first week of classes, I stayed late to ask Mr. Jalinski about osmosis or mitosis—one of the osises—and Jace waltzed in behind me, swag and chillness radiating off of him that I definitely don't possess. He passed so close our shoulders almost brushed, then plopped down in the seat in the far corner of the room.

He probably doesn't remember it. I might not either if it weren't for the scent of him now drifting toward me and pulling me back to that moment.

Cologne.

The good kind.

Not the body spray most guys drown themselves in after gym class. The real stuff—like what my brothers wear. But his doesn't smell like them. Ew. No. It smells like… like him.

"Do you want to talk about it or something?" I ask, hesitating as I sit down on the ground to stretch my legs.

His eyes drop to my sneaker as I extend one leg in front of me, then trail back to mine as if he's only now noticing me despite the whole watching-my-potential-drowning thing.

"Not really," he says.

The words are blunt, but his tone isn't. He swings his legs over the side of the slide anyway and leans back against the plastic so we're facing each other.

I purse my lips and nod, staring at my shoelaces, immediately regretting turning off the only other sound in the park.

"You go to Hollow High, right?"

My head snaps up, far too eagerly, to find his eyes already on me.

"Mhmm," I say, my mouth suddenly dry. I reach for my water bottle and take a slow, very cautious, sip.

"I thought I recognized you."

Heat pricks along my skin, and I offer a small smile. "You're new?" I ask, unnecessarily.

He nods. "Yeah. A junior."

"Oh." I press my lips together to stop myself from adding I didn't know Mr. Jalinski taught junior bio seventh period. "I'm a sophomore."

"Jace," he says, leaning forward and offering his hand.

He catches me just as I reach for my foot, sliding his palm into mine before I can react.

Thank God.

"Nora." My voice comes out steadier than I feel.

Our handshake lingers long enough for me to overthink it—probably because most guys our age would have aimed for a fist bump if they offered anything—and I allow whatever comes to my mind next to pour from my lips. "Is Jace short for anything?"

He stares at me blankly, still holding on.

"Ya know," I say, my armpits heating all over again. "Like for Jason or…"

He lifts his brow the same way he did before—waiting.

I clear my throat, holding his gaze, and forcing my shoulders back. "Jay-son."

His lips curl slightly, and mine can't help but follow suit until we both chuckle and drop hands.

"Nope, just Jace," he says. "Is Nora short for something? Like…"

Now I arch my brow.