Chapter 13: Lines We Don’t Cross
May 8, 2025
Lily’s POV
His kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant, or careful, or even the kind of kiss you could mistake for a slip. It was desperate. His hands gripped my hips like he was anchoring himself to something real, his mouth crashing into mine with a hunger that rattled me all the way to my bones.
For a heartbeat, maybe two, I let him. I leaned into him, my fingers fisting the fabric of his T-shirt, dragging him closer. I kissed him back with the same reckless abandon, tasting every bit of the chaos he was trying to pour into me.
But reality caught up fast, sharp and cold against the heat of his body.
I shoved him back, palms flat against his chest. “Stop.”
His hands dropped immediately, and he stumbled a step away, breathing hard, his face slack with confusion. It wasn’t that he didn’t hear me. He just didn’t seem to understand how I could still say no.
“Jake,” I said again, firmer this time, my voice slicing through the thickness in the air, “sit down.”
He blinked, like he thought he misheard. “What?”
“Sit,” I repeated, pointing toward the bed.
After a tense second, he backed up and dropped onto the edge of it, elbows braced against his knees, his chest heaving like he’d just sprinted the length of the football field. I stayed standing, needing the space between us like oxygen.
“I don’t know what this is supposed to be,” I said, folding my arms tightly across my chest. “You sneak into my room, you kiss me like it’s the end of the world—then you expect what? Gratitude? Silence?”
He dragged a hand through his messy hair, frustration bleeding off him in waves. “Lily—”
“No,” I cut in sharply, lifting a hand. “You don’t get to explain it away. Not this time.”
He fell silent. His mouth pressed into a thin, stubborn line, but he didn’t interrupt.
I paced once, trying to burn off the shaking in my hands. “I’m confused, Jake. You flirt. You touch. You dare me to jump off cliffs and go skinny-dipping at two in the morning, and then when we’re around other people, you act like you barely know me.”
He kept watching me, his eyes flat and unreadable, like he was folding himself into a version I couldn’t break open anymore.
“I’m not asking you for some grand gesture,” I said, my voice starting to shake no matter how hard I fought it. “I’m not asking for a boyfriend. I just want to understand what the hell this is.”
Jake leaned back a little, his face unreadable. His knuckles whitened where his fists curled against his knees. “We’re using each other,” he said finally, the words dropping like stones between us. “That’s all.”
The crack inside me splintered wider, but I stood my ground. “Using each other?”
“You’re getting over your breakup. I’m… helping you do it. You’re crossing off your bucket list. I’m a tool.”
His voice didn’t carry any anger. Just resignation, cold and final.
“And that’s it?” I asked quietly.
“That’s it,” he confirmed with a stiff nod.
The silence that followed wasn’t empty; it was heavy and full of all the things we weren’t saying. It pressed down on my shoulders until I thought it might flatten me right there.
“So, it’s a secret fling,” I said after a long pause, each word cutting on the way out. “A summer thing. No labels. No witnesses.”
Jake’s mouth tightened. “Exactly.”
“And when the list’s done, so are we.”
“Right.”
I nodded slowly, like if I moved carefully enough, the ground beneath me wouldn’t give way completely. “Fine,” I said at last. “Then we’re clear.”
He sat there like he was waiting for me to take it back. Like he was hoping I’d argue, scream, beg for more. But I didn’t. I let the lie stand.
Minutes crawled by, neither of us moving. He should have left, but he didn’t. He just kept watching me, his gaze dark, pained, and a little desperate.
“You know,” he said finally, voice rough and low, “you’re kind of dangerous when you’re pissed off.”
I raised an eyebrow without smiling. “Dangerous how?”
He gave a slow, grudging smile. “You’re hot when you’re mad.”
“Don’t flirt with me after calling me a project,” I said sharply, but my cheeks warmed anyway.
Jake shifted, the corner of his mouth curling. “You’re not a project, Lily. You’re the only thing I think about when I’m supposed to be thinking about anything else.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out.
“You asked for help,” he said. “That’s all I’m giving. Help.”
“Then stop making it worse,” I muttered, turning away to hide my face.
He rose from the bed, crossing the room with slow, careful steps. When he reached me, he brushed his knuckles along my jaw so lightly it barely counted as a touch.
“I’m not the guy you fall for,” he murmured.
“I’m not asking you to be,” I whispered back.
Still, he stayed close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the temptation of another mistake brewing between us.
“You’re supposed to be replying to my texts,” he said after a beat, stepping back reluctantly. “You disappeared.”
“You deserved it.”
“Maybe.” He smirked, pulling out his phone. “Still stings though.”
I caught a glimpse of my contact name as he flipped the screen toward me. Bucket List.
“You checked my phone?” I said, scandalized.
“You left it unlocked while I was baking you cookies. Rookie move,” he teased.
“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, even as a smile tugged at my mouth.
“And yet,” he said, voice dropping, “you kissed me first.”
“You climbed through my window.”
“You liked it.”
I didn’t bother denying it.
He turned back toward the window, lifting it open easily. Before slipping out, he tossed one last glance over his shoulder. “Next week. Concert. Something loud and bad for both of us.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a mistake.”
He flashed a grin. “The best ones always are.”
And with that, he disappeared into the night, leaving me standing there with my heart hammering against my ribs and the feeling that no matter how many lines we drew, we were always going to find a way to cross them.
