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I feel a pang of guilt, but I push it down. I know she’s right. I should focus on what’s ahead, not what’s behind me. But something about this whole situation with Mia is nagging at me.

“I won’t mess this up, Nova,” I say, trying to reassure her, even though I’m not sure I believe it myself.

Nova’s voice softens, but only a little. “You better not. For both your career and your personal life. Get it together, Jack.”

“Yeah, I will,” I say, though it feels more like a promise to her than to myself. We end the call, and I sit there in the quiet, my mind wandering back to Mia, the kiss, and the impossible task ahead of me.

How am I supposed to get through this without letting it all fall apart?

As the days go on, every minute feels like it’s dragging me closer to that date with Denise. I tell myself I should be looking forward to it, that it’s part of the plan. But the closer it gets, the more I find myself dreading it.

I spend most of my time painting, staring at the canvas like I’m trying to drown out my thoughts. The brush feels natural in my hand, and the strokes are soothing, but they do nothing to stop the churn in my stomach.

I keep thinking about Mia. It’s frustrating, really. She hasn’t reached out since that kiss, and hasn’t even texted or called to check in. I figured she’d want to keep some distance, but I didn’t expect her to shut me out like this. And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I let the whole thing get too complicated too fast.

I thought it would be easy. I thought I could just go through the motions, date someone from the list, make it look good for the cameras, and then walk away unscathed. But Mia… Mia’s different. There’s something about her I can’t shake. The wayshe challenges me. The way she looks at me like she sees something I’m not sure I even understand myself.

I’m not sure if I’m thinking about her more because I’m nervous about the date with Denise or because something about that kiss—about Mia—has gotten under my skin in a way I didn’t expect. I keep imagining what it would be like to kiss her again, to feel her lips on mine without all the tension and the awkwardness. But no, that’s not the plan. I’ve got to stick to it. I can’t afford to lose focus now.

I dip my brush into the paint, the bristles moving instinctively across the canvas, but my mind is far from the work in front of me. Whenever I think of Mia, I feel that familiar frustration bubble up. The more I try to push it down, the more it rises. What was it about her that made me act like a fool? Why can’t I get her out of my head?

I put the brush down, running a hand through my hair as I stare at the painting—it’s not even half finished. I’ve spent the last couple of days just working on it, hoping it would help me focus, but the only thing it’s really doing is keeping me from thinking about everything else.

I need to get a grip.

The clock on the wall ticks louder in the silence. I glance up at it, counting the days until the date. And still, all I can think about is her.

MIA

The day is beautiful. The sun streams through the windows of the flower shop, casting golden streaks across the countertops. The scent of fresh blooms fills the air, mixing with the earthy fragrance of roses, tulips, and lilies. I should be in my element, doing what I love. But every time my mind quiets, Jack’s face fills the space—his eyes, the way his lips felt against mine. I can’t shake it.

I pull a stem of daisies from the cooler and arrange them carefully in a vase, my hands moving automatically. The act of arranging the flowers should be calming, but instead, I feel a strange tension in my chest, a restlessness I can’t seem to get rid of. That kiss. Why can’t I stop thinking about it?

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to clear my mind, but I only see Jack—his lips, his touch, the weight of the air between us right before it happened.

“I was just thinking about kissing you.”

It might not have seemed like it, but the moment he said those words, my brain stopped, then started pulsing faster thannormal. So many thoughts had flitted through my mind, all about why such a kiss would be a mistake and how I should disappear and never return.

But the moment Jack’s lips touched mine, all sense of reasoning stopped, and all I wanted was more. More. More of his kiss. More of his nearness. More. Of everything. If Brody hadn’t interrupted us, I hate to think what could have happened. How did I let myself get so carried away?

“Okay, spill it.”

I open my eyes to find Emma standing at the counter, holding a bag of snacks in one hand and raising an eyebrow at me.

I was so lost in thought I didn’t even hear her come in.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” I say casually, focusing back on the vase in front of me.

Emma doesn’t buy it. She sets the snacks down and steps closer, her gaze narrowing. “You’re lying. You’ve been quiet all day. I don’t need to be a psychiatrist to know when you’re lying, Mia. What’s going on?”

I sigh. “Nothing. Just… busy.”

“Busy thinking about him?” she teases, glancing toward the door. “What, you’ve got Jack on the brain now?”

I freeze. Of course, she knows. How could she not? She’s my best friend, my partner in crime. But I don’t want to talk about Jack right now. I especially don’t want to talk about the kiss. I quickly glance away, pretending to rearrange the flowers with more intensity than necessary.

Emma takes her hand. “Mia? What’s wrong?”