Page 50 of Heartstruck

Jared

The scent of pho lingers in the kitchen as I pull my sweatshirt over my head, trying to keep Serena from shoving me out the door before I’m fully dressed.

“Why aren’t you wearing gloves?” she asks from the hallway, her voice snarky but somehow still playful.

“Do I need gloves?” I call back, heading to the coatrack by the door.

“It’s ice skating, Jared.”

Her tone is pure sass, but I hear Tyler chuckle in the background, so I know I’m not in this alone. I’m halfway through untangling my scarf when there’s a knock on the door. Strange. We’re not expecting anyone, and it’s Christmas.

Serena peeks around the corner, her curiosity piqued, but she doesn’t move to answer it. Of course, she doesn’t. It’s me. It’s always me.

“I got it,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as I twist the knob.

The door creaks open to reveal Alli bundled up in a red sweater that’s at least two sizes too big, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold.

“Alli? What are you…?”

She fidgets with the strap of her bag, her eyes flicking past me to the hallway before settling back on my face. “Hey. Um, is it a bad time?”

Behind me, I hear Tyler whisper to Serena, “Guess he does own gloves.” She snickers, and I turn back to glare at them both.

“No, it’s fine.” I pull the door open wider, letting her in from the cold. “Come on. You’re freezing.”

She hesitates for a split second before stepping inside, stomping the snow from her boots onto the welcome mat. Her usual confidence seems… dimmer, like a light with the switch turned halfway.

“You okay?” I ask, lowering my voice so the others can’t hear.

She nods, but the motion looks jerky. “Yeah. Just needed to get out of the house for a bit. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Interrupting what?” Serena suddenly pops her head into the entryway, her grin lighting up the space like it always does. When she sees Alli, her face breaks into something even brighter, if that’s possible. “Oh my god, Alli! Merry Christmas! You didn’t even tell me that you were coming!”

“I, uh… kind of decided last minute,” Alli says, giving a sheepish wave.

Serena bounds over, wrapping her in a hug that’s as quick as it is tight. “Well, best surprise of the day, hands down. And you”—she turns to glare at me, though it’s more playful than accusatory—“didn’t tell me she was coming with us!”

“I didn’t know,” I deadpan, shooting Alli a questioning glance.

Serena ignores me completely, her attention back on her best friend. “You should come skating with us! Don’t even try to say no. And my mom made your favorite, pho and egg rolls. You have to eat before we go, but leave me some this time, I swear.”

“I—Serena—” Alli starts to protest, her cheeks flushing, but her best friend waves her off with zero room for argument.

“Don’t even. What’s mine is yours, duh. Plus, skating isn’t as fun without you.” Serena studies Alli briefly, her expression thoughtful, like she’s picking up on what she’s not saying. “Are you okay, though? You look kind of… distracted.”

Alli hesitates, her hand clutching the strap of her bag, and for the first time since stepping inside, she looks at me. Her voice drops, quiet but resolute. “I just… came to talk to Jared for a minute.”

Serena nods in understanding, but instead of stepping back, she throws me a look that’s half warning, half joke.

“Don’t mess it up, Jared.” She says, then taps Alli on the shoulder, whispering loud enough for both of us to hear, “Let me know if he’s being dumb.”

“I’m still here,” I grunt, crossing my arms.

“Unfortunately,” Serena teases, and with that, she flits off toward the kitchen, calling out over her shoulder, “I’ll make you both bowls, but you better be ready to skate soon!”

I turn back to Alli, who’s staring after her, a small smile contending with whatever tornado brought her here.

“Want to sit for a minute?” I offer, tilting my head toward my dad’s office.

“Yeah. That’d be good.”

As we settle in, Tyler appears in the hallway with a plate of egg rolls and gives me a knowing smirk as we pass. He doesn’t say anything, thankfully, but his eyebrows tell a story all by themselves.

Once we’re alone, I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and look at her. “What’s going on?”

Alli glances at her hands before looking up at me. “Honestly? I didn’t know where else to go.”

Her words hit like a sucker punch, a quiet ache that digs in deep.

