"This project... makes me want to die," I announced, staring down at my copy of the Crucible in despair.

"It's not that bad," said Jace. "You get to hang out with me, your new best friend."

I smiled slightly. "True."

I kind of meant it, almost for a second. He wasn't awful company.

We were sitting side by side on the beanbags, our faces tilted over Jace's computer screen as we analysed the Google Doc we'd collaborated on overnight. It was surprisingly good. Jace was undeniably talented, unbearably so. And I wasn't half bad myself.

I picked up a carrot and coated the end in the dip. "This platter is literally incredible. Good job, Mr. Gordan Ramsey."

"I am the master of cutting things up and putting them on the plate," said Jace. "My talent is next level. Masterchef, here I come. Who needs Natia?" Jace asked.

"Oh, I do. She's phenomenal. Literally the best, like, Jamie Oliver could never. You should totally try her stir fry." I close my eyes to appreciate the imaginary taste. It was, genuinely, so good. Then I patted Jace on the arm. "Hey, you should stay for dinner, you have to have it. It's literally so good."

I didn't think before I said it. It wasn't an intentional invite, or one made with any consideration. It had just slipped from my mouth, unbidden. But as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I'd made a misstep.

A strange expression crossed Jace's face. It wasn't one I'd seen before. It was a blend, one part happiness, two parts annoyance. Jace's face had always been expressive, an open book of thoughts. But I didn't understand this one.

"You want me to stay for dinner?" he said, and his voice sounded almost choked.

"You have to," I said carefully. "Natia's stir fry is a religious experience."

Jace shut his laptop. He was quiet. What had I done? Something had shattered the tentative truce of the past day. I had. Jace didn't respond immediately, appearing to consider his words with careful consideration.

What he said was not what I had expected.

"What is this, seriously?" Hartley asked, with an unfamiliar intensity. "A few weeks ago, you trashed my bedroom. You were weirded out that I was pleased to see you weren't dead. I gave you one 'nice to see you didn't die' hug, and you accused me of witchcraft. You've had years to make nice for Daria. Why now?"

"I mean, firstly, it was super weird that you were pleased to see I wasn't dead," I pointed out. "But also, you've started to be nice to me too! That was super weird. You used to complain about my presence, and now you smile at me. So, I could ask you the same question back."

Jace threw his hands up with exasperation.

This was what I was used to. This was the Jace and Lena I knew, the Jace and Lena I was comfortable with. Frustration, annoyance, digs. The back and forth of arguing.

But Jace seemed agitated in a way he never had before.

Sure, he'd argued and sniped. But never with any heat to it. Never showing a sign of a temper, or anything other than good natured back and forth. I hadn't realised it, at the time. Hadn't known he had never really put his back into it, that fire had never forced his tongue.

Because this was Jace angry. This was Jace confused and annoyed. I had never seen him like this. Some part of me liked it. Enjoyed seeing in him the passion, finally, finally, matching me.

"I never wanted you dead," said Jace. He vaulted himself up from the beanbag, so he was standing far, far above me. Looking down on me. He was pacing, expending all of his energy, this pent-up anger, into purposeless but long strides. "Why would you even think that? That's exactly why I was being nice to you; because you were almost dead. Did you think I wanted that? Did you want me dead?"

"Maybe a little maimed," I quipped, lounging back on the beanbag with feline laziness. The expression on my face was lazy, languid, cool. "But I can't make fun of you if you're dead. That might be a little mean."

"Oh, so the past decade isn't you mean?"

I shrugged. "Maybe a bit, but it doesn't look as bad when you're alive to hit back."

"This is a joke to you, isn't it?" said Jace. "You can't take anything seriously, you never have."

I stood up, extending my body, matching him. I still stood a few inches shorter than him. It was aggravating. "I have always taken our feud with the utmost seriousness."

Jace laughed. It was not his usual amused chuckle. It was sarcastic, dark, angry. Something within me boiled. Match me, you're matching me, it said. That something was thrilled to see him on the edge, halting on the precipice of leashed rage, carefully caged anger. That something would enjoy watching him slip and fall over that cliff, plummeting to its depth like I had done a decade ago. That something would enjoy watching him hate me. I didn't know why.

Maybe it was because it was far, far easier to hate someone when they hated you back. And somehow, someway, I didn't think I hated Jace anymore. Hadn't since I came back, since he had begun to act different. And maybe it was because he no longer seemed to hate me, no longer rose to my anger.

And I needed him to.

He stepped closer to me, closer than he'd ever been before. He voice was deep. Commanding. Begging. A cautious waver between the two. "What did I ever do to you?"

"Everything." I couldn't breathe.

"Everything I did, you did it all back." His eyes were dark. Fixated to mine. It was like I'd never seen them before. And I hadn't. Not like this. Not this close. There was gold in them, sparkling. It was almost dizzying. "You hit back, every time. Tenfold. For a decade, Lena. So why this? Why this faux-friendship? Don't tell me it's for Daria. This is not about Daria. What do you want from me?"

I couldn't answer. What did I want? I wanted the fighting. I wanted the pranks. I wanted the last decade, the feuds and arguments, the Jace and Lena that had marked my life for as long as I could remember. The familiarity, the solidity, of hating Jace Hartley. Of seeing him, day in and day out, and knowing with certainty that when I entered a room, his eyes would be on me, plotting and planning.

Knight was right. I had always been obsessed with Jace Hartley. In my hatred, he had become the one name I could always bring to mind. The first name on the tip of my tongue.

