I didn't sleep well that night.
Maybe it was the caffeine. Maybe it was the math homework I forgot until 11 p.m. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the way Ace Carter had looked at me in the gym like he already knew something I didn't.
Ugh.
I sat on my bed staring at my ceiling fan spinning in slow, sleepy circles, replaying our conversation again and again.
"Give me a chance, Princess. You might be surprised."
Who even says things like that? And why did it sound more like a promise than a threat?
I hated how my heart had fluttered. Like a full-blown traitor.
I was supposed to be the sensible girl. The good girl. The girl who followed rules, kept her head down, aced her classes, and made her parents proud. Not the type of girl who fell for boys with leather jackets and permanent detention slips.
And yet.
---
The next morning, I showed up to school extra early, hoping to avoid him. No drama. Just a quiet day of classes, committee work, and—
"Yo, Princess."
I flinched. Not even five minutes into the school day.
Ace leaned against the brick wall near the school's back entrance, one earbud in, arms crossed, looking like he belonged on the cover of a YA novel that ruined your GPA.
"Why are you everywhere?" I asked, brushing past him.
"Maybe fate's obsessed with me."
"Or maybe you're just really annoying."
His lips curved into that maddening half-smile. "You're cute when you're irritated."
"Don't," I said firmly, spinning on my heel.
"Don't what?"
"Flirt."
"Who said I'm flirting?"
He followed me into the building like it was totally normal. I picked up speed. So did he.
"You don't even know me," I snapped.
"Not yet."
I turned abruptly to face him, fully intending to shut this down, but instead I walked straight into his chest.
Solid. Warm. Smelled faintly like vanilla and trouble.
I stepped back instantly, flustered.
Ace raised both hands in mock surrender. "My bad. Didn't realize you were trying to get that close."
"You're impossible."
He grinned, and I knew I'd lost the battle.
---
By lunch, I was practically hiding behind my textbook. Melanie plopped down across from me, her tray clattering as she sat.
"You've got that face again."
"What face?"
"The *'I made eye contact with the devil and now I think I like it'* face."
I sighed. "He's everywhere. It's like he's trying to annoy me into insanity."
Melanie bit into her sandwich, talking around a mouthful. "That's literally his love language."
"It's not funny."
"It's alittle funny."
I groaned, dropping my forehead onto my arms.
"Just focus on the dance," she said. "That's your thing. School dances, organized folders, color-coded highlighters."
"You make me sound super boring."
"You're not boring," she said sincerely. "You're the kind of girl who makes everything better. That's rare. Don't let Ace freaking Carter mess that up."
I nodded, but her words stuck to the back of my throat.
Because deep down, a little part of me didn't feel rare. It felt invisible. Predictable. Like I was living the same day on repeat, just quieter.
And Ace? He was loud. Chaotic. The kind of storm you either avoid… or run straight into.
---
After school, I went to the library to print out the updated Fall Dance flyer. I wasn't expecting anyone to be there.
Especially not him.
Ace sat alone at the back table, headphones around his neck, sketching something in a spiral notebook. I froze in the doorway.
He looked up. Our eyes locked.
Again.
This time, he didn't smirk. He just… looked.
Curious. Soft, almost.
I could've walked away. I should've walked away.
But instead, I sat down across from him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"What are you drawing?"
He shut the notebook before I could see. "Private."
"Why are you even in the library? You don't seem like the reading type."
He raised an eyebrow. "And what type do I seem like?"
"The detention type."
"That's fair." He leaned back in his chair. "But even detention kids need quiet sometimes."
"Is that why you signed up to help with the dance?"
He shrugged. "Maybe I got bored of skipping everything."
"You know I'm not going to let you mess this up, right?"
His eyes gleamed. "Wouldn't dream of it, Princess."
"That nickname is getting old."
"You're the one who walks around like you own a tiara."
I narrowed my eyes. "You know nothing about me."
"Then tell me something," he said, surprising me. "Tell me one thing that isn't perfect. One thing that breaks the princess act."
His voice was low, serious.
And suddenly I wasn't in the library. I was standing on the edge of something sharp, and Ace was handing me the choice to jump or walk away.
I could've lied. Made a joke. Changed the subject.
But I didn't.
"My parents fight. A lot. But no one knows, because I smile and pretend everything's fine all the time."
He blinked. The teasing was gone from his face. "That's heavy."
"Yeah. So maybe stop assuming you've got me all figured out."
Ace nodded slowly, like he wasn't expecting that answer—but he respected it.
We sat in silence for a few seconds. It wasn't awkward. It was... real.
"Wanna know my thing?" he asked finally.
"Sure."
"My brother's in jail. Has been for two years. Everyone expects me to end up like him."
My breath caught.
"I act like I don't care," he said, "but I do."
That changed something.
The Ace everyone whispered about in the hallways—the fighter, the troublemaker, the player—he wasn't here right now.
This was someone else. Someone real.
And I saw him.
Not the reputation. Not the attitude.
Him.
---
When I left the library twenty minutes later, my hands were still shaking.
I didn't know what was happening between us—if it was something or just a glitch in my normally organized life. But one thing was clear.
This wasn't just a story I could control.
And Ace Carter?
He wasn't a chapter I could skip.