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"Hey!"
Shrugging, he can't help but laugh. "Just being honest. You should try it."
"Nothing is going on," I say with a little more force to drive it home.
It's not like I'm lying. There is nothing going on between Jace and me. I've made every effort to try and help him, and he's made every effort to avoid me. Once I can get Carter off my ass about it, I'll go back to leaving him and everything we had in the past—no matter how hard that may be.
Being around Jace for the first time in a year and a half is a shock to my system. It's like I went eighteen months without food and now there is a massive feast laid out in front of me, only the feast is blocked by a giant glass wall.
I guess that's what I get for leaving him the way I did.
Lucky me.
RAISING MY HAND, I hesitantly knock on the door. Despite the fact that half of me is screaming how much of a bad idea this is, I know I need to do it. What's the worst that could happen—he shuts me out again? That's nothing new.
Jace opens the door, and for a second he looks surprised to see me, until he masks it with the same emotionless expression I'm starting to get used to.
"Hi," I breathe. "I just wanted to thank you."
"Thank me?" It's the first thing he's said to me that hasn't been paired with an icy tone.
I nod. "For visiting my dad. It really cheered him up, and I appreciate it."
He walks away from the door but leaves it open as he heads to the fridge. "I didn't do it for you."
"I know. But I'm really glad you did. He needs all the happy he can get right now."
To my surprise, he comes back with a beer for him and a bottle of water for me. Okay, so he's not exactly kicking me out. That's good to know. But every part of me is wary about this new thawing in our relationship. I even subtly check to make sure the bottle is still sealed before I open it.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he questions, lifting himself onto the counter. "That he's dying. Why didn't you mention it?"
I can't help but laugh a little. "You mean with all the chances you gave me to say anything to you?"
Thinking about it for a second, he tilts his head side to side. "Okay, fair. Does Carter know?"
"No."
"Does anyone?"
"Just Becca." As it comes out of my mouth, I realize how it sounds. "It's not that I'm ashamed of him, or trying to keep his illness a secret. I just hate when people treat me like I'm fragile. I don't want anyone's sympathy. And he really doesn’t either."
"I can understand that."
"Oh yeah?" I say sarcastically. "And why would people feel sympathy for the infamous Jace London?"
In an instant, he hardens again, and I can practically see the moment he shuts me back out. "You'd be surprised."
With that, he gets down and goes into his bedroom—shutting the door behind him in a silent message that I'm no longer welcome here. It's still progress. I mean, the fact that he let me in in the first place is a big change from when he basically told me he wished I was dead the first night I saw him again. But a frozen lake doesn’t turn to water overnight.
LISTENING TO MY PROFESSOR talk about how incredible Shakespeare was, I'm starting to think he's secretly in love with him. He's getting all hyped up about the subject, and writing on the giant chalkboard like a maniac while we all look around at each other with wide eyes.
Charlotte leans over toward me. "How much do you want to bet he nuts in his pants before the class is over?"
Looking back at the professor, I laugh and shake my head. "I'm not taking that bet. I'm pretty sure he's at least half hard right now."
She squints. "If he is, I'm disappointed. I thought he'd be bigger than that."
"Charlotte!" I whisper-shout. "What the hell are you doing thinking
