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“Be my rebound,” he says. “Will you be my rebound?”
I gape. Did I hear that right? Be hisrebound? A patch. A distraction from a failed romance. A stepping stone on the way to something new. Someone to be let go of later.
“How flattering,” I say, collecting some of my senses. He can’t be serious.
He sighs. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m trying to be honest. You said you wanted to hang out again, so let’s hang out again, but—”
“There is something else in it for you.” Of course. There always is.
“Laurel.” Jace’s voice, strong and convinced, snaps my gaze back to him. “Please don’t misunderstand me. I do like you.”
He can’t mean it. But he’s been so considerate all evening, he must mean it. I still don’t trust him. I want to. I shouldn’t. This is torture!
“If I agree, what do you get?” I ask again, setting my chaotic emotions aside for a few seconds.
“I would love your help in convincing a few people that I’m not still pining for Juliette.”
Something hot and sharp bursts to life in my chest, and the answer comes out quick and unsanctioned. “Deal.”
“All right, then.” His response is nothing but confidence and serenity.
I’m screaming in my head. What have I done? Why did I say yes? He’s still a musician. He craves the spotlight.
Why did he refuse Mom’s offer of a social media boost then? He didn’t fawn over Dad either, and I want him to get over Juliette for good. I want her to have no power over him. I want… I’m too afraid to finish that thought. My heart goesthud,thud,pow. Ow. That hurts, and the pain is hot and sweet. How?
“Text me,” Jace says. Wow. Somehow, he’s become Jace in my mind, not Blackmore. Closer and warmer, and a little bit mine. “I want to have your number. Adorable, silly, and brave Laurel’s number, not The Fox’s daughter.”
Thud,thud, stop. His words make me believe he wants to be with me. That’s impossible. Nobody ever wants me.
What if Jace does?
Hands sweating in the middle of the cool night, I take my phone out of my pocket and show him its dark screen. “I can’t. It’s a brick. I’ll get your number from Hal later.” Much later because this is madness! I’m mad to want to see him again or get into a relationship with him.
“No, you won’t. Tomorrow morning you’ll wake up and backtrack.” Jace raises his voice a notch, teasing. “What was I thinking? I threw myself into his arms like I had no dignity. His ruggedly handsome looks confused me—”
“You arenothandsome.” I poke his muscular chest and drop my hand as soon as I can. Why am I touching him? He’s been hugging me and playing with my hair… Help! This is insane. So insane, and I still say, “Do you have a pen?”
Jace grins, his eyes crinkling with pleasure. “A Sharpie in the glove box, but I’m not handsome, so don’t waste your time on me.”
Jokes, jokes, jokes. Banter, banter. Can’t he see I’m about to faint?
Somehow, I don’t. I even stick out my hand, palm up. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“I hope not.”
Jace’s smile softens. He watches me for a moment as if waiting for me to change my mind. I pretend I’m not overwhelmed at all. Eventually, Jace cocks an eyebrow and goes to fish out the marker.
He squeezes the cap between his teeth to open it, then offers it and his bare arm to me. “Go ahead. Write it down. You’ll never text me, but I will text you. Tomorrow morning.”
“Make it lunchtime. I’ll be dead to the world until then. Do you know what time it is?” I scribble my phone number on his shoulder in cursive, adding decorative waves and swirls like it’s a tattoo. Taking my time, committing the feeling of his skin, hot in the night, to my memory. I feel like a thief who steals time, moments, and crumbs of forbidden pleasures. I peek at his face. Jace is focusing on my art, unaware of my renegade gaze sliding over his jaw, his dark morning stubble and the slanted scar, the cunning, curving corner of his mouth—
“It doesn’t matter what time it is.” He blows on the ink. “You had fun. Embrace it, Laurel. Your new life starts now.”
I tear my eyes away from his face and recap the Sharpie. He has no idea how correct he is or how much it scares me. Jace rolls down the sleeve and turns toward his car.
That’s it? He’s going to leave me hanging again? I grab him by the elbow.
“Can’t let me go without a goodnight kiss?” he teases.
