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**Part 2**
Monday again.
Lena sat in homeroom, sketchbook open but untouched. She hadn't drawn anything since the mural. It was like her hand didn't know what to do now that real life had finally crept into the picture.
It wasn't just colors and shapes anymore. It was moments. Words. A donut on a paper napkin. The warmth of another voice by her side. The way Jace had watched her while she painted, like he wasn't looking at the wall at all.
And that made it harder.
Because feelings weren't like pencil lines. You couldn't erase them if they started to go in the wrong direction.
"Hey," Maddie whispered, tapping her arm. "You okay?"
Lena blinked. "Yeah. Why?"
"You've been staring at that page for ten minutes."
Lena looked down. Blank paper. She closed it gently and slid it into her bag. "Just tired."
Maddie gave her a look—one of those best friend looks that said *I know you're lying but I'm too nice to call you out right now.*
"Did something happen with Jace?"
"What?" Lena said too fast.
Maddie raised an eyebrow. "I said what I said."
Lena exhaled. "It's nothing."
Maddie grinned. "So something *did* happen."
Lena didn't reply. She didn't have to. Her silence said enough.
---
In Lit class, Jace didn't sit in his usual chair. He slid into the seat one row behind her—close enough to whisper, but not right beside her like before.
She glanced back.
He smiled. "Thought I'd change things up."
"Why?" she asked.
"Gotta keep you on your toes."
She rolled her eyes, but it wasn't annoyed. She hated how easily her stomach flipped at the sound of his voice now. It was dangerous. Familiarity was dangerous.
She passed him a note anyway.
**"You're not keeping me on my toes. You're annoying."**
He passed it back, folded into a triangle.
**"Annoying, but you smiled. Gotcha."**
She crumpled it before he could see her blush.
---
After school, Lena lingered by her locker longer than usual. Her plan was simple: wait five minutes, then leave. Don't look for him. Don't expect him.
She had just started counting the seconds when she heard footsteps stop behind her.
"Hey."
She turned. "Hey."
"I was gonna walk to the bus," Jace said, "but the idea of going home kind of sucks right now."
Lena nodded slowly. "Yeah. I get that."
They stood there, two people pretending to be casual while the air tightened between them.
"You want to walk a bit?" Jace asked. "I mean, no pressure. But… I don't know. I don't want to be alone today."
That—of all things—undid her.
Not some smooth line. Not a smirk.
Just that quiet honesty.
"Yeah," she said. "Okay."
---
They walked through the neighborhood behind the school. Late spring was showing off—petals drifting from trees, grass wet from a morning rain, clouds rolled across a pale blue sky.
They didn't talk for a while. And that was okay.
Somewhere past the third street, Jace broke the silence.
"My mom works late now. Pretty much every night."
Lena glanced over. "That sucks."
"It does. Not because she's not there. Just… the house feels empty without someone to come home to."
"Is that why you stay at school late?"
"Yeah," he said. "You too?"
Lena nodded. "I used to pretend I had clubs after school, just so I didn't have to go home."
They walked in silence again.
"Lena?"
"Yeah?"
"I like being around you."
She looked at him. "Even when I'm mean?"
"Especially when you're mean."
She smiled, just a little. "I don't know what this is."
He kicked a rock down the sidewalk. "Me neither."
"But I don't hate it."
He grinned. "Progress."
---
They stopped at the park bench on Hemlock Lane—the one by the dried-up fountain. It wasn't a pretty spot. But it was quiet. And sometimes, that mattered more.
They sat side by side, arms not touching but close enough to feel the heat between them.
Lena tugged at her sleeve. "What if we ruin it?"
"Ruin what?"
"This," she said. "Whatever this is."
"We haven't even named it yet," he said. "How can we ruin it?"
"That's the problem," she whispered. "If we don't name it, it can disappear without warning. And if we do… it can still fall apart."
Jace was quiet for a moment.
"Can I tell you something?"
She nodded.
"You make me feel… calm. And I'm not usually a calm person."
She turned to look at him. "That's the opposite of what I expected you to say."
"I know. But you have this… way. You don't fake anything. You don't pretend to be okay when you're not. I respect that."
"No one's ever said that to me before."
"Well," he said, "I'm not most people."
Lena laughed, and this time, it didn't feel forced at all.
---
That night, she lay on her bed, sketchbook on her lap, headphones on. She still hadn't drawn anything. But the blank page didn't feel like failure anymore.
It felt like possibility.
A canvas waiting—not for the perfect moment, but for an honest one.
She picked up her pencil.
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