Jace didn’t come to Philosophy the next day.
Or the day after.
Or the day after that.
He didn’t show up in the cafeteria.
Didn’t linger outside the library at night.
Didn’t appear in the quad leaning against his motorcycle, pretending not to wait for anyone but clearly waiting for someone.
Me.
He simply vanished from my orbit, and the absence was… loud.
Too loud.
Like someone had taken a soundtrack I didn’t know was playing underneath my life and ripped it out mid-song.
Maya noticed first.
“You keep looking over your shoulder,” she said while applying lip gloss. “Are you being hunted? Or is it boy trouble? Wait—are you trouble?”
“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
She narrowed her eyes. “Is this about Jace Rylan?”
I inhaled sharply. “Why would you say that?”
“Because,” she said, capping her lip gloss with dramatic flair, “you’ve had the ‘emotionally compromised’ look since Monday.”
“I do not look emotionally compromised.”
“You look like your crush died.”
“He’s not— it’s not like that.”
Her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “Evie. I saw the way he looked at you the other day. If a man looked at me like that, I would ascend.”
“Maya.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, backing off with hands raised. “But seriously, if he’s avoiding you, you should talk to him.”
I swallowed.
Because the idea of confronting him felt like standing at the edge of a cliff—
Wanting to jump, terrified to fall.
But the hurt of being ignored was worse.
So that evening, after hours of pacing in my room, I went looking for him.
I checked the courtyard.
Empty.
I checked outside the dorms.
Nothing.
Finally, I went to the old science building, where he sometimes hung around with friends—not the good kind.
I heard his voice before I saw him.
Low.
Hard.
Sharp-edged, like he was using it as a weapon.
“Back off,” he was saying to someone. “I’m not in the mood.”
Two guys laughed—mean, taunting laughs.
The kind I’d heard in school hallways all my life.
I stepped around the corner.
Jace froze mid-sentence.
His friends turned toward me.
His entire expression shifted—anger evaporated, replaced by something like alarm and something too close to longing.
But then he did the strangest thing.
He took a step back.
As if I were danger.
As if he were danger.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Not soft.
Not warm.
Not the Jace who matched my steps or waited in dark hallways with a quiet smile.
This was the Jace everyone else saw.
Sharp.
Guarded.
Cold.
I forced myself to stand straighter. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Shouldn’t have,” he said.
My stomach twisted. “Did… did I do something wrong?”
One of his friends snickered. “Man, is this the girl you’ve been—”
“Shut up,” Jace snapped.
The guy backed off, muttering.
Jace dragged a hand through his hair like he regretted everything happening in real time.
Then he walked toward me, taking my wrist—not gently, but not hurting me either—and pulled me away from the others.
We ended up behind the building, under a broken lamp that flickered like it couldn’t decide whether to light our faces or keep us hidden.
He let go immediately.
“Evie,” he said, not meeting my eyes, “you need to stop looking for me.”
I felt that sentence like a punch.
“Why?” I whispered.
His jaw clenched. “Because I’m not good for you.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I do,” he said, voice cracking like he hated himself for it. “Because if I don’t, I’ll drag you down with me.”
“You’re not dragging me anywhere.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Then explain it to me!”
My voice was too loud.
Too emotional.
Too unlike me.
He finally looked at me then—really looked—and something in him shattered. Just behind his eyes.
He inhaled like the breath hurt.
“My academic officer gave me a warning,” he said quietly. “One more fight, one more missed assignment, one more… distraction”—he hesitated on the word—“and I’m out. Completely.”
“Okay. Then why avoid me?”
He laughed bitterly. “Because you are the distraction, Evie.”
The world tipped.
“Oh.”
He rushed to add, “Not in a bad way. Not— not even close. You’re the best thing in my life. Which is the problem.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does,” he said, stepping closer before forcing himself to step back. “Because when I’m around you, I forget everything else. I forget rules, consequences, warnings. I forget to be careful.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“I know,” he said. “And it’s not fair. To you. Or to me. So I’m doing the only thing I can.”
“Running away?”
“Protecting you.”
That word gutted me.
Because I realized something in that moment:
He wasn’t avoiding me because he didn’t like me.
He was avoiding me because he liked me too much.
But I wasn’t done.
“Jace, you can’t just disappear and call it protection.”
He swallowed hard. “What do you want me to do?”
“Let me decide if I want you in my life.”
He closed his eyes.
“Evie,” he whispered, pained, “I don’t trust myself around you.”
“Then trust me.”
Silence.
The flickering lamp buzzed overhead.
He opened his eyes again, and I swear the world narrowed to a point.
“I can’t,” he said softly.
Not angry.
Not harsh.
Just helpless.
Then he stepped away.
One step.
Two.
Three.
He didn’t turn around.
Didn’t say goodbye.
Just walked into the dark—
Leaving me standing there, breathless and aching, realizing something terrifying:
This was not the end.
It was the beginning of the fall.