“Well, you came to the right place.”

A flicker of relief crosses her face, and maybe that’s enough.

Her knee bounces, a little too quick for the casual front she’s trying to put on.

Her fingers twist at the strap of her bag, her nails grazing the worn leather.

Everything about her screams that she doesn’t want to be sitting here or anywhere, but she hasn’t moved. She hasn’t bolted. That’s something.

“I had this… thing with my family,” comes out fast, like she needs to get it over with before she can’t.

“My aunt said something, and I just snapped. I told her off. Walked out. Evelyn tried to mediate, but she just…” She exhales, pressing her palms to her knees.

“She always takes her mom’s side. God, Jared, I never lose it like that. ”

I watch her for a second, letting the words hang in the air. Underneath her rigid posture, it’s crude, all of it.

“And now you’re here,” I say, keeping my tone hushed, like I can somehow alleviate the burden off her just by holding the space for it.

Her lips twist in a wry, humorless smile, and she nods. “Yeah. I didn’t… I couldn’t stay there, not after everything I said.”

“Good for you.”

Her head jerks up, her gaze locking with mine like I’ve just said something insane. “What?”

I shrug, leaning back against the back of the chair. “Sounds to me like they pushed, and you finally pushed back. Nothing wrong with that.”

Her laugh is sharp, the kind of laugh someone gives when they’re not convinced. “You didn’t hear what I said. Tía Mary’s probably sitting there right now, cooking up a new speech about how ungrateful I am—”

“Or”—I cut her off, leaning forward just enough for my voice to soften—“she’s finally realizing you’re not going to let her treat you like shit anymore.”

That stops her cold. Her knee stops bouncing. Her fingers still. Her mouth parts just slightly, as if she wants to answer but doesn’t know how.

“You think?” She says finally, her voice hesitant.

“I know . People like her, they rely on you taking it. That’s how they win. You’ve been letting her get to you for years, haven’t you?”

She doesn’t answer right away, just drops her gaze to her lap and runs her tongue over her bottom lip, thinking. And I contain a smirk at the gesture she does so often when she’s focused on studying. That’s Alli.

“Yeah,” she says eventually, her voice small. “I guess I have.”

“Not anymore.”

She looks up, and the intensity in her eyes pulls me under. For a moment, it’s like time slows; it’s just me and her. I want to reach out, to brush that stubborn strand of hair back from her face, to give her something solid to lean on, but I don’t.

“Jesus,” she says finally, a weak, uneven laugh breaking the stillness. “When did you get so… wise, or whatever?”

“Been wise for years,” I say with a grin, keeping it light ‘cause I can tell she needs that. “You’re just finally catching on.”

That earns me a faint laugh, real this time, and my heart beats out of comfort instead of concern.

“God, your head must be so big. All that wisdom stuffed in there,” she shoots back, her lips curving into something closer to a real smile.

“It’s exhausting, really,” I deadpan.

She nudges me lightly with her knee, but her eyes dart to mine just a second longer than necessary. The warmth in that look hits me straight in the gut, and I find myself leaning in, just barely, caught between wanting to pull her closer and holding myself back.

Before I can say anything, she clears her throat and glances out the window like it’s way more interesting than whatever just happened. Her shoulders go stiff, and the moment’s gone before I can hold onto it.

“So, what now?” I ask, pushing through the sudden tension binding my shoulders. “You sticking around here for a while?”

“I don’t want to intrude,” her fingers returning to the strap of her bag, twisting again.

“You’re not intruding,” I say firmly. “And if you want to stick around after skating, you’re welcome to. Serena won’t object as per your bestie policy, and Ma? She’ll guilt you into staying afterwards for dessert. Bet on it.”

She allows space for silence, her fingers freezing mid-twist before her hand falls into her lap.

“Thanks, Jared,” she says, pausing in between words, like she’s letting herself settle into their weight. “I mean it.”

I nod, my throat tightening because it feels like the most honest thing I’ve heard all day.

Her phone buzzes from her bag. She glances at it, typing out a quick reply before locking her phone and meeting my gaze.

