30. JACE

1333 Words
Maia’s eyes widened for a moment before she gave Jace a knowing look then winked at Isabelle. “Whoa there Miss Sassy, I gotta say… I like this side of you.” Tate rolled his eyes. “Trust me, you get over it.” “Oh shut up,” Isabelle responded without any bite. “Over sixteen years and you still haven’t left, so I can’t be that bad.” Tate smiled at Isabelle affectionately, as he casually slung his arm on the back of her chair. Jace felt sickened, having to sit there and watch on some other guy’s face, what was undoubtedly all over his own. “Isabelle, try this,” Maia chirped, as she handed Isabelle a glass filled with a pink-red liquid, a cherry sitting on the glass. Somehow Isabelle had missed seeing the bartender bring over the jugs. “You want one too, Jace?” Maia asked, holding a glass out to him. Jace sighed deeply. “Maia, men do not drink pink liquids, OK? Especially not ones named Female Viagra.” “Oh my God, you might want to make an exception for this,” Isabelle told him fervently. “It is definitely like heaven.” Maia raised her glass to Isabelle. “You’re welcome.” Jace’s gaze fell on Isabelle’s lips, still slightly wet from the cocktail. They were the most impossible pink colour and very full, inviting. He pictured his lips against hers, could almost feel the soft pressure. He took the glass from her and took a sip. A fruity, sweet and ultimately delicious liquid eased down his throat. “Amazing, right?” Isabelle asked, with a smug smile. Jace shrugged. “I definitely wouldn’t order it for myself, but I also definitely wouldn’t turn down an offer to finish your glass if you’d had enough.” Isabelle was already pouring another glass that she stuck into a stubby holder and then passed to him. “Here, you can pretend its brown - the colour of a man’s drink.” “Thank you, Angel,” Jace replied, feeling a little more confidence fill him. “Angel?” Tate inquired. “You can’t see the resemblance?” Jace asked lightly. “Haven’t you been friends for a thousand years or something?” Tate turned a light shade of purple just as Isabelle waved the comment away. “That’s why he can’t see it. Tate’s seen me through all my phases and I’ll admit my awkward ugly phase hung around a lot longer than the rest, so it’s probably the most memorable.” Maia’s eyes flicked between Tate and Isabelle, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Oh, I don’t think that’s what Tate finds the most memorable.” Her smile was wicked. “Ever have naked play dates when you were little?” “Maia,” Jace said warningly. “Keep it up and I’m going to start remembering highlights from our childhood.” Maia’s lips pursed into a sullen pout. “You ruin all my fun.” After a small beat of silence the conversations around them struck up again. Jace settled in his chair, resting his arm on the back of Isabelle’s so he was as close to her as he could get. “Do you need any help with setting up for the party tonight, Ben?” Isabelle asked. Ben gave her a lazy smile. “We don’t have any entertainment lined up, so if you wanted to offer your services, I wouldn’t say no.” Tate visibly stiffened as Jace glared at Ben. Surprisingly, Isabelle didn’t miss a beat. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there, but I’m awesome at delegation, so if you tell me what needs to be done, I’ll make sure it happens.” ** Jace wanted to punch something until his knuckles bled. How the hell did he get stuck with literally the last person he wanted to be around? It was, of course, all Ben’s fault for accepting Isabelle’s offer to help set up for the party and then allowing her to delegate jobs. Isabelle had looked so pleased with herself when she’d casually told Jace that Tate would go with him when he went home to get his Ute, and they could meet her and the others at the shops. He knew what she was doing of course. Trying to force a friendship between them because she saw the good in them both and therefore assumed they would see it in each other as well. Wrong. So very wrong. Tate didn’t even need words for Jace to know how he felt about him. In fact, the guy had quite the expressive face. “You’re not good enough for her.” The words were quiet but firm and Tate didn’t even look at him as he said it, just looked out the window in the exact same way Isabelle had each time he drove her home. The fact that Tate and Isabelle had the same habit made his rage boil. “And you are?” Jace countered. “You’ve known her what? A week? I’ve known her a lifetime,” Tate snapped. “And last I checked, you’re still in the friend zone.” “You don’t even really know her, do you? You don’t know what she looks like when she cries, or her favourite flower. You don’t know that she hates the rain but loves the smell of it, and you sure as f**k don’t know how to handle someone as special as her.” Tate was looking at Jace now, his body tensed and poised as he threw his words like knives. “No, I don’t know everything about her,” Jace replied softly. “But I want to learn and I hope, in time she’ll tell me. You know what I find interesting though? You sit here and preach to me about not knowing her and how I’m not good enough but then you make snap judgments when you don’t even know me.” Tate moved closer, the front seat starting to feel too confining as he did so. “I know you,” he snarled. “I’ve met dozens of you and you’re all the same. Drug f****d, no hopers, enticed by beautiful things you have the habit of breaking, because you are too broken yourself. I know exactly who you are - it’s Isabelle that has no clue. So let me be clear - I will not let anything hurt her ever again, and if that means destroying you, so be it.” The words hit him hard, wedged themselves tight inside his chest and then exploded so he felt pieces of him break apart inside. Tate had just hit all his insecurities, hadn’t he? Not even a full day and the perceptive son of a b***h had him all tied up in a box. His fists clenched, refusing to look away from Tate’s blazing eyes. “Maybe I’m not the only one Isabelle doesn’t truly know,” he hissed out. “You’re such a coward. You think I haven’t seen the way you look at her? I may not be perfect, but I don’t pretend to be anything other than I am and I have never lied to Isabelle about my feelings; can you say the same?” Tate’s gaze was murderous and the testosterone so intense Jace had to seriously fight the urge to pound on his chest and growl. “Tate! Jace! Hurry up!” Isabelle called from the other side of the car park. Tate didn’t say a word, just motioned to his eyes with two fingers and then poked Jace in the chest with a hard finger; his intention incredibly clear. I’ll be watching you. Jace waited until Tate was out of the car and turning away before gingerly pressing his hand to his chest. He pulled his shirt aside and saw a faint pink mark. Yep, that was definitely going to bruise. Bastard.
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