CHAPTER ELEVEN: Heat in the Halls

Mira was back.

Not the pale, feverish version wrapped in blankets. But the Mira Jace knew, braids bouncing, lip gloss shimmering, hoodie cropped just enough to tease her waistline. She walked through campus like nothing had touched her. Like heartbreak, sickness, or secrets didn't exist in her world.

Students turned to look. Mira had always had that kind of glow.

And right behind her was Michael.

Jace spotted them from across the hallway as she stepped out of her lecture hall—laughing, bumping shoulders, Mira leaning into him like gravity was pulling her there. Michael's hand hovered over the small of her back, fingers twitching like he wanted to touch her more.

Then he did.

Just before they reached the stairwell, Mira stopped, turned, and kissed him. A real kiss—hot, unhurried, public. Michael leaned into it with quiet hunger, one hand sliding down to grab her ass, fingers curling like he needed the contact.

Mira laughed into his mouth, playful, breathless. "Missed you," she murmured against his lips.

"You saw me two days ago," Michael said, voice low and thick.

"Not like this," she whispered.

Jace froze in the crowd, her body still, heart thunderstruck. She tried to look away—but couldn't. Couldn't stop seeing how Michael's eyes softened when Mira kissed his neck. Couldn't stop seeing the way Mira grinned like she had everything she wanted in the world.

Jace blinked, and they were gone—slipping around the corner like they didn't need the rest of the school.

But she already knew where they were going.

The music room was always empty before 9 a.m.—tucked at the end of the arts corridor, half-forgotten unless you played an instrument. Mira pressed the door shut behind them, Michael already pulling her into his arms.

"I don't have long," she whispered.

"Then we shouldn't waste time," he said.

Their mouths met again—urgent, open, needy. Michael backed her into the upright piano, hands slipping under her hoodie, tugging at her waistband. Mira gasped as her back hit the cool wood, then arched into him.

"You're so warm," he muttered into her neck. "I've missed this. Missed you."

She moaned softly as he kissed down her jaw, his fingers sliding beneath her waistband. Her hands found his belt, fast, impatient, eyes half-lidded and drunk on the way he touched her.

Clothes were pulled aside, not fully off—just enough to feel skin, to move together.

The room echoed with quiet gasps, the creak of wood, the soft, rhythmic sound of bodies finding each other.

Mira's head fell back. "Michael…"

His mouth was on her collarbone, moving lower, his hands grounding her hips. "I've got you," he murmured. "Always."

It wasn't frantic—it was slow, hungry, the kind of sex that spoke in silences. Every thrust was careful, every kiss deep. Like they weren't just fucking—but trying to remember each other completely.

Mira clung to him, thighs trembling, breath catching in her throat. "I love you," she whispered, like it was a secret.

Michael paused, then kissed her harder.

Outside, footsteps echoed in the hallway.

They froze.

A voice. A teacher. Passing too close.

Mira slapped a hand over her mouth, chest rising and falling like a trapped bird. Michael stilled inside her, lips brushing her temple.

They didn't move.

The doorknob didn't turn.

The footsteps faded.

Michael exhaled slowly. "That was close."

Mira giggled under her breath, high off adrenaline and the heady warmth still lingering between them.

"I thought I was going to scream," she whispered.

"You still might," he grinned, and kissed her again, slower this time.

But the warning bell rang, cutting through their stolen moment.

Mira sighed, tucking her bra back into place. "We have to go."

Michael helped her straighten her hoodie. "One more kiss?"

She gave it to him—soft and sweet.

Then they slipped out separately, as if nothing had happened.

Later, in the open-air cafeteria courtyard, Jace spotted her.

Mira was radiant. Hair freshly oiled, cheeks flushed, sipping juice like she hadn't just been pressed against a piano fifteen minutes ago.

Jace walked up, trying to sound casual. "You didn't pick up your phone this morning."

Mira looked up, lips parting with a smile. "Oh—sorry. I was… with Michael."

Jace's throat tightened. "Yeah?"

Mira nodded, eyes gleaming. "We had a really nice time."

Jace forced a smile, each word like glass in her throat.

"Glad to hear it."

But her hands clenched beneath the table.

Because while Mira was floating on warmth and afterglow…

Jace was quietly burning.

She watched Mira bite into her sandwich with lazy contentment, licking crumbs off her glossed lips, still glowing like someone who had been loved thoroughly.

Jace stirred the ice in her drink. The clinking felt louder than it should.

Her phone buzzed once—then again.

Alex.

"Did you see them this morning?"

"Guess who skipped class for a quickie."

She didn't reply.

Instead, she looked at Mira, who was now scrolling through her phone, smiling at something. Probably a text from Michael.

"Hey," Jace said suddenly, her voice barely louder than the breeze.

Mira looked up. "Yeah?"

Jace hesitated. Her heart felt like a held breath.

But the words changed before they left her tongue.

"You've got something on your lip."

Mira blinked, wiped the corner of her mouth. "Got it?"

Jace nodded, swallowing what she really wanted to say—How long have you known? That I'm breaking? That I'm in love with everything I shouldn't be?

Instead, she smiled. "Yeah. You're good."

Mira stretched like a cat, arms over her head. "Ugh. I need a nap."

"Didn't you just sleep last night?"

"Not enough sleep," she grinned, eyes twinkling.

Jace forced another smile. "Of course."

Her phone buzzed again.

Alex.

"I can tell you're not okay. Want to talk?"

This time, she replied:

"No. Not now.

She shoved the phone in her bag and stood. "I have to go to the library. That sociology paper's eating me alive."

Mira groaned. "You and that paper. You'll get a first class for us both."

Jace nodded, already turning. "Later."

She didn't go to the library.

She walked aimlessly—past the old admin building, across the deserted lawn, until her feet brought her behind the auditorium. Where the walls kept secrets and no one ever lingered.

She sat on the low stone ledge, staring at the cracks in the pavement.

That's when she heard footsteps.

She didn't need to look up.

Michael.

His voice was soft. "Hey."

Her chest thudded so hard she almost laughed. Or cried.

"Hey," she said, eyes fixed on the ground.

He stepped closer, just enough to block the sun.

"You weren't in class."

"I wasn't feeling it."

Silence stretched between them. Not awkward. Heavy.

"I saw you," she added. "With Mira. In the hallway."

Michael sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Yeah."

"She's happy."

"She is."

"Good." Her voice cracked.

Michael didn't move. "And you?"

Jace looked up then—really looked at him. His face, the quiet worry in his eyes, the way he watched her like he already knew the answer.

"I don't know how to be okay," she whispered. "Not when she gets everything I want."

Michael froze.

The air felt too still.

"You don't mean—" he started, but she cut him off.

"I do." Her voice was trembling now. "I mean exactly that."

Michael exhaled slowly. Like the truth was something he'd been expecting, but still didn't know how to catch.

"I didn't want to feel this way," she said. "I tried not to. I swear I did."

He stepped closer. Too close. The scent of his cologne—subtle, warm, familiar—wrapped around her like a memory she shouldn't keep.

"I don't want to hurt her," he said.

"She doesn't know," Jace whispered. "She doesn't see. That I look at her, and all I feel is guilt. Because I want what she has. I want you."

Michael reached for her, then stopped himself.

"Jace…"

She stood before he could say anything else. "Don't. Please."

"Just wait"

"No," she said firmly, finally looking him in the eye. "Because if you touch me right now, I won't be able to pretend anymore."

She walked away, heart pounding so hard it made her ears ring.

Behind her, Michael didn't follow.

And Jace didn't look back.