Page 24 of Heartstruck

Jared

I don’t know why I’m still here, packing up photo booth props like I have some deep commitment to oversized sunglasses and fake mustaches.

I should’ve called it a night hours ago.

But then there’s Alli, standing next to me, quiet.

But it’s not her usual sarcastic quiet, rather a different kind that feels almost risky.

Like something’s shifted between us, and I can’t tell if it marks a good beginning or the kind of mess I’ll be untangling for weeks.

I’m not supposed to feel this way.

I glance at her again, just a quick look while she’s busy folding one of the cheesy fake mustaches into a box.

Her hair falls over her shoulder, loose and messy from the night, and for some reason, it’s all I can focus on.

I don’t know when I started noticing the little things, like how she bites her lip when she’s thinking or how her laugh sometimes catches in her throat before it bursts out. Hell, I don’t know why I even care.

She straightens, brushing her hands against her jeans before glancing at me with a casual shrug. “Thanks for sticking around. I was starting to think I’d be trapped here till midnight.”

I give her a grin. “Wouldn’t be right to let you suffer alone, would it?”

She lets out a breathy laugh, and I feel it in my chest, like her laugh has somehow become a physical thing. Damn. This isn’t supposed to happen. But I can’t stop it, can’t stop her from getting under my skin. Maybe I should start wearing armor.

Alli puts up the last box for the clean-up crew to take back into storage. “Okay, that was the last of it.” She dusts off her hands like she’s just finished fighting a bear, then glances at me with a sly grin. “We survived. Barely.”

“Ready to go?” I ask, stepping in just enough for her scent to hit me—light, a little sweet, and way too easy to get stuck in my head.

“Yeah, thank you again for tonight. I thought I was going to rot working the carnival, but you made it fun. It means a lot.”

“Any time.” My chest feels tight, like every beat of my heart is louder than the last. There’s so much I want to say, so much I want to acknowledge—how easily she’s slipped under my skin—but the words are stuck, and I’m not sure how to speak without overthinking it.

“See you around?” she asks, her voice calm, though there’s an undertone of finality. She starts to turn away, and I watch her, trying to ignore my insides churning at the thought of her leaving.

Just as she’s about to walk away, I reach out, my fingers grazing her arm. “Wait,” I say, my voice just above a whisper.

She glances back, brow raised, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "What’s up?"

Her eyes lock onto mine in anticipation, and I fight to calm the shaky rhythm of my breath, aware of how easy it is to lose myself in her. “Let me drive you home. You shouldn’t be walking alone.”

I can see the doubt creeping into her honey eyes. “My place is just down the street…”

“Seriously, Alli,” I cut her off, a bit sharper than I meant. “It’s past midnight.”

Her expression shifts, a moment of surprise passing over her. “Oh. I mean… it’s not that far.”

I take a step closer, my voice dropping just enough to make sure she hears me. “I don’t mind. I’d rather make sure you get home safe.”

For a moment, she just stands there, looking at me. Suddenly, I’m scrambling. My confidence? Gone. Poof. What the hell is she thinking? Did I overstep? Push too hard? God, I’m starting to feel like a fish out of water.

Finally, she gives a small, almost reluctant nod.

As she walks back toward the car, I can’t help but notice the way her movements are slower now, as if she’s savoring the last moments of the night.

I follow her, the air between us charged with something unsaid, and I can’t shake the feeling that this is one of those moments that could change everything.

I drive Alli home in near silence, the hum of the engine and the occasional twinkle of streetlights outside the car windows the only sound. Yet, our glances are loud; each one we steal at each other seems to amplify the magnetic pull between us.

When I park the car, the silence that settles between us feels heavier than before—both of us caught up in our own thoughts.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” Her voice sounds almost vulnerable, and a faint blush colors her cheeks, making my heart race a little faster.

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, sure.”

We walk up to her apartment, the hallway carrying our footsteps.

The living room is lit by a few lamps, projecting a faint glow that makes everything feel intimate. She kicks off her shoes and heads toward the couch, gesturing for me to join her. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us some drinks.”

We settle on the couch. She tucks her legs under her and takes a sip of water, glancing at me before her eyes drift to the half-finished puzzle on the coffee table—a galaxy we started a few weeks back. A soft laugh slips out, breaking the quiet between us.

“You know, I can’t believe you left this half-done,” she says, gesturing toward the puzzle. “You were pretty set on finishing it last time.”

I chuckle, leaning back against the cushions. “I would’ve finished it if someone hadn’t kept arguing about the corner pieces.”

She huffs dramatically, crossing her arms. “Everything blended in! How does purple even mix with yellow?”

Her smile widens just a little, the kind that makes her eyes light up. It’s easy, comfortable—this playful back-and-forth we’ve settled into.

A beat of silence stretches out, and I shift slightly closer. “You ever get lost in these things?” I nod at the puzzle pieces scattered across the table. “Like… really lost?”

She pauses, biting her bottom lip before answering, her voice quieter this time. “Yeah. It’s… kind of the point, I guess.” She shrugs, but I can hear the heaviness behind her words. “Puzzles are a way for me to forget things for a little while.”

“Forget what?”

“I don’t know, life?”

“Well, that’s vague,” I tease, trying to keep it light. Still, I want to know her, understand what she’s not saying.

Alli shoves my shoulder casually. “Do you want me to spill my heart and soul to you?”

“Yes.” The word slips out before I can stop it, but I don’t regret it. The look on her face when she turns toward me, her brows slightly raised, tells me she wasn’t expecting that.

She blinks, the smile fading as her eyes lock onto mine, hinting at more than the usual sarcasm or teasing. Her guard’s still up, but I can feel it cracking, just a little.

