Jace

He didn’t plan on stopping. The rain had started coming down hard, soaking through his hoodie, and the little bookstore on the corner was the only place open. Just shelter—that’s all he needed. Somewhere dry for a few minutes. The bell over the door jingled when he stepped in, too loud for a place so quiet. It smelled like old paper and something soft, maybe lavender. Jace almost turned right back around. This wasn’t his kind of place. Then he saw her. She was behind the counter, half-hidden by a stack of books, eyes wide like he’d walked in with a gun instead of wet boots and a bad mood. She didn’t say a word. Just looked at him like she couldn’t figure out whether to speak or disappear. He hated awkward silences. Hated being stared at. But for some reason, he didn’t snap. Didn’t bark out a sarcastic comment or bolt. Something about her—nervous, skittish, quiet—made him stop. Made him stay. He didn’t know it then, but that rainy afternoon would be the beginning of something he never saw coming.