Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Chapter 13

***Aaaaaaaaaaaaand we're back! I feel like the time gaps in this book are unusual for me, so I apologize in advance. I have to keep the plot moving, though, so these are necessary.

Also, I have the next chapter ready, so after I set it to music and proofread, you get a double update. I should have another part for you tomorrow, but no promises for Friday <3

You guys are going to like the next ten-ish chapters. But let's be honest, when you all are happy with my stories, you're also expecting the floor to fall through at any moment.***

***(Jay's POV)***

I open my eyes to view light pouring through my window, and I tuck my blanket up to my chin, wanting to go back to sleep.

But I can't.

It's been two weeks and three days since I last spoke with Nya. Kai temporarily suspended me from helping out with wedding obligations, and I don't blame him - all he knows about what happened is that his sister is upset. I'm just really worried about the wedding shower - it's a month away, and Nya and I haven't done any planning together.

Nya and I are inevitably going to see each other and probably interact with each other at graduation tomorrow. But...it'll just be awkward. She still wants space. End of story.

I guess that leaves me with one goal for today: To finish the project I'm working on for Nya. It'll help me make things up to her. That's the reason I have to get up so early.

I stretch, rolling off my small bed and hitting the ground with a thump. Man, I'm not used to my room at my parents' anymore. At the monastery, even the bunkbeds were bigger than this tiny bed. It's built for a twelve-year-old, and I am not twelve years old.

I rise up off the ground and grab my phone, heading outside to my dad's workshop. I've been working on Nya's project in there – my best design yet for a glider. I used to make those a lot, but they all failed.

Not this time.

But before I get carried away working on it, I have one very important thing to do – something I should've been doing for a while, but didn't have the heart to do after my birth mom died.

I tap the screen of my phone and inhale deeply, preparing for the rush of emotion that always fills me.

"Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed.

Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed.

Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless, aching need.

I say love, it is a flower, and you, its only seed."

I freeze up at first as my bio-mom's favorite song plays, but in a moment, instinct takes over, and I'm dancing through my parents' junkyard.

I haven't danced since my mom died in February.

But I'm different now – stronger, better. I care more about Nya – I love her in a deeper way that I didn't know was possible back then. I don't idolize my birth mother now; I got the chance to know her for real. And I don't take my friends for granted anymore.

"It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance,

It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance.

It's the one who can't be taken, who cannot seem to give,

And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live."