Dark Hearts Read online

  Jace returns a moment later and hands me my slice of cake with a flourish. It’s chocolate and covered in icing—and the more icing the better, in my opinion.

  He pulls out his chair and plops into it. I notice he has two slices of cake on his plate and he’s already eaten half of one.

  “This is so good.” He shovels a forkful into his mouth.

  I stifle a laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jace this animated over anything ever, except maybe his music, and even then, he’s a little more subdued than he is now.

  It is good cake, though.

  He finishes his one slice and starts in on the second.

  I’ve barely made a dent in mine.

  “When is this thing over?” he asks after he swallows his next bite.

  “It’s a wedding. It could last until the end of time.”

  “Fuck me,” he mutters.

  “Oh, honey, I’d love to,” someone says, but when I look around the only person I see is a little old lady that’s maybe eighty who I think is an aunt of Xander’s. She notices me looking and winks. Oh.

  I quickly divert my gaze back to my plate.

  Thankfully, it doesn’t last until the end of time and after another hour everyone starts to disperse.

  Jace and I head to his car together. I have a car of my own but since we live together now we carpool a lot. It’s easier that way.

  He drives an old black Chevy truck. It looks brand new, though, with the way it shines and the engine doesn’t sound ancient. The only thing I have against it is the stench of cigarette smoke that clings to the interior.

  None of our friends notice us leaving together, for which I’m thankful.

  I haven’t told Rae and Thea that I’m living with Jace, and as far as I know, he hasn’t told the guys, either.

  It’s not that I don’t want them to know I’m living with Jace it’s that …

  I don’t want them to know that I’m living with Jace.

  I know Thea and Rae will try to make a big deal out of it. They’ll think Jace and I are secretly dating or simply hooking up and they’ll pester me endlessly and that’s not it at all.

  Rae and Thea are my friends.

  Jace?

  He’s my best friend.

  From the moment we were introduced to each other it’s like some part of me woke up and said, “Hello, I know you.”

  We’re so similar and we just … click.

  He’s easier to talk to than them and he gets me.

  Most people don’t get me.

  They see what I want them to see.

  But not Jace.

  He sees it all.

  “Still haven’t told them?”

  See? He reads my mind.

  I turn away from the truck window and look at him. It’s almost dark now and his gaze is zeroed in on the road.

  “No,” I admit.

  “Why?” he asks.

  I shrug. “No reason.”

  He grins. “If that was the case then you would’ve told them.”

  I sigh. “I don’t need everyone to know all of my business.”

  “But it’s okay for me to know all your business?” he counters.

  “You’re different.”

  “Ah, I see.” He turns away with a little smirk.

  “Oh, you do, huh?”

  “It’s because I’m your favorite.”

  I laugh and look out the window at the moon illuminating the sky. “Can’t argue with you there.”

  “I am pretty great.” Sobering, he says, “Seriously, though, why haven’t you told them?”

  “Because they’ll think it’s more than what it is,” I admit. “I’d rather avoid their pestering. Why haven’t you told the guys?”

  “Same reason.”

  “We’re too alike,” I mutter.

  He grabs a cigarette and lights it at the next stoplight. We’re not far from his apartment. I still can’t seem to think of it as mine too. Probably because he won’t let me pay rent. Well, he takes the checks, but he never actually cashes them. I continue to write them, figuring if he needs the money he’ll eventually cash some of them.

  The cab of the truck grows quiet—me lost in my thoughts and him … lost in his cigarette, I guess. Though he always gets this disgusted look on his face when he smokes, almost like he doesn’t truly like them.

  He blows out a puff of smoke toward his open window.

  When we arrive at the apartment he parks on the street behind my beat-up Toyota Corolla.

  Neither of us moves immediately to get out of the car.

  Darkness has descended completely upon the city, and the barest hint of moonlight peeks out between the buildings. Streetlights illuminate the cab of the truck, bathing Jace’s face in a white glow, making him looking almost ghostly.

  He extinguishes his cigarette and tosses it out the open window before rolling it up.

  I put my hand on the door handle and move to open the door, but he stops me.

  “Wait,” he pleads, grabbing my arm. I glance back at him. “Sit here for a minute.”

  I release the door and straighten in my seat.

  He rubs his fingers over his lips, a telltale sign he’s thinking deeply. I notice he does it a lot when he’s writing songs and he ends up with smudges all over his face.

  “Confession,” he starts, and I sit quietly waiting. “This is my favorite moment of the day. The time when the sun has completely descended and night takes reign. Night,” he muses, a slight smile tugging at his lips, “the dark and misunderstood beast. People are afraid of the dark, but not the light—but it’s the light they should fear. The light is where the real monsters are.”

  He’s right. The real monsters are right in front of us, and we never even notice it. They slip by unnoticed, masquerading as normal people, but they can’t mask their true colors for long.

  The evil always slips through in the end.

  He taps his thumb against the steering wheel, staring down the street. It’s not late so several people are milling around and darting in and out of the stores and restaurants that line the street.

  A few more minutes of quiet pass before he reaches for his door.

