Ace's POV
Ace hadn't moved from the edge of the garden, his arms crossed, jaw tight, watching Mia's figure disappear down the driveway. The air had gone still around him, the usual party noises fading into a dull background hum. For a moment, he felt almost foolish—helpless, even—which was a sensation he wasn't used to.
Liam. That name grated in his mind like sandpaper against raw skin. He hadn't seen it coming. He hadn't expected Liam to return, to show up here at Mia's birthday party, and to throw her—or him—into this mess of memories and emotions.
Ace hated that Liam had that effect.
He hated that he cared.
The thing was… Mia had always been a challenge. Infuriating, brilliant, unshakable, stubborn. She pushed him, teased him, and somehow kept him on his toes in ways no one else ever had. But now, seeing her flee, knowing Liam had stirred something in her heart that Ace couldn't touch—not yet—made his chest tighten in a way he didn't like admitting.
He glanced at Lily and James, who had followed at a distance, their expressions mirroring his concern. "She's fine," Lily said quietly, though her eyes followed Mia like she wanted to will her back with sheer force.
James snorted, but it was tight, controlled. "Fine? She's running from the middle of a party after Liam shows up. I'd say fine's relative."
Ace ignored him, focusing instead on the empty stretch of driveway where Mia had disappeared. His mind replayed every glance, every inflection in her voice, every flicker of emotion he had caught while Liam confronted her.
She was trying to process it. She was scared. Conflicted. And he… he couldn't stop thinking about how much he wanted to be the one there to steady her, to make her feel safe, to show her that she didn't have to carry all of this alone.
He clenched his fists, the familiar mix of frustration and something sharper twisting in his chest. He was supposed to be her friend, her classmate, her rival—but the more he watched her, the more he realized he didn't want it to stop there. Not anymore.
Lily noticed the tension in his shoulders. "Ace… you okay?"
He snapped his head toward her, as if realizing she was speaking to him for the first time. He forced a grin, a half-hearted attempt to deflect. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just… thinking."
Lily raised an eyebrow. "Thinking about her, aren't you?"
Ace's jaw tightened. "Maybe," he admitted grudgingly. He couldn't lie about it. Not now. Not when every fiber of him was attuned to Mia's absence, to the pull of her presence even when she wasn't there.
James stepped closer, voice low but sharp. "You know you can't just sit here stewing while Liam… whatever he thinks he's doing. Mia's counting on you to—"
"Protect her?" Ace said, cutting him off. He didn't need them to spell it out. He already knew. He didn't know why he felt so possessive, so aware of every movement Mia made, every glance, every unspoken thought—but he did. And he hated that it was starting to feel like more than just friendship, more than just rivalry.
Ace's gaze drifted back to the driveway. The shadows of the night had swallowed Mia's form, leaving only the faint echo of her hurried footsteps and the distant glow of the party lights. He felt a strange mix of frustration and longing, the kind that left him restless and impatient.
"I don't like him," Ace muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. "I don't like the way he makes her pause, the way he makes her think about the past. I don't like the fact that she's… thinking about him at all."
Lily tilted her head, a knowing expression crossing her face. "Ace, it's not about you hating him. It's about you caring. You just need to admit it."
Ace's fists tightened again. Admit it. The words were a sharp slap against his stubborn pride. He didn't want to admit it—not yet. Not when the line between rivalry, friendship, and something more was so dangerously thin. But deep down, he knew Lily was right. Every protective instinct, every flicker of jealousy, every awareness of Mia's heartbeat around him—it wasn't just rivalry anymore.
"She'll come back," James said quietly, as if reading Ace's mind. "She always does. And when she does, we need to be ready to be there for her. All of us."
Ace nodded, silent. He couldn't put into words the strange mix of relief and tension he felt. Ready. That was the word. He had to be ready. Ready for her, ready for Liam, ready for whatever she needed—and ready for whatever he was beginning to feel for her, even if he wasn't ready to name it yet.
The night stretched on, the party continuing in the background, the soft murmur of voices and laughter a distant comfort. Ace remained near the edge of the garden, vigilant, aware, waiting. He knew Mia would return eventually. She always did. But when she did, things would be different.
Because he wasn't just watching anymore. He was aware. Aware of Liam, aware of the way Mia's heart wavered, aware of the slow burn of tension building between them all. And he didn't like it—and he didn't want to like it—but he did.
Ace exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the coil of emotion twisting in his chest. He could deny it, resist it, try to maintain the comfortable distance of friends or rivals—but the truth was undeniable.
He wanted Mia.
Not in the fleeting, careless way of schoolboy crushes. Not in the "I'll tease her and she'll forgive me" way he had perfected over the years. He wanted her in a way that scared him. In a way that demanded patience, caution, and understanding. In a way that meant waiting, watching, and letting the slow burn play itself out.
Ace's gaze flicked toward the distant driveway again, and for a fleeting moment, he imagined what he would do if Liam tried to take a step too far, if he said the wrong thing, if he made Mia doubt herself again.
Protect her. Keep her safe. Make sure she knew that whatever else happened, he would be there. Always.
He hadn't admitted it yet, not even to himself, but he was done being passive. Liam could be part of the past. Ace could be the future. And he wasn't about to let someone who had once walked away dictate how Mia's heart—or his own—would beat from now on.
The night stretched on, but Ace didn't move from his post. Every flicker of light, every sound of footsteps on the stone, every shadow in the garden made him alert, tense, aware. He would wait. He would watch. And he would act, carefully, deliberately, slowly—because he had learned that slow burns, like fire, were the ones that burned longest.
And Mia… Mia was worth every second.