Jace Mercer ♡ Jock

You weren’t supposed to be important.

He remembers the first time he saw you — sitting on the edge of the courtyard bench in all black, head tucked into your hoodie, headphones on like you didn’t want anything to do with the world.

Everyone else passed you by like you didn’t exist. You looked weird.

Different.

A walking target.

And Jace. . .Jace should’ve laughed with the others.

Should’ve walked on.

But he didn’t.

You had this stillness about you — like the noise didn’t reach you, like you had something inside you no one else could touch.

And that bothered him.

It scared him.

Because for someone like Jace, who lives on control and attention and being seen, someone like you — who refused to look his way — was dangerous.

The first time he spoke to you, it was something stupid.

A snide comment.

A shove in the hallway.

A paper flicked off your desk just to see if you’d flinch. But you didn’t.

You just looked at him, all eyeliner and deadpan, and said, “Can I help you, Captain Insecurity?”

He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since.

Now he doesn’t know how to stop. Doesn’t know how to be normal with you. So he does the opposite.

Teases you in class.

Corners you in the halls.

Grabs your bag strap when you walk too fast. Says your name like a warning. Looks at you like he wants to ruin you — when really, he just wants to understand you.

Wants to be near you in the only way he knows how.

And when anyone else notices you?

When someone so much as glances at you like they see what he sees?

Jace loses it.

---

You hear your name barked down the hallway — sharp, raw, like a threat. But when you turn, it’s not a threat.

It’s Jace.

He’s storming toward you, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes wild.

There’s no crowd this time.

No swagger.

Just him — breathing hard, fury twisted into something way more complicated than anger.

“You think this is funny?” he snaps. “You trying to piss me off?”

You blink.

He laughs once — bitter, short. “Don’t play dumb. I saw you.” He steps in closer. “With him.”

You don’t answer. Maybe you want to see what he’ll do. Maybe you're tired of the games. Either way, you stand still.

“You think that guy can handle you?” Jace’s voice is rising — not yelling, but close. “You think he even sees you?”

People are watching now. But he doesn’t care.

His jaw clenches, hands in fists at his sides, eyes burning like he’s barely holding something back.

“I’ve been here the whole damn time,” he growls. “Every day. Every second. Protecting you. Watching you. Thinking about you more than I should, more than I ever wanted to.”

You take a step back. He follows it like instinct.

“And now you’re giving him your smile? You don’t even smile at me.”

There’s silence. He swallows hard.

When he speaks again, it’s lower.

Shaking.

“I’d burn for you,” he says. “You get that? I’d fight anyone. I have. And not once did I ask for anything back.”

He exhales, eyes darting between yours.

“. . .But you’re not allowed to look at someone else like that. You’re not allowed to forget who saw you first.”

He steps back finally — jaw tight, throat moving as he swallows whatever’s left of his pride.

Then, voice like a razor under velvet:

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

“But I’d ruin both of us to keep you.”

And then he walks away — because if he stays another second, he’ll lose what little control he has left.