Tightrope

BONUS: Holy shit, I'm going to kiss Lena Montez

I'm just gonna leave this here

***

JACE'S POV

I stared studiously at my laptop, because it was mildly less embarrassing for Lena to think I was a shameless nerd than for her to catch me staring at legs or face or general body. It was generally unfair that she had been blessed to look the way she did. Was someone upstairs trying to conspire against me? Surely they could've given her a weird nose, some Tony Abbott-esque ears and, I don't know, cankles.

I'd definitely still be into Lena Montez with cankles, but it might make the process slightly less difficult.

She would tease me for it forever, if she knew. And if she knew why? I would never hear the end of it.

Did you finally figure out that the only way to exorcise me from your life is to thrust something that disgusting and gag-worthy upon me? Wow, Hartley, I admire your dedication, and I'm going to express that by puking on your shoes.

Her current mocking was a slight improvement on that potential outcome.

"Jace, I physically cannot sit here and do this project for another second. I'm so bored my brain cells are killing themselves in protest. They've gone on a very dramatic and likely permanent strike."

I looked up at her with an amused smile. I could never help that smile. Thankfully, Lena was stubbornly idiotic enough to think it was teasing and cruel.

"I didn't realise you had any brain cells still operating," I replied. Because I had to. Because she expected me to. Because if I didn't make fun of her, I had very little to excuse to wander around after her pathetically like a lost puppy. "This is like discovering an extinct species is still kicking. Should we do conservation work? How can we help them multiply?"

Lena shook out her loose curls; they fell in a waterfall down her back, a few stray short ringlets framing her face. Clear blue eyes twinkled with restrained laughter, and the corners of her lips were tilted upwards, always poised to break into a brilliant smile. She always smiled, unless she was hanging out with me. Then her expression could usually be described as murderous, bloodthirsty and slightly disturbing in its intensity.

But now it was sunny and pleasant and felt like a decade's worth of niggling pain had vanished. Because we were tentatively friends. It was like a lifeline, a single bright spot, and I was pathetic enough to believe it was salvation.

"Har, har," Lena said mockingly. "You're so funny. Have you considered stand-up comedy? That would really send the species of my brain cells extinct."

"Didn't we agree to be friends today? This seems like bullying. You're being rude. Daria would be so disappointed."

Lena gasped. "Don't you dare invoke the name of Daria! I would never want to disappoint Daria."

I didn't mention that Lena had been disappointing Daria for, well, a decade or so. I mean, it was hardly a secret that I kind of sort of maybe liked Lena. A lot. It was embarrassingly and painfully obvious to everyone, and a consistent source of teasing from my classmates, parents and, at one mortifying moment in my life, a teacher. But Daria, painfully sweet and caring, hadn't been willing to let me hide from that fact. Instead, she'd befriended Lena and given me reasons to spend time with her for years.

Because she was, objectively, the best.

Unfortunately, Lena still thought I was a habitual murderer of puppies and joy, so it hadn't quite worked out in my favour.