The space between us shrinks as the silence wraps around us again.

“You really want to know?” She asks as she leans forward, her voice steady, sharper in a way that pulls my full attention.

“Yeah.” My answer is instant, because I do. More than I’ve ever realized.

She glances away, her fingers toying with the fabric of the couch, a nervous habit I’ve noticed before. When she finally speaks, it’s like she’s letting out something she’s been holding back for a long time.

“I guess… sometimes it feels like I’m not in control. Like everything’s spinning, and I can’t get a grip on it. But with puzzles… I can make the pieces fit. I can make sense of something, even if it’s just for a while.”

I don’t answer right away, and for once, he doesn’t push. He just watches me, quiet but focused, like he’s actually listening—like he’s waiting for me to let him in. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s thick. Loaded. Saying all the things we won’t.

“The night you found me on the beach…” her voice fades, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “It was my first anxiety attack of the school year, but… probably not the last.” She pushes out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“You never mentioned it,” I say quietly, inching a little closer but careful not to cross any lines.

She shrugs, still not meeting my eyes. “I don’t talk about it. I don’t even know how. I’m supposed to be confident Allison Castillo, the girl who knows everything, has all the answers, the one everyone relies on. But I can’t even rely on myself half the time. It’s… exhausting.”

After a beat, she looks over at me, her lips pressed into a thin line. “That night, it wasn’t just about the beach. It was everything. School, expectations, and feeling like I’m constantly on the edge of screwing everything up.”

“I get that,” I say, my voice matching her volume. “It’s like you’re juggling everything, just hoping you don’t drop it all… You know how my mom is in rehab?”

Alli nods, her gaze gentle. “Yeah.”

“I haven’t told anyone why she’s in there; it just feels so embarrassing half the time.”

She leans in a little, her brows furrowed. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

I swallow hard, my throat tightening at the thought of exposing this part of me.

“Alli, I’m under the limelight for another four years.

It’s bound to come out about my mom’s drug addiction.

How she left me at the park on the swings when I was young to buy drugs.

The pressure of it spilling out in public scares me shitless. ”

Her gaze is fixed, like she’s truly hearing me. It’s the kind of look that makes me feel like I can finally stop pretending, like I don’t have to be the athlete always on display, the one who has it all together with no cracks showing.

“It’s not yours to carry. You can’t control everything, Jared. What happened with your mom… that’s not on you. None of it is.”

“I know,” I say, but it feels hollow. “But it doesn’t stop the fear. People look at me and expect me to be perfect. But this… this is the one thing I c-can’t f-fix.” I stammer, my heart pounding. “That’s why I throw myself into football. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Her hand reaches out, resting lightly on my arm, her touch sending a jolt through me. “My aunt… she gives me a hard time about being perfect too. She’s scared I’ll turn out like my mom. She got pregnant with me young, and my aunt thinks I’ll repeat her mistakes. I hate it.”

I look at her, really look at her, and for the first time, it hits me. We’re both just trying to survive this mess, carrying everything on our own, pretending it’s not breaking us.

I rub my thumb over the seam of my jeans, a faint tremor in my fingers. “It’s funny… how we try to control the little things when everything else feels out of control.”

Alli’s eyes lock with mine, and for a split second, the noise around us disappears. Her hand still rests on my arm, and neither of us speaks. She looks at me, her expression a little too knowing.

“I know what it’s like to want to deal with everything on your own, Jared. But we don’t have to. You’ve got people who care.” Her voice is low, but there’s no doubt behind it.

Her words, the way her eyes search mine—it feels like she’s offering me more than just understanding—she’s offering me a piece of herself. For the very first time, I want to take it.

My pulse hammers in my ears, and I can feel the heat radiating off her skin. She’s close. So close that I can see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes and can hear the shaky breath she takes.

Without thinking, I reach up, my hand sliding to her cheek. Her skin feels warm under my touch, and her lips part, just slightly. That suggestive gesture, the invitation in her gaze, sets something off inside me.

I lean in so close our foreheads nearly touch.

Her breath hitches, shaky and uneven, brushing against my lips like it doesn’t know whether to stay or run.

My fingers twitch, itching to close the distance completely, but I hold back.

Barely. She’s holding back too. I can see it in the way her lashes flutter and the sharp rise and fall of her chest, like we’re both seconds away from snapping.

Then all restraint snaps.

I close the gap, my lips grazing hers—slow at first, but it doesn’t last. The second I taste her, something inside me explodes. The kiss deepens, sharp and desperate, and suddenly it’s like we’re both crashing.

Her hands find their way into my hair, drawing me closer, and I respond, pulling her against me, my hands sliding around her waist like I need her to stay connected, to feel every part of her pressed against me.

It’s raw, but I don’t give a damn. The fire between us burns hotter, and it’s so damn consuming.

It’s the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless, like you’ve been starving for it without even realizing it.

I can feel her gasps against my mouth, the way her body moves with mine, matching every desperate kiss with her own need.

I can’t pull away either.

It’s not just the kiss—it’s everything. It’s the way she’s breaking down her walls, the way we’re both letting go of control, even if just for a moment. Her lips break away from mine, both breathless, foreheads resting together.

The heat.

The connection.

How everything else around us just fades away.

I refuse to let her go. She looks up at me as she leans back in. No hesitation, no space between us.

The kiss blazes like we’re both pouring out everything we’ve been holding back.

I could live in this moment forever.

The way her body moves against mine, the way her lips demand more, the way we fit together like we’ve been waiting for this, waiting for each other.

I’m on fire. I know she is too. And I don’t care if we burn.