Page 157 of Bad Prince
But my blood is still hot under my skin.
I shove my arms through my hoodie, ponytail swishing high behind me, bag slung over my shoulder like I’ve got somewhere better to be as I get on the bus.
Hours later we roll back to campus and unload at the athletic complex. I ‘d rather be anywhere but inside their narrative.
And then—because the universe has a sick sense of timing. I walk straight into them.
Tristan.
And her… the Texan.
T & T.
The new campus headline.
They’re mid-conversation when I come around the corner.
They stop.
All three of us do. The two of them look like they just strolled out of the weight room. I guess they now workout together to.
For half a second, everything just… stills.
Tristan’s brows lift slightly.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Awareness.
His eyes move over me — quick, sharp, like he’s checking for damage.
Like he’s trying to read me.
I don’t let him.
Isa notices it.
Immediately.
Her cheeks flush.
Not shy.
Territorial.
Her hand slides into the crook of his arm.
Deliberate.
Claiming.
She presses closer to his side, body angled into his like she belongs there.
Like she chose him.
Like he chose her back.