Yet I wanted the other Jace Hartley too. The one who laughed at all my jokes, the one who would have kissed Daria so she wasn't nervous for Zach, and who defended her against Nate suck-my-dick Lever, the one who bumped my shoulder with his and loved his parents and who was surprisingly almost as funny as me. The one that sunlight rendered beautiful.

I took a step closer to him. Like he had; his mirror, his match. Always. Never willing to let him take something or gain something without taking it too. "I want everything." I want, I want, I want.

We were unbearably close. Too close. I didn't know what it was that I wanted, but I knew I wanted. That would have to be enough.

"There is no other girl on this planet like you, Montez." His voice was a whisper. "Seriously. Probably because if anyone else was this insufferable, they would've been murdered by now."

"Oh, yeah. That's definitely it." I cocked my head, a challenge. "Do you know what insufferable means, Hartley? It means too extreme to bear. Am I too much for you? Can you not handle me?"

"You are the most insufferable girl I have ever met," he said. "But you will never be too much for me."

"I know," I said, breathless. "I keep trying to push you, to be too extreme. To get you to fall over that edge. But it's never too much. What's your limit, Hartley? How far do I have to push?"

He didn't answer me. "There's no other girl on this planet like you," he repeated. It was as if he was in a trance, eyes glazed over. "I think I want to kiss you."

My heart stopped in my chest. My mind told me to stop. To push away. To tease him. To take the victory of Jace Hartley wanting something from me, and not allowing him to have it.

The other part of me wanted something different. I want everything, it said. I want, I want, I want. Was this not everything?

I didn't need to think. Didn't need to question. "And I want you to."

But I didn't let him. I couldn't let Hartley take from me, would never let him. So I backed him against the wall, flush against him, every inch of my body against his.

This is such a bad idea, I thought. But I loved bad ideas.

So pulled him down, my arms twined around his neck, and then I was kissing him.

He groaned faintly, and I felt it. Felt the shudder against my skin, felt it all the way to my bones. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. My entire world narrowed to the feeling of him against me, to that groan, to Hartley. To Jace.

His lips were soft, a cautious breath against mine. Unbearably gentle. He was kissing me as if I were a porcelain doll, as if I were made of glass or fine china. But he knew me, knew I would not break. A kiss like that was not one I could justify to myself later, was not one I would allow.

A kiss like that felt a little too much like a feeling, one that I could not and would not name.

Instead, I pulled him off the wall and tore my mouth from his. "Show me too much," I demanded. "Show me extreme."

Hartley did not hesitate. He flipped our position, backed me against the wall and slanted his mouth over mine. This was Lena and Jace. This was extreme, this was fiery, this was passion, this was almost insufferable. He kissed me like he hated me, or like he loved me, or like something in between, and I matched him.

Prove it, he'd told me. Prove you can keep up. So, I did. I kept up with every one of his kissed, every gasp against my skin and every tug at my hair. I proved it again and again and again.

My hands dragged across his skin, under his shirt, over his jaw. I couldn't think. I didn't know if I would forget this or have it seared into my memory forever.

Kissing Jace was like nothing I'd ever felt before. It was not like fireworks, I did not hear doves singing or feel sparks flying. It was like being dropped in the middle of a goddamn inferno, or the fiery pits of hell. I was burning, burning, burning.

When his head dropped the the crook of my neck, dropping featherlight kisses over my jaw, I almost combusted. I raked my hands through his hair, dragging his head back up. I forced his mouth to mine, and the kiss was... it was dirty and dangerous and wild.

I had never been kissed like this. Never kissed another person in this way. It was as if we were both fighting, and neither of us was willing to relent.

The noise he made in the back of his throat should've been goddamn illegal. It was a sound that would reverberate through me for the rest of my life. I think I gasped.

When he pulled away, it was only for a moment. "Lena, are you-"

"Shut..." I kissed him. "Up."

He fell back into my arms gracelessly. I could see stars. I didn't know what I was doing, didn't even know my own name until he gasped it against my skin. Oh, god. I was going to make a terrible decision. The wall against my back was the only thing grounding me to reality.

He left an openmouthed kiss on my throat and I groaned.

"Hey, Lena, when did we decide on a fedora? Why would you even buy me— I don't think even I can pull off a fedo—" Knight was standing in the doorway, his mouth agape.

I shoved Hartley off me, but there was no disguising his kiss-swollen lips and the darkening mark on his throat. Hartley's hair was mussed, and oh lord, he looked like he'd just been ravished.

"I thought we hated Jace Hartley?" Knight inquired, a delighted smirk growing on his face.

"I—we do," I said, running my hand through my hair.

Jace was staring at Knight as if he had just announced that he was running off in search of Edward Cullen to make hybrid children named after Bigfoot.

"Montez, introduce me to your boyfriend," Knight said. If possible, he was grinning wider than before.

"Fuck off, Knight," I groaned.

"I'm Cole Knight, Lena's roommate," he introduced, laughing through his words. Oh, I was never going to hear the end of this, was I?

Jace just looked more confused. "Roommate?"

I glared at Knight with the force of a thousand suns. "You're going around telling our secrets to Hartley, of all people?"

Knight sighed. "You're the one dry humping him in our shared space, Montez. My poor innocent eyes are the true victims of this incident."

"Does anyone feel like explaining what's going on here?" Jace asked.

I looked skyward for advice. But nothing came to mind. My thoughts were an endless loop of shit, I just made out with Hartley. And I had. It wasn't even just a make out. It had been... well, it had been extreme. It had been... well, fuck.

It had been a supernova.

Hartley still looked stunned.

"Uh, well. Jace. This is Cole Knight. He's my roommate."

***

I've wanted to write this chapter for a long ass time. I hope it was worth it :)