You got rejected?"
Alex nearly choked on his beer.
Jace didn't answer right away. He just stared out over the city skyline from his balcony, jaw tense, fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair.
"I didn't say rejected," he muttered eventually.
Alex gave him a pointed look. "You asked her out, she said no. Bro, that's the definition."
Jace ran a hand through his hair, frustration simmering under his skin. "It wasn't a hard no. More like… not yet."
Alex snorted. "That's still a no, man."
Jace turned his head slowly. "Do you want to get punched?"
Alex held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, this is new. You don't get no's. Especially not from girls who look at you like you hung the damn moon."
Jace leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and let out a long breath. "It wasn't about ego. I didn't ask her out for the hell of it. I like her. I really like her."
"Yeah," Alex said, nodding slowly. "I figured."
"She's not like the others. She's real. Grounded. When I'm around her, I don't feel like I'm supposed to be anything but… me."
Alex leaned back, studying him. "So what now? You just let it go?"
Jace shook his head. "No. I respect her space, but I'm not walking away. Not unless she tells me to my face that she doesn't want me around."
Alex grinned. "There's the stubborn idiot I know."
"I want to show her I'm serious," Jace said. "That I'm not just playing a game."
"Well," Alex said, picking up his phone, "then it's time for a little old-school romance."
Jace raised a brow. "Like what?"
"Flowers. Notes. Gifts. Subtle stuff. Not the flashy crap you used to pull—just small, personal reminders that you're thinking about her."
Jace hesitated.
"She already said no."
"Yeah," Alex said with a shrug. "But maybe she's just scared. You keep showing up, in ways that matter? Sooner or later, she'll believe you mean it."
Jace looked back out at the skyline, lips pressed into a thin line.
He hated feeling unsure.
But for Mel?
He'd wait. He'd work for it.
Even if it was the first time he ever had to.
--
Mel was halfway through her morning emails when a delivery guy appeared beside her desk, holding a tall white box tied with a silver ribbon.
"For Mel Parker," he said with a nod, setting it gently in front of her before walking off.
She blinked. "Wait, what?"
A few heads nearby turned. The room was mostly quiet, but the box might as well have had flashing lights around it. Mel's heart jumped in her chest. She hesitated for a second, then slowly untied the ribbon and opened the lid.
Inside, nestled in black velvet, was a single deep blue rose.
Perfect. Elegant. Unmistakably personal.
She swallowed hard and reached for the small folded note beside it.
> You don't like flash.
So I kept it simple.
Not asking for a date.
Just reminding you I'm here.
– J
Her breath caught. Her chest tightened—not from panic, but something warm, uncomfortable, and unfamiliar. She read the words again. And again.
"Wow," came a voice from the next desk over. It was Kim, one of the junior assistants. Wide-eyed and grinning. "Is that from your boyfriend?"
Mel shook her head quickly. "No. I don't—he's not—"
Kim leaned closer. "Then who's J? Because I don't know who sends blue roses just for fun."
Mel tucked the note back into the box and closed the lid gently. "Just… someone I know."
Kim gave her a knowing smile. "Must be someone."
Mel didn't answer. She didn't have the words. Because if she opened her mouth, she might admit she liked the note. That it made her feel… seen.
And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.
--
The rose sat on the corner of her desk like a quiet temptation. All day, Mel had caught herself glancing at it—sometimes annoyed, sometimes softening, always conflicted.
She hated that it made her smile.
And she hated even more that she was still thinking about texting him.
By the time she clocked out, her nerves were frayed. She tucked the box gently into her bag and stepped out of the building into the golden wash of the late afternoon sun. The city hummed around her. People rushed, horns blared, someone was singing off-key on the corner—but none of it helped clear her head.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. A message. Not from him.
Just Ella.
> "Dinner tonight? I'll bring wine. You bring your mood."
Mel smiled faintly. She typed a quick reply—"Rain check. Tired."—and slipped her phone away.
But she didn't head straight home.
Instead, she walked a block out of her usual route and sat at a quiet bench near the fountain she used to visit during her first month at the job, when everything felt overwhelming and lonely.
Now, it felt overwhelming for entirely different reasons.
She pulled the note back out of her bag, smoothing it between her fingers.
No pressure. Just reminding you I'm here.
What was she afraid of, really?
That he'd hurt her? That he was too good to be true?
Or that he was true—and that she wouldn't know how to handle it?
Her thumb hovered over her phone screen, then she opened a new message.
> To: Jace
The rose was beautiful. Thank you.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then hit send.
And immediately locked her phone like it had caught fire.
---