"Hey, do you have a printer?" Knight asked.

He had spent the better part of the day lounging on my couch and making faces at his phone. After the events of yesterday, I could hardly criticise him for his laziness. But whenever I asked him why he was giggling at his screen, he'd refused to answer.

I looked up from the magazine I'd been flipping through. "Uh, yeah? Why?"

Knight turned his phone around so that I could see the screen. On the display were a collection of photos of his parents; the Knights were standing tall and distinguished in each snapshot, wearing the same expression and posing the same way, with the background changing from one upper society event to another. Knight had clearly stolen them from his mother's Facebook page. "Eliza said I could decorate my room however I choose, and I want to print these out and cut holes in the eyes."

"Very cathartic," I said, raising an eyebrow as Knight turned the phone back to himself, sticking his tongue out maturely at the digital renditions of his parents. "Connect your phone to the printer in the study. You go ahead and cathart your... eyes out."

Knight gave me a small salute, and unfurled himself from the couch with a lazy grin. He made his way across the room, as I looked back down at my magazine, flipping idly through the pages.

But Knight turned back in the doorway. "Oh, I'm also just disappearing because I don't want you to hit me."

"Why would I want to hit you? I mean, like, more than I usually do."

Knight bit his lip to contain his smile, looking off in the distance as if he was waiting for something. I looked at him with confusion as one second, two seconds, five seconds passed. I opened my mouth to respond, but then the ring of the doorbell clanged through the house, and Knight gave up on hiding his smile.

"What did you do?"

Knight was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "You know what I did."

Yeah, I knew exactly what he did. I knew that if I opened the front door, Jace Hartley would be waiting patiently behind it. Because Knight just couldn't leave me to wallow alone in my sorrow, embarrassed and sad. No, I had to be embarrassed and sad in front of Jace, which would be deeply embarrassing. Hartley didn't need to witness his own victory. I wouldn't allow him that.

I glared at Knight. "Did you have to?"

"For my own entertainment, yes."

"Why?" I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. Downstairs, I could hear Liv opening the door, and her surprised, but pleased, greeting to Jace. My stomach lurched.

"Because you're an idiot," said Knight cheerfully. "And while that has sure been a whole lot of fun, I think it's time for you to remove your head from your asshole."

"Is this what you were giggling about on your phone all day?"

"I told him you were wallowing."

I looked at him, aghast. "Et tu, Brute? God, that's so embarrassing."

"Hartley's been wallowing for fifteen years," said Knight. "If you weren't such an idiot, this whole situation wouldn't be a problem."

I curled in on myself. I was confused and terrified and remarkably close to swinging out at Knight with a crowbar. Instead, I held up the finger, trying to ease the nerves that twisted in my gut as I heard Hartley climb the stairs.

Knight just grinned. "Now, I know that you didn't want to say anything because you're holding out hope that I'll fall in love with you one day, Elly Belly, but I just don't really see you that way. I feel like our relationship is better off as this dynamic friendship duo, and honestly, we'd be too hot together, we'd probably get a reality TV show," said Knight, in a display of complete and utter glee. "But Hartley is almost as good looking as me, maybe about half as funny and a quarter as entertaining, but that's not really that bad. And honestly, I don't know that you could do any better, because you're kind of high mainten—" I threw a pillow at him, which is dodged with cheeky smile, ducking out of the doorway and into the hall.

I heard him greet Hartley as he walked off in search of the printer, and I prayed that their conversation lasted for an eternity. Or long enough for me to throw myself off the balcony, at least. I could probably maybe not die? If I broke my leg again, I could avoid Hartley for, like, four months again. I needed about four months.

"Hey, Knight, good to see you back," Jace was saying.

"It was very sweet of you to look for me," said Knight. "I heard Lena mostly just cried in her bedroom."

"She was pretty upset," Jace admitted.

"And that's so embarrassing for her." I should've hit him with the crowbar when I had the chance. "Anyway, toodleloo. You kids have fun."