  “I guess we better head in,” he says, somewhat reluctantly.

  I nod and follow suit.

  The apartment building is an old warehouse that some developer came in and renovated. So, it’s nice with a lot of old and quirky touches like exposed metal beams and concrete floors on the main level.

  Jace’s apartment is on the fourth floor and the view is nice. It’s not the best, since it’s not a tall building, but it’s good enough. It overlooks the park on the block behind us.

  We take the elevator in silence. It’s not late, but I think we’re both tired regardless.

  Weddings are exhausting.

  When the doors slide open, I follow him down the hall to the apartment door. He slips his key inside the knob and turns, swishing his arm in a flourish.

  I laugh and head in first, flicking on the light.

  His apartment walls are all white, except one that’s black because it’s actually chalkboard paint. That wall is currently covered in “graffiti” from our friends. I think Thea is the one who drew FUCK really big and then drew flowers in the bubble letters. The rest of the apartment is a mix of black, white, and gray. When I moved in, Jace told me I could add some things of my own as long as it wasn’t too girly, but I reminded him there’s nothing girly about me at all, and the way he had it suited me fine. I’m not fussy; I enjoy the minimalist look.

  I drop my shoes on the floor and collapse on the couch face first.

  “Wake me never.”

  He chuckles, and I turn my head, watching him step onto the platform behind the couch where his mattress sits. There’s only one bedroom closed off from the rest of the apartment, which belonged to his roommate and has since become mine. It’s small, more like a closet, but it’s a room, and that’s all that matters to me.

  He unbuttons his shirt
and drops it on the bed. I hastily look away.

  I force myself to sit up and head over to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I shower quickly and as the colored water swirls down the drain, I decide I’m going to dye my hair again tomorrow. It’s time for a new color. This one’s becoming stale.

  I step out and wrap the fluffy gray towel around my body before wiping the condensation from the mirror.

  My reflection stares back at me. The same person I’ve seen every day for my entire life—minus the ever-changing hair color. I tilt my head to the side, and my reflection follows suit.

  Hate.

  That’s what I used to feel when I looked at myself.

  Now?

  Now, I feel numb, and I don’t know which is worse—hating yourself or not caring anymore.

  With a sigh, I open the door and step outside. The cooler air feels like heaven against my skin.

  I look up and see Jace sitting in his bed. His chest is bare, the sheets pooled at his waist. His glasses are perched on his nose and he’s reading.

  The first thing he said when I moved in was, “Tell anyone I read and you’re out of here. I have to keep my cool factor.”

  I didn’t tell him, but the fact that he reads makes him infinitely cooler in my eyes.

  After all, what’s hotter than a guy that reads?

  Not that I think Jace is hot.

  “Night,” he says, without looking up from his book.

  “Goodnight,” I mumble back, ducking my head so damp magenta-colored strands of hair hide my face as I scurry across the hall to my room.

  I swear I can feel his eyes on me, but when I look back before I close my door, his eyes are once more on his book, and I can’t be sure if he was really looking or if I simply wanted him to look.

  Jace

  “You’ve been in there for like two hours. You’re not dead, are you?” I rap my knuckles on the door to the bathroom.

  “No,” she says back, “but it does look like I murdered a Smurf in here.”

  “I have to go to work,” I tell her.

  “Do you need the bathroom?”

  “Nah, I’m good. Just wanted to let you know I’m heading out. Stop by the bar later. I want to see your hair.”

  Her laughter trickles through the door. “You should let me dye your hair.”

  I make a face of disgust but she can’t see it, of course. “No, thanks, I’m good. I like my boring blond hair just fine.”

  “Your loss.”

  I start to walk away and then step back. “What is your natural hair color?”

  She laughs again. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”

  I would. I so would.

  Novalee Clarke might be the only girl in the world that I actually want to know. She’s mysterious and alluring, and I love learning about what makes her tick. She’s fascinating. It’s probably sick just how much I’m enraptured by her, but I can’t help but be drawn to her. She’s like a shot of tequila and I’m an alcoholic—I just want one sip, but I know it won’t quench the thirst.

  I’ve always only been interested in sex when it comes to girls. I wouldn’t say I’m a jerk about it, I’m always up front about that with whoever I’m hooking up with that I don’t do relationships, so the fact that Nova is my friend says a lot.

  I know Cade and Xander are convinced that I’ve slept with her, and I can’t blame them for thinking that, because that’s my usual MO but it kind of pisses me off at the same time that they can’t see that she’s different.

  That we’re different.

  I shrug my leather jacket on and call out, “See you later.”

  I hear something fall on the floor in the bathroom and she curses. I shake my head, fighting an amused smile.

  Grabbing my keys off the console table, I head out. I don’t pass anyone in the hall or elevator, and, for that, I’m thankful.

  I fucking hate small talk.

  Outside, I head down the street, smoking a cigarette as I go.

  The bar where I work is just down the street from the apartment so driving is stupid. One of the perks of living in the city is that I don’t have to drive most places. I like getting out and walking. It gives me time to think.

  The front of the building comes into focus, and like always, I can’t help but be amused.