“My mom,” her brow furrows, then she chuckles in disbelief. “She… she said she’s proud of me. Said no one’s ever stood up to Tía Mary like that.”

I can’t help the satisfied smirk that pulls at my lips. “Told you.”

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

Before I can say anything else, Serena’s voice barks inside, her head popping into the entryway. “Are you two still sitting there? Hurry up and eat so we can go!” Her grin is pure, noisy joy. “What, did I miss something?”

“Not a thing,” I say flatly, pushing up to my feet.

Alli looks up at me, hesitation flashing across her face before she reaches for my hand. The instant her fingers slide into mine, the heat of it burns deeper than it should. For half a second, she doesn’t let go when I pull her to her feet, and when she finally does, my palm feels colder.

“Let’s go,” her voice barely audible as she brushes past me toward the door.

And like a goddamn moth to a flame, I follow her.

The rink’s packed, twinkling lights throwing a warm glow over the ice. Families and couples skate hand in hand, their laughter drifting through the cold night air. Serena and Tyler are already out there, gliding like pros—because of course they are. Tyler’s annoyingly good at everything.

Alli kneels beside me, carefully tying her skates, her brows pinched together in concentration. She yanks the lace tight, and I hear her hiss as it slips through her fingers.

“You’re going to cut off your circulation,” I say, keeping my voice light, smiling despite myself.

Her scowl deepens. “I’m tying them tight so I don’t fall.”

“Falling is half the fun,” I counter, crouching down to help, my fingers brushing against her leg as I gently nudge her hands out of the way.

She barely reacts to the contact, her lips pressed together in frustration, but her breath hitches just enough for me to notice. And, suddenly, my pulse quickens.

“Tight enough?” I ask, meeting her gaze briefly, trying to keep my tone neutral.

Her eyes flare, a quiet challenge passing between us. She nods. “Yeah. Thanks.”

I swallow hard and straighten up, quickly reaching for my skates. She stands cautiously, testing her balance as if her skates might betray her at any second.

“Okay,” she mutters, her voice uncertain, “How do we do this? I haven’t skated in years.”

“You hold my hand,” I say, already stretching my hand out.

She freezes mid-motion, her eyes wide. “What?”

I shrug casually. “Relax, I’m not going to let you faceplant. Not while I’m here.”

Her fingers are stiff in mine at first, hesitant and unsure. But by the time we step onto the ice, she’s gripping me so tightly I feel like I’m about to lose my hand.

Her skates wobble under her, her feet swinging wide like she’s learning how to walk again. “Oh my god, Jared—this is—terrible!”

I laugh softly, catching her by the waist to keep her upright. “You’re fine, just bend your knees a little.”

She looks like she’s ready to quit the ice altogether. “Stop sounding so calm! I’m literally going to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” I assure her. Leaning just slightly closer, I whisper, “You’re doing great, babe.”

I can feel her tense in surprise at the proximity, a slight breath caught in her throat. She gives a shaky nod, more to herself than to me, and I find myself reluctant to pull away, but I do.

Bit by bit, I guide her around the rink, my hand never leaving her back, my other holding hers tight. Her legs shudder, her hands grip me desperately, but I’m always there to catch her when she loses her balance.

We make a few laps, and slowly, the tension eases from her shoulders. I let out a small breath when she laughs, the sound so light and genuine it’s like the rink lights up around us. “I’m doing it!” she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. “I forgot how fun ice skating is.”

“Told you,” I say, my voice rougher than I expect.

She glances over at me, her smile still in place, and the dynamic alters. I feel it in the air—the way her eyes don’t stray from mine for just a second too long before Serena and Tyler skate by in a blur, Serena laughing and Tyler in hot pursuit.

“That was humiliating,” Alli mutters, clearly trying to break the spell, looking away.

I smirk, keeping my focus on her. “I don’t know. I think you’re doing great.”

Her cheeks flush a bright pink, but she ducks her head to hide it, her hand tightening in mine just a little more, but not because she needs it. Because she wants it. And I do, too.