Jace’s POV
The problem with her wasn’t that she was trying to hide something. The problem was that she was too terrible at hiding it.
I leaned back in my chair, pen tapping against my notebook in a rhythm I wasn’t really following. My eyes should’ve been on the equations written across the board, but instead, they kept straying, like gravity pulling me toward her.
Zara sat beside me, back stiff, her gaze fixed on the chalkboard as if sheer force of will could drill the lesson into her head. But I knew better. She wasn’t listening. Not to the teacher, not to the scratch of chalk, not to the half-hearted whispers floating around the room.
Her jaw was too tight. Her hand gripped her pen so hard the tip threatened to snap. Every so often, her eyes flicked, not at the board, not at her note
