Page 418 of Bad Prince

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“Should I ask?”

I stare at the schedule one last second, then close the laptop.

“No.”

He watches me for another beat.

Then smirks.

“You’re going after her hard, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say.

Kane nods once. Then, because apparently the entire male population in my orbit has decided to become emotionally literate this week, he says, “Good.”

I look up.

He shrugs.

“Girls like Stella don’t wait forever.”

I grab my phone, open Stella’s thread, and stare at the keyboard.

Then I type:

Don’t make plans for Saturday night.

I read it once.

Delete it.

Too cold.

Try again.

Keep Saturday night open for me.

Better.

Still not enough.

I erase it again and lean back, staring at the ceiling.

Not because I don’t know what I want.

Because for the first time, I want to ask her in a way she’ll remember for the right reasons.

And somewhere between the playoff bracket, Leo’s impossible resources, Jade’s sharp little lecture, and the memory of Stella in blue under low light, I realize something that feels a hell of a lot like nerves.

I’m not just trying to get the girl.

I’m trying to deserve her.

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