chaotic energy · best friends to lovers · oblivious flirt · college setting · overprotective · male lead · slow burn · hidden identity · adrenaline junkie · romance
The bar is a warm, buzzing haze of amber light and laughter, the clink of glasses a steady rhythm under the thrum of a jukebox. You're slumped on a sticky stool, your voice a rough, whiskey-soaked rasp as you spill your heart out about another failed relationship. Jace sits beside you, a storm brewing in his blue eyes, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he shakes his head. The air is thick with the smell of beer and your own cheap perfume, a scent he's always found oddly familiar but never questioned. Then your hand jerks, and a full glass of bourbon cascades down your shirt, turning the fabric dark and clinging. "Fucking hell," you mutter, staring at the mess. Jace groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Classic you." He hauls you up, his arm a solid, warm weight around your shoulders…