That was not a long enough conversation. I mean, God, they could've covered the weather, the entire Knight story, maybe their childhoods and circled back to current affairs. I hadn't even had time to get out of bed yet, let alone organise severe bone breakage.

I could organise the severe bone breakage of Knight's face later, though.

Feigning nonchalance, I looked back down at the magazine as Jace walked into the room, only raising my head when he cleared his throat. I didn't want to look at him, couldn't face looking at him, but I couldn't stand not to, either. When I met his gaze, it took everything in me to keep my face relaxed. To not betray the feelings that lurked beneath the surface at the sight of those golden eyes; longing, dread, betrayal, heartache. Instead, I just smiled, "Oh, hey, Hartley. What are you doing here?"

Jace stepped further into the room. "Uh, Knight told me you were being in idiot, and that I was the only one who could remedy that." He smiled. "Care to explain?"

I shrugged. "Knight is a wanker."

"I see it didn't take too long for things to return to normal between you two."

"He was a wanker before he left, he was a wanker for leaving, and he remains a wanker now that he's home," I said with a small laugh. Knight was safe, Knight was easy. I could talk about Knight. "Nothing ever changed."

"Well, that's good."

We were silent for a beat, two. "So, McKenna told me your little secret," I blurted out.

Why, Lena, why? I resisted the urge to slap myself in the face. Did I hate myself? Was I a masochist looking to drive the knife in deeper, plunge it straight into my own heart? My unbidden curiosity was going to be the death of me. I should've jumped off the balcony.

Jace's eyes flew open widen. "She... what?"

I forced my features into a grin, some semblance of teasing normalcy to cover for the inner screaming. Why was I asking? I didn't want to know. Did I? Maybe I did, just so I could see this mythical, beautiful goddess who'd managed to capture Jace's attention for so long. She was probably a supermodel or a comedian or something. I bet I would want to be her friend; Jace, for all his faults, had excellent taste in women. I mean, McKenna and Callie were the best. "So, who's your mystery girl?"

Jace just looked confused and a little bit sick. His eyebrows furrowed and a cute little wrinkle appeared between his brows. He came over to sit beside me on the bed, looking down at me with a strange expression.

Before he could respond, I said. "I mean, she told me about this girl you'd liked for a really long time, and I remember you telling me about this intensive, long burning candle you held for some girl, so I figure it must be the same one. The girl must be pretty special, right? Do I know her? Does she know you like her? I'm really good at coming up with plans. I mean, I kicked your ass with my plans for, like, a decade. I could totally scheme something up to make this girl like you."

Apparently, I was a babbler when I was nervous. This was terrible news.

But my stream of consciousness had clearly alleviated some of Jace's stressed, because now he was just examining me with mirth in his eyes. I held a bated breath. "I don't think she has any idea I like her," said Jace. "But you really think you could make this girl like me, huh?"

"I could fight her?" I offered. Two birds, one stone. "I'm sure if I knocked a few brain cells out of her head, she might agree to settle in her state of confusion."

Jace looked amused. "I would pay to see that fight."

I smiled, though I knew it didn't reach my eyes. "See? Look at us, brainstorming. I'm such a good friend."

"You are," said Jace. "What did McKenna tell you, exactly?"

That I shouldn't waste my time falling in love with you, because it would only break my heart. "I think she was concerned, after the trip," I said carefully. Don't let him see, Lena. He doesn't need to know that he's won. "Thought I should know you've got your heart set on another girl."

Jace made a faint noise.

"I told her she has nothing to worry about," I said reassuringly. Jace's gaze didn't waver. "Because it was no strings attached, right? I mean, you're free to love whoever you want, because I never expected... like, we're just friends, and even barely that. Right?"

He seemed to be revelling in my obvious discomfort. It kind of made me hate him again, just a little bit. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. "Right," he said, with obvious gaiety. "Are you asking me to tell you how you feel about me?"

I didn't quite know how to respond to that. I winced. "Uh, yes? No."

