Page 103 of Dark and Dangerous

“Oh… well, it’s showing here that you’re rostered on. Have you checked it recently?”

“No. My shifts have never changed before, so…” I trail off.

“They update a week in advance,” Lana tells me. “And I don’t have anyone to run the floor tonight.”

“Of course, yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I apologize to Jen for wasting her time, but she assures me it’s fine and that I can reschedule for another day. Then I change quickly, run downstairs, tell Dad what’s happened and ask for a ride.

He’d gotten a long-term rental car for the time he’s home, and so he grabs his keys, asking, “What about your session?”

“Jen said I could reschedule.”

I make it to work ten minutes later and immediately run to the office to clock in. Lana is there, sitting at her desk. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to check the schedule.”

“It’s no problem,” she says, standing to pack up her things.

I glance over the new schedule, printed out and pinned to the wall in her office. I’m working Tuesday and Thursday, instead of Wednesdayand Friday now, but I keep the Sunday shift, which is good for tips. Curious, I look at Jace and Jonah’s. The only change is that Jace is working Saturday instead of Sunday.

We have no shifts together anymore.

None.

My heart sinks, and I turn to Lana, her bag already hanging off her shoulder. “Hey, Lana?”

“Yeah?”

“Who does the rosters?”

“Jace.”

64

Harlow

My friends knew Jace had asked his teammates about the money, but they didn’t think to tell me because they assumed I knew. When I told them I didn’t, the reason for the breakup became clear to them.

Jonah and I haven’t spoken about what happened, or about much of anything since. He offered to take me to school and back, but I declined. I didn’t want things to be awkward between us, and especially between him and Jace, but I think he took it personally, because things haven’t been the same.

Now, I’m sitting in class, staring at the back of Jace’s head, trying to figure the best time to approach him. He swapped seats with some other kid a couple of days after we ended things, and I assume it’s so he doesn’t have to see me. Like,at all. He no longer eats in the cafeteria. I don’t know where he goes or what he does at lunch, and so the only time I can really speak to him isduringclass. In front of everyone. Everyone whoknowsthat something happened between us, but they don’t know what exactly, and I know all this because I hear people talking about it. Still. Three weeks later. Yesterday, Sammy offered to call in a bomb threat to the school just to give people something else totalk about. I appreciated the thought, but it was completely unnecessary. I’ve gotten used to the gossip, the judgement. It’s been my life for years.

With a heavy sigh and as much determination as my frail ego can muster, I get up from my seat and walk over to Jace. With every step I take, the room gets quieter. By the time I’m standing in front of his desk, it’s dead silent. If stares couldliterallyburn holes in the side of my head, Sammy wouldn’t need to fake a bomb. My entire face would be it.

Jace doesn’t look up from his computer, though I know he can see me standing here because his freakishly fast fingers slowed the moment I arrived. I tap on his desk to force his attention, and still, nothing. I squat down so my face is right beside his screen, until finally, he stops the incessant tapping on his keys and shifts his gaze. Dark brown eyes right on mine, I recognize the emptiness right away. But that’s not what steals my breath, what has me second-guessing walking over here in the first place.

There’s a saved file on my computer. A screenshot of the first words he’d ever written me. Words that changed how I saw him, and later, how Ifeltabout him:

That night, out by the creek, you assumed I couldn’t look you in the eyes because I hated you, and you’re wrong.

You intimidate me.

Because you’re so insanely beautiful, Harlow… and that beauty is intimidating.

But he’s looking at me now, directly into my eyes, even if there’s nothing in them but a vast void of emotion.

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat and stand to full height again, asking, my voice low, “Are the shift changes at work permanent, because I have this…thingon Tuesdays and I need to reschedule it if it’s, you know…” I trail off, suddenly feeling like an idiot for thinkingnowwas the time to do this.

Jace blinks at me. Once. Twice. And then he shifts his attention back to his laptop, where he tap, tap, taps away. “Yes, it’s permanent,” he deadpans, and then I just stand there, like a fucking fool, unable to move, unable to speak.

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