Fleur.
“I don’t know about this Jace.” Nervously I plucked at the hem of my tee, the one he had told me to wear because it had his name scrawled over my breasts in giant swirling white letters. I didn’t even know why I was nervous. This wasn’t the first or even hundredth time I had been to one of his fights. I went to as many as I could manage. He was my friend and I supported him, even if the violence of the whole sport sometimes left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I hated seeing him get hurt.
But he enjoyed it, and he was good at it. Really really good.
Tonight, felt different though. Maybe because I had tried kissing him last night. I had overstepped the lines of friendship and it was making it awkward between us. Or at least it was making it awkward for me. I didn’t know what
