The distance between two people 2
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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.
---
**Part 3: The Quiet in Between**
Lena didn't sleep much that night.
It wasn't because of anxiety or restlessness. It was because of something else—something quieter, like her mind had finally stopped shouting and started whispering instead. She lay there with the sketchbook beside her, the beginnings of a drawing forming in gentle lines. Two silhouettes sitting on a park bench. No faces. No features. Just closeness.
She didn't know what it meant yet.
And maybe that was the whole point.
---
Tuesday came with gray skies and the smell of rain in the air. The kind of weather that made people rush or stay inside. Lena didn't rush. She walked slower than usual, her hood up, earbuds in, letting the world move past her in blurs.
She arrived at school five minutes early and went straight to the art room.
It was empty—except for the echo of quiet and the distant hum of the hallway. She didn't sit at a desk. She stood by the window, watching clouds roll in.
"Thought I'd find you here."
She turned around.
Jace stood in the doorway, leaning slightly like he wasn't sure he should've come in.
"You're stalking me now?" she said, not unkindly.
"Only during daylight hours."
Lena smirked. "You're not funny."
"Lies," he said, walking in.
He didn't come close—just stood a few feet away, near the half-finished canvases. "You left yesterday before I could say something."
Lena tilted her head. "Say what?"
"That I had a good time."
"Painting flaming chaos and sharing stale tea?"
"Exactly," he said. "It was kind of perfect."
She looked at him carefully. "Why are you being nice to me?"
"Why are you letting me be?"
That question settled in the room like smoke. Unspoken things hung between them again. The mural. The walk. The bench. Every half-smile they hadn't fully admitted.
"I don't know," Lena said after a moment. "Maybe because… when I'm with you, I forget to guard myself."
Jace's gaze softened. "Same."
A long pause stretched.
Then Lena crossed the room to the easel in the corner and pulled the sheet off it. Underneath was her newest sketch. She didn't usually show her work. Not like this. But she held it up, arms quiet, expression unreadable.
It was the mural—her version. Only this time, the two figures weren't abstract. They were her and Jace. Back turned, shoulders brushing, eyes gazing out at a wall of stars and flame.
He stepped closer, and for a second, neither of them said anything.
"Is that really how you see me?" he asked.
Lena gave the smallest nod.
"Then I must be doing something right," he said softly.
She lowered the sketch. "Don't ruin it."
"I won't," he said. "Not if I can help it."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was full.
They didn't hold hands. They didn't touch. But Lena felt it anyway—that thread connecting them now. Tenuous. Honest. Real.
Maybe they weren't something yet.
But they were becoming.
And for now… that was enough.
---
Later that day, in Lit class, Lena found a folded piece of paper in her notebook.
She didn't open it right away. She waited until the bell rang and the room emptied.
Then she unfolded it slowly.
**"Some people walk into your life like storms. Others like sunlight.
I don't know what I am to you yet.
But you're both to me. —J"**
Lena folded the note and placed it in her sketchbook.
Not with the others.
But in the pocket where she kept things that mattered.
---