Page 44

"Lenny, I'm practically a senior," he argues.

"It's February of your junior year."

Jace wiggles his brows. "Exactly."

I roll my eyes, but he steps closer anyway, his familiar presence hovering over me.

"I think I'm old enough to find the exit."

"You got lost in the mall last week."

He holds up a finger. "That was strategic."

"That…" I say, pointing back at him, "was the supply closet."

He glares at me playfully until he can't fight his smile any longer. We both laugh, but it dies down quicker than usual.

Something about the way his eyes land on me steals my breath.

"Come with me," he says, his lips flatter, his voice softer than the teasing.

"Why?" I ask, anxious for the answer.

I glance around for Mr. Jalinski and the rest of my group—a few biology students from my grade. Then, Jace grabs my elbow gently.

A slow smile spreads across his face when I turn back to him—boyish. Sexy. The one I can never get enough of. "I have something to show you."

I search his eyes like I need more convincing, but I'm already taking my first step when his fingers brush mine before he holds my hand fully. Settling. Comfortable. The same way he has for the last six months.

His face shines brighter when I let him tug me toward a doorway I haven't made it to yet.

"Where are we going?" I ask as he pulls me past a display of clothing and shoes traditional to those of an indigenous tribe.

He guides me past an extremely lifelike replica of a full-size wooly mammoth without giving it so much as a second glance, then opens a door that leads to nothing but darkness.

"Jace?" I ask skeptically.

He squeezes my hand, but before he can say anything, lights stream in—greens, blues, different shades of purples. They filter in all around us, dragging across the walls and ceiling like fabric in the wind.

They're faint at first—noticable against the pitch black but not enough to fill the space.

But they build.

Second-by-second, step-by-step as we pass through, they grow around us until they're thick long ribbons of color lighting our way.

"The Northern Lights," I murmur more to myself. Jace looks back, his face haloed in them.

The lights pulse like the hallway's heartbeat, slow and steady—the opposite of my own. I stumble slightly over my own feet, mouth open, staring in awe. Jace holds tighter as I catch myself and keeps going.

I want to stop. To sit right here with him and soak them in—every breath of mint and emerald. The soft waves of violet—but he keeps moving, pulling me toward the end.

"No," I whine, tugging back on his hand when he wraps his other around the knob of the exit door. "Why are we leaving? This is so cool."

He spins around fully, taking my chin in between his thumb and forefinger. I watch the streaks of color dance across his perfect face—the one I've come to love more than I'd like to admit. More than he really knows.

He doesn't so much as look at the hues swept against the black. Instead, he stares at me, ignoring the light that must be spread across my cheeks.

There's an intensity in his eyes that wasn't there before—a heat replacing the mischief he had just a moment ago. And I soak them in instead—a blue that stands out against all the other colors. I trace the light that reflects in them before they dip down to my lips. And before I can hope for it, he presses his mouth against mine.