© Copyright 2017 Micalea Smeltzer
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Original Song Lyrics for Supernova & Dark Hearts by Jordan Janson
Cover design and photography by Regina Wamba at Mae I Design
Models Alex Nelson and Libby Yost
Edited and Formatted by Wendi Temporado of Ready, Set, Edit
This book is dedicated to Halsey—because your music is inspiring.
Thank you.
I’ve learned that not everything is what it seems. If you start to look too close, you uncover things people don’t want you to see. It’s why I hide. It’s why no one knows the real me. But he sees me. He sees the darkness in my heart but he’s not afraid, because he’s like me. They say opposites attract, but we’re proof that like-and-like are a far more potent combination.
Novalee Clarke is hiding from a past she wants to leave behind, and Jacen Kensington is running from his.
The thing about hiding and running is eventually the thing you’re trying to escape catches up to you.
And when it does?
It changes everything.
Nova
“I fucking hate weddings.”
I glance up in time to see my friend Jace drop down into the seat beside me. He fiddles with his tie, loosening it, and then undoing the top button of his white dress shirt.
“I never want that to be me,” he continues, waving his fingers lazily to where our just married friends dance, their smiles blinding and their laughter nearly louder than the music.
“Allergic to love?” I raise a brow.
His top lip curls. “No—it’s just that love makes you weak. Look at them. They’ve willingly handed their heart to the other person, giving them permission to break it at any time.” He shakes his head and rolls up his sleeves, revealing the intricate tattoos that snake around one forearm. “It’s not for me.” He makes a face like something tastes bad.
“Can’t say I don’t agree with you,” I mutter.
He raises a brow. “Really? You’re a girl, so I can’t believe you’re not about to give me some spiel on true love and how love conquers everything.” He pulls his cigarette pack out of his pocket and taps the box against the white-tablecloth-covered table.
I sigh. “I believed that once, but in my experience, it’s not true. Love doesn’t conquer everything, it destroys you instead.”
Jace looks at me seriously, and I swear it’s like his eyes see right through me. “Huh.”
“Huh?” I repeat. “What does that mean?”
He shrugs. “Nothing.”
“What?” I prompt again. “You’re thinking something.”
He shrugs, and the motion stretches the shirt tight across his shoulders. “Just that you and I are so alike it scares me sometimes.”
I smile at that, and he chuckles. “I didn’t think anything could possibly scare you.”
He slips the cigarette pack back into his pocket without ever grabbing one. He stands then and holds his hand out to me.
“Dance with me?”
“You dance?” I eye him.
He grins, and I know I’m in trouble. Jace doesn’t smile much, but when he does, it means trouble.
“I have sex. Dancing is practically the same thing. You just have your clothes on.”
I roll my eyes.
He wiggles his fingers. “Come on, little star, dance with me.”
I sigh, slipping my hand in his as I stand, and he guides me onto the dance floor. He towers above my short frame, and I place my hands flat on his chest since I can’t wrap them around his neck.
Xander and Thea—who had a quickie wedding in Vegas and are now having this wedding so all of us could attend—twirl around us.
Jace might mock them for what they have, but I can’t help but feel a slight sting of jealousy.
I thought I had that once. A love that was impenetrable and everlasting. I was young, though, and so naïve.
Jace’s hands cup the small of my waist, and he moves us effortlessly around the dance floor. There’s only a handful of people dancing, but everyone seems to be having a good time. Xander and Thea chose to keep the wedding small and only had their closest family and friends come.
“You actually can dance,” I comment, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.
Jace chuckles. “Confession, I took dance lessons as a kid.”
My eyes widen and nearly pop out of my head. Dance lessons.
“Confession, I took ballet for five days before quitting much to the dismay of my parents. I have no rhythm,” I whisper like it’s some sort of secret.
Jace’s lips quirk in a smile.
I’ve been staying with him since the beginning of summer. I didn’t want to head home, back to Texas and that God-forsaken small town, and Jace’s roommate happened to be moving out so it worked out perfectly. Since then, we’ve developed a game we’ve simply dubbed Confession. That’s all it is. A confession, something we’ve never shared with another person but we’ve chosen to share with each other. Some of our confessions are silly and others are more serious. I love all of them. Each one gives me one small piece of the puzzle that is Jacen Kensington.
“You’re not so bad.”
“And you’re a liar,” I say, stepping on his toes. He doesn’t comment on my clumsiness and moves us easily around the dance floor. I’m light enough that he can hold me and guide me while I do nothing.
The song ends and bleeds into another. I expect him to stop, but he keeps going.
We dance to three more songs before returning to the table.
I pick up my camera and take a few photos of the bride and groom while they’re oblivious. There’s something about candid photos that leave a more lasting mark in your memory than something posed so I want to make sure they have plenty of those.
