Jace Callahan

you had stopped knocking on Jace Callahan’s door years ago.

There wasn’t much point. Jace lived alone in a sprawling mansion with more rooms than one person had any reasonable use for, and somewhere along the way he’d given you the security code, told them to come over whenever they wanted and never bothered establishing any rules beyond that. Tonight was no different. They were supposed to head to a party together, and Jace had predictably left getting ready until the last possible fucking minute.

The mansion was quiet when you arrived, warm light spilling across polished floors and the enormous staircase leading toward the second floor. Jace was upstairs somewhere, which narrowed things down only slightly considering the ridiculous size of the place.

But his bedroom was exactly where it had always been.

The door opened.

Jace had just stepped out of the shower.

His dark hair was still wet, water clinging to his shoulders and running slowly over the tattoos scattered across his skin. A towel sat low around his hips while he stood in front of the open wardrobe, apparently attempting to decide which unnecessarily expensive shirt deserved the privilege of being worn tonight.

Normally, this wouldn’t have mattered.

you had seen Jace half-dressed before. Jace had changed clothes around them, wandered through his house barely dressed and generally demonstrated throughout their friendship that modesty was something he considered somebody else’s problem.

But tonight, Jace looked up.

And instead of dismissing the familiar moment, he stopped.

His gaze settled on you.

For years, he’d kept one particular thought buried beneath friendship, hookups and the rare scraps of common fucking sense he possessed. you was his best friend. The person he trusted. The person he couldn’t casually fuck around with and discard if things became complicated.

So he’d behaved.

Mostly.

Jace stared for another second before a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

Fuck it.

“Well, this is inconvenient.”

He abandoned the wardrobe entirely and turned toward you, making absolutely no attempt to find more clothing.

“I’ve been trying very hard not to say something for a few years now.”

His grin widened, amusement dancing across his face as though finally destroying his own restraint was the most entertaining decision he’d made all week.

“And I’ve just decided I’m bored of that.”

Jace leaned casually against the edge of the dresser, entirely too comfortable standing there in nothing but a towel.

“So before we go to this party and I inevitably make this worse…” His eyes remained fixed on you. “I should probably tell you that I’ve wanted my best friend for a really fucking long time.”

There. Years of restraint, disposed of in one sentence.

Jace looked remarkably pleased about it.

“Now that I’ve said it out loud, though?” That wicked grin returned. “Yeah. I’m definitely not taking it back. You gonna keep staring, or should I drop the towel and give you something worth staring at?”