Page 402 of Bad Prince
More alive.
Not scattered.
Sharpened.
When she ended it—rose for the last swing and detonated the match point through the block—I was already half off the bed before I realized I’d stood up.
The hotel room exploded around me.
Kane yelled.
Jalen slapped the desk.
Somebody in the hallway pounded on a door like they thought we’d won something ourselves.
And maybe, in a way, I had.
Not her.
Not yet.
But clarity.
I looked at the screen, at Stella grinning and gasping and shining with effort, and felt my whole chest go hot.
I texted her before the commentators finished mangling her name.
I watched the livestream.
You were unreal.
That last kill? Jesus, Stells.Miss you.
I stared at the messages for half a second, then sent another because holding back suddenly felt stupid.
I'm counting down the days until I can make you come over and over again. Save that energy for me, baby.
Kane saw my face and groaned.
“Oh, that text is filthy.”
“It’s not filthy.”
He blinked.
“Then I’m deeply concerned about what you consider filthy.”
Jalen laughed into his drink.
My phone buzzed almost immediately.
You watched?
Something warm and stupid and completely uncontrollable moved through me.
I typed back fast.
From a terrible hotel room with three teammates yelling over my shoulder.Worth it.