Xander and Thea had tasked Rae—another friend of ours—and me with taking photos at the wedding. Rae and I are both going to college for photography. I think they asked both of us to take photos because they didn’t want either of us to feel bad for not being chosen. I would’ve been fine if they only went with Rae, though. Weddings aren’t my thing. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I could and would get some amazing shots, but it wasn’t my passion. Rae liked to take photos of everything. But me? I preferred to make mine into something else. Conceptual photography was my go-to, but lately, something else was catching my eye and getting my wheels turning.
Jace.
God, I itched to photograph him.
He made the most mundane things look like the most exciting thing ever.
Like every morning, when he drank his coffee and read the newspaper still wearing his glasses since he never puts his contacts in first thing.
He fascinates me. I can’t think of any other twenty-three-year-old guy who still reads the physical newspaper. Let alone any kind of newspaper.
I’m sure if I asked him he’d let me. Jace isn’t a shy guy. But he is my best friend, and I don’t want to make things weird. I haven’t had a friend like him in a long time, and I’m not willing to mess with what we have for a few photos.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of the shutter on my camera is music to my ears.
I feel that love is an understatement for what I feel for photography. It is my art. My life. My escape. My everything. Without it, I can’t breathe.
After I’ve taken a millio
n photos of Xander and Thea, I move on to taking pictures of the cake and décor. I focus on the little things—zooming in on the turquoise flowers frosted on the cake and the crisp lines of the napkins folded on the table.
I decide to take a break and head back to the table Jace occupies. He sits with his legs taking up as much space as humanly possible. He’s now ditched his tie completely and it sits as a crumpled gray pile on the table.
He lifts his gaze to me as I place my Canon 70d on the table.
“You look like you could use a drink,” he comments.
I laugh and push my magenta-colored hair away from my eyes. “Is that your way of saying you need a drink?”
His green eyes twinkle. “Yes. I’ll be back.”
He hops up and heads to the bar.
I kick my heels off beneath the table and swear my feet sing halle-fucking-lujah at being free of those death traps.
Thea Montgomery—Kincaid, now, I correct myself—thinks there’s something wrong with you if you don’t wear heels, but I think she’s the one that’s not okay in the head because those things are painful.
I lift one aching foot to rest on my knee and begin massaging it.
Jace returns and places a beer in front of me before taking his seat again.
“Feet hurt?” he asks.
Before I can answer, he grabs my legs and tugs my feet into his lap.
He begins massaging the arch of my right foot before I can protest, and I nearly moan because, Oh, my God that feels amazing.
He rubs with expert precision, and I wonder where he learned to do it.
My head lolls back and my eyes close. “Feels good?”
I nod and don’t open my eyes. “I’m never wearing heels again,” I mumble.
He moves to the other foot, and I suppress another moan.
“On second thought, maybe I should wear heels every day if it means you’ll rub my feet.”
He chuckles, and the sound is warm and husky and perfectly Jace.
He finishes rubbing my feet, and I reluctantly drop them to the ground again.
“It’s time for the bouquet toss!” someone calls out.
I groan.
Jace nudges my shoulder and waggles his brows. “Don’t you want to catch the bouquet?”
“Yeah, and be labeled as the next one to get married? No thanks.”
“Come on,” he coaxes. “It’ll be fun.”
“Are you going to be a part of the garter toss?” I challenge.
He tilts his head and smirks. “Of course.”
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
I place my hands on the table and push up as I stand. I don’t bother putting my heels back on. I’m burning those things first thing tomorrow morning.
It’s a small group for the bouquet toss since the wedding was so intimate.
I turn around and point at Jace and then my camera. “Take photos,” I mouth.
Rae is participating too, and I want to make sure there’s at least one photo of this for Thea and Xander to look back on. Jace might not be a photographer, but I think he can manage at least one or two photos.
“Me?” He points to himself.
“Yes, you.” I point again, and he picks up my camera, looking at it stupidly. “It’s that button right—”
Whack.
The bouquet hits me right in the back of the head.
I turn around and glare at the offending flowers now lying pathetically on the ground. Jace laughs uproariously in the background along with a few other people.
Thea turns around from her perch, confused by the laughter. “Who got them?” she asks.
“Apparently, Nova.” Rae bends and picks them up and hands them to me. My lip curls in disgust. I didn’t want to catch them, and I would’ve side-stepped it if I’d been turned that way. Instead, I was arguing with Jace over taking a photo and he didn’t even get one. “Don’t look so disgusted.” Rae laughs. “It’s funny.”
I sigh and shrug. It’s only a silly tradition, after all, and means nothing. I force a smile and say, “Yeah, it is pretty funny.”
Thea heads over to us, smiling from ear to ear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happier.
“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” she asks, concerned.
I shake my head. “They’re flowers. They can’t do much damage.”
She rests her arm casually on my shoulder and leans into me. “I didn’t mean to hit you in the head with them.”
