Morning brought no dramatic revelations.
Just sunlight on the wood floor, the distant sounds of traffic, and the scent of cheap coffee brewing in the background. Mira lay still, watching dust swirl in the light. Jace was already up, judging by the quiet clatter in the tiny kitchen.
She found him barefoot, hair tousled, focused on pouring coffee like it was a sacred ritual.
He looked up, met her eyes, and smiled—sleepy and sincere. "You survived the night."
"Barely," she muttered, rubbing her temple. "Your pillow is like a bag of cement."
"Yeah, I keep it for sentimental reasons. Came with the apartment and probably some diseases."
She laughed, and it surprised them both.
Jace handed her a mug, their fingers brushing.
It was the first time she let herself look at him without walls. Not the rugged mechanic who kept his shop like a fortress—but the man who, despite every reason not to, had let her in.
"You always this domestic after sleepovers?" she teased.
"Only when I'm trying to impress women way out of my league."
"You think I'm out of your league?"
"I know it."
She sipped her coffee to hide the way her lips curved.
---
Later that day, they walked to the old flea market near the west end of town. Mira hadn't planned on spending the afternoon with him, but it unfolded naturally. No planning, no pressure. Just two people moving through the world side by side.
She paused at a vintage photo booth. "Ever do one of these?"
Jace raised an eyebrow. "Not since high school."
"Let's do it," she said, surprising even herself.
They squeezed into the booth. Mira's shoulder pressed into his, the scent of motor oil and worn leather clinging to him. The countdown started.
3...2...1.
First photo: she smiled, he smirked.
Second: she stuck her tongue out, he leaned in, unprepared.
Third: she turned just slightly, and his lips brushed her cheek.
Fourth: silence.
The flash went off just as she turned her head—and their faces nearly touched.
The pictures slid out like a secret they hadn't meant to tell.
Jace looked at them, then at her. "You did that on purpose."
She smirked. "Maybe."
---
They walked back slowly, the air cool but not uncomfortable.
"I feel like I'm waiting for the catch," Mira said, fingers grazing his as they walked.
"There is no catch," he replied. "Just me. Messy and mostly honest."
"Mostly?"
He stopped walking. Looked at her.
"I haven't told you everything," he admitted. "There are things you don't know. Things I'm not proud of."
Mira nodded. "Same."
"Will you still want me when you find out?"
"Ask me when you're ready to tell me."
Jace's expression softened. "You always give me that choice."
"Because I know what it's like when people take it away."
---
Later that night, Mira taped the photo strip to the inside of her notebook. The kiss on the cheek, the almost-moment—it made her stomach twist and her heart ache.
This was getting dangerous.
And she was letting it.