"Which one is it, Elle?"

"No?" It was still a question. I wanted to die. I wanted to kill Knight and drag him into hell with me.

"It kind of seems to me," said Jace. "That you don't love the idea that I'm in love with some girl."

Well, shit.

"Not at all," I said lightly. "I just feel sorry for the poor thing."

Jace was smiling now though, as if my obvious squirming and need to vanish was a source of constant joy for him. I hated his face. "I don't know," said Jace. "Are we just friends, Elle?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then why did you keep asking me if that was true?"

He was closer to me now. Not real, I told myself. A distraction from his perfect princess. It was easy for him to toy with me, uncaring, unfeeling. Heartless, because another girl held his heart.

"I don't know," was all I managed to say. "I don't know a lot of things."

"That's because you're an idiot," said Jace fondly, stroking the curve of my jaw with his thumb.

"Well, that's rude," I said, blinking.

"Perhaps," said Jace. And then he kissed me.

I didn't think he'd ever kiss me again. His lips on mine were careful, delicate. Like the tentative brush of a butterfly wing; impossibly soft. I wanted more, needed more, but forced myself to remain still, eyelids fluttered closed, and accept his gentle offering. I couldn't ask for much more.

Maybe he was in love with another girl. Maybe it was hopeless, and this girl didn't like him and never would. Maybe he did need to move on.

But I couldn't, wouldn't, be the girl who settled for a mere fragment of Jace Hartley's heart.

I pulled away from him, hands on his shoulders, refusing to look at him. The corner of my bedspread was untucked, and a small strand of stitching had come undone, floating loosely toward the sky. "I can't," I said in a whisper.

"And why is that?" He didn't sound devastated, or heartbroken. He sounded normal. Like Jace.

But I couldn't tell him the truth. Couldn't tell him that kissing him would break my heart. "What about..."

"I don't think she'll mind," said Jace.

"Shouldn't you be sitting with her?" I asked softly. "Telling her how you feel? I know that McKenna said she never liked you, but that was the world that I lived in, and I came around. I'm sure you could convince her. Surely you should try."

"This is me trying," said Jace.

"What?" I asked. What was that supposed to mean? "Also, great Taylor Swift song. But also, what?"

"Idiot," said Jace. Then he held up his hands. "You, not Taylor Swift. I mean, she's a lyrical genius, and arguably the greatest artist of our generation. I mean, lots of people criticise her for writing love songs, but they often have far deeper implications, and folklore proves—"

"Yeah, you can stop talking about Taylor Swift now," I said. "Although I would love to revisit that conversation sometime. But what were you trying to say before? About the..." I hesitated. "...this is me trying thing."

Jace searched my face, as if looking for a sign. Something. Anything. And I stared right back. I couldn't help it now. My eyes were wide and desperate, every feeling, every emotion, splattered across my face as if it were a canvas.

"Elle," he said gently. "How can you not know? Everyone has always known. God, I've practically told you a hundred times."

"Is it Kaelin?" I demanded. "Or Holland. Or Cady?"

Jace chuckled softly and pressed his forehead to mine. "Such an idiot," he whispered. "Elle, c'mon. I already told you there's no other girl on this planet like you."

Like you.

"What are you saying?" I said breathlessly. There's no other girl on the planet like you. Jace's hand on my waist as we danced at my cousin's wedding. Jace's haunted eyes on a derelict roof, I think I lost. Jace's arms around me and that damned smile when I returned to school and he saw me for the first time. And the decade that proceeded that, when we had fought and laughed and taunted and teased and I had been vicious and he had been...

Austin's words came back to me, words uttered only a few months ago. I just think the intentions, even back then, for the fighting, were completely different. I had fought him because I hated him, but why had Jace fought me?

"You know what I'm saying," Jace said.

"I need to hear you say it."

And when Jace Hartley smiled, it was devastating. "Elle—"

But then I was kissing him, and the words didn't matter quite so much anymore.

***

I hope you liked this one :)