“S’okay.” I wave away her concern. “You weren’t even looking where you were throwing. It’s my own fault. I was trying to get Jace to take a picture of it and he was being an idiot.”
“Hey, I take offense to that,” he remarks, striding over to us with my camera in hand.
“What would you prefer?”
“Lovable.” He grins and holds out my camera. I trade him the flowers, and he looks at them like they’re diseased. “Here, you want these back?” He holds them out to Thea.
She rolls her eyes as Xander comes up behind her, fitting his hands around her waist. “Nova caught them. They’re hers now.”
Jace looks at the flowers again and then me. “Does this mean you’re getting married next?”
I gag. “Never.”
He chuckles, and I lift my camera to get a shot of Xander’s hands around her waist. Then another of him dipping his head into the crook of her neck.
Cade joins our group, standing next to Rae with a smile on his face. She leans into him, and I don’t think she even realizes she does it.
“Come on.” Xander tugs on Thea’s waist. “Garter time.”
“Oh, no …” She laughs as he drags her away. “I don’t like the look in your eye.”
I must admit, she’s right. Xander has a mischievous glint in his eyes that promises trouble. He leads her to the chair that someone’s already placed in the center of the dance floor.
The guys at the wedding all reluctantly head that way and gather around the bride and groom. Rae grabs her camera, and the two of us start snapping photos. I can’t help but get one of the irritated expression on Jace’s face. He looks absolutely disgusted to have to be standing there.
Payback’s a bitch.
“Are you going to give me a lap dance first?” Thea asks as Xander gives her a slight push into the chair.
He bends forward so they’re eye-level. “You want me to dance, sweetheart?”
“I want you to take your clothes off.”
Laughter explodes out of him. “I love you,” he says when he regains control of himself.
He kneels on the floor then and lifts all the layers of tulle of her dress and dives under. Her eyes widen in surprise, and we all try not to laugh, but it’s hard not to when it looks like Xander is … well …
His head moves around and then back down and he comes away with the garter belt between his teeth and Thea’s cheeks successfully a bright red color. She doesn’t get embarrassed much, so it’s nice to see her feathers get ruffled.
Xander tosses the garter belt and we all watch to see who catches it.
“Fuck me.”
I can’t control my laughter at seeing Jace clutching the garter belt.
“Here, take it.” He tries to hand it to Cade.
Cade refuses it and shakes his head. “Nah, man. It’s all yours.”
Jace dangles the garter belt from his finger and looks right at me. I snap a picture and then a few more as he flicks it at me. I manage to get a shot of it flying through the air.
Perfection.
I bend and pick the garter belt up off the floor and carry it back over to him. “If I have to keep the flowers then you have to keep this.”
He grabs it and crumbles it in his fist before shoving it in his pocket. “Traditions are silly,” he mutters, but I can tell he’s secretly amused by the whole thing. After all, the irony of me “catching” the bouquet and him the garter belt is laughable. Both of us are the ones most likely to never get married. “When are we getting cake?”
he calls out to Xander and Thea who are completely lost in one another again.
Thea glances over and then up at Xander. “Wanna cut the cake?”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
“Cake’s happening now,” she calls over to Jace.
“Confession,” Jace whispers, “I love cake.”
I watch as he turns and heads back to the table he was sitting at before. I notice one of the girls Thea has class with eyeing him, and I’m not surprised when she moves from her table over to his to sit beside him. He smiles and leans into her when she says something.
I sigh and avert my eyes.
I have pictures to take and watching Jace flirt is not part of that job.
Xander and Thea cut into the cake, and I’m not surprised when she nails him right in the face with cake. Xander ends up chasing after her to get her back and she makes it all the way to the other side of the dance floor before he catches her. He loops one arm around her waist and swings her around. His other hand with the cake comes toward her mouth. She pleads with him not to do it, but he doesn’t listen and she gets a face full of cake. They both can’t contain their laughter.
“Look at us.” Thea laughs. “We look ridiculous.”
He reaches up and tenderly clears her face of cake. “Ridiculous is good.”
“Does this mean we can eat the cake now?”
I jump at the sound of Jace’s voice right by my ear. “Jesus! Where’d you come from?”
He raises a brow and points to the table. I notice the girl is gone.
“I want some cake.”
“Let me guess, you want a middle piece too?”
“Well, it’s a circle, so it doesn’t really matter.” He shrugs.
I glance back at Xander and Thea who are now cleaning their faces with napkins.
The caterer is already cutting the cake and placing slices on plates.
“Looks like your cake is ready,” I point out.
Jace rubs his hands together and licks his lips. “Cake,” he hums. “You want a piece?”
“Sure.”
He heads off to get the cake, and I head back to our table.
My heels are still on the ground, and I kick them out of my way.
Heels are the work of the devil. I’m sure of it.
Dark Hearts Page 1