Chapter Three: Unspoken Truths

By the time English class ended, my nerves were completely shot.

Jace Wolfe hadn’t said another word to me after that moment—the one where something invisible, electric, and impossible passed between us. But he didn’t have to. His presence alone was enough to keep my skin tingling and my mind racing.

I wasn’t sure what I expected when the bell rang. Maybe for him to rush out of the room, avoid me, pretend none of it had happened. Pretend I didn’t exist.

Instead, he took his time gathering his things, moving with that same calculated ease, as if nothing could ever rattle him. As if he hadn’t been gripping the edge of his desk like his life depended on it just a few minutes ago.

I stole a glance at him as I stood, but he didn’t look my way.

Not even once.

It shouldn’t have bothered me. It did.

I exhaled sharply, pushing through the crowd of students spilling into the hallway. The noise was deafening—lockers slamming, people laughing, conversations blurring into one another. But somehow, beneath all of it, I was still aware of him.

Jace Wolfe.

The boy who had made my heart race for no reason.

The boy who had felt it too.

A Not-So-Subtle Interrogation

I had barely made it two steps before Claire appeared out of nowhere, looping her arm through mine like she had been waiting for me.

“Okay, spill.” She dragged me toward my locker, eyes alight with curiosity. “What was that?”

I blinked. “What was what?”

Claire groaned. “Oh, come on! You and the new guy! You looked like you’d seen a ghost when he walked in, and then—” She wiggled her fingers dramatically in the air. “There was something. I felt it. Everyone felt it.”

I scoffed, spinning my combination lock. “You’re imagining things.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “No, I’m not. You got all weird and stiff the second he sat next to you.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I did, didn’t I?

“Seriously, Elena.” Claire leaned closer. “What happened? Did he say something to you? Did you two—” Her eyes widened. “Do you know him?”

The locker door swung open, giving me an excuse to break eye contact. “No. I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

The words felt wrong as I said them.

Claire studied me for a second longer before sighing. “Fine, be all mysterious. But I’m telling you—he’s either the hottest thing to ever happen to Ravenwood High, or he’s some kind of serial killer.”

I choked on my own breath. “What?”

She shrugged. “I mean, look at him. Hot. Broody. Definitely hiding something.” She gave me a pointed look. “You should find out what it is.”

I slammed my locker shut. “Not happening.”

Claire smirked. “We’ll see.”

The Watchful Eyes

The rest of the school day crawled by, but no matter how hard I tried to shake it, I couldn’t escape the feeling of being watched.

It wasn’t paranoia.

I knew what paranoia felt like—this was something else. A slow, creeping awareness at the back of my neck, like someone’s gaze was glued to me. But every time I turned around, no one was there.

No one except him.

I caught glimpses of Jace Wolfe in the hallways, always at a distance, always half-hidden in the blur of students moving between classes. And yet, it was like my body could sense him before I even saw him.

It happened in third period.

Then again during lunch.

And finally, right after the last bell rang.

I stepped outside into the crisp autumn air, inhaling deep. The sky was tinged with soft oranges and pinks, the sun dipping lower on the horizon. I should’ve felt relieved—school was over, I could finally go home and forget all of this—but the second I hit the sidewalk, my breath hitched.

Because there he was.

Jace Wolfe.

Leaning against the black motorcycle parked at the edge of the lot.

A Conversation That Changes Everything

For a split second, I considered walking the other way.

But something in me—that same invisible pull that had been clawing at my insides all day—kept me rooted in place.

His golden eyes flicked up, meeting mine like he’d been waiting.

The world slowed.

The distant sounds of students talking, cars honking, doors slamming—all of it blurred into the background.

I swallowed hard and stepped forward. “Are you following me?”

Jace didn’t move. His face was unreadable, except for the way his fingers drummed against the handle of his bike, slow and deliberate. “No.”

I folded my arms. “Then why do I keep seeing you everywhere?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering me. “Maybe you’re the one following me.”

A laugh burst out of me, sharp and unexpected. “Right. That makes total sense.”

His lips twitched—almost a smirk, almost a smile.

Almost.

I stared at him, trying to make sense of the conflict written all over his face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but at the same time, like he was holding something back.

Before I could press him, a car horn blared behind me.

“Elena! Let’s go!”

I turned to see my brother, Noah, leaning against his beat-up Jeep, looking annoyed.

Jace’s entire body tensed.

Something flickered in his eyes—something dark—before he abruptly looked away.

I hesitated, glancing between him and Noah.

Then, before I could think twice, I said, “See you around, Jace.”

His gaze snapped back to mine, and for a fraction of a second, his expression softened.

Then he was gone—turning away, swinging his leg over his motorcycle, and starting the engine in one smooth motion.

As I walked toward Noah’s Jeep, I could still feel the heat of his stare burning into my back.

Who are you, Jace Wolfe?

And why do I feel like I’ve known you forever?

---