  W.T.F.

  What the fork?

  (Did you think we meant something else)

  Restaurant & Bar

  Est. 2013

  Yeah, I work at a restaurant/bar called W.T.F.

  The owner, Eli, can only be described as flamboyant. He’s young, a little crazy, but a whole lot of smart.

  W.T.F. has become one of the hottest restaurants and bars in the Denver area, and I’m lucky enough to be the head bartender.

  Four years of studying music in college and I work at a bar. It’s not ideal, but as far as jobs go, it’s not the worst. Eli is cool and so is everyone else I work with.

  I finish my cigarette and toss the butt on the ground, extinguishing it with the toe of my boot.

  Inside, chaos ensues. It’s loud, packed, and fucking insane. Just a typical night at the bar.

  I head straight to the back and clock in before heading behind the bar.

  The bar is a giant wood U-shape in the middle of the restaurant. Eli had it built that way on purpose so that, in his words, it makes a statement.

  The whole place is nice but not stuffy—so, thankfully, that means I get to wear jeans and t-shirts to work.

  My favorite part of the whole place, though, is the stage straight across from the bar. It’s fairly large—large enough for a whole band to fit on it—with stage lights. On the wall above it hangs a cartoonish-looking fork.

  Forks are a recurring theme in the whole restaurant.

  Like above the bar, thousands of forks hang from the ceiling. Okay, so it’s probably more like a couple hundred and not thousands, but it looks cool.

  “Hey, Jacen,” my co-worker Matilda slurs from behind the bar as I join her.

  “Matilda,” I say curtly.

  She’s been bitter ever since a month ago when she tried to hook up with me and I turned her down.

  I don’t know why she took it so personally. So what, I didn’t want to fuck her—big fucking deal. There are plenty of other guys in the world she can fuck. We work together, and I don’t fuck my co-workers, even though she tried her hardest to get me to break that rule.

  Now, because I turned her down I have to deal with her attitude.

  How is that fair?

  I get straight to work making orders and cleaning dishes.

  There’s almost always something to do at W.T.F., and I love that fact. I hate sitting around idly. I get bored easily. I need to be doing something.

  Eli breezes in at some point, leaving a trail of glitter behind him as he goes.

  “What happened to you?” I ask, wiping down the wood bar top. “You look like a fairy sneezed on you.”

  Eli shakes his head, spraying more glitter across the clean counter. I groan. That glitter is going to be here until the end of time.

  “It’s just my fabulousness manifesting,” he responds.

  “Mhmm,” I hum, wiping the glitter away with a damp rag.

  Eli slides onto one of the barstools. “Get me my usual.”

  “Drinking on the job?” I raise a brow as I grab a glass.

  “I own the place. I can do whatever I want,” he objects.

  I slide his drink across to him and he slurps it down like it’s water on a hot summer’s day and not whiskey.

  “So, I was thinking,” he begins, and I suppress a groan. Thinking and Eli never go well together. “Maybe we should have theme nights.”

  “Theme nights?” This can’t be going anywhere good.

  “Yeah, like one night is boa night.”

  “Boas?” Like the snake?

  “Like the pink feathery boas,” he says, exasperated. “You come in wearing one and get a free drink. Another night could be …” He
taps his lip as he thinks, and I notice his nails are painted yellow. “Silly hat night and—”

  “You wear a silly hat,” I finish for him, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. “I got it.” I lay my hands flat on the bar. “Those are all dumb ideas and you know it.”

  His shoulders sag. “I know. But I’m trying to get new people in the door.”

  “Maybe you should start hiring bands and local artists.” I point to the stage. “Open mic Friday nights are a hit.”

  “A band might be cool,” he agrees. “But I don’t think anyone is going to want to watch someone paint. That’s boring.”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  “But that might work. Yeah, it just might. Thanks, Kensy.” He salutes me before sliding off the stool and heading to his back office.

  “It’s Jace!” I call after him, but he’s too busy mumbling to himself to hear me.

  I know that he knows my name is Jace but instead he insists on calling me Kensy—a nickname he’s given me based on my last name.

  I like to pretend I’m not a Kensington so his constant reminder of my heritage is like a slap to the face.

  I know he doesn’t mean it that way, but that fact doesn’t ease the sting.

  “Your girlfriend is here,” Matilda huffs, purposely bumping into me as she passes.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” I hiss. As I say the words, I look across the bar and my eyes connect with Nova’s brown ones as she takes a seat. Her hair is a vivid Smurf blue as she called it.

  And I fucking love it.

  I stride across the bar and lean across to face her.

  “Confession, I love the blue hair.”

  Her lips quirk the slightest bit as she fights a smile.

  “You do?” She fingers a piece of it. “I haven’t decided what I think.”

  “It’s different,” I agree. “I’ve only seen you with purple and some variation of red, but I like the blue a lot.”

  “I figured it was time to mix it up and do something really crazy. I’m thinking green next.”

  “Green,” I muse. “That could be cool.”

  “Stop flirting and do your job.” Matilda bumps me again as she passes.

  Nova wrinkles her nose. “What’s her problem?”